Chapter Three: The Scoundrel Of All Scoundrels

I dreamed that I had been attacked at the Spectacle only to be rescued by some slightly-above-average-looking stranger. When I opened my eyes and found myself lying face down on a bed with a man's heavy arm draped over my shoulders, I realized that this had not been a dream and I had, in fact, almost been murdered the previous day. And now, there was a man sharing a bed with me.

Response Number One: Scream and throw the man's arm away from me.

Response Number Two: Hit him very hard on the head.

Response Number Three: Threaten to submit him to Dansfeu (AKA dance in burning iron shoes until death).

I stood over the bed, watching the man suspiciously and preparing to strike again if necessary. The man (who had actually saved my life) was rolling around in his uncomfortable, creaking bed, clutching his head and groaning. I stepped away from him, searching the dingy motel room for something I could use as a weapon. The room was empty of any possible weapons. It was a simple room with four walls, a small bed, and a suitcase containing the man's wrinkled clothes.

The man moaned and rolled over onto his back. As he moved to a sitting position, I gritted my teeth, drew myself up to my full height, and said, "Who are you and what do you want with me?"

He blinked, still not fully awake from a night's sleep. On a scale of 1 to 10 of attractiveness, I would give him a 6.5 (maybe a 7 if he hadn't just woken up). He had a nice jaw and nice eyes, but his nose was bit too feminine and he too scrawny for my taste. His mess of dark hair was uncombed and wild and it didn't help that he kept running his fingers through it. He was also wearing the black hoodie and jeans from yesterday—which were not flattering at all, especially after a sleeping in them.

I glanced down at my own clothes and saw that my brand-name blouse was wrinkled and my skirt was an atrocious rumpled mess. I gasped and glared at the man. "You'd better have a good explanation for all this."

He yawned. "Is that all the thanks I get?"

"It's all the thanks you deserve," I said. "You're uncouth and wild and the least you can do is tell me what happened at the stadium."

The man rubbed some of the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his right hand. "You were attacked in your booth by a man known as the Huntsman. He's a well-known assassin in these parts. Fun fact—he likes to remove his victims' hearts."

"I know that," I said. "And then he eats them."

"Only rumor," said the man. He slid out of bed and, standing upright, I realized that, without shoes on, he was the exact same height as me. "Somehow—you got away from him. Your maid and your bodyguards weren't so lucky."

"They are paid to protect me," I said. "They just so happened to get the bad roll of the dice."

"Oh—cold," he said, pretending to be offended. "Anyway, you fled into the public section of the stadium and almost got trampled. I found you—convenient since I was planning to talk to you anyways—and I rescued you. But you passed out after being kicked in the head, so I took you back to my humble abode where you slept—like a rock." He spread his arms out to gesture to his humble abode. It took me one glance at the water stains in the ceiling and the dust on the floor to know that this wasn't a real home but a sketchy motel room in the downtown part of Pensee.

"Did you really do nothing to me?" I asked, suspiciously.

"Of course not," he said. "I can't damage you."

"Of course. You cannot damage the most beautiful woman in the world." I smirked, trying to disguise the fact that I was checking my pockets for my cellphone. However, the phone, along with my purse, had been left in the booth at the stadium.

"The most beautiful woman in the world?" He let out a bark of mad laughter. "How'd you determine that?"

My smile was replaced by a distasteful frown. I debating throwing my shoe at him, but decided that he might not let me return to the palace if I did so. Instead, I tossed my hair over my shoulder, lifted my chin, and said, "Firstly, you should address me as 'Your Highness' as I am your princess. Secondly, I was told that I was the most beautiful woman in the world by the Mirror of Truth given to Terre De Miroir by the Fairy. Thirdly, don't you ever question my extraordinary beauty again with your slightly-above-average face or I will make sure you are the main course at the next Festival of Skeletons."

The man faked a gasp. "You want to feed me to your citizens who are so starving that they are willing to resort to cannibalism for your entertainment? Wow, you are a great princess, Your Highness."

"Shut up," I said. "Who are you to judge me?"

"Robert Nott," he said. He gave a slight, sarcastic bow. "You can call your heroic rescuer Robert Nott."

"What kind of name is that?" I asked disdainfully.

"What kind of name is Snow White?" he asked.

"A noble name," I said. "My father was the great Landor White, Warlord of Neiger and first king of Terre De Miroir. My name proves my heritage."

Robert smirked. When he took a step towards me, I held my ground, though my instincts told me to turn around and run the other way. There was something in his lithe movements that, while on the surface he appeared lethargic, revealed a precarious and jagged side to him. My rescuer was not to be trusted.

"You should address me by my title," I said. "You Highness or Princess Snow White."

"Why would I do that?" asked Robert.

My eyes narrowed. "Why did you rescue me?"

