Fairest

Excerpt

Fairest
K.S. Trenten © 2023
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

Dark Eyes

My first memory was of her dark eyes. They captured all the colors of my infant universe, threatening to swallow me. Those eyes should have been terrifying, but they weren’t.

Her bloodred lips moved, shaping words I could not recall.

My parents remembered them only too well, along with everyone else who’d gathered in the castle for my christening.

“I too have a gift for this child. She will grow up with all the beauty and promise of the dawn, but her sun will never rise.”

My mother told me she nearly swooned with terror at the look of sheer malevolence the witch gave the sunbeams playing around my cradle. She wanted to stop the witch from speaking, as did my father.

No one could speak, no matter how much they wished to. Everyone froze in place, spellbound by the witch’s gaze.

“Before the sun sets on her sixteenth birthday, the princess shall prick her finger on a spindle. With the first drop of her blood, a sleeping curse will fall upon her, claiming her for a hundred years.”

The witch disappeared into a cloud of emerald smoke.

No one could find her after my christening, despite many attempts. The only thing she left behind was the memory of her dark eyes.

I wondered if she’d been real. Her appearance was the sort of thing I’d read about in old legends. The way she haunted my dreams, I felt like I was being drawn into one of them.

Chapter Two

The Mirror

I didn’t see her again until years later.

It was during one of my secret visits to the topmost tower room of our castle, high above the smell of the smoke. Every spindle my father could find, he burned. My childhood had been filled with constant bonfires which I didn’t understand.

“This is all to save you,” my mother had whispered. “Not that fire is enough to stop a curse. We need a spell strong enough to remove it.”

“What sort of a spell?” I’d asked, curious about magic, about its power to change someone’s life. I was cursed because of it, yet people were shy to speak about spells.

My mother bowed her head. “I don’t know, my darling, but we’ll find it. I’m certain we will.”

The best place to find things was the tower room. This was the place where we kept all the things we wanted forgotten. Or at least the things that my parents wanted forgotten.

I didn’t want to forget anything. Perhaps that’s why I found the tower room so fascinating.

I’d already discovered a locket lying in a pile of dust. Inside was a miniature of a young man.

I recognized his sharp gray eyes, the generous mouth on a much older individual, sitting quietly at court when others chattered or waved their hands. He was Lord Gerald Hargreaves, always in attendance upon my father, yet never saying much.

I wasn’t sure why a likeness of him had been hidden away in the tower room, but I didn’t know the story behind many of the boxes, trinkets, and scrolls tucked in corners. Each represented a secret, a mystery, a treasure waiting to be reclaimed. Often I felt a shiver of apprehension when touching these precious mementos concealed in the highest room of the castle.

Perhaps this is why I kept my visits to the tower secret. I doubted my parents would approve of my hiking all the way up the winding staircase, away from their watchful eyes and ears. They didn’t like my wandering. The curse I was under terrified them, so they made certain I was surrounded by people in other parts of the castle.

I didn’t want to worry them, but the constant company grew wearisome. Especially when that company all tried to talk at once.

I began to crave solitude as a poor maid might crave wealth. The tower was one of the few places I could be alone, so it became one of my favorite spots other than my bed.

Sleep was the one state in which I enjoyed utter quiet. My imagination was free to spread its wings and take flight. An enticing figure often appeared in my dreams, although I never saw her clearly. The glimpses I caught of her dark eyes, staring out of a pale face, intrigued me, sending a shiver of excitement through my body.

This sensation wasn’t fearful—at least not entirely.

I shared these dreams with no one. I began to wonder if I’d imagined the eyes myself, if my memory was just a fantasy, until I found the portrait.

It was wedged between an old wooden horse and a box filled with sawdust. Gray cloth wrapped around it like a shroud.

I unwound it with difficulty, releasing clouds of dust, which rose to conceal the treasure.

The air cleared to reveal a portrait of a young girl about my age.

I recognized her painted dark eyes at once. Her bloodred lips bent in a wistful smile. They made up for the lack of color in her skin.

I’d never seen flesh so pale. It made me wonder if the artist had been trying to capture a ghost on canvas. Everything about her was fragile and ethereal.

She sat with her hands crossed in front of each other. Hair, as dark as her skin was pale, fell in loose waves down her back and over her arms. Ribbons and lacings, the same crimson as her lips, adorned her purple gown.

Purple was the color of royalty. In order to wear such a gown, this lovely maiden had to be a princess like me.

I’m not certain how long I sat there, staring at her. The lady’s painted eyes seemed equally fascinated with me. No—more than fascinated. Those eyes wanted to devour me. At the same time, they cried out for my sympathy. No—more than that.

Help me, she implored silently from her canvas. Only you can save me.

“I see you’ve found her.” Oriana’s gentle voice distracted me.

My good witch entered the room, gliding with an effortless grace any court lady would envy.

Not that I was surprised to see her. When had Oriana not been at my side? My mother was certain she was the one whose magic would keep my curse from striking. She’d been at the castle since I was an infant, keeping an eye on me. If anyone could find where I hid, it was Oriana.

