Fairest of All by Serena Valentino

Queen.
    As soon as she was certain the door had locked, the Queen walked over to the mirror—a ritual she engaged in daily since the funeral. She longed for the Slave to appear there. She wanted—needed—news of her husband and assurance of his well-being in the world beyond.
    But all that stared back at her when she searched there was her own reflection.
    She stared at herself, broken and numb. She looked ragged and haggard. Her swollen eyes and puffy cheeks accentuated her blemishes and other imperfections. And her hair had been neither washed nor braided in weeks.
    She despaired over what she’d become. Perhaps her former beauty was simply an enchantment after all…one cast by her husband. And when he died, her beauty—a false beauty—died with him. How could she have ever thought herself to be beautiful? That she looked like her gorgeous mother, or rivaled, in any way, the King’s first wife, or even little Snow?
    Then, as she stared at her hated face in the mirror, on the brink of a despair she would never be able to recover from, something began to take shape beyond the glass. In a swirling mist inside the mirror, the Slave appeared. The Queen felt a twinge of hope and possibly even joy, leap up inside of her.
    “It has been quite some time, daughter. Did you enjoy the funeral?” the Slave asked.
    The Queen’s lip stiffened. “It was a beautiful ceremony befitting a beautiful man and celebrating his life. And now I need something from you.”
    “And what is that?”
    “News of my husband.”
    The face in the mirror laughed. “News of the King ended with his life.”
    “Can you not see all?” the Queen asked.
    “I cannot see beyond the grave. But I have the ability to see all things in these lands. I can see things that can make you terribly sad. And I can see things that might even make you very, very happy.”
    “What could possibly make me happy again now that my husband is dead?” the Queen asked.
    “I think you know,” the face replied, and then faded from view.
    The Queen banged on the glass and called out to the Slave, but he was gone. Though the Queen did not know when he would return, she suspected he would. When he did, she would be prepared.
    And in the meantime, she had a message to send.
    T hough they lived almost an entire land away, the sisters arrived just a day after the Queen sent for them. Verona sneered and scowled as they made their way into the castle scuttling about, chattering, as usual. She viewed the speed of their arrival as one more odd happening to add to the list of those the sisters had accumulated. Snow White made herself scarce, and the attendants at the court all seemed reasonably disturbed by the women.
    They did not have to deal with them for long, however. The Queen requested that the sisters be brought to her chamber immediately upon their arrival at the court.
    “Sisters,” the Queen said, “welcome.”
    “We are—” Lucinda said.
    “Privileged,” Ruby finished.
    “The scars of your husband’s loss show upon you,” Martha said, reaching out and plucking a gray hair from the Queen’s head.
    The Queen shifted uncomfortably. At one time she would have banished the sisters from the kingdom forever for doing such a thing. But there was something she needed, and she knew only the sisters could deliver it.
    “Last we met…” the Queen began.
    “The funeral—such a sad day—yes, sad, sad, very sad,” the sisters clucked.
    “Last we met,” the Queen began again, ignoring their interruptions, “you spoke of my mirror.”
    Three eerie smiles spread across the sisters’ faces in tandem.
    “The Magic Mirror,” Lucinda said.
    “The portal to the Other World,” Ruby continued.
    “The one which contains the soul of the maker of mirrors,” Martha said.
    “So you know of it,” the Queen acknowledged.
    “Of course we do! It was—”
    “We who created it—”
    “Though not created it, as in tempered and gilded—”
    “But we who captured the