Shattered snow, p.5
Shattered Snow, page 5
“If you’re going to do this, you have to promise me you’ll follow my exact directives. If you ignore me, you will be arrested by ITTA and imprisoned for life,” he said.
Lilia looked up at him, blinking back grateful tears.
“You have seven years with him. Then you have to leave.”
-Sketchbook of Dorothea Wild
Waldeck Castle, Weilburg, Germany
30 June 1540
The servants wheeled in the new mirror, wrapped in fine furs and secured with thick cords. Lilia swallowed and gripped Philip’s hand a little tighter.
“What is it?” Elisabeth asked as the servants set the delivery into the corner of the dining hall. The wrappings were removed, revealing the mirror set in a silver-gilt frame. The children gasped with wonder as it was set upright.
“It’s taller than Father!” Henry shouted.
“It’s a beautiful engagement gift, Lilia. Thank you.” Philip’s hand lingered on her waist as he planted a kiss on her forehead. She closed her eyes, feeling uncomfortable now that The Mirror watched her. Lilia didn’t like this device placed in plain sight. Now that he could survey the family dealings, she felt like a teenager assigned a chaperone.
Philip took her hand and admired the treacherous mirror. It wasn’t like she had planned on falling in love with Philip. Lilia hadn’t believed in romantic love at all until she met him. Men in her experience only offered catcalls and crass humor. But Philip quickly proved that he belonged to a different class, one that had likely become extinct in her modern age. At first, she’d fought against his gentility and manners. She’d worked her whole life to prove she didn’t need anyone to support her. That strength is what she meant to give Margaretha. But somehow, he had needed her strength too, and softened her just enough to let him in.
Now, however, the servants worked diligently, setting up a reminder that her relationship had an expiration date.
The Mirror demanded she only had seven years. Seven years to think of a plan.
Elisabeth admired the smooth glass, running her finger delicately along the fragile surface. “There's hardly a flaw.” She tilted her face this way and that, admiring the different angles of her features.
“I’ve never seen all of me at once.” Henry paraded forward. He was instantly shoved away by his older brothers.
“No fighting. You will all get a turn,” Lilia chided gently. As the children rotated through, each getting a chance to study themselves, Lilia noticed that Bianka stood firmly rooted behind a chair. Over the last few weeks, Lilia had poured in a special effort to help Bianka. Philip admitted that his endearment for Lilia had been confirmed when she gained the trust of his quietest child.
“You don't have to be scared, Bianka. Come.” Bianka obeyed, carefully making her way forward. However, when she came close enough, she grasped Lilia’s skirts.
“My dear, are you afraid of yourself?” Lilia asked. Bianka’s eyes widened and she shook her head. Lilia wrapped her arm around Bianka’s shoulder and walked her toward the mirror. “Then see how beautiful and kind you look.”
Bianka stumbled to a halt before it. “It’s going to swallow me up,” she whispered.
Philip laughed, but Lilia only looked at Bianka curiously. Could the girl sense The Mirror staring back at her? She closed her eyes and prepared herself to deliver The Mirror’s next instructions.
“You know, Philip, I believe I have an idea.”
“What is it?” he asked, reclining against the wall and watching Henry unsuccessfully attempt to parade past the mirror. Each of the children had such different reactions to their own reflections—and each one spoke of their flaws. Elisabeth’s vanity flounced before it, Henry’s desperation to stand out strutted in the corner of its reflection, and sweet Bianka’s anxious insecurity hid from it.
She lifted Bianka’s hand and patted it. “I believe the children ought to take regular estimation of themselves in this mirror.”
“But could that not lead to the ‘mother sin of pride’, my dear?” Philip asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Lilia smiled, remembering Pastor Hefentreger’s recent sermon. Many of the preacher’s lectures felt naive and contrived, but she loved that Philip clung to such utopian ideals.
“It could,” Lilia said, hesitating. She pressed her fingers against her lips in thought before continuing. “So, perhaps we could place them before the mirror, regard their successes, and instruct them on improvements. It would be a monthly approbation, hosted by their parents.”
