Cursed Read online

  “But you do not believe this,” Snow said.

  “There is no child in the prince’s household, though I suppose it might have been stillborn. And no one saw his wife after she went into his castle. Not even once.”

  Snow felt a chill run over her skin. “I can’t let him take me.”

  “I don’t think we have any choice about that now. He will marry you and you will go with him, because you cannot refuse without causing a war,” the Queen said.

  “I wonder if that was what he wanted, really,” Snow said thoughtfully. “He did bring a very large army for a prince who claims he came to court a wife.”

  “My messenger said that Charming’s country is not fair, or even close to it, so mayhap you are right. We have many more resources than he. But I don’t think he intended to leave without you, in any case, whether he gained you by fair means or foul. It is the way he looks at you.”

  “Yes,” Snow said, and trembled. “I see the way he looks at me.”

  “But I will try to do what I can. First, we must remove that spy from your finger. It’s already swallowed some of your blood, so the charm is well-fixed, but we might be able to poison it into releasing you.”

  The Queen patted Snow’s knee and said, “Wait here.”

  She went away into the garden and returned with an apple, a beautiful round red one, irresistible in its charms. From a fold of her gown Snow’s stepmother took various small vials.

  “Did you think you were going to have to free me from an enchantment this evening?” Snow asked, surprised that the Queen had all these items at hand.

  “I was hoping to poison the Prince, but I never had the chance. He is very careful with his food, you know.”

  “Yes,” Snow said. “That boy who stands at his elbow tastes everything.”

  “It was never a very good plan to begin with, I confess, only a desperate one. If he suddenly died of poison in our castle then his troops, who mass outside our gates, would surely have attacked.”

  “So you’ll poison me instead?” Snow asked, watching her stepmother drop various liquids on to the apple.

  The queen muttered some words as she did this, words that Snow didn’t understand with her mind but with her heart, words that sounded like the hot sun and blowing sand and the cool dark of shadows beneath a pearled moon. They were the words of the Queen’s homeland, that enchanted place she had left because she fell in love with a King who lived in a far green country.

  “I am tempering the charm so that it will not poison you to sickness. It is just enough to make the ring sick of your blood. But you must only eat one bite of the apple a day, and take care that the ring does not see you doing it, for anything the ring sees so too will the Prince see.” The Queen handed the apple to Snow.

  Snow took a single bite of the apple before tucking it away in her skirts. That bite was strange on her tongue, spicy instead of sweet, and left a trail of fire in her throat.

  “I don’t know what else I can do for you,” the Queen said, “except that the moment your brothers return I shall send them after you. The prince cannot deny his wife’s kin entry into his castle, and he cannot harm you as long as they are near.”

  Snow did not say aloud what she was thinking, for she saw the same fear on her stepmother’s face.

  What if I don’t survive long enough for my brothers to find me?

  “As soon as your hand is free of the ring you can hide from him,” the Queen said. “Until then any effort you make would be pointless, for he could track and find you as surely as any falcon. So hold your tongue, and hide your heart, and pretend to be a good and loving wife until that day.”

  “And then?”

  “And then, my daughter,” the Queen said, “you must run.”

  * * *

  The wedding took place three days later, in the center of court, with the sun shining through the high windows and flower petals strewn upon the stone floor. Everyone smiled and cheered when the prince kissed their princess, and Snow held herself still and did not shrink from him, though she wanted to.

  When the prince pulled his head away Snow saw puzzlement there, as if he expected something else.

  “What is it, my prince?” she asked in a low tone as streamers and roses were tossed at them.

  “It is only that your mouth is like sweet wine touched with spice,” he said. “I expected the sweetness, but not the spice.”

  She knew it was the poison apple that he tasted, and she feared that he might discover her secret, so she said (in an almost flirtatious manner that was very unlike her), “I find that all things sweet taste better with a little bite, don’t you?”

  He stared very deeply into her eyes, and Snow felt an uncomfortable pricking sensation all over, like he was trying to see into her heart. But she built up a wall of thorns all around it and kept her secrets there, and finally he looked away, a twist of dissatisfaction on his lips.

  They were to depart immediately after the wedding, for now the Prince’s business was concluded he wanted to return to his own kingdom. He said that this was because he’d been away too long and that he must secure his borders, but Snow knew it was because the sooner he secreted her away then the sooner he could complete his plans for her.

  But I have many days of travel, she thought as she climbed inside the carriage. I have time still.

  The prince had insisted – in a manner both smooth and uncompromising – that Snow had no need of a lady’s maid to travel with her.

  “I have many servants in my palace, and there is no reason for one of yours to make such a long journey.”

  The Queen had tried to argue, to speak of the impropriety, but the King had only waved his hand in a vague way.

  “Snow will be in the company of her husband. There can be no impropriety,” he said, and of course the King’s word was the final one.

  Oh, Father, Snow thought in despair. What will you think when you wake up from this enchanted sleep? Will you be horrified at what you have allowed to happen?

