Chapter 2
The woman to the Queen's left did more to help the princess and her mother mend their immediate differences than anything they could have said to one another. As soon as Snow White walked into the Queen's quarters a moist, mildewed, and ominously sweet smell mounted a subtle assault on her nose. Or maybe not her nose. A tingle at the base of her spine warned of something more ominous and deep than a simple odor. The slight, simply-clad woman standing next to the Queen flooded the room with her presence like subterranean water with the focus of a river and the malignance of a stagnant swamp. It was the direction, the drive towards some unknown goal, that scared her most. Snow White's first thought was to warn her mother, but she could hardly tear her eyes off of the other woman, who, for her part, could not seem to take her eyes off of the princess.
"Snow White." The Queen's voice was tinged with customary irony and something more. A warning, or was she just imagining things?
"Mother." She curtseyed briefly, meeting the Queen's eye as she crossed the room to sit at the table.
"Your hair is not done."
"No, it isn't." Her fire had been somewhat quenched. "I am told you sent Marianne away."
The Queen's eyes flicked ever so slightly to the woman at her left. "Yes." She said.
A fine tension sung along the princess' shoulders as the room fell silent. Nothing about this situation was right. Lines of heat radiated from the knot forming in the center of her back. Finally, after a few moments, curiosity and fear overwhelmed prudence. "Who is that?" She nodded towards the source of their uneasiness, who was now looking down at her feet, a few strands of black hair draped demurely across high cheekbones and fair skin. When the Queen didn't answer, Snow White addressed the woman herself. "Who are you? I have not seen you in court before, and I know most of the courtiers. Only last week was a banquet and; and I would know your name." She had to bite her lip to keep from continuing along that inane vein.
"I am Lily Rose, milady." Her eyes were that indeterminate shade between blue and green, and their intensity grew as they sought out the princess' and held them.
"A new lady-in-waiting." The Queen said.
The princess dropped her eyes to the floor. "I see." She was breathing heavily as if she had been running.
"Lily Rose, the food isn't here yet. Would you go down to the kitchen to see what's taking so long?"
"Wouldn't a maid be better suited? Jennifer perhaps?" Lily Rose draped a casual hand over the back of the Queen's chair, delicate fingernails accidentally scratching against the satin of the older woman's dress. From her seat across the table, Snow White could see a fine tremble run through her mother.
"I loaned Jennifer to Snow White for her use until she finds a more suitable companion." A dark look flew across Lily Rose's face, and the princess shot the Queen a sharp look. Something was going on here, and she wanted to know what.
"I am famished." Snow White picked up the tea pot and began to pour herself a cup.
"Oh, let me get that."
"No, don't bother, but could you please go see about the food?" Trying to smile charmingly while pouring proved disastrous. "And some towels?" At least the tea had been sitting out for a while and wasn't hot enough to burn. With a sigh, Lily Rose swept out of the room.
"Mother."
"Snow White."
"What's going on?"
To the Queen's credit, she did not pretend to misunderstand. "She arrived a week ago in the remnants of a caravan coming from the north. Ostensibly, she remembers not where she is from or who she is." Snow White scowled, and her mother laughed bitterly. "I know. But it was enough to fool your father. He is on the way to infatuation with the girl." She fingered the pendant hanging on a gold chain from her crepe-paper neck. "And I'm getting older."
"Marianne?"
"Sent away by her request."
"What's her hold on you, Mother? You are Queen. Father has never been unfaithful, even if he is bewitched now." The princess stopped, feeling the word drop to the lush carpet of the dinner-room with a curious weight. "Bewitched. He wouldn't see me this morning."
"I suspected as much. And as to her hold on me, I won't pretend that I didn't wish Marianne away as well."
Snow White almost didn't hear the Queen, hearing instead the echo of an old woman's manic giggle. She had met her first witch when she was ten and her mother had still been in the hopeful stage of her quest to beautify the gangly princess. She had been playing in her nursery in the East wing. Vividly, the game appeared in her mind, a remnant of memory without special significance but somehow accorded more detail than the rest of the dream- tapestry into which it was woven. Chess pieces set up so that the kings and queens stood directly next to each other on a cherry and oak chess board with a stain that looked like a falcon stooping. Her small hands had fluttered like frightened doves when the Queen and the crone had come in, and that was where the memory got cloudier. The witch had been tall, she thought, and had looked as a witch should. She had tugged at the princess's hair and pinched at her cheeks until ragged crescent moons appeared where her fingernails had bitten. But Snow White had minded the inner discomfort of being prodded by magic more than the physical discomfort of being prodded with rough hands. Even then, though, the magic had not had the feeling of what Lily Rose wielded. The crone had cackled, pronounced the princess outside of her powers to improve, and left in a swirl of dirty gray rags, but she was not malicious.
"We have to send her away." Snow White said, looking up at her mother.
The Queen smiled coyly. "Are we still discussing Marianne?"
"No. Don't play with me. You know perfectly well who I mean."
"The bitch." The Queen's eyes closed as a shudder rolled up her back. "I want you to keep an eye on Jennifer. She's pregnant, you know."
"What?" Snow White flashed back on that morning's scene. "Who's the father? Why?"
"Your brother is the father, and I can only assume that the two parties were mutually agreeable to each other, and, succumbing to vapors, humors, or what-have-you, felt that coupling would be pleasurable. There are the answers to who and why, but what does not seem to pertain. I sent Jennifer away because I suspect that heirs to the heir, illegitimate or no, may not be welcome in Lily Rose's eyes."
"You think she wants the throne?"
"I've been around long enough to know that most everyone does."
At that moment, the object of their discussion swept in, leading a cowed scullery maid who was carrying a tray. The food was good enough, but the well of conversation had dried up, and the meal passed in silence under Lily Rose's watchful eye.
