Shadows on Snow: A Flipped Fairy Tale (Flipped Fairy Tales) (4 page)

After she blew me a kiss, its magic leaving me scented with subtle jasmine, she lifted into the sky. The light and warmth in the clearing followed her up and into the dark of night, trailing behind her as the tail of a comet.

As I stepped into the woods once more, I braced myself. That night I would be without the security of my own glamour. I might as well have been naked and walking into a lion’s den.

I approached the castle from the gardens along the back and checked to see that I wasn’t followed. From my position outside the hedge maze, the sound of soldiers on their rounds allowed me to pinpoint their locations, the clank of their armaments against bracers and chain mail giving them away. The closer I could get to the castle before having to use the invisibility amulet, the better. Suddenly reappearing in the middle of a crowd of guests, or worse, of guards, would be less than ideal. Listening intently, I broke cover at an opportune moment and headed in through a break in the maze.

It was a struggle to keep from running, but wealthy noblewomen didn’t hurry anywhere. As that was what I was for the occasion, I had to act accordingly. Each step I took tightened the knots in my stomach, and the whispers of trysting guests caused me to jump. At every turn, thoughts of what might happen if I was caught became more and more real, and I could nearly feel the clamp of iron around my wrists as they dragged me into the dungeons.

I was about halfway through the maze when I realized my mind had wandered and I’d lost my focus. Rounding a corner and coming face to chest with an armed guard as I slammed into him, I cursed inwardly at myself for not being more aware of the sounds of patrols.

“Terribly sorry, M’lady,” he said as he steadied me on my feet. “I didn’t hear you approach.”

Fighting back the urge to push him away and run, I remembered who I was supposed to be.

“Yes, well, perhaps you can be of some use to me as recompense for nearly knocking me to the ground,” I said, indignant as I brushed out nonexistent wrinkles from my skirt.

He bowed. “How may I be of service, M’lady?”

“I came out for some fresh air and turned myself around in this bushy business.” I waved at the tall hedges. “How does one get out?”

The guard studied me for a moment, considering me. “Have you your invitation?”

“Of course I haven’t,” I snapped at him. “My father received the invitation. Don’t be dim.”

“Your father?”

“Lord Tremaine of Bradenshire,” I said, remembering the name of a man blessed with an astounding amount of children. At last count, he was at a whopping seventeen sons and daughters. “Are you about done questioning me, or shall I find my way on my own and have you reprimanded by your captain for delaying me?”

He straightened and gave a nod, turning back the way he came. “If you follow this path until the second right turn, then follow that to the third left, that will lead you straight out.”

I sniffed and brushed off the front of my skirt again, not so much as thanking him for his assistance.

“Have a pleasant evening, M’lady,” he called after me, but I didn’t stop to return the sentiment. Really, I greatly disliked being so rude, but being polite or cordial would cast suspicion on me instantly. Better to insult him a bit and save my skin, than spare his feelings and wind up in a cell.

My nerve faltered as the sounds of the ball finally reached me. Laughter and music carried into the garden and my steps slowed. Checking for any other people about, I touched the gem around my neck.

A shimmer passed over me as the magic took effect. A quick glance told me it worked as well as my godmother said, and I emerged from the maze and crept up the stone steps to the veranda overlooking the garden. Not one of the amorous couples dotting the dark corners so much as glanced at me, and the guards posted inside the wide doorway kept their eyes straight ahead.

Disregarding the astounding display of wealth drenching every guest and buffet table for the moment, I looked for an unoccupied corner to take up residence in until I had a better handle on the situation. I slowly dodged and weaved my way across the dance floor, nearly missing more than one couple engaged in a bouncy reel, then settled myself in beside a table overflowing with delicious-smelling pastries and roasted meats.

It was then my stomach reminded me of how long it had been since I’d had a full meal.

