The Fairest of Them All (15 page)

“It’s possible.”

“Why do you think those people were so upset?”

He hesitated. “The former queen has only recently passed,” he said after a moment, “and was beloved by the
people.”

“They do not want the king to remarry so quickly?”

He averted his eyes. “Some may feel that way, yes.”

“Do you?”

He looked back at me. “I follow the will of my king, madame. I do not question his desires.”

“Ah,” I said, assessing him. “Good.”

It reassured me to know that Josef inspired such loyalty in those around him.

The drama of our entrance distracted me slightly from my terrible
nerves, which were increasing at an alarming rate as we neared the end of our journey. I had thought my proper place was here, in the palace, but as we rattled over the drawbridge and came to a stop, everything seemed foreign and imposing and not like home at all.

A guard outside pulled the carriage door open and helped me down. My hair remained in the carriage, and gradually unraveled and trailed
after me as I stepped forward. Looking around, I saw how luxurious the palace was, far more extravagant than I’d known anything could be. The ground was covered in marble and the doors to the castle were giant, with golden men on horseback flying across them as if they could leap off onto the stone of the palace exterior, or into the shining water of the moat surrounding us.

A large group of
ladies and servants stood inside, ready to greet me. I craned my neck, looking for Josef, but he was not there.

I could feel the people’s eyes passing over me, examining me, and that sense of shame came back, more acutely now, that I didn’t have anything finer than the plain shift I was wearing. I forced myself to stand tall and meet their gazes, defiant. But they were not paying attention to
my clothes, it seemed.

I heard gasps and exclamations from all around.

“Her hair!” “Beautiful . . . ” “Like pure gold . . . ”

I stared at the group, in all their finery. Ladies curtsied, men bowed, and I smiled as I stepped into the palace.

“My lady,” a woman said, stepping forward. “I am ordered to take you to your chambers. My name is Yolande.”

“Thank you,” I said.

She was lovely, with
a cloud of rich brown hair about her face. I felt instantly comfortable with her, as she led me through the crowd of people and toward a grand stairway, her green and white dress full and swishing as she moved.

My hair dragged behind me. I felt a strange energy, the presence of invisible spirits all around. Maybe it was a memory of my own past in this kingdom, maybe it was the portraits and sculptures
all over, or maybe it was the generations of royalty who’d lived here, pressing in. But I could feel it.

The other women rushed to follow, walking on either side behind me. I was not sure yet who they were, whether they were members of the royal family or servants, and was surprised that no one introduced themselves to me, though the men, I noted, all watched me with a combination of what seemed
like admiration and suspicion, as we passed. Was it men like these who’d caused the tears I’d witnessed in the forest? I wondered. Were men the same everywhere?

I was too stunned, though, to give too much thought to my reception and the possible foibles of those around me. After years of watching the palace from my tower window, dreaming of what was happening inside, I was here, and everywhere
I looked was some new marvel.

It was as if a mountain had opened and I’d walked into it, all marble and flashing stone. Gems studded the walls, glinting
when the light hit them. We moved through hallways and long rectangular rooms with massive paintings and all manner of wild beasts hanging from the walls. Great hearths yawned open from each floor, alongside grand, richly colored furniture with
intricate designs carved into it and over plush, sumptuous rugs. I wanted to run my fingers over each new thing.

We walked past rooms where painters were at work on entire walls, where lords and ladies played instruments and hunched over games of chess, and across a great courtyard with a pond in the middle of it, at the center of the palace.

A group of swans floated on the water. The sun shone
down above us. I thought of Zeus and his swan, and thought that this place, this palace, was fit for the gods.

As we walked, my hair dragged across marble and stone and grass, dipped into the pond, brushed against these ladies who’d attached themselves to me. Amid my wonder at my surroundings, I was able to feel the women’s distrust, feel the general sense that the king was doing something wrong,
betraying the beloved, newly deceased queen by marrying a strange woman from the forest.

