Once outside the tall double doors that led to Rosalyn’s personal chambers, Theodore gestured for Snow to go in, indicating he would wait outside. With a heavy heart, Snow cautiously opened the door to her stepmother’s receiving room.
Rosalyn was nowhere to be seen.
Then she heard Rosalyn’s voice from behind a small door to the left, a door that Snow had never noticed before. She entered the room curiously. The sitting room was as it always had been, only this time the floor length red velvet curtains had been pulled tightly shut, and no fire crackled at the fireplace.
Cautiously Snow moved towards the small door, but she stopped as Rosalyn’s voice emerged once again. Who could she be talking too, Snow wondered.
“They know Roland is all but dead, and Snow is only a child. Me, they disregard entirely. They will move against us and destroy everything Roland has worked so hard to hold on to. They will murder us, if we are lucky. They will destroy everyone and everything in this city. Please, I have nowhere else to turn. They are almost here. Help me.” Rosalyn’s voice sounded choked and desperate.
Snow pressed herself against the wall, afraid to leave, afraid to even breathe. To whom were these desperate pleas directed? Who could possibly help them now?
Rosalyn began to weep...to beg...to promise.
The air around Snow began to feel, thick...oppressive. A rising, all consuming fear enveloped young Snow, and her head roared as her dinner rose in her stomach. Something terrible was in that room with Rosalyn, and Snow felt the sudden urge to run, yet somehow she found she couldn’t move her feet. Panic assaulted her and she pressed tight against the wall, forcing herself to breathe. The sense of malice continued, getting stronger with each passing moment and Rosalyn’s cries increased in volume and intensity, as if tortured beyond endurance; Snow fought the urge to scream herself, biting her lip to keep her silence.
And just when Snow thought she could endure no more, it ended, the presence was gone. Rosalyn opened the door, white faced and trembling, she staggered out toward her private bath without ever noticing Snow pressed against the wall in the shadows.
Cautiously Snow inched forward to take a look in the hidden room, almost against her will she opened the door to view who or what could have done this to her beautiful stepmother.
But the room was empty, save for a beautiful ornate mirror placed high on the wall.