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Circe chimed in. “Oh, stop it, the both of you. I think Tulip looks beautiful. More importantly, she looks happy! And she’s living her life as she chooses. As I always wanted for her. And I think she’s right: Oberon would approve of extending the fairies’ reach beyond the princesses.”
“Now look here! I won’t have you all ganging up on me!” said the Fairy Godmother, looking to Nanny. “Sister, I suppose you side with your blond beauties?” she squealed.
“I’m afraid I do, Sister. You know I do! This is something I’ve wanted for our kind for a long time.”
Circe was proud of Nanny. “I think it’s time to make the decision now to help all those in need if it’s within our power,” she said, beaming at being supported by Nanny and Tulip.
“Something like this has to be brought to the fairy council first, Circe. But I wouldn’t do anything to upset them, not right now,” the Fairy Godmother said.
“And why not?” Circe asked. Nanny and the Fairy Godmother shared a look. “What? What aren’t you telling me?” Circe’s smile diminished.
“Circe,” Nanny said gently, “there’s something we have to tell you. The Council—”
“Your mothers are about to be put on trial!” the Fairy Godmother blurted, almost happily. “The fairies are building a case against them.”
“A trial? What do you mean? Shouldn’t we be focusing on stopping them from escaping? Keeping them from dredging up the dead to help them in their cause?” Circe’s voice rose in frustration.
“We must go about things properly, Circe! The council must weigh in. There has to be a trial before we take any further action against them. Oberon is already angry that we put your mothers to sleep without taking everything into account, and with this trial, we will,” said the Fairy Godmother.
“When were you going to tell me? Was I even going to be asked to attend?”
The Fairy Godmother eyed Circe carefully. “I might have asked you, but after your remarks today, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I don’t think you are impartial when it comes to your mothers.”
“Now, wait, Sister. Circe is the one who took away her mothers’ powers and locked them in the dreamscape. She may not be impartial, but she wants to see justice just as much as we do. We are all on the same side. And nothing will be solved if we’re divided.” Nanny turned to Circe. “And, my dear, as much as I don’t like it, this really should go to trial. We all h
ave to decide together what should be done about your mothers.”
The Fairy Godmother grinned smugly. “Then it’s all decided. The matter of the odd sisters will go before the fairy council.”
“But someone has to find out what my mothers are really up to! Someone has to stop them! We can’t waste time on this ridiculous trial when there are more immediate dangers. We all know they’ve done reprehensible things, we don’t have to prove it.” Circe was becoming even more impatient.
“You’re right, my dear, we don’t need to prove it. But we do need to decide what the consequences should be for the damage they’ve done. We must decide what should be done about them, once and for all—and keep them from ever causing this kind of destruction again.” Malice twinkled in the Fairy Godmother’s eye. “I’m sure the three good fairies will want to weigh in.”
“Oh, I’m sure they would!” Circe was about to say something unkind. She was out of patience with the Fairy Godmother. Surely it was up to her to decide what to do about her own mothers. She didn’t want the fairies to make that decision.
Nanny, who could read Circe’s thoughts, took her by the hand. “Circe, my darling, please don’t worry. Let me go to the Fairylands in your name while you find a way to stop your mothers. You trust me, do you not?”
Circe smiled. “Of course I trust you.”
“Well, then, let me do this for you. Besides, it’s been far too long since I visited the place of my birth. I might find that I feel differently about it now.”
Snow’s mind had been flooded with questions after she read Gothel’s story, so she searched through all the odd sisters’ books, looking for more information about the dead woods. She wondered how it was that the odd sisters could enter the dead woods with all the enchantments Manea had placed on the boundaries. But even more distracting were some of the things Lucinda and her sisters said to Gothel. How did the odd sisters know so much about the dead woods and the witches who had lived there over the ages? How did Lucinda know things about Gothel’s childhood that Gothel didn’t even know?
But when Snow tried to find those sections again in the book of fairy tales, she found something much more disturbing: a story she had never read before. She curled up in her favorite red love seat with a cup of tea, hoping she would find the answers she was looking for.
The Mourning Box
Tucked snugly away, deep within the dead forest, was a family of witches.
Their cold gray cobblestone mansion was perched on the tallest hill, giving them an awe-inspiring view of the city of the dead, under the shadows of the lifeless trees, with rows of crypts and tombstones stretched for miles. An enchanted, impenetrable thicket of rosebushes circled the forest, keeping the witches in and the living out. With very few exceptions.
Two of the witches were older than either of them could recall. The third had just been born, on the day this story begins. She was the only child of Manea, who herself was the only daughter of the dreaded and fearsome Nestis—the reigning queen of the dead woods. Though there had been many ruling queens in the dead woods, Nestis was by far the nastiest and most powerful that the woods had ever produced.
But the queen of the dead showed her daughter nothing but love and prepared her for the day she would take the throne in her place—a tradition Manea herself would not embrace when she would eventually become queen of the dead. But Nestis foresaw the coming of a great and powerful witch, empowered by the blood of the witches who came before her. She saw that her daughter Manea would bring this witch into the world, and therefore treated her like the queen she would one day become. More importantly, she treated her like the mother of the most powerful queen these lands would ever see. And once her daughter had given birth to this new and powerful little witch, even though she was a gift from the gods, Nestis wanted more.
She wanted three.
“Everyone knows three identical daughters are favored by the gods, Manea,” said Nestis from the throne in her bedchamber. It was large and impressive, carved from stone in the image of the giant winged beast. Nestis always seemed to be in the shadow of this dragon, its wings acting as her armrests and its head peering over her left shoulder, seeming to whisper advice in her ear. The only feature in the room that was grander was the stone bed, also decorated with carved dragons.
