The Stepsister Scheme

covered much of the stone. “Now we search for the door.”
    She touched her choker. “Mirror, mirror... ” Her voice trailed off.
    “What’s wrong?” Danielle asked.
    “I need something that rhymes with door.” Snow flushed and looked away. “A true master wouldn’t need to speak at all, but the rhymes help me to focus the harder spells.”
    “Gore?” suggested Talia. She nudged a slimy mound downstream with her toe. “War? Whore?”
    “I don’t think we want that kind of spell,” said Snow.
    “Chore?” asked Danielle.
    “Wait, I’ve got one,” said Snow. “Mirror, mirror, small and round. Let the hidden door be found.”
    Nothing happened. All three of them leaned closer, peering at the stones.
    “There,” said Snow. She scraped one of the stones with her fingernail, dislodging a chunk of moss to reveal a thin hole the size of her little fingernail.
    “Must be a very small troll,” Danielle said.
    Talia grabbed her lockpicks and knelt in the water. She used a straight steel rod to probe the hole, then drew out several more picks. A short time later, Danielle heard a clicking sound.
    “Done,” said Talia.
    Snow’s forehead wrinkled. “So where’s the door?”
    Danielle turned. “Behind us.”
    On the opposite side of the bridge, the damp, moldy stone had disappeared. A wooden door swung soundlessly inward. The hinges appeared to be made of some sort of silver rope. There was no latch or handle. Dirty water darkened the dirt at the doorway. The tunnel beyond was dark and smelled of mud and dead fish.
    “Lovely place,” Talia said.
    “He’s a troll.” Snow kept one hand to her throat as she stepped through the doorway.
    Talia followed, her knife ready. Danielle shifted her bundle so she would be able to draw her sword at need. Not that she knew how to use it. She shivered as she stepped through the doorway.
    A few steps in, she noticed the water trailing from her trousers and boots, streaming along the floor like raindrops dripping down a window. The same thing happened with Snow and Talia, leaving the floor within completely dry.
    “Nice,” said Snow. She ran her fingers over the hard-packed earth of the walls. “Witchcraft. Some kind of potion blended into the dirt to repel the water.”
    Shadows enveloped them as the door began to shut. Talia whirled, and her knife flew through the darkness. The blade buried itself in the dirt at the edge of the doorway. The door hit the hilt, pressed it to the doorway, and stopped, leaving only a thin crack of light.
    “Trap?” Talia asked.
    “Probably.” Snow’s choker began to glow.
    Danielle walked onward, marveling at how fast Talia had moved. By the time Danielle had realized what was happening, Talia’s knife was already there, blocking the door. “How do you do that?” she asked.
    “Do what?”
    “The way you move and react. When you fought the wolf, it was like you knew what was coming before it even attacked. And the way you threw that knife. I’ve never seen another human being move like that.”
    “Fairies,” Talia said, her voice flat.
    “I don’t understand.”
    “My parents bribed the fairies to come to my naming ritual. Haven’t you heard the story of Sleeping Beauty?” She grimaced at the name. “How they gifted me with extraordinary grace, the ability to dance like a goddess, beauty to make me the most desirable woman in the world. What’s fighting but another kind of dance?”
    “But you’re not—” Danielle bit her lip, but it was too late.
    “Beautiful?” Talia snorted.
    “No, you’re beautiful, it’s just... ”
    “Not like her, I know.” Talia cocked her thumb at Snow. “Well, beauty is a little different where I come from. Back there, people would think Snow too pale and skinny. And tastes change over a hundred years.”
    “If the fairies gave you beauty and strength and grace, why do you hate them?”
    “Your stepmother gave you food and shelter and clothing. Why do you hate her?” Talia turned away without waiting for an answer, following the tunnel as it veered to the left.
    Eventually, wooden floorboards replaced the dirt, and the tunnel took on more of a square shape. Danielle could still see roots penetrating through the ceiling, like tiny clusters of dirty white thread.
    “Shouldn’t we be in the ocean by now?” Danielle asked.
    “Trolls are geniuses when it comes to tunneling,” said Snow. “He could dig within a finger’s width of the open sea, and we would be as safe