Black Forest: Kingdoms Fall (Black Forest Trilogy) Read online

  Perched on the balcony above, Queen Ino watched the preparations with undisguised disdain. It had been the whim of the king to hold his daughter's party at the same moment she came into the world - two forty-two at the start of day - with no concern for the disruption to the lives of everyone in the kingdom, as her mother had been disrupted in the wee hours to give birth to her.

  "It is here, Your Highness." The weak voice pulled Queen Ino's attention to the corridor.

  Turning from the railing, she stalked past her handmaiden Lemi without acknowledgment, hearing the harried footsteps of the maid falling into line at her back.

  Halfway down the hall, through the boudoir door, the droll sounds of peasant excitement faded as Queen Ino waited for Lemi to shut them into peace and reveal her night's costume. The woman's hands taking longer than they used to in their unwrapping of the package, the queen wondered, yet again, if it was time to retire her to another position within the castle, where the burden of the woman's age would fall upon someone else.

  Pulling the tie free after much effort, Lemi slid the dress from the box, raising it into the air for the queen to see. An artisan delight that might have normally brought the queen a moment of joy, no matter what task was to follow, the spectacle only added to her ill humor.

  "I am told it is exactly the color of Snow White's," Lemi declared. "Made of the same swatch of fabric even."

  "So is my luck," Queen Ino uttered, stepping closer. The brightness of the color making her eyes ache, she knew she would start the night with the pain in her head she had anticipated only by its end. "Put it up."

  Without hesitation, Lemi followed the command, pulling the wooden dress form from the corner of the room with difficulty and heaving the heavy material onto it.

  Perfect at the breast, Queen Ino acknowledged, down to the flowing skirts, even the stitching at the waistline was unmatched, each thread in perfect alignment with the next. If not for the fact that she was being made by an overreaching brat to masquerade as a bright pink rose in the dead of winter, Queen Ino might have thought it one of Santine's finer creations. As it was, Queen Ino continued her inspection, until, at last, tucked at the juncture where sleeve met bodice, she found a snag.

  "There is a mistake," she declared.

  "A mistake?" Lemi said worriedly. "I see none."

  "It is here." The queen pointed the defect out with a long finger.

  "Oh, it is well-hidden, Your Highness," Lemi said in relief. "No one shall notice."

  "I notice," Queen Ino returned, casting a gaze toward Lemi that withered her instantly. "Tell the king. He should not be made to pay full price for an imperfect garment."

  And, perhaps, Queen Ino thought, the next time she told Santine to lie to the king that no dye in such a hideous shade was presently available, Santine would be less concerned with pleasing Snow White's vulgar color sensibilities and more apt to mind her suggestion.

  "Of course, Ma'am," Lemi replied, hands wringing together before her.

  The knock on the door seemingly a relief to the woman, Lemi cast a grateful look to it before rushing to give the visitor access to the boudoir.

  In the doorway, the page of the eastern wing stood at attention, greeting Lemi with a curt nod, before turning his address to the queen. "King Kardon says you shall make your entrance in one hour's time, Your Majesty."

  "Tell the king I shall be indisposed in one hour's time," the queen uttered, watching the face of the page blanch. "Tell the king I shall be ready on the hour," she returned the color to his face, before he nodded and went to his duty.

  Shaking her head, Queen Ino turned once more to the dress, too glaring to be ignored. For those who lived behind fortified walls, and donned sharply-pointed accoutrements as part of their daily-wear, there was an unacceptable level of fear amongst the inhabitants of the palace.

  Closing the door after the page's retreat, it was fear that shown on Lemi's face as well as she turned to face the queen.

  "Get me ready," Queen Ino ordered, and Lemi hurried to do her job, movements suddenly too clipped, too quick, too perfect as she unbuttoned the fasteners with haste beyond her failing fingers. "Why are you acting so strangely?" the queen demanded.

  "Am I acting strangely, Ma'am?" Lemi asked in return, the question increasing the queen's ire.

