The Fairest of Them All (29 page)

After, I went to see Gilles. I walked over the castle grounds to the mews, and the light was so strange and different, the sun behind a mass of silver clouds
yet with rays of light streaming through them. It seemed a sign of some kind. A sign that things would change, finally, for me.

I walked inside and rapped on the door to his private room. There was no answer. After a moment, I pushed the door. He
wasn’t there. I stood, letting myself inhale his scents, his presence. I could almost feel his hands moving over me and his mouth on my skin.

I walked
over to his bed and spread myself out, letting myself linger though I knew it was dangerous for me to be here. I needed to stay away from Gilles, in case anyone had seen him and the princess and realized what had been done. But for one moment, just this one, I let myself remember the days when the three of us had gone riding in the kingdom, when Snow White petted a falcon as if it were a cat,
when her face showed such joy seeing the flourishing crops throughout the countryside.

I shook the memories away. Those days were long past. I concentrated on this moment now, whispering a simple protection spell over him. That he should meet no obstacles in his path and return unharmed.

I forced myself to leave his room and enter the mews. Without him there, it was eerier than it’d ever been
before. I thought of my dream then, which flashed before me, and how she’d been tied like the crane. I imagined her, suddenly, with jesses around her ankles, bells tinkling when she moved, her face covered in a black hood.

I looked out the door, into the daylight. The perches outside were empty.

“Who’s there?” A voice cut through the empty air. “Your Highness?”

I whirled around, expecting to
see Gilles, but it was one of his assistants, who bowed to me.

“Yes,” I said, collecting myself. “Hello. Is your master here?”

“He has gone into the woods.”

“He has?”

“He said he heard news of a young gyrfalcon, and so he left this morning.”

“Ah,” I said. “Well, that is wonderful news.”

“Perhaps I can assist you?” he asked.

“I wanted to speak to Gilles about a matter involving the king.
I suppose he will not be back before nightfall.”

“I expect he will be gone a few days,” he said.

I nodded. “Very well, then.”

He bowed once again before me.

I turned to leave and then thought to ask him one more thing.

“You have not seen the princess today, have you? I was hoping she’d join me for cards.”

He shook his head, but I could not help but notice with annoyance the blush that crept
into his cheek, thinking of her. “I have not,” he said.

I turned away, nearly stumbling out of the mews and onto the soft grass. I hurried back to my chambers, as quickly as I could.

“Your Highness!” a lady called out as I rushed by her, but I did not stop. I wanted to go to my mirror, and see if it was done.

“Queen Rapunzel . . . ” one of my ladies began.

I ignored her, pushed into my bedroom
just as tears started running down my face. There was so much happening inside me that I could not understand, so many feelings running through me at once.

But my room was not the refuge I had expected. My husband was there waiting for me, standing in his robe and crown. I closed the door and we were alone.

“Josef!”

“Rapunzel,” he said, his voice soft. “My queen. What is the matter?”

“I .
 . . ”

He moved forward, took me into his arms. It had been nearly a year since he’d visited my bedchamber. For a moment, my heart froze in my breast. Did he know? Could Gilles have betrayed me? Suddenly I was certain of it: that Gilles had gone straight to him and told him what I’d asked. And now the king was in my bedroom. They would have me hanged for treason.

“How are you, my lord?” I asked,
my voice catching. “I did not expect you.”

“I was just at a council meeting,” he said. “And then I came to see you.”

“What is it?” I asked. “Has something happened?” I braced myself, tried to get my wits together and have some control over what would happen next. I had brought Josef to me once and made him love me. Surely I could defend myself against him now.

He brought one hand to my face,
the other to my breast. “I’ve missed you,” he said.

I forced my body not to tense up, but to melt into him the way it would have done once, when I loved him. I watched him, as he bent down and kissed my neck, murmuring into my skin.

“And that’s why you’re here?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, lifting up his face to look at me. I studied him for a moment, expecting to find something angry in his expression.
Instead, I saw that same glazed look in his eyes, that mist of longing and desire. He was still enchanted, after all these years, despite all the other women.

The thought hit me: that he had come to say good-bye to me, before they took me away. He leaned down and kissed me, his mouth soft and warm. I forced myself to kiss him back, though my insides were twisting. I was sick with fear.

