Regina Rising Read online

  “It was my pleasure,” she said.

  “I have to confess, you had me going for a moment. I thought you actually wanted to dance with him.”

  “Regina, really?” She patted down a pouf in her gown, and it rebelliously sprang back up. “You know me better than that. Why, I’d rather dance with the crazy carpenter, Geppetto, than that old, sniveling, pitiful excuse for a prince.” She thrust her fist into the skirt of her gown, and finally it stayed down.

  I’d never heard of Geppetto, but if he was indeed crazy, I didn’t feel left out. I knew enough loonies, thank you very much. I took another drink of the cider and handed it back to my friend, who knocked some back without hesitation.

  I didn’t know why—maybe Claire’s mention of marriage—but suddenly I felt a zap of panic. “My mother cannot find out what we are doing,” I said, nudging the door closed with my stockinged foot. “She’ll be greatly disappointed if she finds out we gave the prince the slip. She’s probably looking for me, and…” My heart raced at the thought.

  Claire leaned forward and briefly pressed her finger on my lips. “It will be all right,” she said. “She won’t find out.” She handed me the jar.

  “She won’t?”

  Claire shook her head side to side. Her braids had begun to unfurl into long wavy tresses. She resembled a mermaid from my childhood storybooks.

  “I don’t want to frighten you, but I don’t think you realize how very powerful my mother is,” I said. “If she doesn’t get what she wants, she can do terrible things.”

  A terror-stricken look flashed across Claire’s face, as if something evil were breathing down my neck and she were powerless to stop it. But in the blink of an eye, it passed and was replaced by a languid smile. “I have no doubt she can,” she said. “But Cora would never hurt you, Regina. I mean, really hurt you. You know that, don’t you?” Sandwiching my hands in hers, she tilted her head as she waited for my answer.

  “I guess so.”

  She dropped my hands and snatched the cider from me. “Good.” She took a long draw, opening her throat to the warm, sweet liquid. “All right, let’s go.” She scooped up our shoes and tossed mine at me. I only caught one and had to poke my head between two bags of flour to find the other. My hands fumbled, and I almost lost my balance. I never believed myself to be overly graceful, but it seemed my brain was taking an unusually long while to function. Everything seemed fuzzy somehow. “Where are we off to now?” I asked.

  “To explore the castle, of course.”

  As Claire and I slunk past the ballroom, I held my breath, praying my mother wouldn’t spy us. “Look who it is,” Claire said, pointing out the loathsome Benjamin, who was leaning against a wall. Next to him stood a woman barely wider than a broomstick, with a most unfortunate shade of orange hair. Though it appeared she was trying to chat him up, he was staring at the dancers with bleary eyes, erratically moving up and down to the music.

  “He looks like a bear scratching its back against a tree trunk,” I said, and Claire yanked me around to the backside of a pillar and stifled her giggles to keep him from noticing us.

  The song came to an end, and the dancers escorted their partners off the dance floor. A hush fell upon the ballroom. King Leopold stood before the great battlefield mural, pacing to and fro as his booming voice filled the enormous room. “Thanks to the undeniable prowess and power of the royal army, and the courage and faith of the people at large, I am pleased to announce our kingdom is safe from the tyranny of the ogres, once and for all.” The king twirled the tip of his mustache while the crowd burst into applause. He waited for complete silence and then cleared his throat before continuing. “Although our victory is sweet, it has come with a steep price. In the darkest of times, the ogres have slain our loved ones, burnt our villages to the ground, and pillaged crops, livestock, and precious heirlooms.

  “But, knowing they have been bested, the surviving beasts have indeed surrendered. They have retreated into the outlying regions of the Enchanted Forest, where they shall lick their wounds and leave us in peace. We have stepped out of the debris, my loyal subjects, leaving behind our darkest days, and have marched into the light with our heads held high and our hearts full. We are victorious!”

  Again, the guests clapped and cheered. Claire and I took advantage of the ensuing commotion to snake through the back row of people, hopefully unnoticed. That’s when I caught a glimpse of my mother’s gray-and-gold gown. She and my father stood at the front of the ballroom, appearing to be quite at ease in the company of the kingdom’s most elite and celebrated.

