"Snowdon?" He grunted in acknowledgement, not even glancing up to watch Lyona enter the cottage and close the door softly behind her. She approached the table cautiously, placing a basket of fresh pastries in front of him, like an offering to a grouchy bear. "Are you okay?"
"Do you care either way?"
A small groan. "Oh get over yourself," she replied, her tone playful. "If one argument with Py sends you on an existential crisis then we are all in trouble. Py argues with everyone – it's just who he is. And realising he can't really be the leader of this group anymore now that you're here has put him in a worse mood than usual. He's struggling to work out where he fits."
"He made it quite clear that he doesn't fit anywhere near me," Snowdon replied.
Lyona responded with a sigh, slumping into the chair opposite him and helping herself to one of the pastries. "He just needs some space. He'll come around eventually. Maybe not until you're celebrating a decade of peaceful rule over the kingdom, but it will happen." She chanced a smile, which Snowdon didn't return. I envied her ease around him, the way she could sit and eat and talk as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
"So what's the plan, your highness?"
Snowdon laughed at the title, low and humourless. When she didn't say anything further he looked up, surveying her from beneath his dark lashes. "You really still want to help me?"
"Of course! Just tell me what to do."
"We need to rescue Murphy." I could see the indecision on his face, the worry that, after his argument with Py, this was the wrong course of action to take. But I could also see the guilt and the grief. He would and could not abandon his friend. "I just wish we'd found a route into the palace already," he slumped forwards over maps he'd already looked at a dozen times, as if expecting the route to appear in fae ink.
"Perhaps you just need a fresh perspective," Lyona said. She stood up and swiped the mining blueprint from his hands before he could protest. "You need to eat. I'll take a look while you do."
For a second, Snowdon looked as though he was going to argue, then his expression softened and he instead helped himself to a flaky, knotted pastry.
My stomach felt hot and wrong as I watched them together. Despite everything that was going on, they looked so comfortable in each other's company. Lyona was wandering around the room, pretending to study the map, while really glancing at Snowdon over the top of it, to make sure he was eating enough, with a soft smile on her face. I hadn't seen her smile in so long, but instead of making me happy, it made the acidic sensation in my stomach worse. I'd never wanted to trade places with any one more than I did with Lyona in that moment.
Sunlight streamed through the cottage windows, lighting her red hair so that it glowed like gold. Snowdon was pretending to focus on his food, but was also shooting glances at Lyona whenever her back was turned to him. I couldn't decide whether I wanted to know what he was thinking or not; whether the contents of his mind would make the sensation in my stomach better, or worse.
"Wait!" he said suddenly, letting his half-eaten pastry drop to the table in his haste to get out of his chair and over to Lyona.
"What?" she said, wheeling to face him. She was stood by the window, and I suspected she'd been gazing at the forest outside rather than the ink on the paper.
"Hold it back up to the light again – I thought I saw something." She did as he requested and gasped. I wished I could see what they were looking at, but Snowdon's body was blocking my view. Frustration burnt through my limbs. In the palace, I could always just move to a better vantage point, but here in this cottage, with only one static mirror to base in, it was maddening to feel so cut off.
"The forest! It's been overlaid on the blueprints!" Lyona said, her voice full of wonder.
"But it's only visible against the light," Snowdon added, taking the map from between her fingers and holding it against the window. With the map in its new position, I could now see what they were so excited about. Over the top of the tunnel maps, the contours and landmarks of the woods were clearly visible. I could immediately make out the clearing we had ventured to in order to speak to the fae, and with the palace also visible as a reference point, finding the entrance to the tunnel that would lead to the prison cells would be easy.
"Snowdon, you did it!" Lyona gushed, her face radiant as she beamed at him.
"We did!" he replied, as more acid flooded my stomach. I wanted to be happy for Snowdon, I really did, but it was so hard to watch from the sidelines when I wanted so much to help.
"Okay, what next?" Lyona asked.
"We still have a few days until the trial, so there's time for us to plan this carefully. Can you ask Ephy and Xander to come over when they're next off shift and we can discuss when would be the best time to strike? Assuming they're still willing to help me, of course."
Lyona gave him a soft smile. "They are desperate too. They won't be able to get away until tomorrow morning though. They were both getting ready for the night shift when I left."
"That's fine," Snowdon replied, although the words weren't reflected in the frustration on his face. "It can't be helped. And it gives me more of a chance to analyse these new plans, to make sure there's nothing I've missed. Do you think Zeus will help us?"
Lyona bit down on her lower lip. "I'm not sure. But I'll ask him. I'll head back and do that now – and get a message to Xander and Ephy so they know to come and see you."
"Thanks, Lyona," Snowdon replied, his smile bright. "You're a star."
As the cottage door shut behind Lyona, Snowdon turned towards me, his eyes still lit by his smile.
I tried to mimic his happiness, pulling my own lips up in an imitation of his own, but Snowdon didn't buy it for a second.
