Twenty #2
“Is the prince with them?” she demanded, her voice unnaturally shrill.
“Prince Makellos?” the guard asked in surprise. “I… don’t know, your majesty. But we’ve been assigned to protect you.”
Queen Schon rolled her eyes. “Well, come on then.” She huffed and stormed down the hall, the guards hurrying after her.
As soon as they rounded the corner, Snow gestured to Der and Grim.
“Come on.” They hurried into the Queen’s private chambers, where an elegant four-poster bed sat, perfectly fixed by the servants.
Her vanity with her makeup and a large mirror was across the room by an ornately-styled window.
Everywhere there glinted gemstones of every size, shape, and color, from the eyes of animals carved on furniture, to jewelry on her vanity and dressing table, to even imbedded within the walls.
It was almost like being within an oversized treasure box.
Der found himself momentarily distracted, staring around open-mouthed at the finery laid out before them, turning in a slow circle to take it all in.
“Shut yer mouth, you look like a landed fish,” Grim whisper-snapped, grabbing Der by the collar and yanking him forward. “Where is this secret workshop?”
Against one wall was the elegantly crafted armoire, with its beautifully inlaid mosaic of gemstones in the pattern of a great peacock, plumage extended, glittering with sapphires and emeralds.
Snow gave the doors a pull but found them locked, as he suspected.
His heart picked up. They had to get inside, or this would all be for naught. “I know it’s behind these doors.”
“Shall I break them down?” Grim said, hefting his ax over his shoulder.
Snow cringed. Chopping through wardrobe doors would be extremely loud and might bring the guards running. He ran his fingers over the gemstones, trying to press each one. “One of these has to unlock the doors, I’m sure of it. I just don’t know which one.”
Grim began to press at the gemstones with his thumb as well. “There has to be a thousand of them. We’ll be at this for an hour.”
“Oh no, we won’t,” said Der thoughtfully.
He reached into a little bag at his hip, pulling out a thin, pointy piece of metal no thicker than a quill.
He knelt down by the floor and slid the pointed tip of it into the hinge of the door.
He gave it a hard push with his knee, and the lynchpin popped up.
He stood and wiggled it out of the hinge, setting it aside, then held up the pointed tool to Snow. “And the top one?”
Snow grinned, leaning down to give him a sweet kiss on the lips. “You’re a genius, Der!”
Der flushed as Snow took the metal tool and poked it up into the upper hinge. Grim let out a huff. “Well, nobody likes a showoff.”
The second lynchpin popped up, and Snow pulled it free.
The heavy door began to sag, now only supported by the hinge plates balancing precariously on top of one another, and the lock still in place holding the two doors.
He dug his fingers into the wood and pulled the door so the hinge pieces slid free of one another, and the door swung to the side.
But it didn’t open very far, as the lock still held the two heavy doors bolted together.
“Allow me,” said Grim, eyeing the tiny gap formed by the sagging door.
Snow and Der stepped aside as Grim raised his ax, adjusted his stance, and brought the ax blade down between the doors, cutting through the peg that held them fast. The heavy, decorated door separated from its mate with a loud crack and then hit the floor with a resounding thunk.
Snow and Der shoved it aside, not caring where it ended up.
“Thank you, Grim,” Snow said, dropping another kiss onto the grumpy man’s lips. Grim smirked back, and the three of them slipped inside the armoire.
Torches on the walls burst into flame to light the room they entered.
It was circular, and quite large, with ancient parchments and texts on the walls.
Dusty books were scattered on shelves crudely cut into the stone walls.
The floor was also stone. Against one wall was a large, gilded mirror that stood as tall as Snow himself.
What looked to be a human skull sat on the worktable, staring vacantly at them from its empty eye sockets, teeth grinning a hideous smile.
There were all manner of devices and objects that he had no idea what they were for, presumably magical uses. He was sure Ulrich would know.
All around them, stones glittered. In boxes, on tabletops, in precarious piles.
Some Snow could identify, but many others he could not.