"I need you," said Robert, plain and clear. "I don't agree with your mother's politics and you are her only heir."

I raised my eyebrows. "So you're just the same as everyone else."

"Would you prefer that I said that I rescued you for money?"

"You could have rescued me for my beauty."

He grinned. "It's a tough world out there, Snow. And without money, I can't appreciate the beautiful things in life."

"You're a scoundrel," I said.

"I just don't want to end up in a Spectacle," said Robert.

"Accept the fact that you are unlucky," I said.

I took advantage of the silence to consider my situation. I could try to run away, but I was certain that Robert would outrun m, which would result in a much worse situation for myself. Robert wanted to use me to supplant my mother. But how. One man acting alone couldn't do much. So there must be more than just him. But where were the others? Perhaps Robert was acting on his own at the moment and the others would come later. So the question was—did I want to help Robert supplant my mother or did I want to do so on my own.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Are you agreeing?" asked Robert. His tone was casual, but I could sense the tension beneath.

"I'm seeing what I would be getting into," I said.

"You must agree first."

"What policies are you trying to change?" I asked. "I have my own agenda and if too many of your policies clash with mine then an agreement cannot be reached."

"Are you in the position to be analyzing my agenda?" asked Robert, smirking.

"Yes," I said. "If you want to be rid of my mother and change some of the policies of Terre De Miroir, then you need me on your side. When my mother dies, I will sit on that throne. If I die as well as my mother, then the title of 'King' will be passed to my uncle in Neiger, Neilan White—whose political policies might very well be worse than my mother's. Are you going to kill him as well? And his son? How many people are you going to kill before the person who agrees with your policies sits on the throne?" I curled a strand of my long, black hair around my index finger. "Robert Nott, you need me whether you like it or not."

He stared at me for a moment. There was a hardness to his gaze that sent shivers down my spine, but I kept my expression sharp and commanding. I would not waver in front of this man.

"You're right, of course, Snow," said Robert. "But I have to wonder—are you already planning on supplanting your mother?"

"Yes," I said.

"You're not hesitant," said Robert, laughing.

"It's the balance in our relationship," I said. "She tries to kill me and I try to supplant her."

"Sounds like a healthy mother-daughter relationship."

"Oh, it is." I folded my arms over my chest and said, "You haven't told me your policies."

"Right." Robert scratched his right shoulder. "Firstly, we don't approve of the Spectacles."

"The Spectacles are a large part of Terre De Miroir's treasury," I said, bluntly. "If we stop the games, we will lose millions of duks. Terre De Miroir will be forced into debt."

"I didn't say you had to eliminate the games all at once," said Robert. "But the games are killing of your own subjects, Snow—and your mother is actually encouraging the games."

"My father encouraged the games," I said.

"Your father was trying to drag Terre De Miroir out of the debt caused by the wars of the tribes," said Robert. "Terre De Miroir is now capable of standing without the Spectacles. While we cannot eliminate the Spectacles all at once, the monarch should at least move Terre De Miroir in the direction of eliminating such violence."

I tilted my head to side ever so slightly. "I'm surprised. You're not as stupid at you look."

"We also don't approve of your mother's decision to eliminate the companies of the wasteland."

"Why?" I asked.

"Your mother plans to massacre the companies," said Robert.

"Yes," I said. "I know."

An amused smile flickered across Robert's face. "I didn't know you were privy to your mother's councils."

"I didn't know you were," I said.

"I have friends in high places," said Robert.

"I have spiders in all places," I said.

"Good." Robert ran his fingers through his messy brown hair. "Then we're on the same page."

"But why do you care about the companies?" I asked. Even as I asked the question, realization struck me. "You belong to one of the companies."

"You're quite clever," said Robert approvingly.

"So," I said. "If I agree to work with you, will I receive the backing of your company?"

"Yes," said Robert. He leaned back on the bed, using his arms to hold himself up.

"Can you guarantee it?"

"My men will follow my lead."

Despite my best efforts, I could not suppress the surprise on my face. Robert meant that he was the leader of a company. The companies that roamed the wasteland that covered all but the cities of Terre De Miroir were usually led by experienced men who had survived the battles of the warlords. Robert couldn't be much older than I was, which meant he hadn't been born until after my father was named king.

"I must return to the Black Root Palace first," I said.

It was Robert's turn to be surprised. "Why?"

"You have your agenda, and I have mine," I said. "Mine requires me to return to the Black Root Palace first. I have no intention of abandoning you," I said. "I'll see you again this afternoon. Have you heard of Tatham Potions and Spells?"

"Potions and Spells?" repeated Robert blankly.

"I'll take that as a negative," I said, calmly trying to smooth out the wrinkles in my skirt. "I will be there this afternoon. Pick me up at eight o'clock sharp and the discussions will begin."