"You're next, Mirror," he said, his smile dropping a fraction. "I promise. As soon as I've got Murphy out, I'll send him back to school to speak to my professors in person. Someone will be able to give us an answer."
I forced myself to shrug. "The fae said the time wasn't right – that I needed to stay in here for the moment. They said it would be more helpful that way."
"The fae were worse than useless. I'm sorry we even bothered going to see them."
"Maybe. But maybe there is some truth in what they said: I make a useful spy and it would be a shame to be blind to the queen's movements when we're starting to make some actual progress. I can watch her while you continue to plan."
Snowdon bit down on his lip, looking torn. "I hate using you like this; it makes me feel like I'm no better than she is. You should be free to spend your time however you want, Mirror."
"What I really want is to be on the other side of this mirror living instead of watching, but while the queen is in control of the kingdom, that is never going to be the case. So while watching the queen reduce innocent serving staff to a puddle of snot and tears might not be the most enjoyable way to spend my day, it is the most useful. I want to do this, Snowdon. I promise."
He sighed, still looking unsure. "Well, I guess it would be useful to know her plans," he decided at last. "I know I told Lyona we had time, but once Ephy and Xander can tell me when the guards are at their weakest, I want to strike at the very first opportunity."
The queen was holding court at the head of the banquet table in the grand dining room. It was an elaborate affair, perhaps planned in anticipation of success in the forest; a victory banquet that was still taking place despite her failure. The queen never cancelled an event and this one must have taken some preparation: the red tablecloth was covered in a mouth-watering array of dishes, from roasted ducks to steaming pies. Vases overflowing with bouquets of white mountain lilies and vermillion roses had been spaced between golden candelabras that wouldn't have looked out of place in the hall of diamonds. The chandelier in this room was smaller than the spectacle in the ballroom; it was still dripping in gold, but was lit by only fifty candles, instead of five hundred.
When full, I had seen the banquet hall seat just under two hundred people, but despite the gleaming centrepieces and exquisite food, tonight's dinner appeared to be a more intimate. Only half of the horseshoe table's seats were filled, occupied by the queen's most important advisors and their families. Including, I noticed with some surprise, Marianne. She beside her father, looking down at her plate, her gaze centred firmly on a point that wasn't the queen. She wasn't coping well in the aftermath of her trip to the woods. Her fingers gripped her cutlery so tightly they'd turned white. Blue circled her eyes, which were shot through with red. She had been used as a pawn by both the queen and the fae. Snowdon had been poisoned by her hand, yet her words had also delivered his salvation. And injured Py.
Py was working in the background, clearing dishes from the top of the table, and came so perilously close to the queen that I expected her to plunge her fingernails into his chest and pull out his heart. She could serve it raw for the next course as a lesson for how she dealt with traitors. But if she remembered seeing him in the clearing, she didn't show it. Perhaps she'd been too fixated on Snowdon, on admonishing me. Perhaps she'd believed Snowdon's helpers were too far beneath her for her to concern herself with their identities.
As I watched Py's movements around the table, weaving in and out of the queen's range, she caught sight of me in the large mirror at the end of the table. She frowned slightly, seemingly troubled by my appearance when she'd never been before. Perhaps she realised I was there to observe her, rather than for her. At least she didn't know that I could report back on her actions.
She wasn't giving any of those actions away. If she had another plot in mind for Snowdon she was keeping it close to her chest. I wasn't going to discover more while she was eating dinner. Py picked up an empty jug of wine and left the room. The queen's eyes remained on mine. Steady. Assessing. If her guests wondered why she was staring so intently into her own reflection, they didn't comment. No one ever would.
Py returned to the room, a fresh jug in his hands. As he made his way to the head of the table, they shook slightly, sending ripples across the dark liquid. While the queen continued to hold my gaze, Py tipped the jug and filled the queen's glass to the brim with wine so bright it looked like blood.
He retreated, and the queen lifted the glass, tipping it towards the mirror as if she was toasting me.
Py noticed the direction of her gaze, and the movement, and frowned.
The queen brought the glass to her lips. "Your majesty!" The cry came from the door to the room. Another member of the waiting staff, his face pale as the snow outside, rushed forwards, knocking the glass from her hands and showering crimson liquid over her white dress.
For a beat, no one moved. The queen looked as though she had been attacked; blood red wine dripped from the bare skin above her dress, it beaded in the intricate lacework of her collar. It was splattered across her bodice like a crime scene. A few drops had even splashed across her face.
Everyone waited to see how she would react, to see how swiftly and brutally she would strike.
The waiter froze too, as if immobilised by the shock of the blunder he had just committed.
The only person in the room who wasn't still was Py, who had begun to retreat, so slowly that it was barely noticeable, from the table.
"Your majesty, please!" The waiter implored, his voice wobbling, undone by terror. "I saw him put something into the jug. He tampered with the wine; I believe it is poisoned." My heart plunged to my feet at the accusation.
