The Mirror Read online

  The Mirror

  Mischief Matchmakers

  S.J. Sanders

  Contents

  Foreword

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Mischief Matchmakers

  Other Works by S.J. Sanders

  About the Author

  ©2020 by Samantha Sanders

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without explicit permission granted in writing from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction intended for adult audiences only.

  Cover art by Samantha Rose

  Formatted By Kassie Morse

  Foreword

  The Mirror is a retelling of Snow White based on the fairytale as penned by the brothers Grimm. Although written for the Mischief Matchmakers collaborative series, it is also part of my Dark Spirits universe, vastly predating the events of Havoc of Souls. Those who are familiar with Havoc of Souls will recognize the hero’s species.

  The silvani are a type of spirit that rule the woods, protecting it and insuring its fertility and natural balance. While silvanus is the singular form, the only exception would be for the silvani lucuma mentioned in Havoc of Souls who is the head of all silvani. That is, of course, entirely my own invention as is my description of the males who are typically in Roman art depicted more like men. Although the silvani lucumi is getting his own book this spring, The Mirror introduces the species. I couldn’t think of a better lover and companion to help out my “wicked queen.”

  In this book you may also come across a couple unfamiliar species: the twergs and albs. They are actually very familiar despite the uncommon names used, but as this novel is set in Medieval Saxony, Germany, I went with High German words for dwarves and elves. You will also note that dwarves are probably not described in a manner in which you, as the reader may be accustomed. That is because I draw on earlier reference material that doesn’t describe them as excessive short beings, although he is shorter than many other spirits, including the silvanus in our tale. All other appearances of the twergs are in line with old lore.

  Although boasting a darker narrative like the fairytale as written by Grimm, which makes it perfect for my Dark Spirits books, I do hope that you will enjoy this retelling of Snow White.

  S.J. Sanders

  Prologue

  Isabella leaned out the window to get a better view of the traveler heading up the steep mountain trail. It had been some weeks since they had a visitor, but that was nothing unusual. In truth, they could go long periods before seeing another traveler approaching their remote villa. Once a month a trader came, and every so often he brought with him another client seeking her mother’s wisdom and magic. It usually pertained to some dull subject too, but that didn’t stop Isabella from eagerly awaiting their arrival.

  Especially lately. All signs pointed to a momentous event following her sixteenth birthday that would take her far from these mountains. She couldn’t see much into what was set out ahead of her by the fickle fates, but she knew it was coming in the form of a shrouded stranger who’d haunted her dreams for weeks. With her birthday nigh, she’d waited patiently for the relentless march of hours until finally the day arrived. Today she turned sixteen, and today there was a stranger on the mountain.

  Was it her stranger? Everything within her seemed to anticipate the arrival of the traveler drawing increasingly near. Her heart pulsed a quickening beat and her belly fluttered in agreement. Even her skin tingled, the fine hairs on her arms rising. La dea Diana was assuredly giving her all the signs in answer to her most reverent prayers for something new, something different… and adventure. Surely, it had to be him!

  From her vantage point, she could see the mules picking their way along the steep slopes. The trader was recognizable even at this distance, but the other was indistinct beneath the layer of furs they wore. The only thing she could discern was that it had to be a man of some substantial size. His size practically dominated that of the trader in front of him. He would doubtlessly dominate over her in every way. Her breath caught in her throat as she imagined the way he would lean over her and…

  “Isabella!”

  Jerking back guiltily, she spun around to face the source of the sharp, scolding voice. The woman filling her doorway was tall and graceful, her dark hair twisted elaborately away from her face. Wearing a long tunic of Tyrian purple and a light mauve dress pulled over it, her mother could have passed for a noblewoman save for her eyes which were such a pale shade of blue that they appeared nearly white. They were a sign of her mother’s inhuman lineage that marked her as a sorceress, one that was passed on to Isabella in a slightly bluer variant. She gave her mother a sheepish grin. “Hello, Mamma.”

  Ivana Norveau strode in, her face set in cool lines of disapproval. Her eyes scanned the room almost casually before they focused on Isabella. A thin, dark eyebrow arched as Ivana scrutinized her. “What are you doing, Isabella? You know I disapprove of having the windows open this time of the year. It is hard enough to keep the villa warm without you casting them wide enough to fall out of.”

  Isabella could barely contain her excitement. She tried not to bounce in place, but she couldn’t help but note that her steps had a decisive spring to them as she rushed forward to tug her mother to the window.

  “Yes, Mamma, I apologize, but there is a traveler coming!”

  Her mother glanced out the window, a frown on her lips. “Yes. I was aware that we would have a visitor arriving with Gunthor. It is a bad omen so near the snowy season for a king to risk themselves so.”