Robert surveyed me quietly, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "You don't want to stay and have a nice up o' tea?" he asked.

The look I gave him was dripping with poison. Robert smiled and hopped off the bed. I watched with disdain as he rummaged through the open suitcase on the floor and, from the pile of dirty clothes, selected a black-shirt and a brown, leather jacket. He saw the look of disgust on my face and grinned.

"I'm sorry they're not brand name, Snow."

"Call me 'Your Highness'," I said for the umpteenth time.

"You're so bossy," said Robert as he pulled off his hoodie and the dirty, white shirt beneath. I quickly looked away, refusing to tarnish my purity by looking at the bare chest of this sub-par looking man.

"What?" asked Robert. "Is my stunning physique blinding you?"

I glanced at his chest and stomach (admittedly, his build was, on a scale of 1 to 10, a 9). However, instead of giving him the satisfaction of admitting it, I scoffed. "You call that stunning? I didn't know the lower class had such mediocre standards."

Robert snorted. "I pity the poor man who marries you. If any man will marry you—is anyone worthy of the love of the most beautiful woman in the world?"

"I have a fiancé," I said, flatly.

"Really? Is he attractive?" asked Robert. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him put his t-shirt on and shrug into his jacket.

"Ready to go?" I asked, moving to the door.

"Shoes," said Robert, picking up the black sneakers the rest on the floor beneath the bed. "And you haven't answered my question. "Is he attractive?"

"According to the Mirror of Truth, yes. He is the most handsome husband I could acquire."

I saw Robert's mouth twitch upwards. He tried for a second to hide his amusement and then he doubled over with unrestrained laughter.

"That's your standard for a husband? He has to be attractive?"

"Shut up," I said, folding my arms over my chest. "It's not about love. It's not even about looks, in the end. It's about duty."

Robert was still trying to suppress his laughter as he pulled his shoes on over his socks. "Duty?"

I stared at him for a moment and then, in the coldest voice I could manage, I said, "Prince Richard the Charming of Verriere has money. You want to end the Spectacles, Robert Nott, then you need money. I am going to marry this man so that I have the money to support Terre De Miroir when I end the Spectacles."

I didn't wait for Robert's response. I strode past him and stood next to the door. "Let's go. I have things to do."

The surprise instantly vanished from Robert's face and the smirk returned. He stepped past me and opened the door, revealing the parking lot of the old, street-side motel. I thought he was going to hold the door open for me and I moved to leave the room, but Robert quickly stepped in front of me and stepped outside. He released the knob and I had to quickly put my hand out to avoid being hit by the closing door.

He laughed and made his way over to a run-down, red car.

"Fucking scoundrel," I muttered as I let the door shut behind me.


The fifteen minute car ride to the palace was done without conversation. Robert Nott the Scoundrel of All Scoundrels decided to turn the radio to the loudest, most rancorous station imaginable and let the music fill the car. My head was still stinging from being kicked and the music did not help. I glared at Robert, waiting for him to get the message, but he just grinned at me and sang along to the infuriating lyrics (almost all the songs had to do with violence and sex).

It was relief when he pulled up in front of the black, metal gates to the castle. The gates were closed and locked, so I had Robert stop the car beside the little black speaker that was embedded in the wall beside the gate. After Robert turned the radio down, I pressed the button and a green light turned on.

A voice buzzed from the other end of the line. "State your name and business."

"I'm her Highness Princess Snow White of Terre De Miroir and if you don't let this car in, I will make sure you understand the horrors of facing a wolf three times your size in the Spectacles."

"Yes, Your Highness."

There was a grating sound and I looked up to see the black, metal gates sliding open.

Robert glanced at me, his eyebrows raised. "It's comforting to know that I'm not the only one you threaten," he said.

"Drive," I snapped.

The car lurched forward and we passed through the metal gates into the gardens of the Black Root Palace. The driveway passed through the gardens, giving us a splendid view of the fountains, which were designed to play with water and mirrors so that from certain angles, it was hard to tell the two apart. I glanced at Robert and saw his open-mouthed awe. I smirked; he was unmistakably lower class.

The driveway ended with a circle, where the driveway curved around a grassy island, which contained a single, flourishing tree that bore several crisp, red apples. The driveway passed in front of the silver entrance doors of the palace. The doors had been there since the construction of the castle. The silver was embellished with the imprint of a tree, its braches reaching up to the top of the massive doors and its roots stretching to the bottom. As pretty as the front doors of the castle were, they were also a pain to keep clean. As we pulled up to the front of the castle, I watched the servants (who are plain and unimportant and therefore shall receive no names) polish the silver door to prevent every tarnishing.

Robert put the car in park.

"When you leave this place," I said. "Throw away the car."

"What?" said Robert.

"I will reimburse you later," I said. "But unless you wish to be cursed, you will throw away the car."

