Apples and Princesses (The Tales and Princesses Series Book 2) Page 5

  I pinched my nose as I approached the kitchen area. The smell was even stronger in there. I searched the counters in the hope that I would know where to start. After searching through the few wooden cupboards, I miraculously found a relatively clean pot. In the corner of the kitchen, away from the light of the few candles burning, I stumbled around in search of the bucket Marv filled with water from the town's well that morning.

  I grunted as I tried to lift the full bucket in my arms, then resorted to bringing the pot over and submerging it in the water to fill it. I picked up the small pot and carefully tiptoed through the mess of the space to move back to the dining area where a fire was still gently burning in their hearth. Their hearth was crudely constructed and much smaller than the one that stretched from wall to wall at White Manor, but it still did the job. Careful not to burn myself, I pulled the handle of the pot over the hook above the fire. I needed to boil the water before cleaning all the dishes, unlike at home. I read somewhere that living in more densely populated areas proved to bring about more risk in having contaminated water— something about fecal matter. White Manor lived in more isolation and therefore had more availability to freshwater.

  As I moved to get a broom to start sweeping the dusty, stone floor, I heard some scraping at the hideaway’s entrance behind me. I whirled around, heart thumping nearly out of my chest.

  Someone found us.

  My eyes darted around the room for something, anything that I might be able to fight with. Why did I leave my dagger in my room before dinner? Arnold was constantly insinuating how important it is to always have a weapon on hand! My eyes flew to the dining table, and I rushed to grab a silver knife by one of the place-settings.

  The stones of the secret entrance clicked and began to slide back. Before I could shout for the boys, my jaw dropped open as I saw who it was.

  “Nick! How—”

  He held up a gloved hand to silence me. “Are the others asleep?” He had his usual pack, bow, and sheath of arrows hanging over his shoulders and the small hatchet at his hip.

  I moved to shut the door behind him, then bent to look through the eye hole, searching the night for any onlookers.

  “Are you crazy, Nick? If someone finds these boys, they’re dead!” I stepped away to put the knife back on the table.

  Nick raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Who exactly are you living with here, Snow?”

  I groaned. “I honestly don’t see how that concerns you.”

  Nick began pacing the area, studying the peeling wallpaper on the walls, wrinkling his nose up at the dirty socks and dishes he encountered. I watched as he peeked his head around the corner to the narrow hallway that led to the bedrooms.

  “Where on earth did this place come from?”

  Before I could answer his question, the water I had put on the fire began to hiss, and I moved to grab the pot before it boiled over.

  “It’s old,” Nick continued. “The stone of the walls is cracking, and the wood paneling along the door frames back there are splintered.” He pointed to the boys’ bedrooms in the back. Nick had a good eye, considering the rooms were far from where he stood, and the candlelight from the dining area barely even stretched a third of the way down the hallway. “Bothar must’ve been built around this place.”

  I ignored him as I wrapped a smelly cloth around the pot’s hot handle and scurried into the kitchen.

  “Snow,” Nick said, following me, “I’m here to help you. I was thinking that maybe you were only living with that boy because you had no other choice.”

  I snorted. It was true, but I was not about to admit that.

  “How did you even find us?”

  “I followed you and waited until dark, hoping to sneak you out while the others were sleeping. I really lucked out.”

  I set the pot down on the floor and leapt back before any of the scalding liquid could hit my bare legs— another negative to wearing knee-length trousers.

  “I didn’t ask you to come save me,” I huffed. “These boys need my help. Once I do what they need me to, they’ll help me, and I’ll be set for life.”

  Nick knit his brows together, deepening the sharp angles in his face. “How will you be set for life, exactly?”

  I bit my tongue. How would Nick react to the livelihood of the seven boys— how they survive? Would he turn them in— turn me in? Stealing wasn’t exactly an admired trade.

  “And you keep saying ‘they.’ How many people are you living with?”

  I shook my head and piled up plate after plate in my arms and dumped them in a large basin in the corner.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of dishes to do,” I said.

  Nick grabbed my shoulder and yanked me around to face him. I rolled my shoulder out of his grip.

  “That hurt!”

  He ignored me. “Are they thieves, Snow? You tried to steal from me in town today! Are they asking you to steal for them?”

  I exhaled heavily through my nose. “If you must know, I’m living with seven orphan boys who want nothing more than to travel away from Edristan in hopes of finding family. There’s something I can do to make that possible.”

  “Seven boys? You’re too delicate for something like that!”

  I clenched my jaw. “I am not! You don’t even know me, Nicholas!”

  He raised his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, Snow. I just don’t like the idea of a young woman getting taken advantage of.”

  “Snow?”

  The sound of a little voice startled the two of us, and I rushed through the dining area to find the source. Nick ducked away out of sight.

  “Phil,” I said, “What are you doing up?”

  “I was going to get a drink of water, but then I heard some voices.” The redheaded five-year-old moved his eyes about, scanning the area. “Who were you talking to?”

  I jumped as Nick rested his hand on my shoulder.

  “I thought you were hiding,” I hissed.