Thinking quickly, I calculated I had roughly five minutes of invisibility remaining, but what I didn’t know was if the spell would extend to things I picked up. As a test, I reached for a slice of bread, intending to only lift it an inch or two, lest anyone was looking. The food did disappear, at which point the challenge became how to eat something I couldn’t see. Forgoing all propriety, I stuffed it in my mouth as quickly as possible, then moved down the line to snag small pieces of meat that vanished down my gullet more quickly than they did at my first touch. My eyes rolled back, savoring each buttery morsel. Was this how food tasted when I was younger and treated to such things regularly? How spoiled I must’ve been to have taken it for granted.

A slight feeling of alarm came over me, a warning sign that the enchantment was about to end. Straightening my appearance as best I could, I stepped away from the table and behind a line of gossiping matrons who shook their heads sadly as they picked at the manners of the younger generations. They didn’t notice me when I rematerialized at their backs. As they seemed not to mind, I remained there, content to scan the crowd and wait for a good moment to slip away.

A breeze stirred at the back of my neck, and I glanced back to see a smartly dressed servant emerge from a hidden doorway with a tray of flutes filled with a golden liquor. He immediately offered one to me, which I declined, wanting to keep my wits about me, but the chattering ladies were quick to relieve him of a glass each. I was far more interested in the servants’ entrance than the drinks, and decided to watch the flow of traffic to gauge my own timing later.

A blast of trumpeters silenced the crowd and the musicians, announcing the arrival of the royal family, minus Queen Muriel, of course. King Alder descended the stairs, dressed from head to foot in crimson and gold. The prince appeared behind him, and I swore every lady in the place audibly gasped at the sight of him. His commander’s uniform glittered in the warm light of the ballroom, his medals and mask catching the reflections of the hundreds of candles in the chandeliers and ensconced on the walls. Strange that, even though the king was far more opulent in his attire that dripped with jewels, there was no question which of them looked more regal.

A slimy smile crawled across the king’s face, sending a shiver down my spine. I remembered that look from my childhood, and it frightened me now as much as it did back then.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “Allow me to officially welcome you to the palace. Tonight, we celebrate the return of Prince Leopold as he prepares to ascend to his rightful place on the throne.” His eye twitched a little at that. “It is the queen’s dearest wish that we not mourn for her delicate condition, but give thanks for the prince’s safe homecoming. And, as it is my duty to carry out her commands…” He lifted his hands, clapping them three times. “Let us make merry this night!”

At his words, the musicians struck up once again with a happy tune, inviting a circle dance onto the floor. With a sigh, I recalled that, long ago, it was one of my favorites when I was invited to participate. Smiling a little, I resumed my watch, continuing to note the comings and goings of the servants. The swish of fabric of every lady’s gown accompanied the rhythm of the music, and the gleam of silver and gold sparkled in the warm light any direction I turned. The dances spilled across the center swath of the room, flowing from the grand staircase all the way to the steps of the dais holding the thrones.

As my gaze drifted over every magnificent color and graceful movement, I jerked when his dark eyes met mine.

Spirits help me, I knew being there was a mistake. He had me in his sights.

Prince Leopold’s smile, even from the other end of the ballroom, sent me into a nervous panic, which was made no better when he moved towards me.

As a crowd of twittering ninnies bent on catching his eye surrounded him, I saw my opportunity. Setting my hand against the gem at my neck, I shimmered and vanished, quietly sneaking in behind a servant carting off empty glasses to the kitchens. At the first turn in the wall passages, I broke away from the man and went in search of my quarry. The clock was ticking and I didn’t have much time. Exiting the tunnels through the library in the east wing, I was finally on my way. Not a soul lurked in the hallways, and I ran through the corridors until I neared the queen’s quarters, my soft slippers barely making a sound against the stone floor. Seeing two guards posted outside her door, I crept into the adjoining quarters for her handmaidens and closed the door with a soft click behind me.

Unlike the opulence of the rest of the palace, there was a soothing quality to the soft blue and green fabric draped along the walls, posters of the beds, the curtains… everywhere. For the first time in six months, I’d found a room in the palace where I felt like I could breathe, but, under the circumstances, I didn’t have the luxury of enjoying myself there. Tiptoeing, so as not to disturb the two women slumbering in the bed, I made my way to the door leading to the queen’s bedroom.