  We ducked into a hall accented with a tall arched ceiling, and it opened into a formal dining hall with a life-sized portrait of Queen Eva holding a cherubic little girl, who must have been Princess Snow White. They wore matching yellow dresses with royal-blue sashes, and the bottom right corner of the painting bore the signature of Jasper Holding.

  “Is it ten o’clock yet?” I wondered aloud.

  “Is that when you’re cursed to turn into a mouse?” Claire joked, and then her memory must have clicked. “That’s right, your scandalous appointment with your art teacher.” She clapped her hand over her mouth and giggled.

  “I don’t think Jasper is here at the castle. At least, I haven’t spotted him. Have you, by chance?” I asked.

  Claire shook her head. “I haven’t. Perhaps he looks so different when he’s all spiffed up that neither of us have recognized him. Or maybe he’s on the periphery of the festivities, waiting patiently to meet up with you.”

  I grinned at the notion, thankful she was finally allowing me to indulge in my romantic whimsies, even if we were grasping at straws. Then again, it wasn’t that long ago people thought it impossible to turn straw into gold, I mused with a spark of hope.

  A couple strolled by in their finery. Claire gave them a funny curled-finger wave, covering her mouth and laughing when a hiccup escaped. Before gliding silently onward, the duo made it a point to peer down their noses at us. I shrugged them off and turned to look at the painting again.

  There was something different about the way Jasper had painted Eva and Snow White from the way he’d more recently painted my parents and me. Certainly, he’d had some more experience by the time my mother had commissioned him, but it wasn’t the quality of the work that stood out for me. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something in the way the light reflected in Eva’s and her daughter’s eyes. Something that at once made me smile to myself and caused the pit of my stomach to burn with jealousy.

  “Guard!” Claire said, grabbing my hand and dragging me behind her. At first I figured she was merely playing some silly drunken game. But then I saw a pair of guards, dressed entirely in dark gray, with the king’s emblem marking their breastplates. Their boots clanked as they marched across the marble floor, echoing loudly and ominously up and down the walls.

  “You there, halt!” one of the guards called in a gruff voice.

  Still holding my hand, Claire began running. Up ahead, the hall forked. Another guard stood in the hallway to the left, but by the way he leaned against a cabinet, it appeared he’d dozed off. The hall on the right appeared to be clear, however, so that was the way we ran. We skirted a corner, sliding on the slick floor, only to find ourselves eye-to-neck with a giant stuffed bear, which was reared up on its hind legs. With its paws outstretched, its massive head tilted to the side, and its jaw open, showing off a mouthful of glinting teeth, it looked as if it had been frozen in time a split second before it had the chance to kill something—or someone.

  Soon we would be surrounded by guards: a new one made his way toward us from in front, and the two behind us would certainly catch up. Any second, all three of them would catch sight of us and, at best, escort us back to the ballroom; at worst, I couldn’t stand to imagine. Heart thudding, I grabbed Claire’s wrist and pulled her behind the enormous beast. As the guards’ footfalls clanked faster and closer still, we sank into its thick, dark brown fur and held our
breath.

  Two of the guards hustled past, but one paused right in front of the bear. We heard the squeak of the third man’s armor as he turned his head side to side. Finally, he cursed under his breath and started marching down the hall. I exhaled the breath I’d been holding, and suddenly his footsteps stopped again. Claire squeezed my arm and I clenched my eyes shut. The guard started coming back in our direction. Had he heard me? Had he spied swaths of cream- and rose-colored fabric peeking out from between the bear’s legs?

  Miraculously, he strode straight past us, without so much as a pause in front of our furry, ferocious cover. As soon as we thought the coast was clear, we came out from behind the bear and scurried in the direction of the ballroom. But no sooner had we rounded the bend than we heard the clanking of guards’ footfalls and a man’s voice saying, “They went this way.” Any second, they’d be face to face with us! We could run down the hall from which we’d just come, or we could try to give them the slip once more.

