Prince Rayden and his party were two weeks away from the Mossenden border when Rayden went out into the woods to take a piss and didn't come back. The guards wondered what had happened, sent out search parties, and at last settled camp and waited all night for him to return. When he didn't come back the next day, they shrugged and continued towards Mossenden, carrying the woeful news that the Prince had been lost along the way.

Prince Rayden never showed up in Mossenden again. Everyone speculated for quite some time afterward on what might have happened to him; none of the guesses came anywhere near the truth.

Rayden paused a moment and stretched, longing to be back home with a hot bath waiting for him. He definitely wasn't meant to be a traveler; he hated trekking through wilderness and getting dirty and having to sleep on the ground. Thank all the gods that they only had another four weeks of travel to go--two to the Mossenden border, and another two to get to the capital and the castle. Then he would finally be home--home, with baths hot enough to scald his skin and a luxuriously soft bed for him to lounge around in whenever he liked.

With a rueful shrug, he turned to head back to the path where the rest of the group was waiting, and was quite surprised to find himself face to face with Princess Rosa tirVardossa of Torlemont.

He managed to think of several choice curses before he found his voice, but settled instead on saying, "What are you doing here?"

She smiled, something feral and not quite sane glittering the backs of her eyes; he suddenly knew, without knowing where the knowledge came from, that she had at last been pushed over the edge of an abyss she had been teetering on the edge of for a very long time. "Coming to get my revenge."

"Revenge?" he repeated dumbly, wondering what the hell she was talking about. Good gods, had the woman really gone insane? It took him several minutes to remember the argument they'd had before he left. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you still think I was sleeping with Snow White."

"I don't think anything. I know." That feral smile lingering on her face, she pulled two objects from the pockets of her dress. The sunlight glittered off both of them; the steel blade of a knife, and a large mirror with an opal embedded in the handle. And how the hell had such a big mirror fit in her pocket, anyway?

"What is going on--" He broke off the sentence in the middle, leaping backwards as she lunged for him. The heel of his foot caught on a tree root, and the force of his leap sent him sprawling over backward; the back of his head hit a nearby tree with a thud, sending the world spinning around him. When his vision cleared, she had grabbed his right arm, knife held in her other hand, mirror discarded on the ground nearby.

"What--" The word became a scream as she dragged the knife across his arm, cutting deep. Blood spilled down his arm, the wound spreading a burning pain all the way up to his shoulder--what the hell was going on, anyway? There was no way a simple knife wound could ever hurt this badly.

Vaguely, through the dim fog of the pain, he heard Rosa's voice. "Hurts, doesn't it? Iron has that effect on those of the ancient blood." Now what was she talking about? He opened his mouth to ask her, but all that emerged was a scream.

His vision cleared for a moment, and he saw her hold the mirror underneath the cut on his arm. The blood dripped and pooled on the glass, a crimson puddle that soaked up into the mirror. Then his vision fogged again, and the last thing he heard was Rosa's voice.

"I trust you'll enjoy being a mirror, Prince Rayden."

Rosa stood in her room, cradling the mirror in her arms with an almost maternal fondness. She knew she was grinning like a madman, but couldn't have cared less; revenge was so glorious! She couldn't have thought of a more beautiful punishment for Prince Rayden; banning him to life in a mirror, subject to her every whim--it was perfect. She hadn't quite figured out what to do with Snow yet, but was positive she would think of something. One of those spells for pain would probably do quite nicely; it had been so very delightful to watch her ex-lover screaming with the pain of an iron blade searing his flesh.

Giggling, she held the mirror out at arm's length. "So, my little mirror," she purred; emphasis on the word mirror, to remind him of his current predicament, not that he would have any trouble remembering. She laughed in delight as Prince Rayden's face appeared within the mirror, sour and scowling. "Tell me--who's the fairest of them all?"

He struggled against it quite visibly for a few moments; she couldn't help but admire his resilience, to keep fighting even it was obvious that resistance was futile. The spells binding him were good--after all, she had cast them!--and when she asked a question, he had to answer it with the truth.

At last, he gave in. "You are."

She laughed aloud, twirling in place and feasting on the sheer delight of her vengeance. This was certainly the most glorious day of her life! Revenge truly was a delicious dish.

And she would most definitely make sure that he did not enjoy being a mirror.