  So Snow sat alone in the carriage with the curtains closed while her new husband rode his horse with his men. Every day she took a secret bite of the apple that the Queen had given her and every day the ring seemed to loosen a little, though the gaze of the ruby never darkened.

  She tried not to worry about her future, or if she would even have one.

  She tried not to worry about what would happen when he demanded his marriage rights.

  Thus far her new husband was unfailingly polite and solicitous of her comfort. Each night, when they made camp, he made certain that Snow was comfortable in the grand tent while he went outside to sleep. But she saw the gleam in his eye, the one that said he was anticipating some future pleasure, and that gleam made her shudder and turn away.

  At last they arrived in the Prince’s country. Snow peered out the window of the carriage and saw only grey – grey rocks and grey tree bark and heavy grey clouds that hunched over the land. There were hardly any crops, and those that she saw were thin and sickly, the same as the people who tended them.

  How do the people survive? she wondered, and then thought that this must be a very unhappy kingdom if its ruler neglected his own people so.

  The Prince’s castle was perched on a high hill with a steep road that rose to meet it. All around the base of the castle was a huge field of boulders that made it impossible to reach the castle by any route except the road.

  One way in and one way out, Snow thought, eyeing the rocks. Unless one is very brave, or very foolhardy.

  As the gates of the castle closed behind her carriage, she thought: I might be very foolhardy. I may have to be.

  The Prince offered his hand so Snow could climb from the vehicle. As she placed hers in his grasp the ruby ring shifted on her finger. It was only a little, hardly noticeable at all, but the Prince gave her a sharp glance.

  Some of the teeth have receded, she thought, and then she smiled at him with her very best princess smile and said, “Where is the
chatelaine?”

  The Prince narrowed his eyes and said, “My home is very unusual. You will see once we are inside.”

  Snow was half-sick from anxiety. Had the Prince seen the movement of the ring, or did he think he imagined it? Did he suspect her? She’d hoped that the ring might loosen before they arrived at the castle. She’d had some notion of slipping out in the night and disappearing into the wilderness of the Prince’s country. But there was no wilderness here, no easy escape, and though the ring was not as tight as it had been it still would not leave her finger.

  I must wait. I must bide my time until he cannot track me, cannot find me.

  There was no man at the door of the castle to greet them, nor the chatelaine. There was no servant waiting inside to take Snow’s cloak or to lead her to a room where a bath was waiting. There was only the ringing echo of the door slamming shut behind them.

  Snow stared around at the empty hall, at the threadbare tapestries, at the rotten straw covering the stone floor.

  The Prince’s face was no longer charming. There was no need for the mask now that he was away from others.

  “Where are all the servants?” Snow asked. Her voice came back to her, a hollow thing in this joyless room.

  “Anything you require, this castle will provide,” he said. “You need only ask.”

  More enchantments, Snow thought in despair. No nosy maids and lads to wonder why the lady of the house is screaming.

  She longed to fidget with the ring, to see if she could yet free it, but instead curled her fingers into fists beneath the sleeves of her gown. She would not draw attention to the very thing she wished the Prince to ignore.

  The apple was hidden in her skirt. There was only a little of it left now, the seeded core showing on all but one side. Snow could only hope that there was enough poison left to free her.

  “When am I to meet your father?” she asked, for of course he was a prince because his father was still king.

  “My father has not been feeling well of late,” the Prince said. “When he is better, I shall take you to him.”

  This was patently a lie, but Snow said nothing. She had to stay quiet and submit for as long as necessary. She could not let him suspect that she was planning to escape.

  Though where I will go and how I will get there I have no notion.

  That was for later. First she had to get out from under his eye. Nothing was possible until then.

  “You may go anywhere in the castle except the east wing,” the Prince said, waving his hand in the direction of a thin, curving stair to the left. “The castle is very old and it is not safe there. Your room is this way.”

  He indicated a wider stair and that she should follow him. She did, her heart pounding, wondering what he would do now.

  But he only led her to a wooden door with a large red ruby set in it, a ruby like a bloodied eye. It was the twin of the jewel in Snow’s ring, and her mood fell further when she entered the room and discovered the jewel was visible on both sides.

  Eyes everywhere, she thought. What am I to do?

  “You may bathe and change and come down to dinner,” he said. His lips were curved in that terrible satisfied smile again, as if he’d noted her glance at the ruby.

  He knows that I know, and it amuses him. It amuses him because he is certain I can do nothing about it. I am only a rat in a maze to him. No matter how I twist and turn he is certain I cannot get out.

  “Thank you,” she said, very primly, and showed no sign of the surprise she felt that there was a large tub of water in the corner of the room, steam rising gently from the surface.

  Aside from the tub there was only a four-poster bed with a faded red blanket upon it. A white gown was laid over this for Snow to wear after her bath.

  As she slid the gown over her head, she wondered how she might bind the laces in the back without a maid. Then she cried out in shock and terror, for the laces tightened without the work of any hand, and the sash was tied behind her waist. A large toothed comb was run through her wet hair which was then bound up in braids and pinned at her crown.

