Prologue
'You!' he spat, his eyes wild and frantic.
'You captured her?'
'I –'
'My Marian?!'
'I – I – Robin.'
She shook her head, took a step in his direction, but he took three back. Her jaw involuntarily clenched together in response to the rising bitterness in his eyes. The trust and respect that had developed so effortlessly between them over the course of the past few weeks now lay broken between them.
But it had all happened such a long time ago. She'd taken dozens of lives during her reign. Death and destruction had been part of her identity, and these days she told herself that she had needed to be that woman. She had to believe that her past mistakes had enabled her to grow into the person she had become now. Their lives together, their feelings for each other they were pure. True. She had moved beyond that darkness, and the past had created a door into a better future. The Evil Queen hadn't known better, had had no desire to feel anything but hatred and an insatiable hunger for vengeance. Almost every innocent soul that had crossed her path in those days had ended up dead, or scorched beyond recognition.
It had only been a couple of minutes, and at the same time a lifetime ago that she'd been witness to exactly the type of fury she'd carried around in those days, or was it the present? The sight of her younger-self had chilled her bone and marrow; it had been an eerie sight to witness the darkness in her eyes and to hear the malice in her own voice. To observe the exterior of a woman she had only ever experienced from a first person point-of-view, it had been devastating. How had she ever let it come to that?
'That's you!' Robin had exclaimed from their position behind the bushes. He'd almost sounded excited.
'Keep your voice down,' she'd snapped.
She hadn't wanted to snap at him but she'd felt uncharacteristically afloat. It was as though she was looking at a reflection of herself, one that, if you stare hard and long enough turns into a separate image, a separate identity, but this time the detachment wasn't an illusion. It had become reality. She had no concrete memories of the exact day or time, but she knew, due to the posters plastered to every other tree, that this present day was part of the distant past she had ruthlessly been trying to hunt down Snow-White. Those had been her darkest years. During that time she'd often thundered through villages, throwing threats and magic around, making sure nobody would dare thwart her.
She also always made sure that she would leave a lasting impression on the poor and the weak. Peasants that had aided Snow-White in one way or another would be condemned to die at her hand in front of all of the townspeople. They served as an example, an example of how not to behave.
Marian.
Robin's Marian had embodied that role that day. Of all of the days and of all of the places, they were now in the exact moment when she'd torn through a village in which Marian had served as the fear inducing pawn that was supposed to keep her lowly subjects in line. She hadn't known then, even now she couldn't remember the woman, no matter how hard she tried. Her face was as unknown to her as all of the other faceless people she'd killed before and since. Marian had just been another ant to her. Another disobedient insect waiting to be crushed.
'Marian?!' Robin had all but screamed. She'd clamped a hand over his mouth, her heart beat tripling as she waited. Had her younger self heard his anguished cry?
No.
She'd let out a long breath and then Robin tore himself from her side. She'd tried to pull him back, but her arms were not strong enough and he'd dragged her across the ground, her stockings catching on twigs and leafs scratching her knees open.
'No!' she'd hissed.
'You can't!'
He was stronger and her magic... there was something wrong with her magic. She had flicked her hands at him a dozen times, but nothing had happened. she couldn't stop him. And so there was nothing she could do, but he needed to stop. He could not be seen. The consequences…
'She will kill you and Marian,' she'd impressed upon him, 'think of Roland!'
And that had done the job. Just in time. Another step and he would have been visible to all.
He'd turned to her then, his eyes wild with anger, hate, resentment.
'That's my wife,' he angrily repeated, then pointed toward the village.
'Did you kill her?!'
She felt herself grow weak, her eyes pleading for him to understand. She wasn't sure, couldn't tell, but all the odds were against her. If she'd captured Marian, then yes, there was a chance Marian had died at her hand.
She shook her head, looked away, her eyes caught one of the Snow-White wanted posters, then she sighed and said,
'Possibly.'