There was also a smug satisfaction that came from knowing the mirror still bowed to her every whim. Despite the ritualistic exchange they had each day, it never questioned her need to hear her heart’s desire. Ever since she was a young girl, she had craved a type of beauty and wealth she had not been born into, and she never tired of hearing that she had finally achieved it. She said the familiar words: “Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”
She waited for the familiar answer. And yet . . .
“Famed is thy beauty, Majesty. But, hold, a lovely maid I see,” the mirror replied. “Rags cannot hide her gentle grace. Alas, she is more fair than thee.”
Ingrid’s blood ran cold. She tried to remain calm, but the answer had rattled her. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, the presence of a boy—much like the boy who had once captivated her sister’s heart—always made her worry. She had done everything she could to prevent this day from coming, but somehow she had always known it would. “Reveal her name,” she demanded, understanding this was only delaying the inevitable.
“Lips red as the rose, hair black as ebony, skin white as snow . . .”
She didn’t wait for the mirror to finish. “Snow White,” she gasped. Despite having known this might be the case, it felt like all the air was being sucked out of her lungs. She tried to steady herself, exhaling slowly. She ran a pale, slender hand over her head, which was covered with a tight black headscarf. Her hair had always been unusually thin, unlike her sister’s or Snow’s. She hated how wiry it was and how it wouldn’t curl like theirs. Now she kept it locked up tight.
“The future holds more than one outcome. If your will is to pass, you alone know what must be done,” the mirror told her.
She understood where the mirror was going with this. They’d had this discussion before. It was one the mirror kept circling back to, just as it had all those years ago.
Ingrid turned away to compose herself. She looked around the almost bare room. To her knowledge, no one knew this room existed. Hidden behind her bedroom closet, she’d had the room built when she had moved into Georg’s tower after her sister’s death. Georg was too consumed with grief to even wonder what she was having built into her wardrobe. Katherine, on the other hand, had found out about the mirror and its power. She had not trusted it. And she had paid for those fears dearly.
Katherine. Ingrid glanced at a sudden movement in the shadows, her pulse quickening. But there was no one there. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to the mirror, trying to focus on the things she could control in this moment. “Tell me about the boy.”
“You have long known this day would pass,” the mirror replied. “To succeed, you must keep him from the lass.”
“Tell me again,” she said impatiently. She knew the mirror hated that tone, so she reconsidered her attitude. “I don’t recall this conversation. Where did the young man come from?”
“From a kingdom in the northern land,” said the mirror, “hails Henrich—a prince, brave and true. He shall not leave till he asks for her hand.”
“She just met the boy,” Ingrid said dismissively. “They won’t cross paths again.” I could also see to it that he doesn’t cross paths with anyone again, she thought. If that was what she had to do, she would.
“My queen, take heed, and do not laugh,” the mirror said. “If you do not act, he shall again cross her path.”
Ingrid felt the anger bubble up inside her at the mirror’s words. She curled her hands into tight fists. Just an hour ago, she’d been down in the dungeon, working on a potion, before sensing the mirror had a message for her. Now she had a problem that needed to be dealt with. Immediately.
The queen wasn’t sure how she always knew the mirror was calling, but the more she gave in to its powers, the more in tune with it she became. And she knew that everything it was saying now was true. No matter how hard she had tried to keep the girl hidden away and keep her from the finer things a princess should be afforded, the girl’s beauty and nature shone through. No rags, no dirt could hide Snow’s luminescence. That child was a perfect rose. Now that she was of age, there was no hiding that.
“The maiden may be under lock and key, but beloved by the people she will be,” the mirror continued. “You, my queen, they are less pleased to see.”
It was as if the mirror suddenly delighted in telling her what she didn’t want to hear. “I know that! Don’t you think I know?” She lunged at the mirror as if about to strike it, but stopped herself. She wouldn’t dare. “That child diminishes my authority over the people. Even hidden away in her ivory tower, they seem to know she’s there. I’m sure they wish she’d do something to rid them of their ‘evil queen,’ but she doesn’t have my strength, my power.”
“Power does she lack,” the mirror agreed, “yet strength is another matter. If given a chance, she will take the throne back.”
The mirror let the words linger in the damp, still air. The room smelled so musty that she sometimes felt ill. But it wasn’t as though she could ask anyone to clean it. She walked to one of the lanterns and lit it to give the room a warm greenish glow. Her eyes instinctively went to the corner of the chamber again, but still, no one was there. Maybe today she would get some peace from that at least.
“Till Snow White’s heart beats no more, the people will look to her. And an end to your peace will be in store,” the mirror said, reading her thoughts.
She hated when it did that, though she sighed with silent agreement. For too long she had allowed that child to exist, afraid to do anything that might disturb her newfound power. But ignoring Snow would not make her go away. It was time to take action, to do what no one else would, as per usual. “I will take care of this,” she proclaimed quietly.
“My queen, you are wise. The late hour has yet to strike. Do not let her be your demise.”
She would have it done today. She had delayed the inevitable for far too long. There would be no more indecisiveness. The threat was now too great. Rushing to the secret entrance, she pressed the lever that would let her back into her wardrobe. Then she emerged out of the closet and into her main chambers. She went straight to her door and opened it. He was waiting, as she knew he would be.
“Brutus,” she told the burly guard standing by. “Find me the huntsman. Bring him to my throne immediately.”
It always pleased her when people moved quickly.
By the time Ingrid got to her throne room, Brutus told her the huntsman had arrived. Whether the huntsman had to come from a great distance or not, she did not care. All she cared about was that she wasn’t kept waiting. Making other people wait was another story.
She had learned over the years that time might not have been her friend when it came to aging (at least not before she had come across the mirror), but in terms of making visitors uncomfortable and anxious, time was a blessing, indeed. Which was why she took her time getting settled on her throne that day. She loved sitting in that chair.
Georg, the fool that he was, had kept the same old, unassuming design as his father had before him. And Katherine, never caring much for décor, hadn’t made a peep about changing that fact. Ingrid, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to make alterations to the receiving room. As soon as she married Georg, she had workers build a platform for the thrones. As king and queen, should they not sit higher than those coming to ask favor of them? Armor was hung from the walls, giving anyone who entered a clear picture that this kingdom was not to be challenged. She added red velvet curtains and had her throne covered in blue velvet. But her favorite part of the opulent chair was the peacock feathers that fanned out behind her head, wreathing her in a sea of greens and black.