Fairytale Retelling, a Sneak Peek!

Hi friends!

Hope you enjoyed the first of two runners up in my short story contest last week! Mike Branch did a terrific job, didn’t he? (Hint: if you missed it, you’ll want to go back and read it, via the link!)

Since we are in story mode here lately, I thought I’d share the first two chapters of my Snow White/Queen Esther mash up fairytale this week! If you enjoy the tale, be sure and sign up for my newsletter. When my novella is ready, I’ll be sharing it in its entirety for FREE via my newsletter first! (And that will be happening this summer.)

Next week I’ll be back with the other runner up from my short story contest. In the meantime, I hope you will enjoy this snippet from my latest story, For Such a Time as This. 

Do you have a favorite fairytale? What do you think of retellings?

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For Such a Time as This

Novella

By Heather L.L. FitzGerald

“Deposed?” Queen Vashti the Fair spat the word at the eunuch who had delivered the message. Her dark eyes roved the small contingency of emasculated males standing before her. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve done nothing deserving of such drastic measures. King Xerxes’s tongue has lolled in his wine for too long. It has affected his brain.”

Zethar the Eunuch stepped forward, gaze riveted to the floor. “Your Majesty, if only that were so. Unfortunately, the edict came from King Xerxes the Valiant after the . . . the matter at the banquet.” He extended a quivering palm. “You’re to hand over your crown and prepare to move to different quarters.”

Vashti eyed the man coolly while taking a prolonged sip from the chalice of water she held. “I’ll do no such thing.”

She turned her back on the servants and strode to her holographic trousseau. A selection of three-dimensional images were projected onto a circular platform, ready to be virtually tried on. From brocade gowns inset with jewels to whispery-soft frocks, Queen Vashti had grown accustomed to having the finest apparel at her disposal. Lithe fingertips reached for the shimmering image of a bronzed bodice attached to a blood-red skirt. Mmm, this compliments my olive skin. I’ll wear it tonight and Xerxes will forget his little temper tantrum.

“Please, Your Highness.” Zethar pleaded, palms pressed against his leather trousers. “I was told to bring guards for enforcement but wanted to spare your dignity.”

“My dignity?” She spun to face him, splattering water across her platinum curls. “King Xerxes can’t even discuss this to my face. Instead he sends a handful of-of,” Vashti gestured wildly at the servants with the sloshing chalice, “castrated boys to tell me I’m being banished!” The eunuchs visibly withered as she stepped forward, teeth clenched. “Do not speak to me of dignity when you voluntarily gave yours away in favor of the king’s delicacies.”

“Your Grace,” Zethar tried again. “I’m afraid I must insist. We’ve come to gather your things and—”

Crash!

The glass goblet smashed against the wall behind Zethar, nicking his ear as it whizzed past. The man flinched but stifled his surprise behind rapidly blinking eyelids.

Vashti had thrown it to keep from blasting them away with an incineration spell—an attribute she must never risk revealing. Besides, her sorcery skills had withered since she wed, languishing from lack of practice, dangerously unpredictable.

Zethar turned to his fellow eunuchs and, with a subtle nod, dismissed them. The guards would be summoned after all.

✠

Vashti paced the confines of her new, significantly smaller quarters. Tears streaked her cheeks, and she swiped them with an indignant hand. How had she fallen so far so fast? Would Xerxes dare replace her—Vashti the Fair, of the royal pedigree of Sheba—with a mere commoner crowned at a beauty pageant?

So it was rumored.

A soft knock made her pull up short. “I wish to be left alone.” Her ever-commanding voice did not bely her despair.

“It is, I, my queen,” a familiar baritone sang through the intercom.

Drying her tears, Vashti squared her shoulders and spoke to the voice-activated security system, grateful she still possessed such an amenity. “Door, open.”

The sleek, silver doors hissed apart, revealing Haman, King Xerxes’s closest advisor. A tall, angular man, Haman was the kingdom’s most desirable bachelor. His cool-blue gaze took in the room and Vashti’s unkempt appearance. Raking a hand through his coppery hair, he strode into her quarters.

The moment the doors closed, Vashti launched at his throat. Fingers clawed wildly at anything they could purchase. She ground her teeth and snarled in his face. “This is your fault. Your fault!”

Haman stumbled back, gripping Vashti’s arms. “Down, girl. Down.”

He gave an amused sounding chuckle which infuriated her more. When his grip relaxed, she renewed her efforts and struck his bearded cheek, yanking a clump of whiskers.

He swore and pushed her away. “Get ahold of yourself, Vashti. You’ll survive this. If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll demonstrate that you—that we—will come out on top in this situation.”

“We?” Vashti’s glare was molten. “Why would I want to be a part of your plans when your philandering is the reason I’m in this mess? If I hadn’t been trying to ward off your advances in the middle of Xerxes’s banquet, I would still be queen.”

Haman offered a devilish smirk, and spread his hands innocently. “You didn’t seem to mind at the time.”

“I had no intention of letting you have your way.” Arms crossed, Vashti seethed at the man who was her undoing. She would not concede to his insinuations—never mind that her husband acknowledged her only when he might parade her in front of dignitaries.

His condescending leer knifed her conscience. “Then you are a cruel tease, Your Majesty. That’s far from the impression you gave.”

The pink flush on Vashti’s  cheeks  hinted  that Haman spoke the truth. “How dare—”

“But I’ve not come to discuss the past.” He cut her off with the wave of his hand. “It’s the future that brings me here. A future that will include the restoration of your crown . . . unless you prefer the concubines’ wing of the palace.”

Vashti’s nostrils flared against his insult, but she bit back her retort. If Haman could help her out of this humiliating pit, she needed him. “I’m listening.”

