Sneaky Snow White (Dark Fairy Tale Queen Series Book 2) Read online

  “That wasn’t the plan. You could kill her easily now. And take the baby. And we’ll go to the tower. That was the plan.”

  “But….” Hunter reaches out and takes hold of my fingers. “Isn’t it better to spare a life if there’s hope for that person? I don’t think she’s as bad as you say.”

  “What has she been doing?”

  “Sleeping, mostly. I got her to eat a little. She just needs someone to look after her.”

  “Fine! You come back to the palace with me. We’ll send one of your brothers to look after her.”

  “We can’t do that and you know it. My brothers are savages. If she made them angry they would beat her to death.”

  “That’s good!”

  “Snowy.” Hunter looks right in my eyes. “I can’t come back with you today. I’m asking you to understand. Can you do this for me?”

  No, I cannot. Cinderella took away my father. She does not get to take away my Hunter. I set my jaw. “Where is this cottage?”

  Hunter’s face closes off. “I can’t tell you.”

  I stamp my foot. “This isn’t fair! All I want is for us to be together!”

  “And I want that too. We’ll get there. When the queen is well, we’ll send her back to the palace. Then you and I will go far away and live in peace. We don’t need her baby, Snowy. We can have one of our own.”

  “So now you make all the decisions?”

  “I just want to make everyone happy. Please do me a service when you return to the palace. Tell one of my brothers to destroy that mirror.”

  I flinch. “Why?”

  “The queen whimpers about it in her sleep. I don’t understand it, but it’s dangerous. It needs to be removed from her life. You haven’t gone near it, have you?”

  “No,” I say, feeling guilty because it’s a lie. But some things not even Hunter can understand. “I’ll take care of it.”

  He smiles. “Thank you, Snowy.” He pulls me in and kisses me slowly, his mouth gently pinching my top lip and then the bottom. His hand slides into my hair and curls around the back of my neck. My heart flutters like a hummingbird's wings. Oh my Hunter! I never want to let him go.

  He releases me, smiling. “Meet me here again tomorrow. And don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

  I grin. “I will come.”

  The glow from his kiss lasts until I’m back at the palace. I barely notice the Dwarves have raided the armory and are trying out the weapons on each other, making the throne room sound like a battlefield. I’m so, so happy. And now I know what to do.

  Poor Hunter. Sweet Hunter. He thinks he can redeem the queen. But I know better. She has to die and I must do it myself.

  I’ll just have to be sneaky about it.

  ~*~ 20 ~*~

  The Dwarves and I have a fabulous supper. One of them – I don’t know all their names yet – can cook. Which is good because I found out most of the servants have taken off in pure fear. Anyway, the Dwarf who cooks made a huge meal that consisted mostly of meat: legs of mutton, sides of ham, two fat geese, huge venison steaks. I join them for supper but oh my stars, they eat like barbarians. Ripping the meat with their fingers, laughing through mouths full of food, hurling the bones over their shoulders. I’m shocked at first, but then I start tearing into the food like they do. It’s fun!

  Afterwards, I creep upstairs to see The Mirror. I need to ask it a few things. I still get nervous whenever I’m near it, but it’s not so bad now. I no longer think it will hurt me.

  Last night, I carried back upstairs the iron candelabra that Cinderella used to assault me. Now I light them on both sides of The Mirror. They create a hazy glow that pulses like a fearful heart and puts quivering shadows behind me. My eyes circle to the top of the golden frame where cobwebs float across the curling metal. I see a black spider crawling over the top, its hooked legs silently groping. And I shudder. The Mirror still creeps me out.

  What is this thing? Where did it come from? Why does it seem to be alive, have thoughts and feelings like a person? The Mirror has been here all of my life, long before Cinderella ever came. I remember my mother brushing her hair in front of it. But it didn’t seem weird then; I never felt a presence. And my mother never talked to it. I guess I shouldn’t trust something I don’t understand, but magical things are always a mystery, right?

  I give the glass a careful smile. “Mirror, Mirror, on the wall. Who is fairest of them all?”