  “Hey there, little one,” Nick said as he bent towards the twin. “I’m a friend of Snow’s.”

  “Careful,” I warned.

  Nick shrugged me off. “What’s a little boy going to do to me?”

  Within the next two seconds, before I could even blink, Phil pulled a gleaming, long knife from under his yellow tunic and held it against the scruff on Nick’s chin.

  “You’re an intruder,” Phil said, trying to deepen his high voice. “Do you know what we do to intruders?”

  Nick gulped. “Uh, Snow?”

  “Phil,” I said, gently pushing the child back. “It’s okay. Nick just thought I was in trouble. He really is a friend.”

  Phil squinted his eyes at me, suspicious, then to Nick. “We’ll let Arnold decide that.”

  Chapter 10

  The ceiling seemed duller than usual. Dalia used to love staring up at the elegant intricacy of the painted sky above her bed. Her mother hired a skilled artist when Dalia was just a child to add some life to the room.

  “A child, royal or not, deserves to have an imagination. Let Dalia have the sky.”

  Those were the words Queen Margaret said all those years ago. Oh, how she missed her mother.

  The curve of the dark clouds painted among the twinkling of the stars and the big, yellow moon used to fill her nights with wonder and daydreams of one day getting out into the world and never stopping. Away from the castle, away as a princess, away for an adventure. She had always loved her life— before her parents died, but it didn’t stop Dalia’s yearning to travel.

  But now she wasn’t just the Princess, she was the Queen.

  Dalia turned to her side as a tear dripped off her thin nose and onto the satin of her pillow. There was no room in her life for daydreams anymore— just a responsibility for her kingdom. Every day was filled with meetings, sitting in the throne room for hours listening to the subjects’ needs, and attending event after event to present herself to the noble families as their new Queen. She often found herself looking back on h
er life as a princess with longing.

  A draft from outside blew onto the back of Dalia’s neck, making her hairs stand up. Dalia sat up quickly, staring at the large window at the end of her bedchamber.

  Had that been open before? she thought.

  Another gust of wind blew in from outside, extinguishing the candle’s flame on her nightstand. Then the only light in the room came from the glowing embers of the fire that died in the hearth an hour before.

  Dalia pushed off her thick covers and gingerly stepped out of bed, bare feet cold against the stone floor. Shivering, she moved to the bay windows and pushed on the panes until they clicked shut.

  “Good evening, Your Majesty.”

  Dalia whirled around to see an old, crooked woman sitting on her mattress. She sat like a young child, with her legs crossed, and was drawing circles into Dalia’s quilts with her long, cracked fingernails.

  “Guards,” Dalia squeaked.

  The woman raised a wrinkled hand to her ear. “What was that, child?”

  Dalia couldn’t find the words as she stood frozen before the intruder.

  The woman sighed and reclined back into the many pillows on the bed. “I wanted to give my condolences in person— about your parents’ deaths. And my congratulations, too! You’ll be a marvelous queen, I’m sure.”

  Dalia swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Guards!” she cried.

  “They can’t hear you, dear.”

  “What did you do?”

  The woman waved her question away. “They’re just sleeping. They’ll wake in the morning.”

  “Who are you?” Dalia found herself inching further away from the visitor until her back hit the wall.

  “Bavmorda. Isn’t that a wonderful name? After a lot of experimentation, that’s the one I like the most.”

  “Why are you here?”

  Bavmorda sat up again, brushing down her ratted skirts that no amount of fixing could help. “I have a gift for you. A coronation gift, if you will.”

  Dalia pressed her palms against the wall, trying to push herself as far away from Bavmorda as possible. “A gift?”

  Bavmorda pointed to Dalia’s vanity. There, leaning against the mirror, was another… mirror.

  “Um, thank you?”

  Bavmorda clicked her tongue, chuckling. “That is not just any mirror. It’s special. Let me show you.”

  With more nimbleness than her body let on, Bavmorda jumped off the bed and skipped over to her gift.

  “Come on,” she urged.

  Dalia hesitated, but if the woman came to hurt her, she would have already done it. As she approached, Dalia was able to admire the details of the mirror better than in her previous position.

  The frame of gold circled the oval shape of the glass and entangled itself in depictions of twisted vines and roses. About a dozen diamonds were encrusted along the frame, as well. Dalia stared at her reflection in the glass. She saw the usual things: the red hair, the green eyes, but this was not a normal reflection. As Dalia leaned forward to decide what exactly was different, her image’s pink lips curled up into a gentle smile. She gasped, jumping back.

  “What, dear?”

  “I smiled!”

  “That tends to be a normal thing to do.”

  “No, it…” Dalia trailed off. She hadn’t actually smiled; her reflection did on its own. Dalia shook her head. She had been through a lot recently, and maybe her tired eyes were playing tricks on her.

  “Well, anyway, this mirror is magic.”

  Dalia’s mouth dropped open as she looked to the woman who grinned a smile with just a few rotten teeth in her mouth.

  “Magic. Are you—”

  “A witch? Yes, I’m a witch. Let’s move on from that point. It usually takes a long time for people to get over that revelation.”