The queen's attention snapped to Py, who had almost made it to the door.
With the slightest of gestures, she summoned two guards to seize him by the arms and bring him back to her chair.
Py struggled silently, spilling more of the wine as his feet fought for purchase on the marble floors. The queen observed him closely, looking for any marks of familiarity on his face.
"Poisoned, you say?" The queen said, returning her attention to the waiter who had just saved her life.
"Yes," he replied, his legs quaking. "I watched him in the corridor, your majesty."
"And yet you waited until the wine had been poured to say anything?"
"Your majesty, I-"
She held up a hand to silence him. "No doubt you were weighing up your options during the intervening seconds, deciding which would bring greater reward: saving my life, or watching me die."
A whisper ran up the table.
"No... Your majesty... I would never..."
She sighed, sounding almost bored. "And yet, you did. It is funny how quickly our allegiances can turn." A glance towards me. I forced myself to meet her eyes without trembling.
"You," she said, this time to Py. "What did you put in the glass?"
"Nothing, your majesty. It's just wine from the kitchen." Py's voice was even. He was giving nothing away.
The queen's responding smile was all sweetness. "Then you won't mind pouring another glass, will you?" I wondered if I could go for help, find someone who could stop this madness before Py was forced to drink his own poison. But the only person who could hear me was Snowdon, and by the time he reached the palace, it would all be too late. Oh Py, how could you be so foolish?
"Of course not, your majesty." Despite the assuredness of his words, tremors ran through Py's hands as he bent to pour a second glass. The queen noticed his discomfort, and her smile broadened.
"Drink it." I looked at Py, my breath caught in my throat. Not like this. He couldn't die in this room without any of his friends to help him. Not after he'd survived the queen's own poison. But the queen hadn't directed her words at him. She was speaking to the other waiter.
"Me?" he squeaked. "But he was the one who-" he broke off at the look on her face, the stern resolve which would allow no arguments. "Please," he whimpered. His knees buckled.
"Drink it."
"No..." Py's voice was so quiet I nearly missed it.
"No?" The queen said. "Is there something wrong with the wine after all, something you would like to confess?"
"I..." Py's voice stuck in his throat.
"You what? You laced it with poison in an attempt to overthrow me?"
This was horrible. I wanted to leave. To retreat to my room. But I needed to see what happened to Py. If this was his end, he needed someone here to witness it. To tell his friends. Even if he couldn't see me to take comfort from my presence. If only he had waited for Snowdon. If only he hadn't let anger fuel his actions.
Something shuttered behind Py's eyes. A new resolve blazed in them as he realised there was no way out of this situation. "Yes." The single word ran out across the room like an explosion. It was met only with silence.
A tight smile formed on the queen's lips. She returned her attention to the other waiter. He had relaxed at Py's admission, clearly expecting a reprieve.
"You took your time to decide where your loyalties lay, even if you did choose correctly in the end."
"Yes, your majesty. I am loyal only to you, your majesty." Relief burst across his face.
She sighed. "Yet your delay ruined a priceless gown. Drink."
"Your majesty!" He pleaded, lowering himself to his knees. "Have mercy, please."
The queen remained unmoved. "Drink." Years ago, I would have waited, hopefully, for someone else at the table to speak up. For someone to tell the queen this was inhumane. That she had to stop. Too many years of experience assured me that no one would.
"Please!" The waiter looked around frantically, still hoping that someone would step in. At a gesture from the queen, someone did; a guard who took the waiter's hand in his own, forcing the glass to his lips.
"Drink on your own terms or have it forced down your throat. The end result will be the same," the queen told him, her cold voice carrying through the silent room.
After a shrill sob, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, the waiter took a careful, tentative sip.
He shuddered, but looked back to the queen. He hoped that would be all; prayed that one sip would not be enough to kill him. It was a vain wish. I pitied him it.
"Drain it."
Tears leaked down his face. "I have a wife... Children..."
"Hurry up, or the rest of the jug will be sent to them."
That did it. Shooting Py a look of pure, undiluted loathing, he brought the glass to his lips and drained it to the last drop.
A few seconds passed in silence. Every eye in the room was trained on the waiter. At last, when it seemed as though Py may have lied and nothing was about to happen, the man keeled over and crumpled on the floor.
The tears that had been falling from his eyes turned red, joined by a steady leak from his ears and nose. His body twitched, and then it stopped.
The queen levelled a cool glare at Py. She eyed the remaining wine, clearly considering her next move. My heart stopped beating in my chest. The thought of Py drinking the poisoned wine was too horrible to comprehend.
"Take him to the cells," she said at last. "You can put him next to the other traitor."
{Poor Py! What do you think to his attempt to poison the queen? And what did you make of the queen's killer response? Let me know in the comments and please vote if you enjoyed this chapter.}