Mirror, Mirror, in the Pool
by AJ Cunder
Part 1 appears
in this issue.
conclusion
At the top of the winding steps, I took a moment to catch my breath. When I opened the door, I saw my stepmother bending over a small oak chest. Bottles cluttered the walls, along with old books, and the room smelled like a musty library. Some servants rumored that my stepmother brewed potions, elixirs to keep herself young and beautiful, or poison to kill her enemies. I never believed them, much.
I made sure she still focused on the key in her hand before slipping a small vial into my pocket — I liked the purple color of whatever it contained. Maybe it would get rid of my pimple. Through the open window, a gentle snow fell like feathers from heaven, a light blanket coating the city and stretching to the forest, the trees bare and barren save for sporadic swaths of evergreen overspreading the brown like lesions.
“You wished to see me?”
“Still you carry that looking-glass,” she said without looking up from the skeleton key.
“Oh.” I hadn’t even realized I was still pressing it against my chin.
“I want to give you something. A gift for your wedding.”
“You aren’t still upset about that?” I spun in my dress, taking the opportunity to snoop around, lifting a purple drape from a tall mirror on the wall.
“Do not touch that!” my stepmother shrilled.
Something flashed in the reflection before the satin curtain hid the glass once more.
“I know it must have hurt,” I continued, slightly disconcerted, “to be overlooked by such a handsome prince. Those eyes. And that hair.”
She drummed her fingers against the scratched wooden table. “Such is the way of the world. Beauty and youth always bend Fortune to their will. To begrudge that is to waste one’s time. Do you wish to see your gift?”
It must be something small, to fit in the chest. A piece of silk, perhaps, or a comb to wear on my wedding day.
She unlocked the chest and withdrew a piece of parchment. “This map, child, contains one of the forest’s greatest secrets. To one resolute and steadfast, it holds much power. Do you believe yourself to be such a person?”
“Why, of course!” I was courageous, virtuous, everything a princess should be. I always looked my best at court, was steadfast in my grooming. And once I decided something, nothing could change my opinion.
“Then behold, a map that will bring you to a tree deep within the woods. A tree whose golden fruit holds the secret to everlasting youth and beauty. Eat of its apple, and it will preserve you eternally. You will never age, and your beauty will never fade.”
I accepted the map with all the necessary niceties, undoubtedly grateful, though it didn’t seem like much of a gift if I had to go out and get the apple myself. She was a bit dull, though, so I couldn’t fault her entirely.
“In fact,” my stepmother said after I stuffed the map in my pocket, “I’ve heard that the apples can make you even more beautiful than you already are. That they can erase any blemish.” My ears perked.
“For certainly, you are the fairest the prince has ever seen. But think of the other kingdoms this world contains. Think if another princess even more beautiful than you were to find him. If he so easily cast his eye from me when he saw you, then you must do all in your power to ensure you remain the most beautiful. Don’t you want to be certain that when the guests of your wedding arrive they will — without any doubt — behold the most beautiful in all the land? Nay, in all the world?”
I couldn’t help but glimpse my reflection in the looking-glass. “If these apples do what you claim, why haven’t you eaten one yet?”
“The journey is too arduous for me. You must traverse the most obscure parts of the forest, through the Selva Oscura.”
I took out the map again and studied it carefully, tracing my finger along the outlines of the forest, the mountainous region to the north and east, the marsh in the middle of the woods beside which a small circle marked my destination. “They say a witch lives in the heart of the swamp.”
“Such is the legend,” my stepmother laughed. “Ages of superstition and villagers losing their way along the path likely account for it. Now, off you go, child. Use your gift well.”
She waved me away, turning her back and lifting a thick tome inscribed with ancient runes. I couldn’t help but notice how well her emerald cloak complemented her eyes, the way her hair fell around her pale, pretty face, and her words haunted me as I descended. Think of the other kingdoms this world contains... If he so easily cast his eye from me...
I examined the map. “I cannot delay,” I muttered to myself. “Tonight I will go.” The cold stones reflected my vow as the torches flickered.