  I spotted a doorknob by Claire’s elbow and reached out to twist it. The door creaked ajar, and though we had no idea where it led, we ducked inside. We closed the door and braced our backs against it, collectively holding our breath as we heard the guards’ boots pound by. It seemed the guards hadn’t noticed our disappearing act, thank goodness.

  Once my vision adjusted to the dim lighting, I saw before me a sizable chamber aglow with numerous sconces and candles. A canopy bed sat prettily in the middle, its posts and headboard carved with leaves, blossoms, deer, and an occasional bird. Barely above the sound of my heartbeat, I heard a melody so sweet and inviting, it sounded as if it were being played by a fairy on a miniature harp.

  Claire elbowed me and pointed over to the window bay, where a woman slouched on a plush high-backed chair. Her large shoeless feet rested on a fringed stool. I braced myself for her to awaken and catch us where we shouldn’t be. When a soft snore eased out of the woman’s open mouth, I finally allowed myself to breathe; that’s when the strong perfume of fresh roses filled my nostrils.

  Indeed, fresh flowers covered every table and bureau, along with lovely dolls and ornate music boxes. One of the larger music boxes was open, revealing a fairy figurine that twirled in time to the music amidst an enviable assortment of jewelry. Claire obviously noticed it, as well, because she stepped toward it.

  The music box eked out a last measure or two before going silent. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move. Whatever it was, it was careening straight for my friend! I grabbed the closest thing within reach—which happened to be a candleholder the size of my arm—and swung at it. I connected with something hard, and it clanked like metal. Gripping the candleholder, I positioned myself to strike a second time.

  From the shadows came a hushed, “Oh, no!”

  As Claire and I slid behind an armoire, I caught my first glimpse of the attacker as she bolted across the floor. With her dark hair and billowing nightgown, there was no mistaking her for anyone besides Princess Snow White. She landed in bed as smoothly as if she’d been diving into a lake. Claire—who’d stopped in her tracks—and I exchanged a look. With her wide-open eyes and gaping mouth, my friend appeared to be as confused as I was about the little girl’s behavior. And yet, for some strange reason I could not say, neither of us made a move to escape. Instead, we simply slipped behind a massive chest of drawers.

  “What—what was that?” the woman by the window asked in an alarmed yet groggy voice. “Snow, are you quite all right?” She stumbled over to the foot of the young princess’s bed.

  After the princess laid a candleholder—evidently the one she’d tried to club Claire with—on the rug beside her bed, she briefly faced our way and pressed her finger to her lips. “It is nothing, dear Johanna. I merely knocked over my candelabrum again.”

  “Gracious, my darling girl,” Johanna said with a light chuckle. Clearly, she had no idea two intruders were in the room. That must have been how Snow White wanted it, or else she would have alerted the woman. “With all that tossing and turning you do in bed, my heart goes out to the poor wretch who’ll end up married to you.”

  Snow White harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. I do not wish to be married, ever. So you needn’t worry about any poor wretch.”

  Johanna chuckled again. “Well, that’s a relief,” she said. I peeked out just in time to see her finish putting on her shoes. Next she began shuffling across the princess’s bedroom. Any second, she’d surely spot Claire and me and call the guards to take us away.

  I held my breath and felt Claire’s muscles tense.

  “Talking of ‘relief,’ I need to excuse myself for a moment,” Johanna said, opening the door. “Meanwhile, get your beauty sleep—although you’re already as fair as they come.” With that, the woman ambled into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

  Claire and I exhaled in unison.

  “You two can come out now,” Snow said. She angled her entire body toward us, dangling her legs over the edge of her oversized bed, and fixed us with a fierce glare.

  I was ready to make a run for it, so long as the hall was clear.

  Claire had a different priority, though. After closing the distance between Snow and herself, she picked up the discarded candlestick. “What in the land? You tried to knock me on the head with this! You little—”

  “Princess,” Snow provided, holding up her chin. As the candlelight played on her features, I couldn’t help noticing how truly beautiful she was. She had long black hair, lips as red as the apple I’d given Jasper, and creamy skin. Though her face hadn’t lost the cherubic quality Jasper had captured in her portrait, she was already, at the mere age of seven or eight, a threat for eclipsing her mother’s celebrated beauty. “I believe that is the word you were searching for.”

