Their faces impossible to read, they looked neither pleased nor dissatisfied.
“Welcome, cousins. How was your journey? I dare say you must be exhausted after so many days of travel.”
Martha spoke first, “We are quite—”
Ruby took over, “Rested, cousin—”
And Lucinda finished, “Thank you.”
Verona spoke up, “Shall I show you to your rooms then, and send a girl to help you unpack? I am sure you are eager to refresh yourselves after your long excursion.”
Only Lucinda answered, “Indeed.”
The odd sisters tottered behind Verona, their tiny feet clicking on the stone floors as they chattered to themselves.
“I can’t imagine it,” said one. “Unfathomable, really,” said another. “Inconceivable!”
Verona only heard little bits of their conversation and wondered what they might be discussing. She resisted the urge to look back at them as she imagined the expressions on their faces—pinched in distaste, as if having smelled something rotten. Verona smiled weakly; the thought of the castle being inhabited by these peculiar women amused and disturbed her in tandem.
“Here we are, Lucinda, this is your room. Ruby and Martha, I have rooms for you down the other hall,” Verona said.
Lucinda simply said “Not—”
Ruby continued, “Acceptable.”
“No, not,” Martha finished, “in the least.”
“Come again?” was all Verona could muster.
The three sisters stared chillingly at Verona.
“Is there something wrong with your room, Lucinda?” Verona asked.
They responded as one, “We prefer to sleep together.”
“I see, of course. I will have one of the grander chambers made ready then. In the meantime, would you like to take tea in the morning room?”
Lucinda said, “That would be—”
Ruby finished, “Lovely,” and Martha thanked Verona as she took them to the morning room. The room was infused with light, and tea was set at the center table, where Snow patiently waited to meet her cousins.
Verona motioned to the maid to rearrange the chairs so the sisters might sit together across from Snow. They nodded appreciatively to Verona as they took their seats. The scene looked like a macabre tea party hosted by a beautiful cherub and attended by overgrown dolls dressed in funerary garb.
“If you could pour, Snow, I have to see to your cousins’ new room,” Verona said.
Snow smiled. She liked the idea of playing the lady.
“And ladies, if you could please excuse me? I must be off,” Verona said, curtsying slightly and then leaving the room.
As soon as Verona was out of sight, the sisters each put their hands on the table, clasping each other’s, looking to Snow expectantly.
Snow poured the tea for her cousins, happy that she managed to do so without spilling a single drop.
“Would you like cream and sugar?” Snow asked.
“Yes, please.” The sisters responded in harmony.
“So tell us, Snow—”
“How do you like—”
“Your new mother?” they asked.
“I like her very much,” Snow replied.
“She isn’t ever—”
“Cruel to you?”
“She doesn’t lock you away—”
“To shield herself from your beauty?”
Snow was confounded. “No. Why would she do that?”
The sisters looked at each other and smiled.
“Why indeed?” they replied in unison, then broke into a cackle. “She isn’t the stepmother—”
“Of fairy-tale myths then?”
“Lovely.”
“Though a bit boring—”
“If you ask me.”
“We hoped for—”
“Some excitement, some intrigue.”
“We will make our own then!” they said together. “Yes, we will make our own.” And they giggled uncontrollably, high-pitched, and wickedly.
Snow laughed nervously, too. The three sisters stopped their laughter and turned their steely eyes back to Snow. They could have been statues that had been left in the wind and rain for too many years, the weather leaving cracks in their faces. Snow couldn’t help but feel a little frightened of them.
“I would hide her away,” said Ruby.
“As would I,” said Lucinda.
“I wouldn’t. I’d cut her into bits and make a potion of her.”
“Oh yes, and we’d all drink her….”
“Indeed. She’d make us beautiful and young again.”
“We’d need a raven’s—”
“Feather and the heart of a dove—”
“Of course, and don’t forget—”
And they all said, “A lock of her dead mother’s hair.”
Snow grasped the arms of her chair in fear. Her eyes grew wide and her lip began to quiver. She stood up and backed away from the sisters as far as she could. And then, to her great relief, Verona reentered the morning room.
“Ladies, your room is ready. I can show you now, unless you are still enjoying your tea and cakes.”
The three sisters stood as one, bowed to Snow, and followed Verona to their rooms where their trunks were waiting for them.
The sisters surveyed the room. “Nice enough.”
“Yes, this will do.”
“We can unpack ourselves. You may leave.”
They giggled as Snow darted past their room with her hands covering her face. Verona caught a glimpse of Snow and quickly excused herself to follow the girl, but caught some of the sisters’ chatter as she left.
Lucinda said, “Do you think we should take Snow—”
“Into the forest? Yes.” The sisters looked at each other with wicked smiles and took to their high-pitched laughing again.
Snow was in a panic and making little sense when she tried to recount to her mother and Verona what had happened during the tea.
“Oh, I think they were just teasing you, darling. They are rather eccentric,” said the Queen.
“Wicked senses of humor if you ask me, my Queen, weaving tales of potions,” Verona said, looking horrified. “Snow, did they actually say they were going to cut you into pieces?”
Snow nodded, frowning terribly.
“Well, I don’t think they meant it seriously. They couldn’t have. Perhaps Snow can dine with you tonight, Verona, so I may have dinner with these interesting ladies myself and get a gauge of their natures.”
And she looked to Snow. “I will tell them, my dear, they are not to tease you so cruelly; I won’t have it. Don’t you worry, little bird.”
Snow looked relieved.
Verona asked the Queen for a word, and the Queen obliged.
“Snow may be but a frightened child, my Queen, but I also heard the sisters talking among themselves as I left their chamber. They mentioned taking Snow into the woods. Given what Snow has already told us of them, I would advise we keep a close watch on the sisters, for I do not trust them.”
The Queen sighed heavily.
“Thank you, Verona. I appreciate your loyalty and the love you have for my child.”
That evening, in the smaller hall, the Queen had arranged for a splendid dinner for herself and the sisters, while Snow dined with Verona. The women ate sparingly, picking at their food like birds. They said nothing most of the evening, until Ruby broke the silence. “I fear we frightened Snow with our teasing.”