I let myself absorb everything—it was only natural, wasn’t it, that they would feel that way?—as we stepped back inside, and as Yolande led me up a set of stairs and down a hallway. I stopped short in front of a large portrait on the wall, the last in a line of portraits, all of stern-faced women in queens’
clothing.

It was a woman in an extravagant gown. Her hair was long and black, her eyes bright blue, her lips red as fresh blood. Her expression was warm and lovely and strange, and I felt mesmerized, suddenly, by her beauty. Around her neck hung a gold, gem-studded cross.

“Is that . . . ?” I turned to Yolande. “Was that her?”

“Yes, that was our queen,” she said, stepping quickly forward and
leading me through a large set of doors and into a series of rooms.

I shivered, convinced that my predecessor was still there, watching me. Knowing what I’d done.

“And these are the queen’s chambers,” she said.

The room that greeted us was lavish, with tapestries covering the walls and silk curtains hanging in the windows. Had these been her rooms, too? I wondered. They must have been. Suddenly
I did not feel at all well.

“Here is your bedroom,” she said, pushing open another set of doors, into a sweeping room. There was a massive soft bed, high off the floor, with sheer fabrics hanging down all around it, rugs covering the stone floor, and an immense hearth, and a window, with wide wooden doors I could press open.

“This is my . . . room?” I asked.

I noticed that my things were already
scattered about, that the soldiers carrying them had arrived earlier. The sight of my few items of clothing reassured me.

“Yes. And I sleep nearby, as do most of us. We are your ladies-in-waiting.”

I turned around and faced the five ladies who’d been following us. All of them were prettily outfitted, with swept-up hair and graceful smiles on their faces—except for one, a plain woman dressed
in yellow, staring at the floor, who seemed vaguely familiar.

“When will I see the king?” I asked.

“You are to be married in the morning,” Yolande said. “We will wash you and prepare you for the wedding.”

“Wedding?”

“Have you not come to be queen, my lady?” she said, amused. “You must not have expected it to happen so quickly . . . ?”

“No, I did not,” I said. “I thought surely I would see
him first.”

“We are following his wishes. It seems he is anxious to make you his queen. We will serve you dinner here, and bring you whatever you may need.”

“I would like something to drink,” I said, “and to rest for a while.”

She nodded, and they left me alone in the vast room.

I wandered through it, mesmerized by all that space, gloomy and beautiful and strange. Everything was so quiet,
without the sounds of the forest. I walked to the window, which looked out onto the palace gardens; they were so much larger and more manicured than our garden in the forest, but just as lush.

I had a sudden, intense wave of longing to see Mathena, to be with her right now, in the forest, where I was loved. No one here wanted me, it seemed, other than the king himself.

The mirror she’d given
me was hanging on the wall between the window and a large bureau. I caught a flash of my face, and walked over to it.

My hair glowed in the mirror, my face looked flushed, my eyes ablaze.

“Who is the fairest of them all?” I asked it, repeating Mathena’s question.

“Rapunzel is the fairest,” it said, without hesitation, as the glass rippled.

I clapped with delight. It was almost as if Mathena
were right there with me, sitting by my side on the forest floor. There was a
movement in the mirror. I whirled around, thinking a maidservant had sneaked in behind me, but I was alone. I peered back into the mirror. My own face stared back.

“Hmm,” I said. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall. What else should I ask of you?”

The glass rippled again, as if I’d thrown a pebble into it.

“Will I have a
magnificent wedding?” I asked.

“You will have a wedding fit for one so fair,” the mirror said.

“And . . . will my ladies, the court, come to love me?” I asked.

I stood waiting for my answer, but the mirror remained still. I let a full minute pass.

“Do you weary of speaking with me?” I asked leaning in, watching my own face looming in the glass.

I decided to try something else. “Is Mathena
all right without me?”

