cauldron and let it brew. Thankfully, she had fruit on hand. She grabbed a rotting Red Fire apple and dunked it in the cauldron.
“Dip the apple in the brew!” Ingrid proclaimed. “Let the sleeping death seep through!”
One minute later, she pulled the apple back out of the cauldron and looked to see if the spell had done its magic. As the green potion dripped off the apple, Ingrid imagined a poison symbol appearing on it.
“Look!” she said to the raven. “On the skin. The symbol of what lies within. Now turn red to tempt Snow White, to make her hunger for a bite!” Slowly, the apple changed shades. Ingrid laughed to herself with delight and held the perfect apple out to the raven. “Have a bite!” The bird flew away and she cackled. “It’s not for you! It’s for Snow White. When she breaks the tender peel and tastes the apple in my hand, her breath will still, her blood congeal. Then I’ll be fairest in the land!” How strange. She was suddenly talking in rhyme, just like the mirror always did. It was almost as if it were speaking through her now, though this time she was working alone. She held up her handiwork to admire it some more.
This was an apple Katherine would have proclaimed worthy of a king. Of a princess. It was ruby red with swirls of green and shaped as perfectly as a heart. She nestled it into a basket with more apples, placing it on top so that Snow would see it first. If she left now, through the trapdoor in her dungeon floor, under the cover of darkness, she’d be at the dwarfs’ cabin near the woods by early light, just when the men left for work. Who needed the mirror to guide her? She could manage every step on her own! She was headed to the trapdoor when a sudden thought stopped her. She looked back at the raven, which had returned and was eyeing her curiously.
“There may be an antidote.” Ingrid headed back to the dusty book and read the spell again. “Nothing must be overlooked.” She found the footnote she was looking for: The victim of the sleeping death can be revived only by Love’s First Kiss. Slamming the book closed, she cackled with delight as she picked up the basket of apples and opened the trapdoor. Well, there was no fear of that. The dwarfs would come back to think her dead. She’d be buried alive!
Satisfied, Ingrid disappeared through the trapdoor without a trace.
Leaving her father felt like losing a piece of her soul. After being separated for a decade, their one evening spent together felt far too short, and the future was still so uncertain. While her father didn’t know if they’d see one another again, Snow vowed that they would.
“I’m coming back for you,” she told him, hugging him goodbye.
Her father didn’t argue as he had earlier. “Take care of each other,” he said instead, looking at both of them.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Henri said, and Snow smiled. Even in exile, without a crown or people to call on in times of need, Henri honored him with his title. Snow had assumed he’d leave after fulfilling his promise to reunite her with her father, but Henri insisted on taking her back to the dwarfs. She didn’t protest. She enjoyed his company, and she relished the chance to spend more time with him.
Her father placed something small in her hand and closed her fingers around it. “Take this with you,” he whispered.
She opened her palm and looked down at a delicate blue jeweled necklace.
“It was your mother’s,” her father said. “It was the first gift I ever gave her . . . early in our courtship, as I recall. She wore it faithfully till our wedding.” He smiled at the memory. “After she died . . .” The words caught in his throat, and Snow took his hand. “I started carrying it on me in my breast pocket. It may seem silly, but it felt like I was holding a piece of her near my heart. I had it on me when Ingrid banished me here. Somehow, she didn’t know about it. It felt as if your mother had given me one last gift. I always hoped one day I’d be able to pass it on to you.”
“It’s beautiful.” Snow’s fingers traced the etches of the stones, which were cool to the touch.
“While I may not be able to