Faerietale Page 18

"I am . . . I am no longer welcome at the palace. If you help me, you will be handsomely rewarded when I regain my proper place."

  "Thank goodness. I was deeply concerned about a reward."

  She slanted a glance at him, found him smiling as he absently petted the pup's head. "Where are we going?"

  "To a friend. Take no offense if she doesn't come out to greet you. She's . . . shy, and we have another visitor there at the moment, who isn't the most tactful person."

  "All right," she said, curious now. "Will your friend be able to help him?" she asked, looking to the pup.

  "No. But the White Rabbit will. You'll be safe with Beauty. I'll come back for you once he's been taken care of."

  Then they stepped out of the trees, and came within sight of a small cabin. There was a silhouette barely visible inside, but Snow White paid that very little mind, could focus on nothing aside from the other person here. Alice was pacing back and forth near the cabin, looking out at the woods every few steps, her arms crossed. Snow was absolutely certain she was muttering profanities.

  "Alice!" she called, hurrying forward.

  And before the other woman had a chance to greet her back, or even do anything besides blink in surprise, Snow was in front of her, framing her face in her hands and giving her a kiss.

  Then she quickly moved back, realizing that such a thing might not have been welcome and even if it was welcome, the way in which she'd gone about it was hardly proper. She should've at least asked first. "My apologies; I should not have acted quite so boldly; I just didn't know if you were all right and I--"

  Alice grinned. "Hey, no need to explain; I'm irresistible. So, I take it you met Mr. Strong and Silent Type over there? Here I am trying to find my way back to Wendy and he appears out of nowhere, just about scared me up a tree."

  Snow White was about to say that of course she'd met him, hadn't she come back here with him?-- and then she realized that Alice was actually babbling a little bit. So maybe she wasn't as blasé about that kiss as she'd like her to think. She grinned.

  Then Alice's expression changed abruptly, and she hurried over to the man, looking over the pup he was holding. "What happened? Who the hell would shoot a puppy?"

  "Little Red," Snow White said quietly.

  "That creeper," Alice said. "She still around here? I'd be really happy to kick her ass."

  "No," she and the man said at the same time, and they glanced at each other briefly before he went into the cabin.

  "There are several people I believe you could best in a fight," Snow White said. "Little Red isn't one of them. If you see her, the only thing you do is run."

  "Hey, I--"

  "It is not a question of bravery, Alice." She reached out hesitantly, took her hand. "You're still alive. I wish you to stay that way."

  Alice gave her hand a squeeze. "Okay."

  "So how did you come to be separated from Wendy?"

  "Peter Pan," she grumbled. "Someone else whose ass I need to kick. That list is growing by the day, you know? See, Wendy and I were going off to talk to some pirates she apparently knows and. . ."

  Inside the cabin, Beauty peered outside at the two women. "How many strays are going to end up here?" she asked, nervousness at the presence of other people keeping her from accompanying the remark with a smile.

  "She's the last one, I think. I need to get the little one's wound taken care of," he said. "Then I'll come back to bring them to the camp. Unless you'd rather they stayed? You might appreciate the company. Well, once Alice remembers to think before she speaks," he said wryly. The young woman's first words upon catching a glimpse of Beauty had been, 'Whoa, what happened to you?'

  "I . . . I know what you're trying to do," she said quietly. "And I appreciate it, I do, but I just-- I'm not ready to speak with others yet." Most days she wasn't sure if she was ready to be speaking to him so much. "Besides, they'd be safer further in. Particularly the Princess."

  He nodded. "I'll be back soon."

  ***

  ". . . and so then Estelle says, 'Well, there is an exception to the whole certain-death-for-looking-at-the-harem thing. If you apply to join, then you're good' and I'm pretty sure my eyes bugged out of my head. And then jerk-boy . . . sorry, Snow, I know he's your brother-- anyway, he said, 'You, come on' like I was a dog or something. He thinks everything should be handed to him on a silver platter and--" Noticing Snow's wide grin, she paused. "What?"

