magic mirror, come from the farthest space,” the queen began. “Through wind and darkness I summon thee. Speak! Let me see thy face.”
The mirror began to smoke and an image began to take shape. Sometimes it came through rather smoky, or so fuzzy she felt like she was looking at it through a distorted piece of glass. But this time, the jester-like beige mask appeared clearly—its eyes missing from its sockets, its eyebrows arched almost permanently in a curious expression, a mouth nothing more than a thin pink line. The first time she had seen the bodiless man in the mirror, she had thought him loathsome. Now his was the face she craved to see more than any other. She knew the features on the mask as well as she knew the lines on her own face . . . lines that disappeared over time, thanks to the mirror’s magic. She looked as young and vibrant as Snow on most days, and she dressed infinitely better. Her purple gown with its sewn-in cape was made of the finest silk and fit her like a well-made glove.
“What wouldst thou know, my queen?” asked the mirror, sounding steady and strong. The mirror’s voice always had a profound effect on her, perhaps because she knew it was always right.
There was also a smug satisfaction that came from knowing the mirror still bowed to her every whim. Despite the ritualistic exchange they had each day, it never questioned her need to hear her heart’s desire. Ever since she was a young girl, she had craved a type of beauty and wealth she had not been born into, and she never tired of hearing that she had finally achieved it. She said the familiar words: “Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”
She waited for the familiar answer. And yet . . .
“Famed is thy beauty, Majesty. But, hold, a lovely maid I see,” the mirror replied. “Rags cannot hide her gentle grace. Alas, she is more fair than thee.”
Ingrid’s blood ran cold. She tried to remain calm, but the answer had rattled her. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, the presence of a boy—much like the boy who had once captivated her sister’s heart—always made her worry. She had done everything she could to prevent this day from coming, but somehow she had always known it would. “Reveal her name,” she demanded, understanding this was only delaying the inevitable.
“Lips red as the rose, hair black as ebony, skin white as snow . . .”
She didn’t wait for the mirror to finish. “Snow White,” she gasped. Despite having known this might be the case, it felt like all the air was being sucked out of her lungs. She tried to steady herself, exhaling slowly. She ran a pale, slender hand over her head, which was covered with a tight black headscarf. Her hair had always been unusually thin, unlike her sister’s or Snow’s. She hated how wiry it was and how it wouldn’t curl like theirs. Now she kept it locked up tight.
“The future holds more than one outcome. If your will is to pass, you alone know what must be done,” the mirror told her.
She understood where the mirror was going with this. They’d had this discussion before. It was one the mirror kept circling back to, just as it had all those years ago.
Ingrid turned away to compose herself. She looked around the almost bare room. To her knowledge, no one knew this room existed. Hidden behind her bedroom closet, she’d had the room built when she had moved into Georg’s tower after her sister’s death. Georg was too consumed with grief to even wonder what she was having built into her wardrobe. Katherine, on the other hand, had found out about the mirror and its power. She had not trusted it. And she had paid for those fears dearly.
Katherine. Ingrid glanced at a sudden movement in the shadows, her pulse quickening. But there was no one there. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to the mirror, trying to focus on the things she could control in this moment. “Tell me about the boy.”
“You have long known this day would pass,” the mirror replied. “To succeed, you must keep him from the lass.”
“Tell me again,” she said impatiently. She knew the mirror hated that tone, so she reconsidered her attitude. “I don’t recall this conversation. Where did the young man come from?”
“From a kingdom in