As he
held me, I reached up and unloosed my hair, let it fall around him. Immediately his desire overwhelmed me, as it passed between us. I looked at him, trying to figure out what he knew, what was buried in his heart, but there was so much worry and war there already that I could not see past it, and so, for the first time in almost a year, I lay with him, let him pull off my dress and move inside me,
though I could not enjoy this coupling.

I closed my eyes but could not block out the horrible scenarios flashing before me, what they would do if they found out that I’d tried to have the princess killed. I saw myself hanging from the gibbet, my hair extended like snakes on the ground below me, or bent over with an ax at my neck, the iron cold against my skin. I could feel my feet encased in
hot iron shoes, forcing me to dance and dance as everyone screamed with laughter and delight.

After, he fell asleep in my bed, with his arms around me. I lay awake beside him. When I could see he was in a deep slumber, I unwrapped him from me, gently, and went to the mirror.

I stared right into it.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,” I said. “Who’s the fairest of them all?”

At first nothing happened.
My own face stared back at me.

Just when I was about to ask it again, the answer came:

“She is. Snow White.”

Her image flashed across the glass but it was different now, darker. I tried to focus, just as it faded out of view, revealing, once again, my own face.

I nearly cried out with pain and frustration. She was alive yet. Perhaps sitting in the great hall this very moment, next to Gilles
and the council.

The look on my face with those thoughts took me aback. My
wrinkled forehead and pulled-back lips made me look old, hideous. Quickly I relaxed my face and watched my beauty return.

T
he sun was beginning to set when the king woke and turned sleepily toward me, grasping me in his arms. He took his leave, as if all were normal, kissing me full on the mouth.
I stood and watched the closed door, waiting for them to come for me. Instead, it was my maidservants and ladies who entered to ready me for the night’s revelries.

When Snow White did not appear at dinner that evening, a team of guards was sent to find her. Later, they reported that they could not locate her anywhere in the palace or on the palace grounds. All her ladies were questioned. None
of them knew where she was, only that she’d been gone since that morning and that they’d assumed she was wandering the gardens or reading in the library.

W
hen I returned to my chambers, I rushed to the mirror, stared in at my own face, wide open now with desire, with hope.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,” I said. “Who’s the fairest of them all?”

“She is the fairest of them
all. Snow White.”

Her image sparked in the glass.

“Show her to me as she is now,” I said.

Instantly her image disappeared. In its place was a tree with tangled, massive branches, a trunk covered in knots. Above, the sky was darkening with gathering clouds. Then there she was again, with a cloak around her now, a heavy hood, her eyes full
of terror. The branches seemed to be reaching out for
her on all sides. Eyes stared at her, from the dark woods. I watched, breathless. Was she alone?

I peered in, willed the picture to widen, so I could see more of what surrounded her. I did not recognize her location; she might have been near the tower or on the other side of the forest.

And then he came into focus. Gilles. A horse beside him, walking behind her, as she looked on every side of
her, afraid of her own shadow, the trees looming on all sides.

My heart quickened again as I watched and saw the blade gleaming from his belt.

“Is this happening now?” I whispered. “Are you showing me what is happening right now?”

The mirror remained silent, and the image faded out, until my own face appeared again. Softer now, though I could not help but notice the lines stretching from my
mouth, the way my eyes sagged.

T
he council met to plan a course of action. The king and his advisors were convinced that Snow White had been taken by his enemies to ignite a full-blown war between the East and West. Some posited that it was Queen Teresa’s relatives who had taken her, a dissenting group led by her uncle, who wanted to claim Snow White for the East and sever
all ties to our kingdom. Everyone had a theory. I sat back and watched, helping each rumor along when I could. Checking the mirror every hour for some sign of her fate.

O
ne day, nearly a week after Snow White had disappeared, a guard came to the door of my chambers and delivered a message to me from Gilles.

“He wants you to know he has captured a gyrfalcon,” the messenger
said, “as you asked him to.”

A trembling came over me as I let his words sink into me.

“Thank you,” I said, forcing my voice to stay calm.

“He asked me to deliver this to you.”

And he handed me a small box, with designs forged over the top of it. I took it, with shaking hands. “Thank you.”

He bowed.

I retreated to my bedroom and sat down at the desk. I traced the designs on the box with
my fingers. Fittingly, there was a falcon in flight, its wings spanning the length of the box. Under it, birds of every other kind, oblivious to the threat above them.