Malefica's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Malefica climbed the black stair to her chambers at the hour she always climbed it. The palace above her was a spire of iron and red glass, built by her father's hand before he sent her up out of the pit to rule the living. She had ruled them for eleven years. She had asked the same question every morning for eleven years. She shut the door behind her. She did not look at the long window or at her own hands. She trusted neither. Her father had told her once that the eyes of Lucifer's daughter would always flatter the daughter. So she went to the wall where the mirror hung, and she pulled the cloth down. The glass was framed in pale metal and carved wings. A dead centaur had made it. She did not know why. She had asked the mirror that question at twelve and covered it for three years after the answer. She did not ask it anymore. She asked only one thing now. "Mirror," she said. "Who is the fairest in the kingdom." The glass showed her face first. Then it wiped her face away and showed a girl in a kitchen, sleeves rolled, cutting bread. Black hair. A red mouth. Skin the color of the bread's inside. Malefica knew the kitchen. Malefica knew the girl. Her husband's daughter. Her own stepdaughter. Snow. "Snow White is the fairest," the mirror said. It said it the way it said everything. Flat. Without pity. True. Malefica did not move for a long time. She had fed that child figs. She had braided that child's hair once, badly, when the girl was seven. The mirror did not lie and her hands were not shaking because she wanted them to shake. They were shaking because it was true. She covered the glass. She sat down on the stone floor in her own gown and thought about the kitchen and the bread knife and how easy a kitchen was to enter. A knock came at the outer door. Not a servant's knock. Three, even, patient. She opened it herself. The huntress stood in the corridor with a basket over one arm. Red cloak, wolf-stitched at the hem. Silver showing at the edge of her small mouth. Malefica had never sent for her. Someone in the lower court kept her name on a list for queens who needed quiet work done. "You called," the huntress said. "Not out loud. I hear the other kind." Malefica studied the girl's face. It was a child's face. The shadow behind her on the wall was not a child's shadow. It had too many legs. "I have a stepdaughter," Malefica said. "I know her name," the huntress said. "Snow. I know where she sleeps. I know what she fears. Tell me what you want done and I will price it." Malefica closed the door behind her guest.