  Watching Lemi's hands tremble against the garment, Queen Ino knew there was something the handmaiden had not revealed. The snag was nothing. Scanning the boudoir, she searched for signs of that which was amiss.

  "Where are my colors?" she asked upon the realization that Lemi had come to her with only half of what she had been sent to fetch.

  When Lemi went arrow-straight at the question, Queen Ino knew she had hit upon the source of the woman's anxiousness. "The curist had a bad delivery of pigments, Ma'am," Lemi rushed. "He says they would harm your skin. He knew you would not want them as such."

  Displeasure rolling through her, Queen Ino's eyes narrowed, and Lemi further shriveled from her gaze. "So, Santine could find the color for this monstrosity." She fingered the sleeve of the dress with repugnance. "But the curist could not find the colors for my face?"

  "He did apologize," Lemi said quietly.

  "Oh, I am sure he did," Queen Ino replied, taking a step toward Lemi, watching the woman struggle not to run away. "I thought he came highly recommended."

  "He did, Ma'am," Lemi's voice shook, worry etching new lines into her already overly-wrinkled countenance.

  Another step closer, and Lemi looked as if she had been beaten before the queen raised a hand to her.

  "Well, I am sure I will think of something," Queen Ino declared, watching the frightened swallow travel down Lemi's throat. "Now, get me dressed," she said again, and Lemi's fingers fumbled once more at the appalling costume.

  The agreed upon time brought another knock upon the door, and Lemi was again most eager to meet the caller. Where the page had stood humbly before, King Kardon graced the doorway with assurance, a sight to be seen in his fine whites, offset hideously by a cravat and silk waist tie in the same eye-damaging pink as the queen's dress.

  "You look glorious," King Kardon said, and Queen Ino could only endure the compliment from within the confines of the endless supply of ruffles and too-tight bodice.

  "Only the best for our daughter's special day," she returned, watching her husband beam.

  "It is near time for our entrance," he reminded her unnecessarily, for the queen was always where she was supposed to be when she was supposed to be there. It was part of the position.

  "There is just one more thing I must do," Queen Ino said, and King Kardon nodded, turning his back to the door, always a gentleman, giving a lady privacy in which to make her final adjustments.

  When it came to these particular embellishments, the queen never could tell if King Kardon turned a blind-eye, or if his eyes truly were blind to them, but, on occasion that called for it, his ignorance was the queen's bliss.

  "Lemi," Queen Ino said quietly, and Lemi came to her without fail, fear tempered into expectation. Holding out a hand, Queen Ino waited for Lemi's to settle atop it.

  Marred with old scars, the suffering of Lemi's hands was readily apparent. Hand gentling beneath the older woman's, it occurred to Queen Ino that Lemi's hands worked harder with each passing year, the woman driving herself toward her own grave for no other reason than that she didn't know what else to do.

  The notion most unbidden, the queen's hand tightened with a growl, as she wondered why she had suffered such a thought. Reaching beneath the low fall of her dress, she pulled the antique silver dagger from the band at her calf, slicing across Lemi's palm without pause, and the old woman's mouth barely opened on a puff of air where there should have been a scream.

  Blood coming fresh and red to the surface, Queen Ino felt the familiar surge through her veins, her own blood pressing at her skin, yearning for communion. Denying it as always she had, her own scars, hidden in secret places all over her body, ached in respons
e.

  Dipping a finger into the crimson liquid, Queen Ino watched it gather toward the tip, as anxious to be a part of her as she was of it. Releasing Lemi to return to the mirror, the spell broke, and the queen's hand trembled as much as the servant's as she rubbed the substance into her cheeks, the color perfect on her skin, the sole reason Lemi had earned the position as her personal maid over other anxious applicants, and the only reason she remained in the job so many years later.

  Drawing more blood from Lemi's waiting hand, the queen rubbed it across her lips, red smile staring back at her from the looking glass. With casual regard, she pulled open the drawer at her dressing table and handed Lemi a handkerchief, watching the white fabric turn red in the woman's hand. "That is the last time I shall trust your cousin for my colors," Queen Ino turned the almost-kind gesture into threat. "Find someone whose shipments always come in."

