The Fairest of Them All by Carolyn Turgeon

Author:Carolyn Turgeon
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Touchstone

A few days later, I arranged a meeting between myself and Snow White in the gardens. It was a glorious afternoon as I waited for her, after a morning of heavy rain. The gardens were in full bloom. Tall hedges created a labyrinth structure, and paths stretched from every side, lined by herbs and flowers and wonderful trees that looked like hats, draped in bell-shaped white and purple blossoms. My hair was loose and falling on the ground around me, collecting wet grass and petals, the thrum of life vibrating along the strands. In the distance, mountains rose into the sky. The air smelled of honeysuckle and wet earth.

Snow White appeared at the castle door and I studied her as she approached. She was dressed in a red cloak the same color as her lips. She seemed oddly formal, as usual, a worried look on her face.

“Hello,” I said.

“Your Highness,” she replied, curtsying shyly.

I nodded to her nurse, who stepped back. Two guards appeared behind her.

“Shall we walk together?” I asked.

She nodded, and we set out side by side. Her back was perfectly straight, her hair braided about her head.

“How old are you?”

“I am seven,” she said.

“And you study a great many things?” I asked.

She looked at me, seeming to find the question confusing. “Yes.”

“What’s your favorite subject?”

There was a long pause before she answered. “I like to study poetry,” she said.

“Oh, like your father.”

“My mother loved poetry,” she said, and she turned her head to look straight at me.

I felt awkward, trying to talk with her. Behind us, her nurse and two guards followed. In front of us, the world opened into a series of manicured gardens.

“Did she?” I asked. “And you? You are a lover of poetry?”

“Yes. And I sing, and can dance. I would like to write poetry, like my mother.”

“Your mother was a very talented woman.”

“I know. Is it true you are a witch?”

I stopped, and was unable to hide my surprise. “What did you say?”

She stared right up at me, unafraid, her eyes so blue they were nearly lavender. “Is it true you are a witch?”

“Who told you that?”

She shrugged. “I have heard people speak of it. They say my father has gone mad.”

“Do you think he’s gone mad?”

She seemed to seriously consider the question. “He was very upset when my mother died.”

“Of course he was. I’m sure everyone was. It must have been very devastating for you.”

She nodded, and suddenly looked as if she were about to cry. Her sadness already weighed on me too heavily, so strong it was already latching itself onto my hair, moving into me. I desperately did not want her to cry.

“Look, some elderberries,” I said quickly, pointing to bunches of the dark berries. “Do you know what these can be used for?”

“No.” She stepped closer to me, looked down at them intently. She plucked a berry from the plant and rolled it between her fingers. “I think the cooks make jam with them.”

“They can also help cure someone sick from influenza, when they’re mashed and used in a tea.

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