Warren kept glancing at me sideways through the halls. I couldn't entirely be certain, but I think he was trying to figure me out. After a while I became thoroughly annoyed with the darting looks, and snapped at him.
"What? Why do you keep staring at me?" I guess I was still a little tense from this new piece of news. Marrying a prince… that was supposed to be a girl's dream come true, right? I didn't even want to contemplate what it would be like to marry one of them. Why me? The question kept coming back around. Why did it seem like today punishment upon punishment was landing upon my shoulders?
I was certain that if I were to ever say 'It couldn't get any worse, could it?' it most certainly would.
He laughed. That was the prince's response, which puzzled me greatly. "You really are something. I've never seen a human stand up to my father like that. In fact, I don't believe I've ever seen someone resist my father." I blinked at him.
"Yay for me?" I said. I was confused by Warren. He wasn't being a massive asshole to me. A radical concept, it seemed, for these princes.
"Yay for you indeed," he replied, and grin appearing on his face. "It takes a strong person to tell him off like that. An admirable quality, Lady Grace." I shrugged. Was it really that strange for someone to be able to stand up for themselves?
"Grace," I said absent-mindedly. "I sound like someone I'm not when you tag on the 'Lady'."
"It's your heritage," he pointed out. "Your mother's family is royal." That stopped me. My mother's family. Mom had always said that she'd had many cousins, but because of something she'd done, they never wanted to see her again. Perhaps there was an ounce of truth in that. It would match up with her story… "You know, Lanora was once a hand-maiden to the Queen. An interesting woman, I'm told. The most beautiful lady in the court – besides her majesty herself." I don't know why, but those words made me angry. Perhaps I was still in denial. Or perhaps I needed to know that my mother's past wasn't just a lie.
I had frozen, and he turned to look at me. Perhaps he noticed that I was not appreciating the stories he was trying to tell. "Look," I said, my anger barely being reigned in. "I guess you're trying to be nice, but my mother is Christina Donovan. She was a divorce attorney, and the best mom there ever was. She made pancakes every Friday morning, and always loved me. That's all I need to know about her."
Warren looked puzzled by my outburst, but that made me feel affirmed about who she was. No matter what her name actually was, she was my mother. She was the woman who made me pancakes, and knew everything there was to know about me. It might seem silly, but I felt worlds better for it. I began to stride ahead, and he quickly caught up to me.
"Stop!" He cried out to me, and I didn't heed his call. I'd figure these halls out on my own. Perhaps a stupid assumption to make, but I was self-sufficient enough. Grabbing my arm, he spun me around. "Look. Calm down. You don't have a clue as to where you're going, and you don't need to be pissed at me. I don't even want to be king. Count me out of the running. I'll leave the foolish courting antics to my brothers." I blinked at him. Maybe that was part of the reason that I was mad at him. Glancing at him uncomfortably, he grinned and said, "Friends?" He held out his hand to shake, and I took it slowly.
Beaming at me boyishly, he continued, "You missed the hallway back there. Come on." I sighed as he lead to me to my room. Friends with Warren? Maybe. I still didn't really know him. But it made me feel better to have at least one person who I didn't need to worry about slapping me around.
I wasn't entirely certain how I felt about him, honestly. He seemed like a nice enough guy, and he said that he had no interest in the throne. But for all I knew it was a clever façade. With these people, I really couldn't be sure. All the same, having a 'friend' in these halls would give me a great deal of relief. I would have to think about it. These were dangerous waters, and I firmly believed that I needed to tread slowly.
We arrived at my room in good time, and we said goodbye in a civil manner. Perhaps I was a little icy towards him. I didn't know that I could trust him. Who could I trust? In this place, there was nothing comforting, and nothing that seemed even remotely possible. Not to mention the mood swings that the Faeries appeared to go through. Seating myself down on the bed, I glanced at the finery I was adorned in. Was there a mirror here?
Heading towards the bathroom, I found a looking glass. The person I saw there had my face, but looked like she belonged in an illustration from Grimm's Fairy Tales. I could be an enchantress or a princess. Where was me in this? I wore jeans and tee-shirts, and looked like a normal person. I picked the snood out of my hair, and allowed the curls to hang around my head. Better. But there were no comfy jeans to change into – only this dress. I sighed in annoyance.
I turned away from the mirror, and glanced back into it once. There was a face there. I screamed.
The face seemed as startled my shout as I was by its appearance. As I looked at it more, I noticed that it was a vague outline of a woman's face. "What? Do I have a pimple? Is it that bad?" The woman seemed to be panicked.
"Nooo," I replied. "You do know you're in a mirror, right?" The woman focused on me, and seemed to roll her eyes.
"Of course I do. It's dreadful in here, let me tell you. Simply dreadful." Her voice sounded somewhat dramatic. The way one would think a diva would talk. I walked towards the glass, and touched it. The woman frowned at me and declared, "Don't do that! Please, it's simply offensive."
This was truly baffling. "Ah – well… I'm sorry. Talking mirrors aren't exactly common."
"I know that! Ah. What sorrow is mine!" She gave an impressive wail, and I covered my ears. She was being extremely loud.
"Well. Miss…?"
"Leroux. Marie Leroux. I was once a great beauty in the world of men. But then I was swept off my feet by a faerie man!" I opened my mouth to say that it was unfortunate that such a thing would happen, but she continued. Apparently I was being told this story, regardless of whether or not I actually cared. "Ahh. We were so in love, Stephano and I. Yet… one day a faerie shrew came along and trapped me into this mirror. I have been trapped here since that day!" I rolled my eyes. A predictable story. Unfortunate, but predictable.
"I suppose that you can also tell me the future?" It was meant to be a joke. But she beamed at me.
"In fact… I can! Apparently that was a side effect of the spell. A rather amusing one, if I do say so myself. I've learned so many naughty things," she tittered to herself, and I sighed. Only I would have the bad luck to get an airhead trapped into my mirror. "But any who… perhaps you would like to see if there are any dashing young men in your future?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and I groaned.
"No." I really didn't want to find out what should happen in the future. I began to leave the room. Her voice followed me, and I stopped.
"Oh but it would be so much fun!" She pouted at me and the shook her head sassily. "Well, I'm curious. I'm going to look." I began to shout at her not to, but her face faded from the mirror, and a series of images began to pop up on its surface. It was like watching a bad movie trailer.
In this, I was wearing a simpler dress, and I was running down a darkened hallway. At the very end there was a pool of water, and I stopped to sit by it. I could tell by the way I looked that I was thinking about something, and was clearly very upset. Yet the mirror's focus shifted from me to the water. Creatures rose out of it. Things that were so shrunken that they barely looked like women. They each had a set of wicked teeth, and their faces were so pale that you could see through them to the bones. One grabbed my ankle, and began to tug. I was clearly surprised, and let out a silent scream. The others picked up on that cue, and I was nearly halfway in the water when –
The image faded, and Marie reappeared in her mirror. "Oh… oh my dear… I'm so sorry." I blinked, and left the room. I was in shock. Had I just seen the scene of my death? I shuddered. God. Why? "Just forget it dear!" Marie called after me. "I'm sure that it won't actually happen. My visions aren't always accurate!"
"Please, just be quiet. I'm going to bed." I didn't hear anything else from Marie, and I hoped that she had left the mirror. Seating myself on the bed, I tried to shake away the horrifying scene that had just played out in front of me. It wouldn't happen. I wouldn't die. Marie said that her visions weren't always accurate.
I laid myself down, and thought about anything other than the vision. I comforted myself with the best memories I could stir up from my past. Even if it hurt me to know that I would never be able to make new ones with these people, they provided me with a slight bit of comfort.