  At first, my reflection looks like me. Then it changes. I look like a queen, the most breathtaking queen imaginable. My skin is pale and perfect as moonlight. My hair shines like spilled ink. The Mirror has given me a crown made of glass, and a dress that glistens like a field of new snow. A queen as harsh and beautiful as winter. That’s how it sees me.

  I feel exquisitely happy. I understand now why Cinderella always asked The Mirror who was fairest. I thought it was just an obsession with her appearance, but it means so much more. The one who is fairest is the one most loved. When we love someone, that person becomes more beautiful than any other creature. And now I am fairest. Beautiful and beloved.

  I close my eyes and silently ask The Mirror to show Hunter to me. What is he doing now?

  My reflection fades and I’m looking through the glass and into a room. It’s a rustic room, like that of a cottage, where everything is made of wood. Cinderella is sitting on a small bed with a homespun quilt, her back against the headboard, her legs pointed straight. She’s still wearing her ridiculous black dress. And Hunter is with her.

  Hunter is sitting on a stool beside the bed and holding a bowl of what looks like soup. He offers it to her, and although I can’t hear them, his earnest face tells me that he’s trying to convince her to eat. Cinderella looks at the soup with uncaring eyes. Hunter continues to talk.

  After a minute, Cinderella half-heartedly takes the bowl. Hunter looks relieved. She picks up the spoon and eats slowly, never lifting her eyes or mouthing a word. Hunter stays there and talks to her, making light gestures like he’s speaking of something pleasant. At one point, Cinderella glances at him. Her lips curl up in a tired smile.

  Yes, I know. He’s just trying to cheer her up. But I don’t like this. Hunter is mine. I’m not sharing him with anyone else. Least of all, her!

  “I’ve seen enough,” I say to The Mirror. The scene vanishes and my regular reflection returns. I pace in front of The Mirror while the candles sway their golden heads and my shadow crawls across the floor. The Mirror pours comfort through my body like a warm breeze but I want none of it. I want answers.

  “How?” I ask sharply. “How do I get rid of her?”

  The Mirror is silent for several seconds. And then a word enters my head, sharp as frostbite.

  Magic.

  I stop pacing.

  What? I don’t have magic. I don’t know anyone that does, besides Cinderella. And I never saw her use it, she just told me about it. I wouldn’t know where to begin.

  No. Wait…. I do know where to begin. That lair in the dungeon with bottles and cauldrons and a ponderous book of spells. I peeked inside once, a few years ago, and saw Cinderella stirring something that gave off a peculiar odor. She said she tried a few spells. Some worked, some didn’t.

  But some worked.

  Then there was my mother who said my beauty came from Blood Magic. She never explained what that meant. But maybe… maybe she possessed magic too. And if she had it, then I might too. Such things are often hereditary.

  I leave the chamber with a satisfied smile. It’s time to go check out that lair.

  ~*~ 21 ~*~

  As I head downstairs, I don’t hear the noise of the Dwarves anymore. I guess they finished their battle in the throne room. I stop in, just to be sure, and oh my stars, what a mess. Weapons left everywhere, swords and axes and maces and spears. The floor and walls are all scratched. Oh well. At least they left the throne in one piece-

  I flinch hard. There’s a lady in here! An old lady sitting in my throne! She slouches casually agains
t one arm, as if she owns the place. Her legs are crossed and she swings the upper foot lightly.

  “Hello, brat,” she says to me.

  I’m too shocked to say anything. It’s kind of scary, the way she smiles at me. She’s got messy gray hair done up in a sloppy bun. Wearing a worn out peasant dress with a green apron. An old lady from the villages, I guess. How on earth did she get in here?

  Hesitantly, I walk toward her. “Are you one of the servants?” I ask, even though I know she isn’t. She doesn’t look familiar.

  “Ha!” The lady says. “Do I look like a servant?”

  “Yes, you do. Can you get out of my chair, please?”

  “Why, you want it? Trust me, you won’t like it. Worst thing I’ve ever sat on. That girl has gone plain batty.”

  “Who?”