There were gemstone rocks in every color of the rainbow, some still in a crude state directly from the mines, others carved and polished into beautifully cut stones or carved figurines.
But there were no precious stones to be seen.
Ulrich had informed him that the purest diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires, the ones that came from the southern foothill mountain mines, were what gave the Queen her powers, and those were the ones she crushed to create her magical potion.
The one she had developed while still under Ulrich’s tutelage, that prolonged her life and her beauty.
She drank it every morning, so he was sure it would be easy to spot. And, indeed, it was.
The glass bottle of shimmering, silver powder sat proudly on the wooden worktable.
A mortar and pestle lay next to it where the Queen ground the gemstones from the mine where the little men were forced to dig each day.
Every drop of blood that had been spilled in that horrific place was because of his mother’s vanity.
The bottle was nearly empty; she would be brewing a new batch soon.
He had no idea how much powder was needed for her daily elixir, so he just scooped some into a small cut glass vial nearby, adding some water from a bowl to liquefy it.He turned to Der, giving him a small smile. “Ready.”
Into his hand, Der placed a small packet of powder.
It looked like nothing at all, but it held the weight of the kingdom inside.
Snow undid the twine binding it closed and opened it.
Careful to keep the powder off of his hands, he tipped the packet into the vial.
The slightly pinkish powder slid into the silver mixture.
He put the cork back in place and gave it a shake to mix it.
When he looked in it again, the powder had blended into the mirror-like silver depths that gleamed like shimmering stars.
It was beautiful and deadly. Like his mother.
Like him. He picked up the larger bottle with the remaining silver powder in it, holding it out to Grimwald. “Smash this?”
“Gladly,” Grim said, setting down his ax and taking the bottle in both hands.
He raised it above his head, looking up at Snow with a small, dark smile.
“For all of the lives that bitch destroyed.” Then he brought his arms downward with all of his might, casting the bottle as if swinging an ax into a chunk of wood.
The bottle hit the stone floor and exploded, glass tinkling like the ringing of tiny bells.
The silver powder inside spread across the floor and into the cracks between the stones like grains of sand.
Despite there being no windows in this room, a cold draft seemed to catch the powdered gemstones and scatter them until they were no more than a glittery layer of fine dust.
And now, they just needed the Queen to return.
“That felt good. Mind if I smash a few more things?” Grim asked, glancing around the room at all of the many vials and pottery.
“Have at it,” Snow said. “I’ve got what we need.” And the noise would probably get his mother’s attention.
Grim grinned and picked up another glass bottle, throwing it against the far wall where it shattered into pieces with another sharp crash.
Snow stepped up to the gilded mirror on the wall, gazing into its silver depths that reflected him and Der and Grim. He reached up to brush his fingers over its polished surface, wondering if that was how his mother had been able to find him.
“What wouldst thou know, my prince?” intoned a voice that made all three of them jump. Snow looked around before realizing the voice seemed to have come from the mirror itself.
“Jiminy crickets, a talking mirror!” Der gasped, adjusting his spectacles as if he were not actually seeing it.
“What can you tell me?” Snow asked the mirror, suddenly curious. “Can you tell me the future?”
“I can only speak the truth,” the mirror replied solemnly. “The future is not yet determined, so there is no truth in it.”
Snow did not allow himself to become disappointed.
Even if the mirror had been able to tell him what the future held, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know.
If their plan succeeded, the weight of the kingdom would fall upon his shoulders, and there would be many decisions to be made, not the least of which was whether he remained in power.
He couldn’t even be sure that the townspeople would not string him up or exile him from the land, as the son of the evil Queen who had tormented them for so long.
“There is one thing I wish to know,” he said softly, and he was aware that Der was silently watching him and Grim had paused in his smashing of the bottles.
“Then ask,” the mirror replied.
“Am I worthy of being king?”
“You have doubt in your heart,” the mirror said.
“But the fact that you question your worthiness shows that you have a fair heart, the fairest in the land. Worth is not measured by beauty or gold, but by being fearless, fair, brave, and true. You are all of these things, and you are worthy of being king.”