Philip smiled even wider, most likely at the word “parents”. Lilia felt a flush of color rush to her cheeks. The wedding was only a few weeks away and she felt awkward knowing that The Mirror currently analyzed her romance. She turned back to Bianka.
“For example, if you look here, Bianka...” she said, reaching into a pocket she had instructed the seamstress to sew into her newest skirt.
“Has your dress ripped?” Elisabeth interrupted.
“No, it’s—” Lilia paused and looked up at the mirror nervously. “It’s a pocket.”
“In a lady’s dress?” Philip asked.
Lilia swallowed. Women didn’t wear pockets in this century. It was probably best to keep them quiet, but it was such a commonplace thing in her old life that she hadn’t thought twice about revealing it. She reached inside and found the silver pocket-watch she carried. The entire family watched with curiosity now. Lilia flipped open the latch, revealing a puff of rouge and a mirror that lay where the clock face should have been. Elisabeth giggled.
“That’s not a watch,” Henry said, pointing an accusing finger at Lilia’s self-made makeup compact. She blinked, realizing it was yet another thing The Mirror would find inappropriate. Lilia sighed and wiped away the powder from the small mirror and held it up in front of Bianka. “Look. If you place this mirror in front of the other, it reflects itself…” she struggled to aim the face of the glass just right.
Bianka gasped as an infinite number of compact mirrors appeared within the reflection.
Lilia pointed to the girl’s face, multiplied time and time again. “So, when you stand in front of a mirror, you may see all the hundreds of possibilities you hold. Just like this.”
“Are there hundreds of me, too?” Bianka asked.
Lilia laughed.
“Be careful, my dear, or you will convince us all that you're a woman of invention.” Philip’s smile slowly built until his eyes shone with mischief. Before Lilia could enjoy it too much, Elisabeth’s voice broke through the moment.
“But she is, Father! Have you seen her other contraptions?” Elisabeth never took her eyes off the mirror.
Lilia’s heart fell into her chest. “My ideas are mere trinkets.”
“An inventor like Leonardo da Vinci,” Henry said with wide eyes.
A chill ran through Lilia. If The Mirror watched now, he surely wasn’t happy. She couldn’t afford to gain such a reputation among the family. That would certainly draw ITTA’s attention. From now on, she would try to keep her gadgets to herself.
“Well, I think this approbation idea is wonderful, Lilia. We shall begin as soon as we are married.” Philip stepped forward and took Lilia’s bare hand. She had abandoned her gloves only days before. Philip’s engagement ring had replaced the scalar wire ring she wore during her arrival, though she still kept the wire in a locket around her neck. Lilia felt a wave of comfort at Philip’s touch and she looked around at the children. There was so much to be nervous about—the wedding, The Mirror’s directives, becoming a mother. It was all daunting. But, as she looked at the people around her, she realized how much she longed to be a part of all this. This home, this family. The boys were quietly whispering, undoubtedly planning some sort of vandalism. The younger children patted the surface of the glass and giggled. Elisabeth gently swayed her skirts in front of the mirror, admiring herself while Bianka watched from behind. Then, of course, the man who held her hand. Yes. This was exactly what she had been missing in her cinderblock tower.
“It will be good for the children to face themselves in the mirror. We shall build up their confidence where needed and deal out a dose of humility to those who need it more,” Philip said, lifting Elisabeth's chin with his finger. She blushed and stopped swishing her skirts.
Lilia glanced at the mirror, wondering if the man inside was proud of her for getting Philip to accept the approbation. Now he could monitor the children regularly for variances. But perhaps he would be too angry about everything else to be thankful. She wouldn’t know until she met with him here.
Tonight.
The corridor was silent and chilled as Lilia snuck through the castle. She shivered, partially from the cold, and partially from the chill of fear running through her veins. In the dark, it felt like the halls grew, stretching on into an eerie eternity. She didn’t carry a candle. She needed the option of hiding in the shadows if necessary.