  "Yes, Your Highness," Lemi returned, withholding tears, and Queen Ino walked past her to the door.

  "Are you in order?" King Kardon asked, turning around at the queen's hand on his back. "My, those colors do bring out your beauty."

  "Thank you, Darling," Queen Ino purred. "They always do."

  Hand tucked into the crook of her husband's arm, Queen Ino moved with him down the corridor, emerging at the railing above the grand hall, cheers greeting them from below. From her vantage point, looking down upon everyone, Queen Ino noted the kingdom's high citizens, and some of the lower upon whom the king took pity or owed favor.

  "Presenting Your Highnesses, King Kardon and Queen Ino," the page announced, and Queen Ino released her husband to walk down the curved staircase at one side of the hall as the king descended the other, meeting him again at the head of the table.

  It was always a show for the masses, an act of wealth and regality. All eyes upon her, Queen Ino felt a fright in the dress, but the eyes of the people showed only worship.

  "And, the guest of honor..." King Kardon turned to the balcony to introduce his daughter himself. "Princess Snow White Kardon."

  Eyes following the king's to the landing, Queen Ino watched Snow White appear, the kind of innocent beauty well-matched to the bright shade of the dress, where the queen felt her own clash so harshly against it. With uproarious applause, the villagers looked on Snow White with such adoration, Queen Ino could feel their affection as much as see it, and the king watched his daughter with open joy, seeing the two people whom he loved most in the world, his daughter and her dear, dead mother.

  Before the queen could turn again to try to see what they all saw in the girl, she was overtaken by embrace, arms gentle around her, because Snow White never had seemed to accept that they were not friends.

  Pressed back by small hands on her shoulders, Queen Ino felt strange in the world, suddenly unfitted to her surroundings. "You look as beautiful as I knew you would," Snow White smiled brightly, but Queen Ino could not see her.

  Where there was pink before her, she saw crimson, bright and vibrant. The color of blood. Blood everywhere. It filled the queen's senses, until she could hear it, feel it.

  "Are you all right?" Snow White asked, concern genuine on the girl's face.

  "My Darling?" King Kardon queried, and, feeling his hand on her elbow, the queen realized she was making a scene.

  "I am quite fine," she said, blinking the red from her vision, though she could not clear it from her mind. "You, My Love, are a sight to behold," she breathed, taking Snow White's cheeks in her hands and placing a kiss at the corner of the girl's mouth.

  It was always a show for the masses, as it was then. Lips pressed to Snow White's skin, Queen Ino fought the desire to reach for the dagger. Blood pounding to the surface, she knew she had escaped her past, but not herself, and that, one day, she would kill Snow White.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Akasha

  Warmer than she could recall being in some time, Cinderella still shivered inside the blanket. Legs crossed, she hunched next to Akasha in her berth, wondering what had become of her dress. Though it was not a particularly sensible garment, or even hers truly, it was all she had of her kingdom or of her mother, and she watched for its reappearance with abnormal longing.

  The kingdom she was in was called Naxos, Akasha had told her, derived long ago from an early ruler, a queen. Women were treated differently then, Akasha said, worshipped, but things had changed.

  The comfort of the bed beneath her and the clean water she had been brought to drink, Cinderella could not tell the difference. She was, however, beginning to note differences between them.

  The women around the room were the same as her, but not quite. The bend of a nose here, the curve of an eye there, the shape of their bodies inside their simple gowns made Cinderella start to wonder if she had gone mad after all. It could have been the doing of the prince, or of her family. In her efforts to attend the festival, she had deceived them all. Intoxicating her with some substance that made her see a world and people of her own delusion would be just punishment.

  Though, soft blanket brushing her bare legs, Cinderella thought it might have been a mistake on their parts. The accommodations were far more agreeable than the fractured bricks before the fireplace on which she slept in her own home, and the women of her delusion had yet to be cruel to her.