  Dalia knew that magic wasn’t unheard of in Edristan, but she had never actually come across anything, or anyone, with those mystical properties. She looked at her reflection again, her image watching her as if it was its own person. The witchery would explain that.

  “This mirror,” Bavmorda continued as she inched closer to the Queen, “will answer nearly any question and show you any place.”

  “Nearly?”

  Bavmorda nodded, just an inch away from Dalia’s face. Dalia held her breath as the witch’s rancid smell burned the inside of her nose. When was the last time the woman bathed?

  “Nearly because it will only answer questions and show you places that apply to the present, not the future.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It will show you any person and what they are doing at that very moment. It will also show you different kingdoms and lands when you ask it to.”

  Dalia raised an eyebrow. “I can spy on people?”

  The woman shrugged. “If you want to. I figured you’d like it more for showing you the world. You’ve always wanted to see what it’s like out there, correct?”

  Dalia felt her hands begin to shake. It was one thing for this woman to claim to be a witch, but it was something else for Bavmorda to know these things about her. But curiosity got the better of her.

  “Show me.”

  “What do you want to see?”

  “Anything.”

  Bavmorda cackled slightly and cracked her knuckles. “This is one of my favorite questions to ask. It changes every ten years or so. Mirror, mirror on the wall—”

  “What are you doing?”

  The witch sighed heavily, shoulders hunching over dejectedly. “You have to say those words before your question, or the spell won’t work.”

  “Oh.”

  “Mirror, mirror on the wall,” she continued, “who is the fairest one of all?”

  Dalia gasped as the glass of the mirror swirled as if turned to liquid. It spun and spun, flashing a brilliant light towards the two. Dalia squinted her eyes shut, blinded until the spinning slowed to a stop and an image started to fade into focus.

  Within the glass was a young woman, maybe a little older than Dalia, resting on a stiff-looking cot. The wool blanket atop her didn’t quite come up to her shoulders, so they were still able to see her slender figure. Her long, loose curls twisted along the cot in a divine pile of ebony, and her blood-red lips contrasted beautifully against her fair skin.

  “Who is that?” the Queen whispered in awe. “She’s beautiful.”

  “Hmm…” Bavmorda said, rubbing her chin. “I’ve met her before. I thought her attractive, but not necessarily the fairest in all the land. The mirror knows better than I, I guess.”

  Dalia didn’t take her eyes away from the mirror and the sleeping maiden.

  “You’ve got to admit, though,” the witch continued, “I’m a pretty close second.” Bavmorda placed a hand on her bony hip and posed for the Queen, chuckling. “I was sure it would be me in that image.”

  “Show me more!” Dalia started bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, feeling excited. “Show me a place! An amazing place!”

  Bavmorda licked her cracked lips. “You do it, child. It’s your mirror.”

  Dalia rushed to stand in front of the glass as the image of the fair maiden faded away, and her own reflection returned. She searched her mind for the places she’d studied in maps and books, trying to think of the perfect destination.

  “Mirror, mirror on the wall, show me the oceans of Wilaldan.”

  She raised a hand to her mouth gleefully as the glass once again turned to illusory liquid and spun into the image she had asked for.

  “Oh,” she cried, clutching at her chest. “Look at how blue it is!”

  The mirror showed her the crashing of clear, blue waves against the white-sanded shore. It was daytime in Wilaldan, for the sun shone brightly upon the shimmering water and the smooth rocks. Dalia could even hear the crow of what must have been the seagulls she read about in her books. Oh, how she longed to be there and put her bare feet in the water.

  “Bavmorda, thank—” Dalia’s words were stopped as s
he turned to thank the witch, but she wasn’t there. She disappeared as quickly as she had come.

  The Queen turned her attention back to the images of the ocean, fear once again sweeping through her body. Why did the witch think it important to give her this gift? Dalia shivered and noticed the windows were open again.

  I guess witches don’t use doors, she thought.

  Chapter 11

  At first, the boys felt more than slight trepidation towards Nick’s presence, but soon they all realized the benefits of having a huntsman live with them. Especially the thought of fresh game once or twice a week appealed to their young minds. Even Arnold, who showed the most uneasiness of all, soon came to accept his being there.

  But I had a hard time understanding why Nick felt the need to stay and protect me. He did a rotten job of doing so before, so why now? What was his intense interest in seeing me unharmed all of a sudden? It honestly annoyed me, but I had to agree with the boys: having a huntsman around was rather convenient.

  The next two weeks was night and day work in turning me into the persona the boys, and I worked so hard to develop. The Lady Isabella: a beautiful and flirtatious force to be reckoned with. She didn’t take “no” for an answer, and in turn, she didn’t give “no” as an answer, either. She agreed to every dance, strolled through the gardens with every man… And best of all, no one would suspect her of thievery.

  “Again!” Arnold demanded.

  I rolled my shoulders back and pursed my lips slightly into a pout as I strutted across the room. The boys had moved the dining table into the hallway so I could use the space to practice. They even went as far as to put strewn books on their shelves and clear away some dishes.