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A heaviness settled into my muscles, and I leaned an arm against the wall to hold myself upright.
“Don’t eat them!” Someone’s shriek drifted down the halls.
Eat what? The apples?
“Poison,” a male voice replied.
Poison? The word stuck to the roof of my mouth. Was that what bubbled on the stove in the mirror’s warning? The reality hit me like one of my torturer’s blows. How many people had eaten the pie and been affected by it? Had my stepmother known of the resistance’s plans and used the apples to foil them? I had to give it to her; this plan was clever, ingenious, and right up there on her list of wicked deeds.
A bout of dizziness struck me, and I stumbled, grabbing the bedpost for balance. No. The poison was hitting my blood, working its horrible magic on me. Chords in my throat constricted, preventing me from screaming, and I grabbed my neck. It felt like a tree grew in my throat, and its roots were ready to burst out of my neck. Desperate for help, I slammed my fist on the door to no avail. Everyone was too busy dealing with the commotion outside.
Raw fear streamed through me. Was I going to die?
Unable to bear my weight anymore, I collapsed to the floor. Fatigue tugged at me, drawing me into its dark depths, and I knew if I succumbed, it meant the end for me. I crawled for the bed, groping at the quilt, trying to drag myself up onto the mattress. But my muscles couldn’t find the strength I needed. My heartbeat slowed, along with my pulse, my blood. All the warmth in my body escaped, as if I were already dead. Panic chugged through my veins, but it did no good. The rush of adrenaline wasn’t going to keep me breathing.
Where were the panthers? Had they eaten the tainted food, too? Were they on the floor like I was, struggling for breath?
All hope of defeating my stepmother bled from my body. That bitch had won again. What was the point in trying to fight her? At every turn, she had hunters gunning for my blood. Had assassins out there murdering my allies or turning them against me. She’d managed to sneak in a poison to kill off everyone associated with me. She was too powerful. Too protected. Too evil.
Before I slipped from this world, I held my mirror up to glance into it, coming face-to-face with the image of a delicious red apple displayed in the glass. The fruit seemed to mock me as it pulsed, like the walls had, like my struggling heartbeat as it claimed the last of my life. The mirror dropped from my fingers, and I knew this was it.