* * *
Armored with a fur cloak against the night’s chill, I slipped through the palace gate, avoiding the Watchmen who would never let me leave alone, and crossed the city, overlooked by a cold moon that sliced through gray clouds.
I nearly asked one of the guardsmen to accompany me, but then I realized I couldn’t truly trust them. Perhaps that was my stepmother’s plan, to persuade me to retrieve the apple so one of her spies could snatch it and bring it back to her. She had all of the soldiers under her spell. Despite the dangers, I decided it was more prudent for me to journey alone into the quiet forest, the frost-coated trees not quite so white as the soft, pale glow of my skin.
The lines on the map precisely marked every twist and curve, even denoting a recent trail forged by wildlife. I pushed away a snagging branch that whipped back and struck me in the face. I wished, then, that I had brought my mirror so I could see if it left any mark. “No matter, though. Soon I’ll be free of every blemish.” I imagined the way the prince’s eyes would grow large as saucers when he saw me even more beautiful than I was, the way his full red mouth would smile and pucker.
When the chill tore more viciously into my face, I checked the map again, holding it close to my face as an inky blanket began to blot out the moon.
If I walked a brief span more, I would come upon the swamp. Thoughts of the witch stirred my fears, and I blamed the darkening forest on some supernatural cause rather than the clouds creeping across the sky. Shivers shot through my legs, ice gnawed my toes, and the darkness deepened until my vision blurred and I couldn’t be sure I hadn’t passed the same tree twice.
With my breath nearly frozen in my lungs and my muscles weak as water, I at last looked upon the icy marsh stretching southward like a crystal pool. Studying the forest for signs of witchcraft, I squinted between the bony fingers of the trees. Could that raven’s caw have been the herald of the sorceress? Or the owl’s hollow hoot that broke the deathly silence of the woods? Was it a dove that flashed white through the branches, or the hand of a ghoul?
I turned right, avoiding the patches of ice, and reached a deadened grove with a tall tree rising in its center. Seven smaller trees surrounded it in a semi-circle, their branches devoid of fruit.
At the very top of the great tree, a single golden apple hung. I’d have to climb for it. I grasped the first branch, the map slipping away. I ignored the bark that scraped my hands and the twigs that scratched my face, fixated on the golden orb shining like a miniature moon. I reached the top and plucked the apple, cradled it for a moment, rubbing its soft, smooth skin before sliding down the trunk.
With a giddy relish, I opened my mouth to take a bite when a voice whispered through the woods like the tinkling of glass.
“Hello?” I whipped around. “Who’s there?”
But only the stillness of the forest answered. My spine tingled, and I stuffed the apple into my bag, running to where the map had fallen. Somehow, the snow had smeared the ink. Lines once clear and crisp now streaked in blots and blobs. Crumpling the useless parchment, I struggled to remember the way back. My mind fogged, but if I kept the swamp to my right, I would soon come upon the northward trail. Then, after a few twists and turns, it would be a straight route back. Adjusting my cloak, I set out and nearly fell to my knees when I saw the swamp.
The waters now appeared to my left. Did I exit the grove the same way I had come in? Yes, I was sure of it. How, then, could the marsh have moved to the other side of the trail? I took a step forward, but grew dizzy. I held a hand to my forehead burning like a hot coal. “How can this be?” I tried to think when a great thwack resounded from the grove.
Rushing back, I saw a huntsman hunched over a boar, gutting it with a knife, his movements slow, steady, deliberate. I hid behind a tree as he plunged his blade into the beast, slicing and skimming, the animal’s hot blood steaming in the snow. A branch crackled, and his head shot up. I crouched, trying to hide behind the trunk.
“Girl.” He walked over to me, his rank breath filling the grove like poison.
Something stirred within my heart, straightening my spine. “Girl? You speak to the Princess of this realm, I’ll have you know.”
“Princess, are you?”
“Yes. Now will you tell me how to get back to the city?”
“What is a princess doing out here in the scary woods all by her lonesome?”
I tried to keep my eyes locked on his. After all, he should be the one looking down. I was royalty. I was the Princess.