  Claire gnawed on her lower lip, and I could only hope she was having second thoughts about pelting the girl with insults. After all, Snow was a princess. A beloved one, at that. She could tell her father to behead Claire, and in no time, a blond head with lifeless blue eyes would roll off the guillotine.

  I hurried over to my friend and took her hand in mine, squeezing it in silent warning. “Yes, Your Highness,” I said in a voice so syrupy it made my teeth ache. “You’re wise to know that was what she meant to say.”

  Snow nodded once. “I thought as much.” She slid her attention over to Claire and said, “The word I wanted to call you is thief. Because that is what you are—a dirty, rotten thief, sneaking into my chamber to steal my precious jewels.”

  Claire turned her head to look at the open music box on the bureau, which only made her look guiltier. My heart pounded, and I realized we were not out of the woods yet. Any minute, Claire and I could be at the mercy of King Leopold and Queen Eva—unless we could smooth things over with their daughter. “I realize it looks like we were trying to rob you,” I said, “but we can explain—”

  “She is a thief; however, you’re something worse,” she interrupted, her big brown eyes boring into me.

  Now the girl was getting on my last nerve, princess or not. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to rein in my anger. Against my better judgment, I asked, “And what is that, pray tell?”

  “You are a tagalong. You’re too scared to do the dirty work yourself.” When neither Claire nor I replied, she added, “You’re always behind someone else, hiding in shadows. You never know what you are missing.” Seemingly pleased with herself, Snow smoothed her dark tresses over her shoulder.

  I mulled over Snow’s words for a brief moment, and when I failed to find any real meaning, I dismissed them as rubbish. She was only a child. She’d likely heard the same words delivered by a marionette in a puppet show or one of those women in black dresses and head scarves who loitered in alleys. Besides, her nanny would surely be returning any second, and Claire and I needed to get out of there and back to the ball.

  Claire spoke up. “With all due respect, Your Highnes
s, my friend is not a tagalong. You’ll be glad to hear she’s inclined to get into all sorts of trouble.” After giving my hand a quick squeeze, she dropped it and crossed her arms, daring the girl to believe it. “In fact, at the ten o’clock hour, I wouldn’t be surprised if she got herself into trouble right here, at your castle.”

  Snow’s eyes glinted, and her youth revealed itself when she bounced on the mattress in evident eagerness. “Really?” she said. “I’d love to hear the stories!”

  Suddenly, I saw Snow in a new light. Yes, she was born of the wealthiest, most powerful royal family in the entire Enchanted Forest. Yes, she was fair beyond comparison. And yet, under all of that pomp was a lonely little girl. Someone who reminded me of myself before Claire had become my friend.

  Maybe the cider was to blame, but I felt a warm surge of gratefulness for Claire.

  “It’s getting late, Your Highness,” Claire said, glancing at the beautiful clock on Snow’s bedside table. “Your nanny will be back anytime now. We must be going.”

  “Oh, no! Johanna will be gone quite a while longer. Trust me, she is not quick about her business,” Snow White said. “Please stay a little while longer.”

  “How about we make it a bedtime story, Princess?” Claire suggested.

  “How about you call me Snow? Now, what shall I call the two of you, unless you’d like me to call you Thief and Tagalong?”

  I laughed, my heart softening even more for Snow. “I think Thief and Tagalong will do.” I slid my gaze over to watch Claire’s reaction to my answer. When she beamed at me, I exhaled in relief. I didn’t want to tell Snow my real name for fear she’d know there was bad blood between our families.

  Snow patted the mattress beside her. Claire and I hesitated, but she hit it even harder, insisting. “Don’t worry. We’ve a good ten minutes before Johanna makes her way back to my chambers.” After we sat, she put her warm little hand on mine and asked, “Will you tell me a bedtime story, Tagalong?”