“Yes,” Snow said, pulling his hand away from his cheek to see several droplets of bright red blood on his fingers. His head pounded, and his cheek stung, but he didn’t care right now. All that mattered was the vial.
Queen Schön laughed, the sound low and menacing as she rose to her feet, brushing off her majestic purple dress with one hand. She held up the vial in the other, and Snow was relieved to see the stopper still in place. He pushed himself up to his knees, reaching up a hand desperately, though she was far beyond hisgrasp. The Queen flicked off the cork top with a long, elegant finger, and it went rolling across the floor. She raised the vial to her blood-red lips, giving Snow a self-satisfied smirk as she opened her mouth and swallowed the shimmering contents in one gulp. Snow could see the mouthful flow down her throat like a snake swallowing a mouse. Then the Queen dropped the vial to the ground. It shattered into a thousand little glass particles, and the Queen ground her foot on top of it until it was nothing but dust. “Poor little prince,” she cooed, her ruby lips curving into a smile as sweet as lemons. “You tried so hard to escape me, but it’s too late now. You and your deplorable little beasts will never live to see another sunrise. You could never become fairer than I. You are just a shadow, a reflection in the mirror, a-”
Queen Schön suddenly froze, one hand flying to her stomach, the other pressing to her breast above her heart. Her icy features went slack, her already pale face seeming to drain of all color entirely. “What… what is happening?”
Makellos smiled as he pushed himself up to his feet with assistance from Der and Grim. “Where do you imagine the rest of the poisoned apple you used on me went, Mother?”
Schön looked at him with wide eyes, her inky pupils nearly blotting out the blue. “What did you do?” she hissed.
Makellos straightened his back, as he had always been told to do when addressing anyone. A bead of crimson blood from his cheek landed on his white collar and immediately faded away. “I should be surprised that you did not notice the smell of apple in your potion, but I suppose that speaks to the talent of those who formulated it, as well as the greed with which you consumed it.” Der straightened his back proudly at that.
The Queen snarled, anger replacing fear on her sculpted face. “You ungrateful, disgusting whelp! How dare you!” She snatched up the potion book from the tabletop, fumbling its heavy coverwith shaking hands. She frantically turned the mouldering pages, ripping many of them in her haste and incoordination.
“There is an antidote, Mother. You know that,” Makellos said, watching her with a devious smile. “The poison may be reversed by True Love’s Kiss. But there is no one who truly loves you. Even I, your own flesh and blood, do not have enough love in my heart to reverse the magic you have inflicted upon yourself.”
The Queen dropped the book with a heavy thunk, stumbling against the table, sending bottles and bowls sloshing and spilling. Der and Grim still held their positions firmly in front of Makellos, sturdy as stone statues, as Schön turned to him again, her face gone a ghastly shade of gray.
“And so,” Makellos continued, “you shall sleep. You shall sleep in your grave amongst the rot and worms, as the kingdom recovers from your spite and cruelty. You shall sleep until the world forgets that you ever existed and the walls you built have crumbled into dust.”
The Queen stepped forward, opening her mouth in a shriek full of all of her malice and hatred. Makellos recoiled before he saw that under her fine dress, her feet had suddenly turned into a fine powder. She let out another scream, this one an other-worldly sound, toppling forward as her legs became no more solid than gritty sand. The glittering powder moved rapidly up her torso, over her chest and into her arms. Her hand with its perfectly manicured nails and bejeweled rings reached out toward his face again, but the diamond dust slid down her hand, into each finger. The last bit of it turned to dust just as her longest fingernail brushed his cheek. For a moment, she stood, suspended in time, a glittering edifice in a royal gown and golden crown, her beautiful face twisted into a scream of rage, before her body suddenly began to crumble and melt as a sandcastle before a tide. Rivulets of gleaming dust streamed off of her, her fingers breaking off and hitting the floor with asoft thump. The next moment, Queen Schön’s body had fallen, and then there lay on the floor only her fine clothes and jewelry alongside her bejeweled crown, draped over a heap of dark, shimmering diamond dust. The evil Queen Schön was no more.
Grim coughed and waved his hand in front of him to clear the powder that had wafted from the pile of what amounted to not more than ashes on the floor. “Well, that was unexpected.”
