"Yes, I would be." Rapunzel took a step toward Cinderella, contempt written across her face in visible lines. "Imagine the fanfare. Imagine my palace.
Imagine how nice it would be not to have come out of a cow, not to live with seven little men, not to have to pretend what I pretend to feel for you."
"Wait, I..." The words sounded like evil lies in Snow White's ears. "You should not be saying such things."
"You pretend?" Cinderella scoffed. "Please. The way you hang off my arm, it is as if you need help just to walk. It is pathetic."
Butterflies rising from Cinderella in a sudden swell, they swarmed Rapunzel, landing and floating around her. Distracted as they were by their anger,
though, neither Rapunzel nor Cinderella took notice.
"How could I care for you?" Rapunzel replied, the butterflies piling upon her. "You care for no one but yourself. You have done this. You have broken the
barriers between the kingdoms. You have destroyed everything. If you had only married the prince as you were meant, you would not have ended up in my
kingdom, and I would live in a castle right now. If you truly wanted to do me a service, Cinderella, you should have left me in that tower."
Even as the butterflies swelled again, landing back upon her, Cinderella had nothing to say. She opened her mouth, but no sound came forth. From the look
upon her face, Snow White thought Rapunzel may have stolen all the words Cinderella had left.
Where such hatred had been an instant before, Cinderella's eyes overflowed with sudden tears, and, turning away, Cinderella rushed into the woods, the
butterflies that made an effort to cling to her losing their hold as she weaved between the trees and out of sight. When Rapunzel gave a victorious grin,
Snow White could not recognize her as the same girl who appeared at the dwarves' cabin those nights before.
Regrouping in the air, the butterflies came back for Snow White, and she could sense the wickedness they carried as she rushed from their attack. Scooping
a fern leaf from the forest floor, she swatted them away, watching some fall to the ground with broken wings as others evaded the sweep of the fern.
"What are you doing, you idiot?" Rapunzel turned on her suddenly, the devil insects still clinging to her everywhere, and Snow White swatted Rapunzel hard,
watching rage rise into her eyes. A growl rumbling past her lips, Rapunzel lunged at her, but Snow White pummeled her with the heavy fern, sending Rapunzel
reeling to the forest floor and the butterflies into flight around her.
Anger suddenly sincere, Snow White smashed butterflies against trees and trampled those that fell at her feet, shoving Rapunzel to the ground when she
attempted to rise.
"I am going to hurt you when I get up," Rapunzel promised, but Snow White trusted there was only one reason Rapunzel would hurt her and continued to sweep
the butterflies away.
Grabbing the last two butterflies from Rapunzel's hair, Snow White threw them to the ground and stomped the life from them, at last letting Rapunzel stand
at her will. If she was wrong, she knew, she would be using the fern as a weapon against a girl she believed her friend, and, as Rapunzel whirled toward
her, face scratched and bleeding, Snow White fell two steps back, holding the fern between them like a shield.
Stumbling toward her, Rapunzel did not attack, but caught herself on a tree, eyes blinking and clearing as confusion passed over her face. Then awareness.
Then remorse so profound Snow White could feel it.
"Oh, no." Rapunzel went deathly pale. "No, no, no, no."
Hand going to her stomach as if she might be sick, Rapunzel dashed off in the direction Cinderella had fled, and Snow White ran after her, fern leaf
clutched firmly in hand.
Rushing into a clearing, she ran almost smack into Rapunzel, who stood so still, Snow White suspected, if left like that for too long, she would become
part of the forest, her feet sinking into the earth as the vines grew up around her.
On the bank of a stream, Cinderella lay on her side, one arm crooked beneath her head, the other clutching the grass before her as sobs moved through her
in violent waves. Shocked to see Cinderella weep that way, for she always seemed so strong, Snow White dropped her own defenses, the fern leaf dangling in
her hand as Rapunzel cautiously approached Cinderella.
"Cin," she whispered, placing her hand upon Cinderella's back, and Cinderella flinched away, trying at once to get up. Sliding to her knees behind her,
Rapunzel captured Cinderella, arms snaking around her chest to prevent her escape. "I did not mean it."