  Throughout all of this Snow made no noise except for her initial cry, though inside she trembled and shook. She would not show any weakness to the Prince, who was surely watching and waiting for her to panic.

  I will not. I am a princess.

  Snow carefully laid her other gown out on the bed and slipped the last bit of apple into her new gown, her body blocking the view from the jeweled eye in the door.

  She thought the door might slide open without a touch, but she found she needed to open it the regular way. She also noticed that there was a small, old-fashioned key in the lock. This she took and kept next to the poisoned apple, though she had no illusions that the Prince would not have a key of his own.

  The Prince sat opposite her at dinner, making light small talk that she answered without really listening. She noticed his hair was wet and assumed he too had bathed, though he hadn’t bothered to shave his face. He had just the beginnings of a beard coming in at his jaw, and the candlelight cast strange shadows that made it appear blue instead of dark as the hair on his head.

  When they completed their meal, Snow wondered what would happen next. At home there would be singing or sewing or storytelling after a meal, or sometimes dancing. She did not wish to dance with her husband, nor did she think that music would echo sweetly in this hall. Any song would be fouled by the air.

  “You may go up to your room now,” he said. “I have some business to attend.”

  “Of course,” Snow said, and climbed the stairs.

  Her heart lodged at the bottom of her throat. He would come to her when his business was completed, whatever that might be. There was no army to hear him now, as there had been on the road.

  Am I to sit in my bedroom trembling like a little rabbit, waiting for the fox at the door to come and eat me at his pleasure?

  She entered the room and shut the door behind her. The red eye blinked at her, and she felt a sudden surge of anger.

  Why should I be spied upon like a criminal? Why should he have that satisfaction? At least with the ring I can tuck it in the folds of my skirt.

  Snow yanked her traveling gown from the bed and tore the sash from it. She pulled several of the pins from her hair and tacked the sash up on the door, covering the ruby eye. A strange buzzing sound emitted from it as it was covered, like it was an angry bee trying to loose itself.

  “See how you like that,” Snow said.

  Then she took the key out of her pocket. She couldn’t fool herself that the Prince would be kept out by such a feeble attempt, but she locked the door anyway. At least she would have a few moments to prepare herself while he unlocked it.

  A wisp of smoke curled out of the keyhole.

  Another enchantment? Something to stop me from using the key? Snow bent down to get a closer look. She didn’t see anything obvious, but she smelled something sweet and spicy in the air.

  The apple, she thought. The poison from the apple. It must have rubbed off on the key.

  She turned the knob and pulled the door. It held fast. Would it keep the Prince from her bed?

  Snow’s trunk had appeared in her room while she was downstairs at dinner. She took out her nightdress. She expected the ghostly hands to come and unlace her gown as they had laced it up, but there was nothing.

  Is that because I covered the eye on the door? It was an interesting notion, to be sure, one that might have implications for Snow’s freedom. But it didn’t help her remove a gown that required an extra person to put on in the first place.

  After several irritating minutes attempting to wriggle out of the white gown Snow gave up and lay down on the bed in it, removing only the sash that pulled the gown close around her waist.

  She thought she would be far too terrified to sleep but she must have dozed, for the next thing she knew it was dark and someone was fumbling at the door.

  Snow sat straight up, blood roaring. She slid the ru
by-eyed ring beneath the coverlet so that it would not know she was awake. The Prince’s voice came through the keyhole, the words indistinct but the meaning of them clear.

  He’s trying to magic the lock open.

  She heard his voice rise in frustration, heard him curse.

  But the lock held fast.

  “Open the door, my darling,” he said.

  There had never been less affection in the word “darling” in all the history of the world.

  Snow kept still, so very still, more still than the smallest mouse caught in the gaze of a cat.

  “Snow White,” he called, low and crooning and meant to seduce, to charm, to enchant. “Open the door to your husband.”

  I will not.

  His hand shook the knob. She felt his anger then, his frustration, his hunger, and his hunger was a terrible thing, a thing that wanted to consume her. It was like a crashing wave that pushed against the door, seeping through the grain of the wood, pummeling her. Her hands grasped the bedclothes for dear life and she bit hard on her lower lip so she would not whimper.

  “Snow White!” he said, and there was no more pretense then. “Open this door, I say. You have no right to refuse me.”

  Snow wondered how much worse it would be for her later, for she knew in some way that she was only staving off the inevitable. But she could not bring herself to open the door. She could not invite the wolf inside.

  After a time the rattling of the doorknob ceased. She heard him laugh, low and dark.

  “There’s always tomorrow, my darling,” he said.

  Snow did not sleep again that night.

  * * *

  The next morning, she took the last bite of the apple. There was hardly any magic left in it at all, for it didn’t burn with the same fire when she swallowed it. She knew some of the charm had come off on the key.

  Snow parted the curtains and opened her window wide. The outside air was thin and chill but a weak sunlight filtered through the clouds. She turned the ring this way and that in the sun. The silver had a fine dark vein running through it that hadn’t been there at the start, and she thought the eye appeared cloudy, but it might have been wishful thinking.