Free from the painted gaze of the portrait, I turned to look at her instead.

Oriana was as golden-haired as myself, although hers was dusted with silver. Indeed, she could have passed for my actual mother. She must have looked very much like me when she was my age, but her blue eyes held more wisdom than my own—wisdom and regret. Lines of care, loss, and sorrow wrinkled a once lovely face.

The full realization of my selfishness hit me like a blow to my chest. How I must have worried everyone, sneaking off. Here I was, gazing into the eyes of the enemy like a lovesick fool.

I looked away, painfully ashamed of myself.

“No one can master perfection.” Oriana responded to my shame, as if I’d admitted it out loud. “It’s unreasonably cruel to expect a young girl to do so, even if she is a princess.”

She stepped into the room, filling my sanctuary with her presence. Everything seemed a little smaller, a little grayer. “No one can blame you for wanting time for yourself.”

Staring at the painting, she murmured, “I should have expected her to be waiting for you when you took the time.”

“Who is she?” I studied Oriana’s face, marveling at the way it rippled between youth and age, making her seem old and young at once.

Was this some kind of magic? Or was it something else? Sorrow, yearning, pity, and anger played across her countenance, becoming unique and unnamable. My simple fascination seemed to pale in comparison.

“Once upon a time, she was the kingdom’s greatest treasure. Now she is its greatest sorrow.” The anguish in Oriana’s voice made my throat tighten in pain. I didn’t know why. “She was the fairest of them all.”

With a visible effort, she turned her head. “You’ve met her.” She looked at me as if forcing herself to see me. “She’s the one who put the curse on you.”

“I know.” Unbidden, a confession popped out. “Even so, I have trouble seeing her as my enemy.”

“Beware of that feeling.” A shudder ran through her, bending her slight frame. “She may use it against you. Don’t lose sight of it either.” A wistful smile tugged at her lips. “It may reveal to you a side of her that’s been lost for far too long.”

Oriana didn’t say anything more about the girl in the portrait. The picture itself vanished from the tower room after my visit.

I was disappointed at its disappearance. The painted face of the other princess haunted my dreams.

I napped in the tower from time to time. It was as if I were deliberately seeking out those other dreams, sleeping in the spot where I’d found her portrait. Sometimes, right before I dozed off, the air filled with sparkling lights, as if cobwebs touched by morning dew surrounded me.

One afternoon, I awoke from such a nap to discover a large oval mirror behind some dusty cloths. I wasn’t sure why I’d never seen it before. Worked into its silver frame were engravings of the moon, stars, roses, thorns, leaves, and what might have been bones. No hint of dirt or tarnish touched the silver.

I grasped the mirror by its sides. Despite its large size, it was surprisingly light.

I looked into it.

My reflection gazed back. She smiled. Her lips were bloodred.

I stared, as all the rosiness drained out of my skin, leaving it pale white. My hair darkened, turning black.

No, not my hair.

The girl in the mirror lowered her head. When she raised it, she was the princess in the portrait.

She opened her eyes. I realized they weren’t actually jet black, but a very dark blue. It was easy to see them as being darker, surrounded as they were by dusky curling eyelashes.

“Beautiful,” I murmured. I should have been terrified. All I could do was stare at the witch who’d cursed me.

“Beautiful,” she agreed. Her lips curved into a smile of pure sweetness. I couldn’t believe this girl was my enemy. Not when she looked so tenderly upon me. “Just like her.”

“Just like who?” Speaking to her for the first time felt like a dream. “Who are you?”

“The fairest of them all.” Her sweet smile twisted into something bitter. “That’s the answer to both questions.” Some of the bitterness left her face as she tilted her head to regard me. “Unless I’m speaking of you.”

“What do you mean?”

The girl in the mirror was actually answering my questions with a simple directness. This completely engaged me. “What does the title mean: ‘the fairest of them all’?”

“It’s in the eye of the beholder.” She reached out with one pale hand as if she longed to touch me, but fingered a lock of her own midnight hair instead. “I guess it depends upon whom that beholder is.”

“Which one are you?” I leaned close to the glass. “The beholder or the beheld?”

These weren’t the right questions. Perhaps I could get to them if I kept talking. More than anything I wanted her to continue to speak to me.

“Ask her,” the princess witch in the mirror said.

“Ask who what?” The glass was so close to my face. If I leaned any closer, my head would bump into the mirror. Or maybe I’d find myself in whatever place this mysterious maiden was. It was so tempting to find out. I could fall through the glass…

A hand came down on the mirror.

The princess disappeared.

My own face stared back at me. My blue eyes were wide with shock. My lips trembled. My expression caught me by surprise.

I looked up to see Oriana staring at me, looking nothing like a “good witch.” Her blue eyes widened with a mad fury, as if ready to pop out of her face.

Oriana bared her teeth in a snarl that rippled through her entire countenance, distorting it.