I opened the car door and hopped out onto the driveway. I was immediately greeted by the butler, a tall blank-haired man with eyes the color of moss.

"You Highness," said the butler, bowing. "We were not expecting you."

"Were you not?" I asked. "I didn't come home last night. You should have expected I would return today."

"We received no prior warning of your absence," said the butler. "And we heard about the incident at the Spectacle yesterday. We feared you had passed away."

"Me? Never," I said. I watched as Robert revved the engine and drove down the driveway, leaving the palace premises as swiftly as possible. I turned back to the butler and smiled. "I cannot die until I achieve everything I want to in life."

"Of course, Your Highness," said the butler. "We should have known. It is good that you are alive. Her Majesty was beside herself with grief when we heard you had disappeared."

I snorted. "I'm sure she was."

The butler did not respond to my comment, but waited patiently for me to speak again. We passed through the front doors of the palace (the servants who were polishing the doors sent me curious glances as I passed). It was only when the butler and I were standing in privacy of the front hall that I turned to him and said, "Firstly, tell my mother I am alive and I will meet her in the North Chamber in an hour. Secondly, tell Colton that I wish to speak with him."

The butler nodded. "As you wish, Your Highness."

He departed first and I headed directly to my bedroom on the fourth floor of the palace. The first thing I did was change. I refused to be seen by my mother in the wrinkled clothes from yesterday. I went to my bedroom and picked out a yellow skirt (from this season's fall collection) and a navy blue shirt (presentable, but not prude). To frustrate my mother, I put on my red, lace-up boots (she considered them tacky even though they were number eight on Fairy Fashion's Top Ten Winter Clothing Must Haves). Content that I looked stunning, I made my way to the sitting area of my quarters and found that Colton was already there, sitting on the black leather couch, waiting for me.

Head of my Security and Master of my Information Network, John Colton had once been the general of my father's army. He was in his late fifties now with shirt silver hear and beady eyes. He had developed a potbelly in his old age, but Colton was still as sharp in wit as ever. As my father's loyal general, Colton had always despised my mother who, unofficially, had caused the death of my father, and since I was one-year-old, Colton had been grooming me to take over for my mother.

I entered the sitting room and settled onto the sofa opposite Colton. He regarded me silently, waiting for me to make the first move.

"Do you know Robert Nott?" I asked.

"No," said Colton.

"He saved my life at the stadium yesterday," I said.

"Did he?" Colton drummed his fingers on his knee. "Did he ask for a reward?"

"He asked for support," I said.

Colton knew what I meant. I couldn't say anything outright since I had no idea where my mother's spies were lurking, but that didn't mean that Colton couldn't understand me.

"Shall I contact him them," said Colton.

"I have no interest in supporting someone else," I said meaningfully.

"You are one to be supported, not the supporter," said Colton.

"Good," I said. I rose from the sofa. "I have a meeting with my mother."

"Good luck," said Colton.

I left.

Yes, that's really what Colton's and my conversation were like. To anyone outside, we seemed distant from one another, but to us, a lot had been said in those short, disconnected phrases. In fact, we had just agreed that Colton would get into contact with Robert Nott and his company, which would form and alliance between my people and Robert's people. Colton would do his best to manipulate the terms of the contact so that I would have the ability to make the decisions in regards to law alterations. You see? All that in one conversation. I bet you couldn't follow it.

Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah.

Surprisingly, my mother was not at the North Chamber yet—I had fifteen minutes before the arranged meeting time. I was glad for these fifteen minutes because they gave me time alone with the Mirror of Truth. I stood in the center of black-stone floor and stared at the large, oval-shaped mirror in front of me. No ordinary mirror could be compared to the Fairy's Mirror. The glass itself was filled with a dark mystery that no one could understand. One could get lost, staring into the darkness of their own reflection. The Mirror would devour them without hesitation and a person could spend the rest of his life staring into the glass without moving.

I stood before the Mirror and beheld the fearless, beautiful, and proud, the Princess of Terre De Miroir. She would not be lost in the Fairy's magic. She would hold herself upright and look the Fairy directly in the eye.

"Is the Huntsman still alive?"

The deep, resonating voice filled the room. "Yes."

I wasn't surprised in the slightest. "Is he still trying to kill me?"

"Yes."

On instinct, not out of surprise, I turned around and glanced over my shoulder. The North Chamber was still empty. There was no one sitting on the maroon sofa in the corner and the windows were firmly shut. If the Huntsman was still trying to kill me, he was on break at the moment. I turned back to the Mirror and whispered my final question. "Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, did my mother, Queen Rose White of Terre De Miroir, hire the Huntsman to kill me?"

I knew the answer before I voiced the question. However, I wanted proof. I wanted to hear the answers in the ageless, all-knowing voice of the Mirror.

"Yes."