  “Your stepmama, the meanie-queenie.”

  I stop before the throne. I have to admit this old lady makes me nervous. She looks sturdy and strong, not the soft grandma type. I’m starting to think she’s a mad woman who wandered into the castle.

  “It’s time for you to go home,” I say.

  “Not yet, dumpling! We’re going to have a nice little talk.” The lady digs inside a large pocket on the front of her apron. She brings out a little bag tied shut with a string, and then a clay pipe, long and curling.

  “Are you going to smoke in here?” I ask.

  “No, I’m going to play a little tune,” she says dryly. She unties the bag and dumps a dark, ground substance into the bowl of the pipe. She pokes the tip of the pipe in her mouth and snaps her fingers over the bowl. Smoke begins to drift out of it.

  I take a step back. “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Light the pipe.”

  “I snapped.”

  “That’s not how pipes are lit.”

  “Oh! You’re a smoker too?”

  “No, but….” I sigh. “Who are you?”

  The old lady shrugs and sucks on her pipe. “No one, really.”

  “Then why are you here?” My patience is really running out with this weirdo.

  The old lady looks at me. “Seems like you’ve got some kind of problem with my Cindy.”

  I stare at her. “Do you mean Cinderella?”

  “I do.”

  “You know her?”

  “Did once. We’re no longer speaking. But I keep an eye on her. I know about your plan to bump her off and I won’t allow it. She’s out of your silky-smooth, raven-black hair now. So do the girl a favor and let her be.”

  “Are you aware that she tried to kill me? Brutally and savagely?”

  “Yeah, that was a lousy day. Poor brat wasn’t herself, that stupid looking glass made her nuts. Now that’s she out of this accursed palace, maybe she’ll become her old self again. Not that she was ever a saint, mind you. Just let her go. She’s got a nice fellow helping her out.”

  I bristle. “That is my Hunter!”

  “Please, pumpkin, men are disposable. You’re the queen now, you can have anybody. Give a ball and find yourself a nice fellow, I hear that works pretty well.”

  “I’m not the queen.”

  “Oh no?” The old lady eyes me from the tip of my silver tiara to the bottom of my frosty white gown. “Look at yourself.”

  I fold my arms. “If you care so much about Cinderella then go look after her yourself.”

  “Nope. Can’t be done. The powers that be consider her a lost soul. I can’t help her unless she changes.”

  I don’t know what any of that meant. And I’m not listening to some old crone who showed up, took my chair, and filled my palace with sour smoke. “You need to go,” I say firmly. “If you don’t, I’ll call the Dwarves and have them drag you out.”

  “Oh, I’d love to see them try that.” The old lady snickers, drops her feet, and gets off the throne. She points the pipe right in my face. “Take heed, honeybun. You harm my Cindy and you won’t see your next birthday. I am not your friend.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Well, what would you call it, a lullaby? Just watch yourself. I’d hate to see you suffer the fate of your papa.”

  I gasp. “What do you know about that?”

  But the old lady, humming to herself, slowly shuffles across the throne room, steering around the fallen weapons. I try to follow but suddenly my feet don’t want to move. It’s like they’re glued to the floor.

  “Hey!” I shout. “What happened to my father?”

  But the old lady hums herself out of the palace, leaving a trail of gray smoke behind her.

  ~*~ 22 ~*~

  Once I can move again, I grab a torch and head down to the lair. It’s at the back of the dungeon, beyond the little cells where prisoners are put. I open the heavy door and shut myself in.

  There’s an unhealthy smell, like dust and old moisture. The stone walls are speckled with black mold. I turn a crank on the wall which lowers a hanging rack of candles, the chain clanking and shuddering. I walk around the circular frame, lighting the candles with my torch. Then I crank it high again.

  The orangey gloom reveals several tables, a large cauldron sitting in a fire pit, bottles and jars of weird substances, and a bookstand that holds an ancient-looking volume, thick as four of my fingers. I stick the torch into a bracket and turn the crackling pages. There has to be something here I can use.