  "If you were raised with everything being given to you on that platter, would you not expect the same?"

  "Hey now. No interrupting my righteous indignation with logic."

  Beauty laughed. "So then what happened?"

  "Well, I went off with him and told him the truth, that I'm a Same." She loved how that new term felt on her tongue. It was an unloaded word-- at least to her-- and from what she could tell in the shadows, Beauty's expression didn't change. No condemnation, and not even any of the almost too well-meaning, 'oh, you're gay! I'm okay with that, so okay with that, really!' glowing through. This was just another part of the story. "And so we talked and I threatened him a few times and he found that funny," she said, sounding so put-upon that this time both Beauty and Snow laughed. "-- and then I went back to the harem. Don't even get me started on that situation. Anyway. We stayed there for a little while and then we got word that the Queen and Mother Miriam were coming back and Wendy had been all over the palace looking for Doors but the only one she'd found was in the harem courtyard and we knew where that led, and we're panicking and then Snow comes in leads us into this creepy city-on-stilts where everybody's all gray. . ."

  "The Shadow world," Beauty whispered. "So it really exists?"

  Snow White nodded. "When we remove my mother from the throne, I fully intend to get rid of that Realm. There must be a better way to deal with criminals."

  "Well, you could keep it and just not do that scary Shadow-thing with people," Alice suggested. "What we truly need," Beauty said, "are for all of the Villages to have houses like those close to the palace."

  "What do you mean?" Alice asked.

  "The houses in the closest Villages are built partway into the ground. Protects them from windstorms," Snow White explained. "Villagers have been petitioning for years to have all their houses rebuilt in the same manner. But the nobles in the palace always say it's too expensive and bring up other plans, and my mother listens. Then things like the Third Village incident come and she promises to grant money to the unprotected villages and it never happens! Something else always comes up and the next windstorm seems so far away. And trials! Trials are a complete charade! People are brought before my mother and she's the sole decider. I know she has made wrong decisions because no one can be right every moment of every day. We . . . we need a tribunal or something."

  "That sounds better than what we've got now, yeah." We've? Alice thought, and then dismissed it. Truth be told, any chance she'd ever had of talking herself into going back home had disappeared when she'd seen Snow's portrait. "And look, about-- about ousting your mom. I mean, all the rebellions and whatnot I remember from history class . . . they didn't end with the people in power and the rebels sitting down for a cup of tea and talking things out, y'know? I mean, are you-- are you really prepared to kill your own mother?"

  "I should be. She desired me dead."

  "What?"

  "She sent the Huntsman out here with me, intending for him to kill me and bring back my heart."

  "I . . . I thought you'd just run away," Alice said, her voice small.

  Snow shook her head, and Alice jumped to her feet, her eyes flashing. "Okay. I will be back in a few days."

  "Alice. You are not allowed to go on an assassination mission by yourself."

  "Oh no. Assassination would be too quick. I'm going to make a detour back to my world long enough to buy a box of extra-strength laxatives, and then I'll sneak into the palace kitchen. . ."

  ***

  She came through the mirror-Door almost every night.

&n
bsp; She never tried to conceal herself-- dark hair a cloud around her face instead of tied back or hidden under a cloak; outfit leaving very little to the imagination, marking her as a member of the Prince's harem. He had seen the harem once or twice on his rare visits to the main part of the Palace when the Queen summoned him for reports-- this woman's walk was brisk, businesslike, nothing at like the affected swaying the girls used when with the Prince. And he knew if he heard her speak, there would be no coyness or giggling.

  Not 'if' he heard her speak. Tonight had ensured it would be 'when'.

  She visited one room in particular first every night, gave the Shadow things that she smuggled out from the palace. Then she went to other rooms. None of them were rooms of people who'd ever been violent here, so he hadn't interfered.