  In earlier night, as she sat amongst them on the floor of the massive room, Akasha had hidden Cinderella from view with the help of others, as two men in like dress came in and picked from amongst them, taking two women off to keep the company of the king. It was rare in her kingdom a soul had sought to protect her, and never had she been invited into the king's company.

  When the women at last settled down for the night, the room was peaceful, but with an underlying discontent Cinderella knew well. It was where gladness for their safety met sadness for their positions, and it dampened the spirits of the room as surely as Cinderella's home life had depleted her own. Though the women around her did not live like servants - they did not clean and cook and fetch and burn in the sun - servitude was clearly their lots as much as it had been hers.

  "Be careful, Girl," the matron said, walking past on her patrol, and Cinderella watched her go with a tickle of fear, the threat seeming to sink through the walls, as if they followed her from her own kingdom.

  "You will get into trouble?" she worriedly asked Akasha.

  "No," Akasha said with such haste Cinderella could hear the lie in it. "But you will. You are an intruder in the palace."

  "I do not mean to be," Cinderella replied.

  She was not even sure how she ended up in the palace. One moment, she was running from the festival, from the prince, standing at her mother's tree. The next, she was slipping through the solid trunk and coming up into the room full of women. She could not explain it to Akasha or to herself. There was no sense to be made of it. Like those of Cinderella's kingdom, Troyale, the patrons of the palace believed Naxos to be a world alone, believed there existed no life beyond its borders, save for that so distant they would never encounter it.

  "Yes, I gather that," Akasha said, head bowing, eyes going to the door as if expecting the guards to reappear at any time.

  "Will they kill me?" Cinderella tried to sound unworried, but the tremble in her voice pulled Akasha's eyes toward her.

  Akasha took a moment in answering, her gaze moving over Cinderella's face until Cinderella grew most anxious. "No, I suspect not." She seemed strangely sad about the prospect of Cinderella not being put to death. "I suspect they will keep you here with us."

  "I could stay here?" Cinderella asked in surprise. "At the palace?"

  A sad smile pushing past her lips, Akasha's dark eyes held her own. "Not as a guest," she said softly, and Cinderella felt an unfamiliar fear roll through her, a foreboding of something she did not truly understand.

  "Keeping the king company?" she questioned.

  "Yes," Akasha nodded.

  "How does one do that?"

  A tempered laugh passing her lips, Akasha lowered he
r gaze, looking up at Cinderella through long lashes. "You are truly not from around here, are you?"

  With a suppressed shiver, Cinderella pulled the blanket tighter around her as she shook her head, and Akasha nodded, taking a deep breath.

  "Do you know how babies are made?"

  "Yes, of course. I..." Cinderella began, stopping to blush furiously. One could not walk into a pasture without witnessing how new creatures came to be, and her stepsisters had always delighted in telling her the horrors humans could inflict with their bestial urges. "Oh," she breathed quietly, remembering all she had seen and heard in vivid detail. "And do you like doing that?"

  "As an act, or with the king?" Akasha surprised her by asking.

  "Are the answers different?" she questioned.

  "Yes, I should say they are," Akasha stated, hand slipping beneath the edge of Cinderella's blanket. Nervously watching it go, Cinderella jumped slightly as it brushed her knee. "The touch of another can be either good or bad, Cinderella," Akasha said gently. "You do know that, don't you?"

  The hand sliding above her knee to rest beneath the fabric of her chemise, it felt as if it meant Cinderella no harm. The hand did not hold her captive or leave a mark. It felt uncommonly gentle, the touch, the kind she had seen given to others, but had not received herself in many years.

  "Of course." This time it was she who lied, and she was sure Akasha knew it when she smiled sadly in response.

  "You must be very tired," she said. "You should try to sleep."

  Akasha's hand retracting from beneath the blanket, Cinderella found the soft touch hurt just as much, if for a very different reason. Feeling tears push against her eyes, she settled back against the mattress, grateful when Akasha pretended not to notice.

  For a time, there was silence, but not sleep. Cinderella was not sure if she was keeping Akasha up, or if it was Akasha who kept her awake, but she knew by the breathing next to her the other woman was not asleep.