A satisfied smile curled his lips. He closed the distance between them, a low moan purring in his throat. “Mmm. You know how much I appreciate a good listener.”

TWO

Mordecai examined his blistered palm, a twin pattern to the blisters on his other hand. Grimacing, he gripped the axe and arced it up and over, splintering the squat log balanced before him. “Ugh!” He stepped back, shaking his hand in pain, the axe sticking out from the chopping stump like a primitive antennae.

“Let me see your hand!” Esther rushed to his side, heedless of the eggs catapulting from the basket on her arm. She stumbled to a stop beside him, one fugitive egg landing with a splat on her leather boot.

“Good grief, you’re wasting half our breakfast,” Mordecai teased. He shoved his hands behind his back. “No need to bother with the blisters, it happens every autumn. They’ll be calluses soon enough.”

Esther narrowed her eyes. “If you would rent a log splitter from town—like everyone else—you could spare yourself the pain. Why do you insist on doing everything the old fashioned way?”

“You know I won’t contribute to the stranglehold King Xerxes has on our town. Modern conveniences are taxed to inflate his coffers.” He huffed a brown lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Well your stubborn protest is likely lost on him.” Esther yanked one of her uncle’s hands free and inspected it. “Meanwhile, you’re beating yourself up.” She probed the angry bubble of skin that swelled beneath his ring finger. The one devoid of a wedding ring. Her conscience pricked at the reminder of the sacrifice he had made for her sake. Most women wanted children of their own—not someone’s orphan. But Mordecai refused to seek out the few willing exceptions, claiming it never turned out well to mix a lovely maiden with a stepmother. Men, on the other hand, flocked to Mordecai’s side—out of both respect for her uncle and the opportunity to glimpse the beauty he vigilantly protected. Until recently, she’d been thankful for his guardianship.

Until Benjamin, the farrier’s son had caught her eye, anyway.

“Ouch!” Mordecai jerked his hand away.

“I was being careful.”

He grunted as Jupiter, their mutt, came scrambling from the nearby woods, barking wildly. “What is it, Jup?”

The wooly dog lunged back toward the trees then circled round again.

“Jupiter, shush.” Esther crouched and smacked her thighs. “Get over here.”

The dog charged for her, tongue dangling behind like a short, pink scarf. Esther made to straighten but Jupiter jumped, knocking her backwards.

She yelped, raven hair scattering as the dog nosed her in the face. “Jupiter!” She shoved him away. He caught the scent of egg on her boot and began licking with enthusiasm.

Mordecai laughed. “That’s right, Jup. Give that girl a bath.”

“Excellent advice,” said a commanding voice.

Mordecai and Esther gaped up at a soldier on horseback. Jupiter resumed his frenzied barking and scrambled between the legs of the tawny steed. The horse nickered and sidestepped.

Mordecai whistled at the dog, shrill and sharp, while Esther got to her feet. The soldier glared as Jupiter nipped at the stirrups, ignoring his master’s command. With a swift, sharp movement, the soldier pummeled the dog’s muzzle with the rifle butt. Jupiter yipped and ran to Esther, tail between his legs.

“Was that necessary?” Esther glared at the erect, unsympathetic man.

Mordecai held up a silencing hand. “Why have you come? We live outside the matrix for a reason. I pay my yearly tariff and desire no further part of the king’s business.”

“The king’s business is not for you, this day.” The soldier let his gaze sweep over the disheveled, egg-sodden girl. “It’s for your daughter. King Xerxes the Valiant, Lord of the realm of Susa, has demanded all eligible, young maidens to gather in their town square a week from today. The loveliest will be brought to the palace for beautification—of which she shall surely benefit—and the opportunity to wed King Xerxes.”

Mordecai stepped between Esther and the mount. “King Xerxes presently has a wife, does he not? Why would he need another?”

The man’s face revealed nothing. He reached into his breast pocket and handed a leaflet to Mordecai. “This explains the details. Although the announcement has been shared through all media outlets, I’m here to ensure that every maiden is aware of the culling. Participation is not optional.”

Esther’s vision blurred. What about Benjamin? What about her life?

Her uncle took the envelope. “Is there any way to claim an exemption? I’ve no family but Esther. All have sacrificed themselves for the king’s service in one way or another. Must you take her as well?”

The soldier jutted his chin at Esther. “She’s too beautiful to be overlooked. No exceptions are allowed, however.” He withdrew something from his belt, aiming a gun-like object at Esther.

She stepped back with a gasp, then realized it was a facial recognition scanner, a device used in all government transactions. A tracking chip placed beneath the skin contained basic information on each citizen—but the soldier would not find Esther in his database. After her parents died, Mordecai had committed himself to raising his niece in the remote woods, growing food, making supplies, or bartering for their needs. The denizens of nearby Parthia held no affection for the controlling king and his exorbitant taxes—although rumor held that it was Queen Vashti who wielded the scepter in the royal family. They respected Mordecai for his self-reliance, happy to barter for his apples, firewood, and other goods.

The soldier’s eyebrow peaked. “You’re not registered?”

“It’s not required until I’m seventeen.” She lifted her chin. “I’ve two days until my birthday.” Not that anything will change.

“True,” the man said. “But most register at birth due to the benefits.”

Her uncle stiffened. “Benefits? We’ve no need of anything the king controls. I’ve carved out a self-sufficient life for us here.”

“And it comes to an end in two days.” With a click of his tongue, he nudged the horse around Mordecai to Esther’s side. He looked from uncle to niece. “I shall expect you at the culling in one week—I’m making note of your location.” He punched a button on his scanner. “If you’re not in the database by then, I shall seize this homestead in the name of King Xerxes. Good day.”

Horse and rider turned back to the path from which they had appeared.

Esther buried her head in her uncle’s shoulder and cried.