  He had, however, done what research he could. The girl she always went to see first was named Cybele, and had once been a woman of the harem herself. Then she'd been caught with one of the palace Guards, and been made into a Shadow for the transgression. The two of them were clearly friends at the very least; facial similarities indicated they might be related.

  The Queen had ordered him to keep the people here secluded from the rest of the population and make sure they stayed well-behaved. He saw no reason why someone from the outside couldn't come in and visit a friend, so long as he kept a surreptitious watch.

  But that had been when she'd brought in things like chocolate or fruit from her silk satchel. This time she'd withdrawn a potion.

  The jar glittered with blue and gold and green flecks of light, and Cybele smiled in wonder and then took a deep drink.

  He knew he should've stopped it before that point. Entering the Shadow City without permission was ill-advised, but no crime. Bringing things to them, however? Bringing potions? He wouldn't be surprised if the Queen ordered this woman turned into a Shadow herself for that.

  Then his thoughts paused, too shocked to continue, as he saw a small burst of color come back to Cybele's face. For a few seconds her hair was a rich brown instead of ashen, and some pink came back to her cheeks. The effect faded soon enough, but it left her eyes brighter.

  Had she actually found a cure for this?

  The Knight closed his eyes, going through the compounds, checking in on all of the other rooms. Things were settled there. After also looking around for any dangers on the ground, he returned his focus to the two women in the room. Cybele was hugging the young woman from the harem, laughing. It had been a long time since he'd heard that sound here. He hated to make it go away, but at this point he had no choice.

  He let her leave Cybele's quarters and get part of the way to the Door, out in the open where nothing would be able to sneak up on them. Then he transported himself.

  He appeared behind her, but just told her to stop instead of laying a hand on her shoulder to turn her around. Even if there was nothing sexual intended, grave punishment came for touching one of the harem.

  She would know this; would know that if she chose to run to the Door, he wouldn't do a thing to stop her. But a report to the Queen would have her discovered soon enough.

  The woman turned, but a lot faster than he'd anticipated, the knife in her hand slashing a screeching blow across the front of his armor.

  "Where were you even hiding that?" he exclaimed, taking a step back and raising his hands.

  "My apologies," she said. "I thought you might have been one of the more dangerous Shadows."

  "So the reason you aren't putting the knife away now?"

  She smiled thinly. "A girl can't be too careful."

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Visiting my sister. That is a crime now?"

  "If it were accepted, you wouldn't see the need to only sneak here at night."

  "I have permission from the Queen to visit at times when it doesn't interfere with my duties."

  "And do you also have permission to bring potions to the Shadows?"

  "I did no such thing."

  "I saw you."

  He caught a flash of confusion in her eyes, knew she was wondering how he'd seen when she and her sister had been watching the doorway so closely for any signs of movement. "In the second raised house, fourth door from the left, one Shadow hasn't gone to bed yet. She's standing in her doorway, watching us. The dragons are awake and roaming. There's an adult male about fifty feet that way," he said, pointing, "and a mother is teaching her young to hunt a good distance behind me. You should be able to see one of them jump to take down a nesting bird right about-- now."

  Her gaze went from the briefly-appearing dragon back to his face. All Knights were born with some sort of talent-- she'd read tales of the Knight of Truth, who could tell whenever someone was lying to her; and the Knight of Wisdom, who could read and speak any language. "Well. I suppose that explains why there need only be one Knight guarding this place.”

  “I See everything that goes on here.”

  Her shoulders straightened. “

  "That does not mean you always See correctly," she said, putting the blade into her satchel. "I did not bring her a potion."

  "A gold and blue one, in that satchel."

  Again, the thin smile. "Come prove it."

  "Where did you get it?"

  "Assuming I had such a thing, I certainly wouldn't jeopardize the maker by giving you a name."

  "Your sister isn't here for a crime of violence," he told her. "Most would argue that what she did wasn't a crime at all. So--"

  "She didn't do anything!"