"You sounded like you meant it," Cinderella said.
"I know," Rapunzel admitted on a sob. "But I did not." Releasing Cinderella just enough to turn her around, Rapunzel met her gaze. "You know I did not. You
know I do not feel that way."
"I do not know what you feel." Cinderella shook her head, sending tears splattering against her cheeks. "I know only what you say."
Stilling Cinderella's face with her hands, Rapunzel kissed her with such force, Snow White thought it must hurt, but Cinderella seemed only to melt into
her, her hands going to Rapunzel's hair to hold her close.
"You know what I feel." Rapunzel pulled back, pressing Cinderella's hand to her heart. "You have to trust in that. You have to believe me."
Behind Rapunzel, a light blue butterfly rose into the air, and, with an unnatural sense of terror, Snow White watched it land upon Rapunzel's shoulder.
Rushing forward, she raised the fern, but, before she got to them, Cinderella plucked the butterfly from Rapunzel's dress, her own eyes clouding for a
moment, before she crushed it in her hand.
T
here were voids in the clutter, and the dwarves' largest sacks were gone, when Snow White returned to the cabin, so she knew they had gone off in the
quickly-drying forest to exchange some of their spoils for the ill-gotten goods of other forest thieves.
Having done a less-than-thorough job in their cleaning, the dwarves' beds still looked a wreck of mud and dripping rainwater, and Snow White started over
to ready them for the coming night. Halfway, she wondered what Cinderella would do if she returned to discover the dwarves had done only half the work that
needed doing, knowing only they would suffer the consequences, and a flare of something like rebellion drew Snow White's feet to a stop. If the dwarves
wanted clean beds for the night, she thought, they should have finished cleaning them, and the notion brought an unexpected smile to her lips.
Though it was still hours from retiring in the sky, the sun had begun its descent behind the mountain, and Snow White filled the lanterns, placing them as
dusk drew near.
Wet tendrils clinging to her face, she climbed the ladder to change into her lightest sleeping gown, knowing well that Esteban would spend the evening
trying to see through it, but that there was nothing else to wear. She thought to have many more days of winter and early spring in which to sew more
seasonal attire, or in which the dwarves would have time to steal it.
Not expecting Cinderella and Rapunzel to be in a hurry, Snow White still cast her eyes to the door repeatedly as she spread her parchments and coals over
the table. They had seen her as far as the base of the mountain, knowing she could find her way from there, before heading off into the forest alone.
Fearful of what might come to pass, Snow White did not like watching them go, but they promised they would return, together, before nightfall, and Snow
White had no choice but to hope the lanterns at the windows would help her new friends find their way home.
Unrolling the sketches she had done over the days stuck in the cabin, she smiled at the one of Cinderella and Rapunzel, still more pleased with their
likenesses than with any drawing she had ever done before it. For some time, she looked at the sketch, trying to determine what made it so striking, but
the knock at the door paused her in-depth study, and she rushed to tell Cinderella and Rapunzel they needn't knock.
Startling back at the unexpected visitor standing at the door instead, Snow White thought to scream as the young man reached out, but the hand that touched
her arm was gentle, not seizing her, but preventing her from falling.
"I am sorry," he said quickly, his voice thick with accent, eyes impossibly gentle upon Snow White's face. "I did not mean to startle you. Did I startle
you?"
"No," Snow White lied, taking in his tailored appearance.
An army uniform, soft blue-gray, was perfectly fitted to his sturdy form, the triangle hat perched at the appropriate angle. Protruding from its side, a
white feather indicated his high ranking, while the burgundy bandana tied around his face made him look a bandit, but did little to hide how handsome he
must be beneath it. His eyes, they were the most deeply consuming Snow White had ever felt on her, even though, in the past, she had felt many people look
long. And so eerily known to her. Staring into them, she wondered if she had not met the army herald somewhere before.
"I was just expecting someone else," she whispered.
"Ah. Friends?" the herald asked amiably, those eyes sparkling upon her, and Snow White knew, beneath the obscurity of the bandana, he wore a grin to match.
"Yes," she replied. "Friends."