Now that The Mirror had seen her with the Waldeck family, what would he say? Had she done enough to stay? She pushed through the dining room doors and locked the latch behind her. The mirror loomed ahead of her and, before she reached it, a haze grew in the center, forming into the familiar mask.
“I have to admit,” Lilia said once its features were clear, “this is easier than sneaking into the forest to meet.”
“I doubt you would have been able to explain to Philip much longer why you kept running away,” The Mirror said. She couldn’t tell from his emotionless mask if he was reprimanding or agreeing with her.
“You have my next directives?” She crossed her arms protectively in front of her.
“Do you remember why I sent you there, Lilia?” he asked, ignoring her.
Lilia swallowed and shifted her weight. “To stop Bianka from being sent away. To save her from being killed.”
“And do you know what will happen if you get caught by ITTA?” he asked in the same even tone.
Lilia knew the risks. “I’ll be extracted, arrested, and live the rest of my life in prison.” She shuddered.
“Yes. But that’s not all. This timeline will return to its original state—a place where you never arrived, where Philip marries Katherina, and where Margaretha dies. Every mistake you make, you put her life on the line. Are pockets and compacts really worth that?” he asked.
Lilia flinched. “No.” She looked down into her hands.
“Likewise, if you stay with Philip for more than seven years, he will never remarry, and his two children with Jutta will never be born. That alone will prevent exactly 1,213 people from being born in today’s world. Do you know how big a variance that is?”
“It sounds bad,” Lilia said flatly. She didn’t like thinking about Philip’s future children with another woman.
“Well, exactly six minutes ago, all of those people disappeared because you won’t leave him. Either you change your mind right now before ITTA’s computers run their regular scan, or you’ll have a time travel agent breathing down your neck before you wake up.”
Tears threatened to jump from Lilia’s eyes. “Fine. I’ll follow the directives. In seven years, I’ll leave. I’ll jump to Spain just in time to rescue Bianka from the Spanish court and Philip will think we’re both dead. Happy now?” Her voice broke as she said it and she couldn’t quite convince her heart to mean it. Closing her eyes, she told herself it was better to have Philip for only seven years of her life than to never have him at all. The Mirror didn’t seem satisfied.
“When it comes to it, do you mean it?” The Mirror asked.
Lilia's temper flared. “I have lived in so many different shades of misery! I have been given this one chance to escape. I will take what I can get.”
The Mirror narrowed his eyes. “If you don't follow through, I’ll come out there and extract you myself. Immediately. Do you understand?” he said.
Lilia pressed her teeth together. He was forcing her hand. She couldn’t give this all up now, but maybe she could later. She straightened. “I understand,” she said.
Portrait of Margaretha von Waldeck
Age: 14
-ITTA Master Document
Waldeck Castle, Weilburg, Germany
27 April 1547
A dark blizzard howled outside the window while Bianka waited in the corridor for her monthly approbation. Though it was already late April, winter seemed ferociously determined to swallow up spring entirely. Henry stood inside the dining room with Father and Lilia. She hoped he didn’t need too much of a reprimand today so she could enter the warm, firelit hall. The tall wooden door stood open a crack, allowing her Father’s muffled voice to pass through.
“Henry, you are a dutiful student. But there is a difference between being a good student and an insufferable pupil. You mustn’t contradict your tutors. Ask questions, but don’t try to entrap them.”
Bianka smiled and looked down at her hands. Henry still consistently tried to prove himself equal to his older brothers, focusing solely on academics now that they were off attending university. She looked down at the windowsill and caressed the three stains on the dark stones. Her chest tightened as she thought about her mother—the first casualty in her fragmented family. So much had changed in the last few years. Elisabeth died only weeks after her own wedding. Samuel and Daniel left to university in Muhlberg and Bianka hardly heard from them. A few months after their departure, her youngest sister Esther died. Only four of the children remained at home now. Father and Lilia’s approbations sometimes felt like the only thread holding the family together.
