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’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.
The next morning was my wedding day. I was still half asleep when my room filled with servants and ladies who roused me from the bed and began preparing me for the occasion. Such attention was foreign to me and I sat, stunned, quietly following their directions as they led me into another room where a bath had been brought in. They removed my clothing and held my arms, led me into a deep tub full of warm water with flowers and leaves floating on the surface. It was disconcerting, all those hands on my body, my hair being unloosed and falling all around me in waves, swirling in the water.
All those hands, in my hair . . . I could feel the women’s jealousy and curiosity, anger and love and fear, all of it emanating from their bodies, into me. I could feel the rumors swirling in their minds—that I was a witch, that I had bewitched the king, that I would lead the kingdom to ruins. I closed my eyes, steeled myself. There were too many of them and they were all strangers to me still, and so I could not separate out the feelings running through me. All I could do was bear it, wait for this to pass. I would prove them all wrong, I thought. I would force them to love me. But from now on, for my own peace of mind, I would request that Clareta wash and style my hair.
I left the bath and they dried me with soft towels, then covered my body with ointments and powders until I smelled like a garden at the height of summer. Lavender calmed me, lemon freshened and enlivened. They laced me into a long pale dress. They dried my hair and brushed it and wove flowers and jewels through it, and then wrapped it around my head and draped it down my back.
The whole time, their thoughts needled into me: wondering how I’d managed to attract a king from the middle of the forest, and so quickly; comparing me unfavorably to the queen they’d lost so recently, who’d been so much more pious and refined.
Finally, they led me to the glass hanging on my wall, which rippled like a storm-ridden river with anticipation.
