Mirrored Snow [short story]

Mirror, Mirror

"Mirror." She puckered her lips, pulling a ridiculous face as she smeared lipstick over them. It was a deep, gory red, the colour of blood. Knowing her, that's probably exactly what it was - lipstick made from the blood of her enemies. Pale powder from the crushed bones of those she had killed. Maybe her fake nails weren't really all that fake. I was going to have to question everything she pulled out of her makeup bag from now on.

"Mirror, aren't you going to answer me?" Not when I hadn't been listening to a word she'd said... It wouldn't be smart to admit that though.

"I have a name, you know," I answered in an attempt to distract her. "Or at least I did once, a long time ago."

She rolled her eyes. "I do not have time for your narcissism, Mirror. Stop being so self-involved and answer my question."

Which was? I had two options. Admit that I hadn't been listening, or assume it was the same question she asked almost every time she came to see me.

"Yes, yes, you are still the fairest in the land. Although, if you ask me 'fairest' really isn't the right term for you. It evokes a sense of... justice. Not a word I would associate with you, really. Fair as in beautiful, I'll give you; fair as in, well, a decent human being... Not so much."

"You are being self-indulgent again, Mirror. I do not care for your dictionary observances, only your assertions of my beauty. Now." She straightened up, smoothing down the creases of her dress. "I have a kingdom to rule." She smiled at her reflection, as though she couldn't even see me there, then left the room.

I succumbed to some 'self-indulgence' and made a rude gesture at her retreating figure. Off she went, to be stared at and admired by everyone when she was the only one who could see me. The only one. And she pretended like I wasn't even there. I sighed and sat down, cross-legged, on the floor of the mirror and started to drum my fingers against my leg.

As far as companions went, the evil Queen was definitely at the lowest of the low. It was a good job she wasn't my only friend. Okay, well, maybe 'friend' was stretching it a little bit. 'People I stalked' would probably be a more accurate term. Hey, when you're stuck in a mirror, what else is there to do except live vicariously through the lives of others? There was a particularly interesting pair down in the village tavern - a barmaid and a farmhand - I had been watching them flirting for months. It was half six, so he would probably be arriving soon. I was moments away from porting to the mirror behind the bar when I was interrupted.

"Hello? Your Majesty? One of your servants said you might be in here..." A boy stood in the doorway. A boy I had never seen before. His hair was as dark as the ebony door frame he stood in. When he stepped forwards into the room, the dying sun illuminated his skin, so that it appeared as white as the snow which blanketed the kingdom. He quirked his lips, which were the same blood-red shade the queen had been trying to achieve when she stood before me mere minutes ago, into a crooked smile.

"Quick, Murphy, she's not in here."

"I really don't think this is a good idea, Snowdon. What if she catches us?" His shorter, stouter friend wavered in the doorway, reluctant to follow him inside.

"Calm down, Murphy. If the witch catches us I'll just bat my eyelashes and tell her I was lost."

"She's your step-mum, Snowdon, not one of the girls at school."

"No one is immune to my charms, Murphy." It was a bold claim, but I could see why he thought he could make it. So he must be the mysterious step-son the Queen always kept so quiet about. Over the past few years I had tried time and time again to mine enough nuggets of information from her to be able to spy on him. But all I had been able to learn was that he a) existed, b) was away at school and c) was never going to be allowed to ascend to the throne when he came of age. Until this moment, I didn't even know his name.