The Stepsister Scheme

the trigger.
    The crossbow bolt rustled Stacia’s gown as it flew past. Talia flung the crossbow over the edge of the platform in disgust. “Shoddy goblin garbage.”
    Talia yanked the other crossbow from Danielle’s hand and turned to the goblins. “I’m pretty sure I can hit a closer target, though.”
    The goblins glanced at one another. Moving in unison, they stepped out of the way, clearing a path to the arched door behind.
    Danielle drew her sword, eliciting panicked squeaks from both goblins. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Nobody’s going to hurt you.”
    “That would be a first,” muttered one. Their gazes never left her sword.
    Talia studied the edge of the door, then dropped flat to peer beneath. “No lock, and no traps I can find.” She glanced at the goblins. “The lack of traps is probably a good idea. No doubt they’d kill themselves trying to get back inside.”
    The door’s handle was polished bronze, cast to resemble a nude, very well-endowed elf. “Don’t let Snow see this,” Talia said. “She’ll want to redecorate half the palace.” Rolling her eyes, she grabbed the lever in the center and lifted.
    The door opened easily, revealing a low, round room as wide as the entire tower. A blue fire flickered in the floor at the center. Smoke darkened the air, making Danielle cough. She kept one eye on the goblins, but they seemed content to cower in peace.
    “You’d think the Duchess would have better guards,” Danielle said as she stepped after Talia.
    “Yes, you would.” Talia stopped in mid-step. “Princess, grab the door!”
    Danielle tried, but she was too late. Untouched, the door slammed shut, plunging them into silence.
    “The goblins are a ruse. There was no trap on the door because the whole room is the trap.” Talia pointed through the blue-gray haze of smoke. Thirteen doors, evenly spaced, covered the walls. “Typical fairy mischief. I’m betting one of these doors will take us where we want to go.”
    “And the others?”
    “The bottom of the sea, a dragon’s mating pit, a goblin latrine... Fun places like that.”
    Danielle grabbed the handle of the door behind her. Thankfully, the handle on this side was shaped like a simple tree branch, so perfectly cast it appeared to be growing right out of the door. She gave it a quick tug. “I don’t think it’s latched,” she said. “We can go back and ask the goblins which door—”
    “No!” Talia seemed to fly across the room, slamming her shoulder into the door. “Nothing is that easy, Princess.”
    “There has to be a way,” Danielle protested. “The goblins can’t stay out on that ledge forever.”
    “What makes you think that door leads back to the goblins?” asked Talia. She knelt, studying the base of the door. “The doors recognize the people, not the other way around. Snow would know how to find the right one.”
    Danielle moved to the next door. The hinges showed no sign of use. The metal was as clean as the day it was forged. The only difference was the handle. Tiny buds sprouted from the bronze.
    Moving around the room, Danielle realized each successive handle took her further through the seasons. On the opposite side of the room, oak leaves bloomed from a handle so thin Danielle cut her finger on the edge. Acorns hung from later doors, and as she neared the end of the circle, she found withered leaves secured to the doors, as if they had been captured in mid-fall.
    “I hate fairies,” Talia muttered. She moved to one of the autumn doors and poked the falling leaves. “I hate riddles, too. It’s early summer, so does that mean we pick one of the summer doors?”
    “What about the fire?” Danielle hurried to the center of the room. A sunken circle, rimmed by an unbroken ring of white marble, contained the fire. Thick logs were arranged in a pyramid, though the wood didn’t appear to burn. The smoke smelled of ginger and cinnamon.
    “What are you going to do, burn down the doors?”
    “I don’t know.” Danielle reached out, but the blue flames were far too hot. “Maybe the fire is a part of the riddle. The flames might change color when we touch the right one, or the smoke might flow toward the door we need, or—”
    “I doubt it,” said Talia. “More likely the Duchess uses the fire to spy on this room. We had a spy try that in the palace a year or so back. One of the candles in the throne room was burning with a peculiar pink tinge. We thought it was something in the wax. I