“I don’t think we need tell Snow about this, Verona.”
“Of course not, my Queen. I will keep it between us. But make me a promise—the next time something weighs so heavily on your mind, please do come to me. I do hope you think of me as your friend.”
“As my sister, sweet Verona.”
The Queen rose from her bed, and as she did, she caught a glimpse of herself in the accursed mirror—tired and worn. Verona was visible in the mirror as well, as beautiful and serene as ever.
That same morning, a messenger delivered a notice that three of the King’s distant cousins would arrive by the next morning. The typically even-keeled Queen was irritated by the unreasonably short notice. Why even send a messenger? Still, the King valued family above all else and made it clear that his kin were always welcome at the palace. The disjointed yet lyrical letter was composed of three different hands and was signed by three women—Lucinda, Ruby, and Martha.
Though they had attended the wedding, the Queen had escaped their stares, which made her uncomfortable, and managed not to speak to them.
This time, there would be no avoiding the sisters. Would they prove to be as intriguing in person as their letter had suggested they would be?
The indistinguishable triplets exited from a black horse-drawn carriage. Their long faces were painted a ghastly white, their cheeks were blushed with the brightest pink, and the center of their lips were painted a vivid red, which created a tiny bowlike effect. They resembled broken dolls, once loved but long forgotten. Their hair was glossy black streaked with white and adorned with red feathers. They looked like the oddest of beasts, and they walked in a way that brought to mind pecking birds.
Their dresses were the color of eggplant, iridescent, changing from black to deep purple depending on the light. They were cinched tightly in the bust and waist, but overly voluminous in the skirts, creating a bell effect. Their tiny black pointed boots poked out from the bottoms of their dresses like slinking creatures seeking prey. They stood, the three of them abreast, arms linked, gazing at the Queen in that same fashion she remembered from her wedding day, when she was briefly introduced to them.
Their faces impossible to read, they looked neither pleased nor dissatisfied.
“Welcome, cousins. How was your journey? I dare say you must be exhausted after so many days of travel.”
Martha spoke first, “We are quite—”
Ruby took over, “Rested, cousin—”
And Lucinda finished, “Thank you.”
Verona spoke up, “Shall I show you to your rooms then, and send a girl to help you unpack? I am sure you are eager to refresh yourselves after your long excursion.”
Only Lucinda answered, “Indeed.”
The odd sisters tottered behind Verona, their tiny feet clicking on the stone floors as they chattered to themselves.
“I can’t imagine it,” said one. “Unfathomable, really,” said another. “Inconceivable!”
Verona only heard little bits of their conversation and wondered what they might be discussing. She resisted the urge to look back at them as she imagined the expressions on their faces—pinched in distaste, as if having smelled something rotten. Verona smiled weakly; the thought of the castle being inhabited by these peculiar women amused and disturbed her in tandem.
“Here we are, Lucinda, this is your room. Ruby and Martha, I have rooms for you down the other hall,” Verona said.
Lucinda simply said “Not—”
Ruby continued, “Acceptable.”
“No, not,” Martha finished, “in the least.”
“Come again?” was all Verona could muster.
The three sisters stared chillingly at Verona.
“Is there something wrong with your room, Lucinda?” Verona asked.
They responded as one, “We prefer to sleep together.”
“I see, of course. I will have one of the grander chambers made ready then. In the meantime, would you like to take tea in the morning room?”
Lucinda said, “That would be—”
Ruby finished, “Lovely,” and Martha thanked Verona a