  Isabella glanced over at her mother eagerly. “Have you foreseen something of him? The visitor, I mean.”

  Ivana’s eyes snapped up, sharpening on her. “Yes. I have. I came up here specifically to speak to you on this…”

  Isabella felt hope swell in her chest. If her mother brought news of a vision, it could be more momentous than she thought. She clasped her hands in front of her eagerly.

  “…You are to stay in your quarters for the duration of King Herald’s visit. I know you usually come down and trade news, but not this time. I want you nowhere near this visitor. Do you understand?”

  Her heart plummeted. “But Mamma…”

  “Do you understand, Isabella?”

  Swallowing back frustrated tears, she nodded miserably. “Yes, Mamma, I understand.”

  Her mother’s forbidding expression relaxed into a sympathetic grimace as she lifted one hand to caress the side of Isabella’s head in a gentle, maternal caress. “I am sorry, daughter. I know you feel stifled here on the mountain but trust me… he will bring you much sorrow before you would know a moment of joy. You must trust me on this.”

  “Yes, Mamma,” Isabella choked out.

  “I will return in the evening with your supper. When they leave tomorrow, everything will return to normal and we will take a stroll around the gardens… Wouldn’t that be nice? We have a few more nights before the hard frost comes. It has been a while since we have enjoyed such a leisurely activity, and you are progre ssing well with your spells and conjurations.”

  Isabella forced a smile and nodded her head. “Yes, Mamma, that sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

  “We deserve a small treat, I think,” Ivana agreed, her lips curving with affection for a moment before she straightened and drew her staff up beside her. “I best go down the courtyard and see to our visitors. I will be back with your supper as soon as I can get away.”

  “Thank you,” Isabella whispered, her heart wilting with disappointment as her mother exited the room and pulled the door firmly shut behind her.

  Lingering by the window, slumping against the windowsill, her pale blond hair scattered around her shoulders and fell over the ledge as she watched the men enter the courtyard. She longed for the shadowy stranger of her dream visions who whispered reverently in her ear.

  “Dea Diana, let that which I desire most to be mine,” she whispered.

  Eyes filled with tears, she blinked when the stranger drew up short. He looked to his left and right, and then looked straight up at her! Isabella’s breath caught in wonder at the dark green eyes that stared up at her.

  A golden circlet around his brow, the king was the most handsome being Isabella set eyes on. His hair and beard were black as a raven’s wing except for where a few threads of gray were barely visible. His dark eyebrows rose, and his lips quirked into a smile as he raised a thick, calloused hand in greeting. A hard look crossed his face… one of absolute determination. He was magnificent, a blend of grace and power. Isabella felt her heart tip with infatuation.

  This was the man who would take her away. Her stranger in her dreams.

  The look he threw her was one of such promise that she knew her mother’s interference would not succeed.

  He would take her away with him. She could hardly wait.

  It was still early the next morning when she was summoned to her mother’s reception room. Dressing in her best sapphire tunic with a dove-gray apron dress belted over it, Isabella contained her tresses beneath an ivory veil that she wore only among esteemed company. She descended the stairs in giddy spirits. She had taken great pains to make certain that she looked as mature and regal as possible for this meeting.

  The master guard, her mother’s dearest lover and friend, was waiting for her just outside the closed doors of the room. She smiled at Emver as she approached. He’d been with her mother as long as she could remember and had been almost a father figure to her in her youth despite being another species. Few visitors could see it, though Emver took pains not to draw attention to his otherness. He once told her that it was the best way to protect Ivana and herself. No one expected anything from what they assumed to be a common guard.

  No one seemed to notice the way his eyes were sharply tilted at an inhuman angle, nor did they comment on the strange hood he always wore that concealed much of his head. A hood that was necessary to hide the long, pointed ears and the strange scroll-like patterns that ran like moonbeams along his cheekbones, marking his race. His body was covered in a long surcoat that obscured more markings, much of his tunic and hose, as well as a bevy of weapons. He was dangerous and intensely private. Even the sharp edge of his teeth which he often concealed behind a tight-lipped glower bespoke of his predatory, lethal nature. Yet he always had a warm smile for her in the mornings.

  This morning was different. He did not smile. A sadness lingered in the golden depths of his eyes as he peered at her. His only greeting was to lean forward and press his lips to the top of her head before drawing back abruptly. When she would have asked him the reason that he looked so forlorn, he turned away and pushed upon the door. With the attention of the occupants now upon her, Isabella was left with little choice but to follow Emver into the reception room.

  Isabella stopped just inside the entrance, her hands folded in front of her as Emver took his place at Ivana’s side. Her mother sat in her high-backed seat with a table to her left containing a scrying bowl and a small brazier that was already lit, the flames snapping in the air. Her mother was scowling at the king, but at Isabella’s entrance he turned to face her, his face lighting up.