Makellos turned to Der with a confused stare. The poisoned apple in her potion was meant to put her to sleep, not dissolve her, though he supposed the outcome was essentially the same. “What happened?”
Der took off his glasses, wiping them on the hem of his tunic as he squinted at the pile of diamond dust in front of him. “I don’t know. Fascinating. Perhaps there was just so much evil in her, the poison reacted to it. Magic kept her alive for so long, it may have created a backlash.”
“Well, good riddance, says I,” said Grim with a snort. He stepped over to the pile, kicking aside the dress and surrounding fine grains of diamond powder so he could pick up the golden crown. He blew on it a few times to clear the dust off of it before he turned around and held it out to Makellos. “Your majesty.”
Makellos stared at it in mute surprise, as if he had never seen it before. The silence lasted for so long that Grim let out an uneasy cough. “I ain’t gettin’ down on one knee. I’m short enough as it is.”
That broke whatever had transfixed Makellos, and he took the crown in his hands with a bark of laughter. “Thank you, Grim. I… will find out from my people if that is what they want.”
They made their way out of the Queen’s chambers and through the castle. Many of the guards were occupied with standing toward the front of the castle as the townspeople gathered for what they thought would be an announcement from the Queen. Makellos received many surprised looks from the few guardsand servants they passed, as well as many grateful and pleased smiles, especially when they saw the Queen’s crown in his hand. He suspected many of them had thought him dead and seemed relieved that he was not. He gave them all smiles back, bidding the servants to follow him to the main gates.
When he arrived at the palace doors, they were opened, and he stepped out into the courtyard to find a large gathering of the town waiting expectantly in the street as the guards all stood at the gates. They parted as he drew near to them, bowing. A few steps behind him, Grim smirked at the guards.
At the castle gates, Makellos lifted the crown high above his head so everyone could see it. “Citizens of Falchovari,” he said, his sweet voice carrying across the open air. “My mother, Queen Schön, is dead.”
There was a stunned silence as people stared at him, then blankly at one another. The cold, cruel Queen had ruled Falchovari for two hundred years; it was all they had known. Then, in the silence, Dagobert gave a delighted whoop. And then there were cheers and applause and laughter and crying all bubbling up at once. People tossed their hats into the air. Husbands embraced their wives and children. One elderly man toward the front of the crowd began to dance a jig. The streets echoed with the sounds of newfound freedom.
This went on for some minutes before it started to die down, and Makellos lifted his voice once more. “Many of you may not know me. I am Prince Makellos. Queen Schön was my mother, but not my family. Her reign of treachery and cruelty ends with her. She poisoned everyone into believing that it’s everyone for themselves. But I intend to spend every day of my life from here on out earning your trust and bettering our fair kingdom, restoring it, caring for those who are most in need, and creating a better future for our descendants. But whether that is as yourking or something else, I leave that up to you, the good people of Falchovari, to decide.”
A rustle went through the crowd again. Makellos felt his heart pick up in his chest. He knew he was asking a lot. Many of them had never seen him before, and knowing who his mother was, he would understand if the people decided they did not wish to have the son of the evil Queen as their ruler. He just had to hope that if they did not want him to rule, they would not choose violence.
Someone stepped to the front of the crowd, face hidden by a thick, brown cloak. But when he stepped up next to Hardwic and Bernhardt and pulled his hood back, Makellos nearly wept for joy to see Hans, the kindly huntsman who had spared his life. Hans gazed back at him with his dark eyes before he pressed his hand to his chest and lowered himself to one knee. “I pledge my loyalty to King Makellos,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
“As do I,” said Sigurd a few steps away, bowing at the waist.
“And I,” added Sigmund, mirroring the bow.
“And I,” said Dagobert in the strongest voice Makellos had ever heard from him.
There was a wave of movement through the crowd as most of them bowed at least their heads to him. Makellos felt his heart warm, his cheeks rosy. The kingdom seemed to be overwhelmingly supporting him.
One of the guards looked uncertainly at Hans, then at Makellos. “Your Hi- Your Majesty, we are under orders to arrest Hans upon sight.”
Hans looked up from his bow, his face pinched in a worried frown. Makellos smiled calmly. “Then, as my first official act, I pardon Hans for whatever crimes he might have committed that were determined by my mother. He is a free man.”
