The Fairest of Them All (16 page)

T
he next morning was my wedding day. I was still half asleep when my room filled with servants and ladies who roused me from the bed and began preparing
me for the occasion. Such attention was foreign to me and I sat, stunned, quietly following their directions as they led me into another room where a bath had been brought in. They removed my clothing and held my arms, led me into a deep tub full of warm water with flowers and leaves floating on the surface. It was disconcerting, all those hands on my body, my hair being unloosed and falling
all around me in waves, swirling in the water.

All those hands, in my hair . . . I could feel the women’s jealousy and curiosity, anger and love and fear, all of it emanating from their bodies, into me. I could feel the rumors swirling in their minds—that I was a witch, that I had bewitched the king,
that I would lead the kingdom to ruins. I closed my eyes, steeled myself. There were too many
of them and they were all strangers to me still, and so I could not separate out the feelings running through me. All I could do was bear it, wait for this to pass. I would prove them all wrong, I thought. I would force them to love me. But from now on, for my own peace of mind, I would request that Clareta wash and style my hair.

I left the bath and they dried me with soft towels, then covered
my body with ointments and powders until I smelled like a garden at the height of summer. Lavender calmed me, lemon freshened and enlivened. They laced me into a long pale dress. They dried my hair and brushed it and wove flowers and jewels through it, and then wrapped it around my head and draped it down my back.

The whole time, their thoughts needled into me: wondering how I’d managed to attract
a king from the middle of the forest, and so quickly; comparing me unfavorably to the queen they’d lost so recently, who’d been so much more pious and refined.

Finally, they led me to the glass hanging on my wall, which rippled like a storm-ridden river with anticipation.

I was astonished at what I saw. Even though I was no stranger to my own beauty and the effect it could have on others, I
had never seen myself like this. My hair surrounded me, in golden avalanches. My lips were more red than they’d ever been, my hair shone and shimmered, my eyes were wide and bright and lined by long dark lashes. I was wearing a radiant ivory dress that made my skin look like cream.

Was this me?

Flickering behind my reflection, I saw myself with my hair dragging on the ground, full of leaves
and twigs and blood,
before the regal queen I was about to become came back into focus.

T
he wedding took place in the palace gardens. Flowers of every kind, every color, burst from the ground, and trees coated in white blossoms swayed above us. There were armed soldiers everywhere, standing at attention.

When it was time for me to walk down the aisle, my ladies followed
me, carrying my train. I clutched a bouquet of orange blossoms, wildflowers, and myrtle, grateful that no one would see my hands trembling. The moment I saw Josef standing at the end of the aisle, dressed in elaborate robes and waiting for me, I relaxed. He wanted me here. He wanted me to be his queen, even if others in the court were not as sure.

He smiled as he saw me. I could feel that smile
like a hand sweeping down my back.

And then, as I approached, I saw her for the first time, the same woman from the portrait . . . but she was a child, swathed in lavender silk. Standing near Josef at the altar, her hands filled with flowers. My heart stopped for a moment, and I faltered. It was as if I’d seen a ghost, haunting me. The queen come back to punish me for what I’d done. For what
Mathena had done, wasn’t it? What Clareta had done.

Her hair was as black as ebony, her skin pale and smooth, like a first snow covering the forest floor. And her lips were a brilliant red, like cherries full and hanging from their stems.

But she was just a child, seven years old, a little girl. Snow White. Not a ghost come to haunt me.

She was the same age my own child should have been, had
he lived. The same age I’d been when Mathena took me to the forest. She was standing stiff and straight, and did not seem to carry herself like a child. As I neared her, she stared at me with her huge round eyes, expressionless. A sick feeling came over me as I looked at her, and then a terrible longing. I nearly stopped in place and crumpled to the floor. It was as if my own son had appeared, grown
into this exquisite creature.

I breathed in and focused again on Josef, his warm face always ready to break into a smile.

And then I reached him, and it was as if I were opening the cottage door and seeing him for the first time, dazzling, right in front of me, the first man I’d ever seen up close.

He loved me, had searched for me.

“You’re here,” he whispered, the way he had before, as if
I were an apparition and might float away. I took his hand and squeezed it, to reassure him.

Later I would hear reports of the commoners protesting outside the castle gates. The number of subjects arrested for going against the king. I would hear, too, about how much larger the previous wedding had been, how it had gone on for days and days. But his wife had just died, and now he was marrying
a woman rumored to be a witch. Small wonder this one was more intimate.

But I did not know those things then, and I was happy. The priest stood before us and spoke of God and heaven and country and I promised to honor the kingdom and my king, my husband, until I died, and then I was married to him, and I became his queen, and a ring was placed on my finger, and a crown on my head.

After, there
was a great feast, and he took me in his arms
and danced with me. I, who had never danced before and did not know all the intricate dances they did at court, just held on to him, laughing, as he swept me over the floor, and as my dress whirled around my ankles and I tripped over my own feet, trying to keep up with him. The music was wonderful. I felt every note vibrate over my body as, around
us, the most beautiful dancers glided across the floor.