  Flushing brightly, she tried to adopt an unaffected air of a sophisticated young woman. It was embarrassing to be blushing as if she were still a child. She was sixteen. She was a woman now. More than anything she wanted Harold to see her that way.

  “You summoned me, Mother?”

  Ivana’s tumultuous gaze fell on her, seething with restrained anger. “Isabella,” she greeted tightly. “You haven’t met King Harold.”

  Isabella inclined her head politely, unable to meet his eye for fear that she would start giggling nervously. “Your majesty.”

  Smile widening, he bowed and greeted her, his foreign accent settled on her ears, making his voice gruffer and more exciting. “Isabella, I am delighted to meet you at last. Never have I lain eyes on a fairer face than yours. To think I came all this way to inquire where I might find the perfect bride to rule by my side only to catch sight of you like some spirit sent to haunt me. I decided that moment I saw you leaning out of the tower that I had to have you as mine.”

  A tremor of excitement spread through her at that husky promise. He desired her and wanted her for his wife. She would be a queen, loved and adored by her husband, and he would show her the world she’d never seen from her isolated home on the mountain. She turned hopeful eyes to her mother, but Ivana wasn’t looking at her. She was glowering at King Harold, her spine stiff and her fingers clenching tightly around her staff. Emvor shifted with agitation beside her.

  Harold turned and arched a dark brow at Ivana as he continued to speak. “Your mother, however, is quite reluctant to part with you, even though I offered to pay a generous dowry. It is fortunate that she finally agreed to bring you down at last in the spirit of friendship between us. Cooperation is always better, especially given how superstitious many common people can be.” His eyes lingered on Emvor.

  Isabella repressed a shudder. She knew very well from her mother’s stories just how fearful people could be. A sizeable enough mob could be a genuine threat to the lives of both Ivana and Emvor. Her mother they would either burn or hang, depending on their mood. As for Emvor… well, there were plenty of cruel methods for dealing with the fae. An alliance with a powerful king would certainly keep her family safer, there was no doubt about that.

  Emvor met her gaze, silently entreating her, but it was Ivana who spoke, her normally cool façade broken as she beseeched her, “Isabella, you do not have to do this. We can leave this place…”

  “It is fine, Mamma,” she interrupted with a smile. If Harold was willing to protect her family and cared for her as much as he professed, she couldn’t think of a finer man to join her life with. She met the king’s eyes and curtseyed. “I would be most honored to join my life to yours.”

  A triumphant smile broke over his face. “We leave with the merchant within the next hour. Hasten to ready your belongings. I will send him up shortly to collect them.”

  She inclined her head in a manner which she hoped was regal enough before flashing her mother a wide smile and rushing back to her room to pack. She had so much to get ready!

  It was in high spirits that Isabella flew through her room, seeking her most prized belongings that she couldn’t bear to leave behind. She was just finishing when her mother entered. Ivana ran her hand along one empty shelf. At last, she faced her and leaned back against the bookcase.

  “I see you have gathered most of your belongings, but it worries me that you are not taking any of your supplies for your magic. Not a single tool.”

  Isabella laughed as she folded another tunic and set it in her trunk. That would do it for her clothes. Brushing her hands off she gave her mother a fond smile. “I doubt I will need it, Mamma. I am going to be a queen… What is the likelihood I will need sorcery?”

  “It is always best to be prepared,” her mother insisted. “Please, let me help you pack a few essentials. You may be right, and you may never have an occasion to use them, but it doesn’t hurt to have them available just in case.”

  “Of course, Mamma. You are right.”

  If it would make her mother feel better, then it was worth hauling it. She doubted she would need it and was loath to add another two trunks to her load to carry the spellbooks her mother meticulously copied for her, the rare herbs and various tools. It seemed unnecessary for a soon-to-be queen. She would never be in the position to barter her magic for coin like her mother did. Still, she had to admit that it was possible she or her husband might need the aid of her powers. She’d been studying magic since she was five years old and was able to properly say her first incantation. That was more training than some apprentices saw.

  “I know I cannot talk you out of this foolishness,” her mother said, her brow furrowing. She held up a hand when Isabella opened her mouth to protest. “No. I know what you will say—the same thing all girls say when they are smitten with an idea who comes walking through their front door. You will not listen to my counsel on that, but heed me on this at least, daughter: never relax your guard. Keep your heart protected. The things that come to pass will only be for a moment in your life, but I fear there is a great struggle that lies before you, and that one who you love will cut your heart in two before you have aged even twenty-five years, bringing you nothing but great sorrow.”

  Her mother’s hands caressed the sides of her head, tucking in a stray lock of hair back into her wimple.