The door opened, spilling firelight into the corridor.
“Bianka, you may come in now. Henry is finished,” Father said. Bianka straightened and put on a pleasant smile, one she practiced many times in front of the mirror.
Henry stepped out the door, his chin held high. He brushed past Bianka without looking at her. Bianka picked up her skirts and walked into the dining room. Lilia stood near a wooden pedestal covered in intricate, golden vines that rested before the mirror. The silver frame’s pristine appearance had faded over the years; bits of tarnish crept along the edges.
“Here you are.” Lilia stepped forward to arrange Bianka's skirts around her. “My goodness, you have grown. Your skirts don’t reach the floor. I’ll have a new dress tailored for you.”
Father stepped forward to measure her against himself. In truth, she stood taller. Though she still didn’t even come close to Father’s towering stance.
He turned back to Lilia. “She is the height of a true lady.”
“She could bring any man to her aid with such slender beauty,” Lilia said. Father didn’t seem to like that idea. Her parents complimented her beauty often enough, but they never teased her with adult matters.
Bianka blushed. “I'm not yet fifteen.”
“Yet, you are certainly the fairest in all Weilburg.” Lilia smiled. Bianka’s smile faded at the familiar words.
“What is wrong, Bianka?” Lilia asked. Bianka pursed her lips, unwilling to speak. Lilia narrowed her eyes. “Bianka, you must learn to speak your thoughts if you are to be a diligent countess someday.”
Bianka hesitated, struggling to form a cohesive sentence. “I wondered…” she said. “I’m not complaining, but—Henry often tells how his approbations are filled with interviews and speeches on morality. My meetings are filled with very little instruction and a fair number of compliments on my appearance. I wondered why I don't also have the welfare of my character checked so often.”
Father laughed and placed his hands on Bianka’s shoulders. “My dear, your brother needs so much more refinement than you in matters of character. Your spirit is as pure as any lily. You are kind and charitable. You need no correction, for you are constantly refining your own morals. Lilia and I wish to build your confidence. We do not praise your younger sister Anastasia’s beauty, for her vanity is already inflated. You, however, need a dose of pride from us.”
Bianka relaxed. She turned and looked at Lilia for confirmation.
Before Lilia could respond, the doors burst open and a messenger ran inside. “Herr Waldeck, I have an urgent message from your son.” He thrust a letter into Father’s hand.
“Samuel?” Father asked, reading the front. Gripping the letter, he broke the seal. Lilia stepped forward, grasping his arm. As Father read, Bianka’s heart fluttered with worry.
“The Holy Roman Empire attacked the Lutherans in Muhlberg. Samuel lies wounded and captured,” Father said. He looked up at Lilia with determination.
“At least wait for the storm to pass,” Lilia pleaded. Father leaned forward, kissed her, and strode out the door. Lilia remained frozen for a moment before turning to Bianka. “You may retire,” Lilia said.
Bianka stood, immobile on the pedestal, unsure of what just happened. She wished she could run after Father and read the letter for herself. Did the desperation in Father’s departure mean Samuel might die? Her family couldn’t bear to be broken again. Impatiently, Lilia ushered her with a firm hand from the room. When the door closed behind her, Bianka froze, overwhelming fear for her brother rushing over her.
First Mother, Elisabeth, Esther, and now Samuel?
She couldn’t imagine shutting herself in her room. Overwhelming anxieties already threatened to close in around her. While she stood indecisively wondering which way to turn, she heard voices through the closed doors behind her. Turning her head, she placed her ear against the crack. Lilia muttered something and a man responded. Perhaps the messenger? Though she knew better manners, Bianka lay down on the cold marble and peered through the crack beneath the door. She needed to hear what news he had. Inside, Lilia paced back and forth in front of the mirror. There was a man’s voice in the room, sure enough, but Bianka couldn’t see him.
She shifted her view and saw a light hovering near the mirror while Lilia spoke in concerned tones.
