Martha continued, “We can get rather carried away sometimes.”
And Lucinda said, “Oh yes, we didn’t mean any harm, you see.”
And then they said together, “We love our little cousin.”
Lucinda went on, “You see, we spend most of our time alone. We have only ourselves for company. And we divert ourselves with storytelling.”
Ruby continued, “Oh yes, we get carried away at times.”
Then Martha said, “We’re very sorry.”
The Queen smiled. “I thought as much. I’m so happy to hear this. It grieved me, the thought of having to scold three of the King’s family. Now there seems to be little need for it, other than to advise you to be aware of your odd tales and stories, and not to recount them before my daughter.
“So tell me, ladies, what diversions would please you while you are here?”
The three of them answered as one, “A picnic with Snow.”
The Queen laughed. “Perhaps you mean a picnic in the snow. It is nearly the winter!”
“Yes, but there is no better time—”
“To visit the forests—”
“Than when the trees are in their death throes—”
“And flashing their brilliant colors!”
“And if that is too cold—”
“Then there is always Apple Blossom Meadow”
A picnic—so, that is what Verona must have overheard the sisters planning when they spoke of taking the girl into the woods.
“What a wonderful idea,” the Queen said, “And it can easily be arranged. I think she would love to have an outing; what a lovely day that will be. We should make a grand event of it and dress for the occasion; she will feel like a proper little lady.”
Lucinda looked disappointed about something, but before the Queen could ask what, she was distracted by one of the servants coming into the room with a message on a small pewter tray.
“Excuse me, my ladies,” said the Queen as she broke the letter’s wax seal. Her eyes widened, her face glowed, and then she burst out in elation, “Oh! This is wonderful news, indeed. I am so pleased.”
She turned to the sisters. “The King will be home in a fortnight!”
The three sisters smiled and said, “In time for the winter solstice.”
The Queen was puzzled. “Excuse me?” she asked.
“We assume you will keep up the traditions here in your new home,” said Lucinda.
Ruby continued, “We’ve heard such beautiful tales of how your family made such a lovely spectacle of the holiday.”
The Queen was taken aback that the odd sisters should have heard such tales of her family. But she didn’t have the time to pay it any mind. The King was returning.
“I hadn’t thought of celebrating in that fashion,” she said. “However I think since the King is returning in time, we should make a festival of it. I quite like the idea. What a wonderful homecoming it would be, and he will be so pleased to have his dear cousins here—say you will stay for the festivities!”
The three odd sisters answered in tandem, through odd, wide smiles.
“Of course we will, dear.”
The entire castle was bustling in preparation for the winter solstice. The servants were in a tizzy making everything perfect for the King’s return, and the Queen was seeing to every detail.
“I think we should have the King’s favorite, of course, and then a little something more delicate for the ladies, pheasant I think, in a mushroom and wine sauce. That would be lovely, don’t you think? Wonderful, and some roasted sweet potatoes with rosemary, and I think the King would come to the kitchen personally to thank you if you made your pears in brandy sauce.”
The cook smiled as the Queen continued.
“And if you can manage it, a six-layered cake of chocolate, hazelnut, and cream cheese; a bit rich, but we can serve anise afterward…”
Verona came into the room looking a bit mussed, strands of her hair falling from atop her head, and her cheek smudged with what looked like ash.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, my Queen, but I would like to discuss the decorations. I was wondering if you had anything in mind?”
The Queen looked up from the list she was going over with the cook and smiled at Verona.
“I do, actually. I have many trunks in my private chamber filled with the decorations my father made for my mother many years before I was born.”
Verona looked relieved.
“How lovely, my Queen. Would you like me to start unpacking them?”
The Queen thought about it for a moment and said, “I would love your help, Verona, along with a few of our most capable maids. The mirrors will have to be washed before they are hung, of course, but I would prefer to unpack them myself, if you don’t mind.”
“I completely understand, my Queen.”
Then the Queen looked to the cook and said, “If you’ll please excuse me, I will leave with you the menu I’ve written up. If you have any questions, we can discuss it later this evening.”
“Of course, my Queen,” he responded.
And with that the Queen followed Verona to the Queen’s private chamber. No one in the castle had a key to this room but the Queen and Verona. As the Queen took the key off the little belt under the fold of her blouse, she felt a tinge of nervousness. She slipped the key into the lock, turned it, then slowly opened the door.
Dread.
The room contained all of her mother’s and father’s things: the last of her father’s mirrors, the portrait of her mother, as well as decorations that were lovingly packed away in crates, probably by her own mother’s hands the year before the Queen’s birth. The King had the items moved to the castle when he and the Queen were married.
She had never before had a reason to come into this room, and truth be told, she had tried to avoid it. It was full of fragments of her old life. And now, it felt as if she were stepping into a cold, dark crypt. She noticed Verona shiver too.
The Queen opened the trunk, and a rush of memory flooded over her. The trunk smelled of her father’s house. It’s strange how a scent can call up such vivid memories, practically transporting you back in time—the smell of the shop, the moldy, musty scent of her former home.
She pushed the thoughts out of her mind as she unwrapped the little mirrors, noticing a face that looked much like her mother’s reflecting back at her.
Verona noticed the Queen’s discomfort and decided to make idle chatter.
“You look so much like your mother, I almost thought that portrait was of you.”
“The King said as much when he first came to my father’s shop years ago. I didn’t see it then, but I do now. I almost thought she was looking back at me from these mirrors.”
Verona smiled. She thought to herself how lucky Snow was to have the Queen as her stepmother. And the winter celebration would make the girl so happy. If only those horrible sisters hadn’t decided to stay for the solstice. Verona felt uneasy in the sisters’ presence, and wondered how the Queen did not feel the same way. Why had she invited them to stay for the celebration? Verona dreaded the sound of their rustling skirts and their chattering voices coming down the hall in the morning. Their annoying high-pitched laughs, simpering whispers, and their habit of finishing each other’s thoughts and sentences were far too much for Verona to bear.