The Fairest of Them All

there was danger afoot and he was taking her to safety. The constant ache of her mother being lost to her. Her anguish from seeing me turn against her own father, and then betray him with Gilles. She’d known what I’d thought was secret. She felt I had betrayed her. I had to let the images pass, concentrate on what I was doing.

It seemed to take hours for her to lift herself, one arm over the next, my hair gathered together like a giant, thick rope in her hands.

And then I felt something else, beyond the pain and hurt. A strength in her that I hadn’t realized was there, that came at me as if the tower itself were smashing into me. She would survive this, I realized. I could see it as clearly as I could see the cellar door, her hand reaching up and folding around my hair.

I could hear them approaching, forced myself to stay calm.

Her hands were bright pink from exertion, her face shining with sweat. As she neared me, I saw that strength, that passion for life, inside of her, past her hollow eyes and thin limbs.

Hurry, I whispered. Willing time to slow down, for her body to be stronger, for Artemis, or the god the priest spoke about, to help us to safety. I whispered a protection spell to the winds, the four directions.

Her hands clasped my neck, and I used all the strength of my body to move back, pressing against the doorframe and pulling her out of the cellar and into the moonlight.

We collapsed together on the grass. I didn’t want to let go of her, but I had to. There was no time.

I jumped up, held out my hand. “We must go now,” I said. “They’re here.”

And they were: the horses were wending their way to the stable, which was just in our line of sight. She got to her feet and took my hand and we ran.

“You there! Stop!”

They were calling to us, they’d spotted us, and my horse was waiting on the other side of the river, faintly visible now with the spell wearing off, and there was no time to cast another one, not with the way we were running. I glanced over at her, Snow White, as she raced for her life, toward her future, and I knew then that I did not need to save her, not more than I had already, that I did not need to make her forget anything, and that she would be queen, a great queen like her mother had been, a queen who would bring peace and prosperity to our land, and she would survive and heal and be happy.

I plunged into the river and she threw herself in after me, grabbing onto my hair. We reached the horse and mounted him, me in front and her behind me, the satchel of apples at my side, us riding like men with our legs apart, the queen and the princess, racing through the forest, and the winds helped to speed us along until we were almost flying.

We rode through the forest, her arms around me, until the sound of hooves behind us faded, and then we kept riding, past where the rapunzel grew alongside the river, past Mathena’s smoldering cottage and the tower that was just visible through the treetops. Above us, two falcons soared through the air.

I breathed in everything, took all of it in, because the world was wild and open and beautiful and the moment was full and it existed, it was happening right then, and for once I did not want to think about anything that had come before or anything that would come after. Here, right now, we were together and we were flying.

EPILOGUE

I sit here now, in my workroom, writing this down as quickly as I can, while outside my chambers the palace rejoices.

I am the true queen, the rightful heir to the throne—though no one will ever know it, and soon enough not even I will remember it. And as the true queen, I have made one decision. It will be my sole decision, but it is the best thing I can do for my kingdom, and it is enough.

It was at the inn at the edge of the forest that Snow White and I learned that King Josef had died in the fighting that had broken out just beyond the castle walls. With no male heir, I was named queen regent, a title I would carry until Snow White turned twenty-one and took the throne. Lord Aubert was acting as regent in my stead. With both me and Snow White gone, the whole kingdom was in disarray

I sent a message to the royal council that Snow White and I were safe, and that in the interest of peace for the West, I would step aside to name her, Snow White, daughter of the West and East, sole ruler of our kingdom.

When I told her what I’d done, she looked at me with that same serious look she’d had as a child, and nodded, and I did not need magic to see the combination of grief and strength and beauty that she will become known for in years to come. There was nothing I could do to console her, except use all my power and everything in my heart to wish her well, so that she might heal herself, and our kingdom.

The next day, we rode to the palace as the people ran from their houses and cheered us along, and in a simple ceremony Snow White took the throne. A new peace treaty was signed, and the fighting ended as quickly as it had begun.

I do not regret my decision.

She will be a good queen. One day, she will be a great one.

The apple sits next to me, gleaming with rapunzel. Behind it, the mirror, reflecting the apple and the room beyond it.

I ask the mirror one last time: Who is the fairest of them all?

But I know the answer. Of course I know. It is her time now, and it will be someone else’s time after. Her daughter’s, her daughter’s daughter’s. She will have many daughters and sons—I have had portent of it.

In a moment I will put down my quill, and I’ll lock these pages away for someone else, someday, to find. Because all of this happened once, and things that happened should not be erased from the earth completely, even when they’ve been forgotten.

Gilles waits for me outside. He’s forgiven me, after everything. I am grateful that he disobeyed me. We will leave this kingdom tonight, and venture out into the world beyond it. He assures me that such a world exists, that he will love me no matter what happens next, and I hope that he is right.

My bags are packed, I have a pouch full of gold, and there is only one thing left for me to do.

The apple could almost be a heart.

I place my hands over it and feel it beating.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I want to express my eternal love and gratitude to my editor, Heather Lazare, who really pushed me with this book, as she did with the last two, and to my agents, Elaine Markson and Gary Johnson, who were always ready to brainstorm and read a new draft and discuss plot twists over takeout in the office. It’s such a gift, to have people that smart and generous on your side, and I appreciate them more than I can say.

I also want to thank Jeanine Cummins, Mary McMyne, JoAnn Mapson, Jill Gleeson, Joi Brozek, and Morgan Grey, all brilliant authoresses and friends who gave me invaluable feedback throughout the writing of this book. I want to thank Jeanine, too, for dropping everything to read a draft at the last minute while I made monsters out of Play-Doh with her kids.

Thank you to Lance Cheuvront, who told me about hawks and falcons, and to Erika Merklin, who spent a long phone conversation telling me all about her Alaskan garden, and compost teas, and the wonders of bones and feathers and ash. And I want to thank my father, Alfred Turgeon, who let me barrage him over the course of an afternoon with questions about crops and blight. I’m also grateful to him, and to my mother, Jean, and my sister, Catherine, for being so patient and supportive through this and every project.

Finally, I want to thank Steven Berkowitz, who spent hours and hours listening to me talk about this book,