  He gave her a skeptical look, and she returned it with a furious one. "She actually cared for the Prince," she snapped. "And even if she hadn't, all of us are smart enough to not risk our lives for the sake of a momentary pleasure. I'll be leaving now."

  "Miss," he said quietly. "If you don't explain things to me, you'll have to explain them to the Queen."

  She paused, then turned back around. Now when she walked toward him, the sway was there. "I can see I've been going about this all wrong," she said. "We can work out a deal, can't we?"

  He truly wanted to answer, wanted to tell her that no, there were no deals in this particular situation-- he had to know exactly what was going on so he could make an informed decision himself, or they had to go to his superior. But the tone of her voice had changed and as she looked up at him, for the first time in his life he found himself envying the Prince. "No," he finally said. "We can't."

  "Don't sound quite so certain," she said, reaching behind her and starting to undo the iridescent strings that held her top up. "I've learned that everyone wants something."

  He quickly reached behind her, stopping her hands before they could complete the motions. "You don't need to--"

  He froze then, realizing what he'd just done. She smiled slowly, a genuine expression this time, and despite the trouble he suddenly found himself in he couldn't help but smile back. "Well played."

  "Thank you."

  He released her hands, and she let them fall to her sides. She didn't say anything else, didn't need to. If he went to the Queen, then she would report the touch. Ever since Cybele's banishment all of the women in the harem drank a potion that altered their skin so that it shone gold under the proper lighting. If that same light was turned on his hands now, they'd shine as well. After that, being turned into a Shadow would be the best of many awful outcomes.

  "Miss," he called, as she started to step through the Door. "I would have the name of the one who bested me."

  "Estelle," she replied. And then she was gone.

  ***

  Of all the things to find. A room not with a lock-- that, at least, could usually be bypassed or broken somehow-- but a riddle.

  He actually had to go to the library to find out what the ridiculous seven-verse thing might be referring to.

  And then, after all that work, to find out that the requirement for entering the room was Royal blood.

  The Prince stood in front of the door, glaring at the small, intricately carved oval that se
emed to stare back at him from eye level, mocking him. A fingerprint; that had been easy to figure out. He'd tried pressing each one of his fingers in turn to the silly thing before he'd finally given in and gone to the library.

  He wished for the millionth time that Snow was here.

  But somewhere, in one of these rooms, he would find answers. And since this room had been harder to get into than any of the others, it only stood to reason that it held something very valuable.

  Taking out a needle he'd gotten from a sewing kit in the harem room (and what an odd look Estelle had given him when he'd asked her where a sewing kit was) he pricked his index finger and pressed it to the carving.

  Nothing happened.

  He glared at his blood-smeared finger. Was that not enough? That had stung.

  With a grumble, he pricked it again, then repeated the process. Nothing.

  “What am I to do, open a vein?” he snapped.

  Then the words carved into the door began to move.

  “Now that's more like it,” he said, beaming.

  But instead of moving into something pleasant like 'please come in; so sorry for the bother', only three words appeared.

  Not Royal blood.

  The Prince took a step back, blinking. “I-- of course it's Royal blood, you incompetent door!” he snapped, holding out his finger as if the thing had eyes and could see for itself.

  Even as he stalked away, he realized what the problem must be. After all, it wasn't as if he had much in common with his mother, with Snow. He was quite content to actually relax, rather than worrying about a multitude of things he had little to no hope of changing. That drive, that conviction. That was what the door wanted. Surely.

  ***

  “Quite strange, my Queen,” Roxana said. “At first I thought it might be a temporary mood of the sort all of us go through at times, but it's been going on for quite a while now. He dwells on thoughts of his sister. He asks us about things we may have seen around the palace. Last week, he went four straight days without bringing any of us to his bed. And this morning he asked Estelle for the location of a sewing kit, of all things.”