The moment I entered, I had to cover my mouth to stave off the cloying smell hanging in the air. Searching for the source, my gaze pulled to the bed, taking in the form of the withered Queen Muriel. I gasped and tried not to cry out. Her hair, thin as smoke, wafted across the pillows in pale waves, stirring at the slightest breeze. Her skin was so ashen and transparent that every vein in her body was visible through it, her bones poking up at harsh angles to further show her closeness to death.

My mother once looked as she did, and it was all I could do not to sob at the ghostly memory. All at once, I remembered kneeling by her bedside, clutching at her hand even as she reassured me she’d be fine. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t make myself believe it then, as even a child could feel the icy grip of life’s end upon her.

I shut the memories down, determined not to let them distract me from what I needed to do to keep history from repeating itself. With tears in my eyes, I approached the bed. No matter what, I had to put aside my own feelings to look at the situation objectively.

Deep in slumber, she inhaled shaky, shallow breaths, barely moving her chest. She was not the proud, beautiful woman from the castle portraits, head held high and smiling. What remained was little more than a skeleton rattling its ribcage in a last effort to cling to life. It amazed me that she still breathed at all. Queen Muriel must have had amazing strength to have lasted that long.

I shut my eyes and mentally scanned the room. From what I could tell, there were no cursed pieces of jewelry or haunted relics either on her person or nearby. Magic and I were well acquainted, and I would’ve known it instantly were it in play. I returned to a physical search. Beside her bed, on the nightstand, a cold, half-empty cup of tea sat beside a vase of large, white, five-petaled Daymaiden lilies. I reached for the cup, thinking I might be able to detect any poisons by scent or color, but I paused mid-motion.

The glass vase holding the flowers was all but bereft of water. Barely an ounce or two remained in the bottom, with lines of mineral deposits left where the liquid evaporated. And yet, the lilies thrived as though they’d only been cut an hour before. Shifting my hand to hover over the blooms, the faintest hint of magic sent a familiar tickle across my skin.

My time would be up soon. I needed to make my decision.

After taking one of the blooms from the vase, I lifted the skirts of my gown and slipped the stem through my garter. With one last check of the room, my gaze lighting briefly on every horizontal surface and wall hanging, I left as quickly as I could without disturbing any of the occupants.

I took the wall passage from the east wing library again, but exited before I got to the higher traffic areas the servants used. The place I ended up in was a cloakroom on the main floor, and I had to battle my way through hundreds of heavy garments before finding the door.

As I slipped into the corridor, the same sensation of alarm passed over me. Fortunately for me, the powder room was nearby, and none would question my presence.

I paused for a moment, thinking. I had what I came for, and there was no reason for me to return to the ball. Nothing beyond the unsatisfied rumble of my stomach, at any rate, which was very insistent. Dare I risk it? So long as I left within the hour, I saw no reason not to indulge myself the one time, even if I had to wear a dress to do so.

And I did so miss the sound of music. For years, I’d not heard musicians aside from my sisters.

It had been a very long six months. Surely there was no harm in a little leisure.

I passed half an hour skirting the edges of the ballroom, plucking all manner of delicious things from platters, and eavesdropping on the latest gossip amongst high society. When my hunger was finally sated, I knew it was time to leave, but found I was actually enjoying being amongst people. Strange, as I hadn’t missed such events at all the past ten years. I swayed with the beat of the music, entranced by the constant motion of the guests and the ever-changing sparkles of light from the jewels adorning every person. A hypnotizing rhythm crept into me, keeping me anchored to the lavish celebration.

Even so, I knew the longer I stayed, the higher the risk of being approached by someone who might question my presence. Stepping out onto the veranda leading to the garden, I took a deep breath of night air, relishing the small reprieve from six months of being ordered about. It was time to go.

“And here I thought I’d imagined you.” His voice instantly shattered my tiny sliver of stolen peace. “Either that, or I was seeing specters.”

I turned slowly, doing my best to stay composed, or at least give the appearance of such.