  Most of the spells seem petty to me. Spells that cure warts, restore lost teeth, or change the color of your eyes. I don’t need any of that. The section on curses is more interesting. Sure would be fun to give Cinderella a snout like a pig. Or huge, hairy feet! She’s always been obsessed with her feet, they’re even smaller than mine. But no - that isn’t good enough. I need something deadly.

  For a minute, I think I found one. An aging curse that causes the victim to grow old and die within a week. But as I read the spell, I see it must be cast on the victim’s birthday. That’s seven months away for Cinderella. I can’t wait that long.

  I continue to search, pausing now and then to check over my shoulder. That old lady made me nervous. She clearly has magic of some kind or other. A witch, perhaps. A witch on Cinderella’s side. I did not need that kind of stress.

  I turn a few pages more and find a spell that somebody marked with a black feather. Curse of Eternal Sleep, it says. It calls for poisoning an apple with a special brew and then feeding the apple to the victim. One bite is all that’s needed, and the victim will sleep forever. Not really dead, but not alive either.

  I smile.

  It’s perfect.

  The old lady doesn’t want me hurting Cinderella. Very well, then. I won’t hurt her. I’ll just help her take a nice little nap.

  Forever.

  ~*~ 23 ~*~

  I wait for Hunter by the well, as promised. For some reason, Cooper insisted on coming with me. I argued that I didn’t need him – I prefer to be alone with Hunter – but he wouldn’t listen. The Wood is a dangerous place, he said. The only reason I gave in is because I’m still afraid of the old lady.

  I wait until long after noon. Finally, a little peasant boy I’ve never seen rushes into the grove with a scrap of parchment in his hand. He bows. “For you, m’lady. From Mr. Hunter.”

  I shake out the parchment and read it.

  Snowy - The queen gave birth during the night. She is well but needs my care. I’ll come to you when I am able. -H

  H? How hard could it have been to write out his full name? Couldn’t he have ended with some reassuring words of love? That’s what I would have done if I had written a note. Was he in such a rush to get it over with?

  I crunch the note in my fist and look at the boy. “You may tell ‘H’ that ‘S’ is not pleased. Can you remember that?”

  The boy nods and, sensing my anger, runs away quickly. I stalk a circle around the grove, fuming to myself. So the child is here. At least that makes things easier. I wasn’t sure if Cinderella could deliver the baby while under a sleeping curse. Now I don’t have to worry
.

  “What happened?” Cooper asks. He’s standing under an apple tree, his thick arms folded.

  “Hunter isn’t coming,” I snap.

  “All right, then let’s go back.”

  “No. Take me to the cottage.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I’m not asking you to think! You’ll do as I say.”

  “So, you’re the queen now, eh?”

  I sigh. Why does everyone keep saying that?

  Cooper walks up to me, and without hesitation, scoops me up like a toddler. “Let’s go, little miss.” He tosses me over his shoulder.

  “Put me DOWN!” I shout, pummeling his back with my fists. Then I notice how high I am, how the apples are right at my eyelevel. There’s a big, beautiful red one hanging within my reach. I snap it off the branch before Cooper carries me away.

  ~*~ 24 ~*~

  “Mirror, Mirror, on the wall – I need to see Hunter right now.”

  At least The Mirror is cooperative. The scene opens up for me. I see Cinderella resting in bed, her back propped up with pillows. She looks pale and tired, but she’s smiling. Her arms curl around something small, rolled in a blanket, and I can just make out the curve of a tiny red cheek. The baby. I never wanted her to see it.

  Then Hunter steps into my view and sits on the stool by Cinderella’s bed. At first I’m confused because Hunter is also holding a small bundle. And then I realize it’s-

  Another baby! Oh my stars, she had TWO!

  Well, that’s just peachy! Look at this mess, it’s like Cinderella and I have traded places. Now I’m the Evil Queen and she gets to live in a cottage with Hunter. They look like a sweet little family. I clench my fists until my fingernails bite into my palms. There’s nothing worse than watching somebody else get everything you always wanted. It turns your blood to poison.

  Which reminds me, I’ve got a curse to cook up.