“How did you get your hands on my magic mirror?” She glared at me as if I’d stolen the mirror from her private sanctuary.

This stirred up my own anger. She knew this was where I came to hide from the world. She must have known I liked to look through this tower’s lost and forgotten treasures. Why hadn’t she stopped me if she didn’t want me to discover what she’d hidden amongst the others?

“If you didn’t want me to find your mirror, why did you leave it here?” I rose from the floor where I’d been clinging to the mirror.

She pulled it away from me as if I might steal it.

This made me even angrier.

“I found it the same way I found the portrait.” I looked straight into her eyes. “I had no idea it was yours. It had been wrapped up, cast away, and forgotten like everything else here.”

For a moment, we stood there, glaring at each other.

I realized now I was as tall as she was.

All the fury seemed to drain out from Oriana. Perhaps she, too, had noticed how much I’d grown.

“I see,” she said, clutching the frame of the mirror. Her weathered hands trembled against one of the silver roses.

She looked old—old, tired, and sorrowful beyond words. Her shoulders slumped as she stared at her own hand on the mirror’s frame.

My own anger vanished. I wasn’t supposed to see this. Her moment of weakness should have been private. I’d stumbled onto it just as I’d stumbled onto the mirror. Now I was a part of whatever was going on, no matter how private it was.

“The fairest of them all,” she whispered. “That’s who you see, when you look into the magic mirror, when you’re foolish, young, and full of your own beauty.” She tried to smile, but there were tears in her eyes. “At least that’s what you see at first. Yourself at your best.”

I thought of how I’d first gazed into the mirror. I’d seen myself gazing back. How quickly my reflection had turned into the figure of my dreams.

“Until you see someone else.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could think better of them.

“Until you see her,” Oriana whispered. Her stooped shoulders shook, as if something was trying to escape from her frail body. “Once you see her, you can’t see anyone else. She becomes the fairest of them all.”

She turned toward me, one of her hands rising to cover her face. “This is all my fault.” The words came out in a choked groan as she swayed.

“Your fault?” I asked. “How?” Oriana’s words left me bewildered. “Because this mirror is yours? Because you knew of my visits to this tower?”

A suspicion dawned on me. I stared at my caretaker who’d come at my mother’s bidding to the castle. “Because you’re the reason I was cursed?”

“Please!” Oriana cried, dropping her hand. She stared at me with wide helpless eyes. “Don’t ask me those things!”

The pain in her plea stopped me as if she’d slapped my face. I had to obey. I couldn’t keep interrogating her. Not when she was like this. Hesitation didn’t stop my questions from buzzing around in my head like bees in a hive, oh no.

What was Oriana hiding? Was she truly a good witch? Who was this wicked witch who’d cursed me? Was she truly wicked? What was their story? How exactly did I fit into this?

“You need to get away from this place,” Oriana said with a decisive nod. Strength and purpose returned to her with that gesture. “Away from this tower. No, away from this castle.” She stared at me. “You’d like to go someplace quiet, wouldn’t you? You’ve always looked for a quiet place away from everyone else.”

“Yes,” I admitted, confused by Oriana’s change of mood. My questions flew away and scattered in the face of it.

“I’ll talk to your mother about leaving,” she said with another assertive bob of her head. “She’ll let you go if I go with you. She’ll convince the king.” Oriana’s face hardened when she looked down at the mirror. “We’ll go somewhere far away, where she won’t be able to find you.”

The tower had given me a connection with the one who’d cursed me. First I’d found the portrait. I’d just found the mirror. Neither was a coincidence. Not with a witch involved.

I stared at the woman before me, clutching her magic mirror. A mirror that easily connected with the one who’d cursed me.

Was this woman truly a good witch?

What a childish, unfair question. Was anyone truly good? This woman was trying to protect me from the curse.

Protector or not, she was keeping secrets from me. I might uncover these secrets if I stayed in the castle. Especially if I kept exploring the tower.

At the same time, this was a chance to get away from the crowds of people at court. This might be my only opportunity to escape from them.

My desire to escape got the better of my curiosity. Besides, Oriana might lower her guard if I pretended to go along with her plan. Once she did, I could try questioning her again. Perhaps she’d soften and be more willing to answer away from the castle, the tower, and the mirror. This was why I didn’t protest when Oriana went to my mother with her plan.

My mother convinced my father to agree to it. I was only fifteen. The curse wasn’t ready to strike me down, not yet. A trip to the countryside at my guardian witch’s side would be perfectly safe.

Did we really know we were perfectly safe at the castle? Any of the people around me could be in the pay of the one who cursed me. She could be watching me through other eyes.

I had to marvel at the mixture of truth and falsehood the good witch presented to my parents. Yes, my mysterious witch was watching me. At the same time Oriana had not mentioned the portrait, the mirror, or the tower.

My sanctuary was safe, at least safe from discovery by my parents, or outsiders, if not from the wicked witch herself.

Oriana’s secret was safe from everyone except me.