"Will they be here soon?" the herald asked, and Snow White's hand tightened on the edge of the door.
"I never said they stayed here," she uttered.
"I assumed they must," the herald asserted without delay. "I trust you are not alone in the forest. It is a dangerous thing for a young woman to be alone
out here."
The herald's gaze sweeping lower, Snow White remembered the thin gown and felt more on edge. "Are you looking for someone?" she asked.
"Some thing," the herald replied. "A royal relic, very valuable."
"You were sent from the castle?" Snow White questioned weakly. "Yet were asked only to seek a relic? It must be a very important relic."
"It is," the herald said at once. "It is of immeasurable value. What a strange girl you are, to ask such questions of authority."
"We are what life makes of us," Snow White uttered the words she had heard Cinderella say many times, and they gave the herald pause.
"Could I, perhaps, come in for a short rest?" he finally asked. "I have been walking all day, and it has gotten terribly stifling."
"I do not think that a good idea," Snow White returned.
"But I am a herald of the royal army," the man declared, clearly surprised at the refusal.
"Yes," Snow White nodded. "I recognize the uniform, but how do I know that is what you are truly?" She eyed the herald's low-pulled hat and bandana. "For I
cannot see you. Take down the cover and reveal yourself."
"I cannot," the young man responded, his accent faltering.
"Why not?" Snow White asked, unusually unconvinced, unusually defiant, and not trusting a word from the stranger's mouth.
"I have a terrible scar," the herald replied. "It is from the war."
"Scars do not frighten me," Snow White uttered. "Strangers do."
"If you do not have the relic," the herald suddenly declared, "I shall be on my way. But, please, take this for your trouble."
Watching an apple rise on the herald's hand, it tempted Snow White with its perfection. Unbroken red skin unable to contain the heavenly scent, it crept
around Snow White, infecting her senses.
"It has been no trouble." She tried to fight the sensation. Feeling much as she felt standing before the cottage of the witch that trapped Hansel and
Gretel, Snow White knew it must be a trick.
"It is the finest in the kingdom." The herald's voice was as seductive as the apple. "And the last of the season, I should imagine, with the sudden spring
upon us. Here, taste."
When the herald held the apple up to Snow White, she leaned forward unconsciously, lips brushing the perfect skin, before she realized what she was doing
and determinedly pulled back.
"Taste it!" The herald's voice turned dangerous and he lunged into the cabin, fingertips on the back of Snow White's neck holding her captive as the apple
rose once more to her lips.
There was a moment of panic, of fear, in which Snow White recognized the danger, in which she tried to struggle, but eyes held spellbound by the herald's,
by the oddly tender caress on the back of her neck, she felt no desire stronger than the desire to taste and sunk her teeth into the dark red skin.
At once, the herald's face changed before her eyes, and Snow White's sudden gulp sent the bite hurtling down her throat. Reaching for the bandana that hid
the herald from view, her fingertips dragged over soft skin to reveal the face of the queen, the last thing she saw and felt before blackness came once
more upon her.
Stumbling back as Snow White crumpled to the floor, Queen Ino caught herself on the doorframe, trying to draw breath. When she answered the door, Snow
White looked the same girl, but how quickly that girl had changed, and the queen had been unprepared.
The simple magic that once felled Snow White so easily required a great deal of real power to back it up, and, standing over her stepdaughter, the queen
realized she was utterly depleted. It had required such effort to overcome Snow White's defiance, it had pulled the magic from the queen's very face.
Stepping precariously over Snow White, Queen Ino picked up the glass from which the girl had been drinking and took a mouthful of something that left a
scorching trail down her throat as she collapsed heavily into a tiny chair.
She needed only a breath, a drink, a moment of restoration.
No
, she thought, eyes catching on a parchment on the table. Motivation, that was what she
needed. Fingers trembling as she pulled the drawing closer, the queen stared at the likenesses of the two girls - Cinderella and Rapunzel. Captured with
stunning accuracy on the page, the image did not just show the truth of their faces, but in their eyes, which looked upon each other with something so
real, it seized the queen's breath. It occurred to her how little stock she had ever put into Snow White's talents, and the thought only made her feel
weaker.