“What have you and Snow White to do with this?”
“We’ve made herb mixtures to help the soil, that’s all. Your daughter has a kind heart, you know. She wanted to help.”
He waved his hand, as if to dismiss any discussion of rain and soil. “There’s talk of unrest.”
“In the villages? The people are grateful, my lord.”
“No,” he said. “In the East. Some estates near the border are threatening to rebel.”
“Oh, but that’s a different thing, is it not?”
“There are rumors of the sinfulness of this court,” he said. “That we practice magic here.”
“But that’s ridiculous,” I said, trying to sound convincing. Of course there would be such talk. Mathena had warned me about all of this.
“They’re looking for a reason to go to war with us,” he said. “Ever since Teresa died. They whisper that I killed her to marry you.”
“But you did no such thing!”
“This does not prevent them from saying it.”
“Will they start a war with us?” I was trying not to sound anxious, but had made my voice too loud. Lord Aubert was watching us closely. On the other side of the hall, a group of dancers entered, draped in diaphanous veils.
It would be my fault if we went to war. The thought came at me like a hand around the throat.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “But we should not want to give them more cause than they already have.”
“How can you be sure they won’t?”
“Because of Snow White,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“They hate us. They’ve always hated us. But they love Snow White, and they won’t start a war when she’s a child in my palace, the heir to the kingdom.” He softened, leaning in closer to me. “It’s why I had to marry Teresa. We might have gone to war then if I had not.”
It was a painful thing to hear, even with his sweet, handsome face right next to mine, his warm breath on my skin. Suddenly I was back in the tower, my heart sinking and the room going cold as he got up to leave.
I turned away from him, and stood abruptly.
“Rapunzel,” he said quietly. “These are old sorrows.”
“I’m not feeling so well, my lord,” I said, not meeting his eye. Around me, they were all watching—the king’s council, my ladies, all the members of the court, even the dancers who were doing handstands now in the center of the room.
I stepped down from the high table with the assistance of a guard and quickly moved past them all, my ever-present ladies and maidservants following behind as I swept through the halls to my own chambers.
Back in my room, Clareta took my hand and led me to bed while Yolande dipped a cloth in hot water and placed it on my forehead. As she did, her hand brushed my hair, and I could feel her thoughts entering me. Her disapproval of a queen and princess who distributed herbs to peasants, her affection for me despite it, her conviction that I would ruin the young princess with my teachings. I slapped her hand away, annoyed.
When they left, I took out the spell book Mathena had given me. I needed to look for new fertility spells, as well as for information on how to protect myself from ghosts.
I filled my days with pleasure, but it was during the nights that my own restlessness overtook me, making me go back and back to the image of Teresa standing in the graveyard, her body in the ground, the moment when Clareta had handed her a cup of steaming tea. The tears on Snow White’s face and those sad, sad eyes, the possibility of war—all so that I could be queen. I’d lie next to Josef, unable to sleep, watching the mirror pulse and ripple on the wall, listening to the leaves that rustled outside the window and whispered to me, through the howling wind.
One night, when I managed to finally fall asleep in Josef’s arms, I dreamed that I was awake still, lying alone in my high bed, furs and satins strewn around me. My hair stretched out from me like a thousand snakes, spilling from the bed and onto the floor. It kept growing, streaming out, like a river rushing along the forest floor, pressing against the door and slipping through the open window and the whole time taking everything into itself, all the old secrets and heartbreaks, betrayals, longings, the old magic that spread through the palace like dew or fog, almost invisible, always there, and it was choking me now, my hair flowing out, all that feeling flowing back to me until I could barely breathe, until I was gagging for air, and then it was running out in every direction, falling to the ground outside, getting tangled in tree branches, wrapping itself around the palace, while inside it poured through every hallway, filling all the great rooms, stuffing itself into the breathing mouths of everyone who lay sleeping inside, including the king, including Snow White, and I tried to scream but I couldn’t make any sound anymore, it was all my fault, all of it, and then it was not just hair but vines and thorns and the palace was wrapped in them, thorns and brambles, the whole kingdom wiped out, every mouth filled with thorns and leaves.
I woke, gasping for air.
The room spun around me. It looked so beautiful and clear and wide open. I relaxed, as relief moved through me. It had just been a dream.
I wrapped my arms around Josef, and tried to go back to sleep. After a while, I gave up, pushed back the covers, and went to the mirror.
It rippled in front of me. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall,” I said, keeping my voice low.
I stared at my distorted reflection, my pale face. I could not bring myself to ask the usual question.
Behind me, there was a movement. A figure. I whirled around, but the room was the same as always. Josef lay sleeping calmly on the bed, the moon caressing his handsome features.
I turned back to the mirror, and it was there again, but closer now, a woman. Her eyes big and round, staring right into me.
I screamed.
“What is it?” Josef asked, sitting up in bed.
“There’s someone here,” I said, turning back to him. Again, the vision had disappeared. “A woman. I saw her in the mirror.” I rushed back to bed, into his arms.
“What woman?”
“I don’t know. I just got a glimpse of her, but then she was gone.”
“A spirit, you mean? That is what you saw?”
“Yes!”
He laughed, shaking his head. He reached out and ran his hand over my hair. I could feel what he was thinking: that I was as silly as his own mother had been, with her face always turned to the stars.
“Josef!” I said. “Do you not believe me?”
“I believe you,” he said. “My mother saw spirits all the time.”
“She did?”
“Yes. One in particular . . . ” He waved his hand dismissively.
“Who?”
He sighed. “My mother
“Prophetess?”
“Yes. Her name was Serena. She lived here a very long time ago, back when this kingdom held its rightful place in the world. There was powerful magic at work here then. Most people have forgotten her, but my mother put great stock in Serena’s predictions.
“What did she predict?”
“Many things, over the years. She knew that priests were coming, and that the old ways would die. She knew there would be war between the West and East. She saw all of it. They used to say she was crazy when the visions came over her. She predicted the end of the Chauvin line. She said that the kingdom would fall when a . . . ” He stopped himself.
“When what?”
“It’s all madness, Rapunzel,” he said, shaking his head. “Serena was a young girl taken from her home and