The woman to the Queen's left did more to help the princess and her mother mend their immediate differences than anything they could have said to one another. As soon as Snow White walked into the Queen's quarters a moist, mildewed, and ominously sweet smell mounted a subtle assault on her nose. Or maybe not her nose. A tingle at the base of her spine warned of something more ominous and deep than a simple odor. The slight, simply-clad woman standing next to the Queen flooded the room with her presence like subterranean water with the focus of a river and the malignance of a stagnant swamp. It was the direction, the drive towards some unknown goal, that scared her most. Snow White's first thought was to warn her mother, but she could hardly tear her eyes off of the other woman, who, for her part, could not seem to take her eyes off of the princess.
"Snow White." The Queen's voice was tinged with customary irony and something more. A warning, or was she just imagining things?
"Mother." She curtseyed briefly, meeting the Queen's eye as she crossed the room to sit at the table.
"Your hair is not done."
"No, it isn't." Her fire had been somewhat quenched. "I am told you sent Marianne away."
The Queen's eyes flicked ever so slightly to the woman at her left. "Yes." She said.
A fine tension sung along the princess' shoulders as the room fell silent. Nothing about this situation was right. Lines of heat radiated from the knot forming in the center of her back. Finally, after a few moments, curiosity and fear overwhelmed prudence. "Who is that?" She nodded towards the source of their uneasiness, who was now looking down at her feet, a few strands of black hair draped demurely across high cheekbones and fair skin. When the Queen didn't answer, Snow White addressed the woman herself. "Who are you? I have not seen you in court before, and I know most of the courtiers. Only last week was a banquet and; and I would know your name." She had to bite her lip to keep from continuing along that inane vein.
"I am Lily Rose, milady." Her eyes were that indeterminate shade between blue and green, and their intensity grew as they sought out the princess' and held them.
"A new lady-in-waiting." The Queen said.
The princess dropped her eyes to the floor. "I see." She was breathing heavily as if she had been running.
"Lily Rose, the food isn't here yet. Would you go down to the kitchen to see what's taking so long?"
"Wouldn't a maid be better suited? Jennifer perhaps?" Lily Rose draped a casual hand over the back of the Queen's chair, delicate fingernails accidentally scratching against the satin of the older woman's dress. From her seat across the table, Snow White could see a fine tremble run through her mother.
"I loaned Jennifer to Snow White for her use until she finds a more suitable companion." A dark look flew across Lily Rose's face, and the princess shot the Queen a sharp look. Something was going on here, and she wanted to know what.
"I am famished." Snow White picked up the tea pot and began to pour herself a cup.
"Oh, let me get that."
"No, don't bother, but could you please go see about the food?" Trying to smile charmingly while pouring proved disastrous. "And some towels?" At least the tea had been sitting out for a while and wasn't hot enough to burn. With a sigh, Lily Rose swept out of the room.
"Mother."
"Snow White."
"What's going on?"
To the Queen's credit, she did not pretend to misunderstand. "She arrived a week ago in the remnants of a caravan coming from the north. Ostensibly, she remembers not where she is from or who she is." Snow White scowled, and her mother laughed bitterly. "I know. But it was enough to fool your father. He is on the way to infatuation with the girl." She fingered the pendant hanging on a gold chain from her crepe-paper neck. "And I'm getting older."
"Marianne?"
"Sent away by her request."
"What's her hold on you, Mother? You are Queen. Father has never been unfaithful, even if he is bewitched now." The princess stopped, feeling the word drop to the lush carpet of the dinner-room with a curious weight. "Bewitched. He wouldn't see me this morning."
"I suspected as much. And as to her hold on me, I won't pretend that I didn't wish Marianne away as well."
Snow White almost didn't hear the Queen, hearing instead the echo of an old woman's manic giggle. She had met her first witch when she was ten and her mother had still been in the hopeful stage of her quest to beautify the gangly princess. She had been playing in her nursery in the East wing. Vividly, the game appeared in her mind, a remnant of memory without special significance but somehow accorded more detail than the rest of the dream- tapestry into which it was woven. Chess pieces set up so that the kings and queens stood directly next to each other on a cherry and oak chess board with a stain that looked like a falcon stooping. Her small hands had fluttered like frightened doves when the Queen and the crone had come in, and that was where the memory got cloudier. The witch had been tall, she thought, and had looked as a witch should. She had tugged at the princess's hair and pinched at her cheeks until ragged crescent moons appeared where her fingernails had bitten. But Snow White had minded the inner discomfort of being prodded by magic more than the physical discomfort of being prodded with rough hands. Even then, though, the magic had not had the feeling of what Lily Rose wielded. The crone had cackled, pronounced the princess outside of her powers to improve, and left in a swirl of dirty gray rags, but she was not malicious.
"We have to send her away." Snow White said, looking up at her mother.
The Queen smiled coyly. "Are we still discussing Marianne?"
"No. Don't play with me. You know perfectly well who I mean."
"The bitch." The Queen's eyes closed as a shudder rolled up her back. "I want you to keep an eye on Jennifer. She's pregnant, you know."
"What?" Snow White flashed back on that morning's scene. "Who's the father? Why?"
"Your brother is the father, and I can only assume that the two parties were mutually agreeable to each other, and, succumbing to vapors, humors, or what-have-you, felt that coupling would be pleasurable. There are the answers to who and why, but what does not seem to pertain. I sent Jennifer away because I suspect that heirs to the heir, illegitimate or no, may not be welcome in Lily Rose's eyes."
"You think she wants the throne?"
"I've been around long enough to know that most everyone does."
At that moment, the object of their discussion swept in, leading a cowed scullery maid who was carrying a tray. The food was good enough, but the well of conversation had dried up, and the meal passed in silence under Lily Rose's watchful eye.