He led me back to the great high table. Snow White and her nurse were seated next to us. Just below sat my ladies-in-waiting and all kinds of splendid nobles who stood and bowed as we approached. The king introduced several of them to me, including the head of his army, Lord Aubert, who kissed my hand and bowed. They all seemed friendly
enough, but by now I did not need my hair, or my magic mirror, or any manner of tea leaves or tarot to know that these people did not trust or welcome me into this court, despite their deep bows, the smiles on their faces, and their kind, empty words. I tightened my grip on Josef’s hand and he slipped an arm around my waist.

“This is the Princess Snow White,” he said, as a servant rushed to pull
my chair back for me. “And this is your new queen, Rapunzel.”

Snow White stood and curtsied while staring up at me, her expression serious, almost worried.

“I am so pleased and honored to meet you,” I said.

A small, shy smile took over her face. I was utterly charmed, despite myself.

I sat down. Courtiers came up to offer the king and me their love and fidelity. Musicians wandered through
the hall, singing songs about love. There was more food on the tables than I’d ever seen, and Josef wanted me to try everything. He lifted his
arms and swept them through the air. “That is what life is for. To try everything. You will never miss the forest, now that you’re here.”

The revelries lasted until very late in the night, until I could barely keep my eyes open for exhaustion.

Finally,
the king announced we would retire. He stood, extending his hand to me, and I took it and stood next to him. I was woozy with wine and food, all the twirling over the dance floor, the cut flowers scattered across the tables, the feeling of being madly, madly in love—not only with Josef but with this palace, this life—but also the subject of so much ill will, which Josef himself seemed not to notice
but I could feel in the air like cold rain. Instead, he was happy, he was drunk, and he lifted me into his arms and carried me out the door, down the hall, and to his chambers.

A group of guards stood waiting and opened the great gold doors to let us pass. Inside, there were candles and torches, and the bed was covered with furs and flowers.

He set me down on the bed and I tumbled out of his
arms, lay on my belly with my arms stretched out on either side of me. He unlaced my dress, and I was like an oyster being removed from its shell, especially with my hair piled on my head and not hanging down to protect me. Suddenly I felt naked and raw there, in front of him. I was sober, and everything became less like a dream.

He removed his robes, his shirt and pants, watching me, and then
he climbed in bed and pulled me into his arms.

He pressed his palm to my cheek, and I leaned into it.

“Josef,” I whispered, loving the sound of his name in my mouth.

It was not at all like the frenzied coupling of all those years before. The fire crackled, throwing shadows on the walls. The feel of his skin on my skin seemed more sumptuous than any velvet.

“My queen,” he said, smiling down
at me. I could not help but smile back. Naked, with his arms wrapped around me, he looked so boyish and sweet, happy. It was hard to imagine that he was a king, that he could lead our kingdom into war and battle.

His palms moved up and down my body, caressed my face and hair. He removed the clips from my hair, one by one, and smiled as my hair fell down around us. His joy and desire vibrated
up into me, through the strands.

I was grateful to Mathena then. She had known that I needed to be his wife, his queen, not the girl in the forest whose hair he climbed while his true queen prepared for their wedding day.

He wrapped himself in my hair, luxuriated against it.

All those years she had waited, knowing this day would come.

I
woke slowly. Sunlight was filtering through the room. Josef slept next to me, his palm resting on
my belly. I moved my hand over his.

I stretched like a cat, twisting on the soft sheets. “Queen Rapunzel,” I whispered. Right now in the forest, Mathena would be bent over the garden or out hunting with Brune. Lying here next to the king, his hands still imprinted on my skin, seemed so wanton and decadent.

I stood and slowly made my way off the high bed, to explore. Here was where he’d been,
all this time. All the days I stared at the palace from the tower, he’d been right here.

Outside the window, the castle grounds lay before me, the gardens and several small buildings in the distance. Beyond them, houses with thatched roofs and the wall surrounding all of it.

I ran my fingers across the large bureau, the desk on which several manuscripts lay. I picked one up, marveling at the
exquisitely penned letters. I began reading, carrying the manuscript back to bed with me.

It was a long poem, in a complicated rhyme. I read lines here and there, about a dark wood, a poet who’d lost his way. There
were beautiful illustrations beside the text, brightened by gold leaf.

“Are you partaking in some morning study?” he asked, causing me to start.

I smiled. “You have interesting taste
in literature,” I said.

“This comes from far away at great cost.” He sat up and took the manuscript from me. “It’s about a sinner who journeys through hell and sees the punishments of the damned.”

“How delightful.”

He laughed. “It’s fascinating. And the words the poet uses are so precise and beautiful. It’s like he’s captured the sound of a rainstorm.”

“I’ve not had much opportunity to admire
the beauty of words,” I said.

“You will now. There’s a magnificent library here, and you’ll find much to amuse you in it. I’m having books brought in from distant lands, dozens every week, the rarest manuscripts.”

“That’s wonderful,” I said. I reached up to kiss him, full of admiration for him. He was so learned, so filled with passion. I could feel it pulsing from him, in a heartbeat.

“Today
you might spend time with your ladies,” he said, “or exploring the castle. I have much business to attend to.”