I expected the mirror to stay silent, suspecting there was a limit to what it would say at a given moment, but to my surprise it began to swirl about. My face disappeared, and an image of Mathena appeared. She was bent over the garden, dirt smudging her face.

“Oh! Is that you right now?” I whispered.

She raised her head sharply and peered into the sky. Then she looked
all around, until her eyes fell on mine. I gasped. The image vanished and again there was a normal mirror in front of me. My own face staring back.

I exhaled.

It was a very charming gift, I told myself. That’s all. Still, I felt a vague anxiety that I tried to ignore as I continued exploring.

I opened a carved door, stepped into a small chamber, a closet. Perfect for a workroom. I would miss
having the garden, the
root cellar, and Mathena there to guide me, but I had Mathena’s book and could have my own little space for working spells as long as I was not too obvious about it.

I walked to the bed and sat down, marveling at the soft mattress, the fur strewn across it. I lay on my back and stared up at the ceiling and closed my eyes.

I will make this my home,
I thought as I drifted
to sleep,
and be happy here
.

I’m not sure how long I was resting before someone knocked on my door and woke me.

“Come in,” I said, quickly sitting up as if I’d been caught doing something wrong. For a moment I was disoriented and wondered if I was still in the tower.

The door opened and one of the ladies walked in, the plain one in the yellow dress I’d noticed before. There was an air of tiredness
and melancholy to her. She seemed older than the others, as if she’d suffered a great hardship.

“I have brought you some wine, my lady.” She stepped slowly toward me, holding a goblet in her hand. She watched me carefully, as if I might lunge at her at any moment. I thought of the stag, its quiet, stricken face as I stood there and loaded the arrow into my bow. “Do you recognize me?”

“Should
I?”

“I am . . . my name is Clareta. I visited you. In the winter.”

At first I just stared at her, uncomprehending, and then I slowly realized who she was. The mark on her face was the same, but all the beauty that had been there before had vanished.

I blushed deeply, felt a stab of guilt as I understood that I had done this to her.

“Of course,” I said, standing from the bed, keeping my back
straight. “I did not recognize you in . . . ” I tried to choose my words carefully.

“I am much changed,” she said. “I know. God has punished me for my unfaithfulness.”

She handed me the goblet. I saw then that her hands were trembling. Of course she was terrified, I realized—I knew her darkest secret. I wondered if she suspected my own.

I took the wine gently from her hands. “Please sit,” I
said, gesturing to one of the chairs before the fire. She obeyed, and I sat next to her.

“It is you,” she said. “Isn’t it? I’ve been wondering if I was dreaming.” She was quick to check herself. “Of course you will be a great queen.”

“Do not worry,” I said. “I did not expect the king to come make me his wife, either. You must have been surprised to hear the news?”

“Well, I . . . ” Her face
was scarlet, and she seemed uncertain where to look. “I am so ashamed. What I admitted to you . . . ”

There was nothing accusing in her voice. Even without magic, I understood that she thought I would send her back to her family, knowing she had slept with the king and betrayed her mistress. I could use her fear, I realized, and her guilt. It was better than facing my own guilt, over what I’d
done to get here.

“Do not worry, Clareta,” I said gently. “That was another time.”

“Will you . . . keep me? You will not send me from court?”

“I will keep you,” I said. “I understand that not everyone here is a believer in magic. It will be nice to know someone close to me is.”

I’d meant this as a compliment, something to draw her closer
to me. Instead, she breathed in sharply, as if I’d slapped
her across her red cheeks.

“I do not . . . ” she began, clearly confused about what to say.

“Shh,” I said, placing my hand on her shoulder. “It will be our secret.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

She looked up at me and for a moment I held her gaze, studying her. Surely she must have had some suspicion about what we’d given her to offer the queen, and about the queen’s sudden death, but if she did,
she was too concerned with her own position to betray it.

She nodded, and then stood with some formality to leave the room. I watched her go, then drank down the glass of wine to calm my nerves, letting it burn in my throat.