His muscles tensed beneath the furs he wore, as though the furs were his own skin. “Which way do you think you should go?”
I pointed back the way I thought I had come, and he laughed a ragged, broken laugh. “Go on, girl, go that way.”
“But I—”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is the Princess too scared to brave the forest? The Princess got herself lost here, surely she can get herself unlost.”
Perhaps with the map, I could’ve done it. Perhaps with a compass, I could’ve navigated the tricks of the Selva Oscura, the crannies where magic bubbled beneath streams and trees walked like men. But I had neither.
“I need a guide.”
“And you want me to guide you, girl? Well, what can you offer in return?”
“I’m the Princess! I have the entire kingdom at my command. Do you desire riches or land? A beautiful wife?”
The huntsman laughed again, guttural and savage. “Girl, even if you are the Princess, the kingdom belongs to the Queen while she yet lives. And even then, this part of the forest belongs to no man or woman. If you’ve got anything to offer me, it’s got to be something here and now.”
“What do you desire?” I thought of the apple hidden in my satchel. But then greed overtook me. I would save the apple for myself. I would not share it. Despite the cold, I slipped my cloak off one shoulder, baring my neck. “You know, they call me the fairest in all the land.”
“The fairest?” His cackle sliced through me deeper than a knife. “Go see your reflection in the marsh, girl, and ask yourself again if you’re the fairest.”
With my pride wounded and a frog in my throat, I ran out of the grove and collapsed next to a pool covered in ice. I smashed my fist through the sheet and it shattered like glass, revealing the rippling reflection beneath.
When I saw what looked back at me, I screamed. A face disfigured by jagged red slashes, hair disheveled and ragged, lips rough and dull. “It must be some trick!” I cried. If only I had taken my mirror. Then I would see the truth. A sudden wrath filled me, a hatred for my stepmother that boiled my blood. She enticed me to come here. She tricked me. I clenched my hands, shaking...
The apple, the apple was my only hope! I whipped it from my bag and sunk my teeth deep into the white, crisp flesh like a glutton. I felt its power soak into my bones, seep into my blood.
The rippling waters of the pool calmed, and as I peered into it once more, I saw the stars, twinkling like fireflies, the moon shivering in a purple sky, and the same monstrous face with an angry red pimple leering back at me. My muscles slackened, my lungs slowing after each breath. Such sloth overcame me that I lost all desire to move. The trees creaked, leaning in, and the distant howl of a wolf made me fear for a moment how long I could survive here, lost and alone.
The huntsman towered over me, fingering his axe. “You thought the apple would save you, girl? Even the simplest child knows the legend of the eternal tree. That to eat of its fruit will trap you here, preserving you in beauty or repugnance, until time itself ceases to exist.”
Moving only my eyes, I saw the waters of the pool ripple, this time reflecting an image of the palace, of my stepmother as she peered into my mirror. My heart threatened to burst as she said, “I did what was best for the kingdom, daughter. You must know that. I couldn’t let the prince marry you, who would throw away our realm for the sake of a handsome face. The kingdom must come first.”
My throat tight, I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t curse. I couldn’t even scream as my stepmother smiled.
“Perhaps you should ask yourself, girl,” the huntsman growled, “or ask the water:
Mirror, mirror, in the pool:
Who is the fairest; who, the fool?”
I lunged at my stepmother’s image, intending to strangle her if I could. But the pool instead swallowed me, dragging me down, deeper and deeper, the darkness filling the void in my chest as the huntsman left, his axe clinking against his belt, the liver and meat of the boar dripping from the sack slung over his shoulder while its guts still steamed in the snow. From within the marsh, I watched him leave, the water an icy mirror, a boundary I could never cross.
Forevermore, left to peer through puddles and pools, I have haunted those who enter the Selva Oscura. When the naïve come seeking some golden apple, or a rash knight searches for the fountain of youth or holy grail promised by myth and legend, they peer into the marsh and scream when they see my scarred face in the waters. I laugh bitterly and sing,
Mirror, mirror, in the pool:
Who is the fairest; who, the fool?
Copyright © 2018 by AJ Cunder
