‘Oh, that’s priceless,’ she wiped a tear from her own eye, a laughing mockery of Snow’s own, ‘truly, it is.’ She gasped again as another wave of giggles threatened to overwhelm her. Snow was so wrong it was funny. She thought of the children’s bones her great-grandmother used to rap her knuckles with, took two deep breaths to contain her laughter and let the icy mantle that shielded her from the world settle over her once more.

‘I don’t love your father,’ she whispered, the sound somewhere between a hiss and a snarl. ‘I loathe him. He repulses me. He’s a stupid, fat, arrogant man.’ She stepped forward; a precise deadly movement. Snow White didn’t move.

‘You can’t mean that. You can’t. You married him.’

‘You foolish spoilt little princess. Is that what you think? It’s all about true love? Love and marriage have nothing to do with each other.’

‘But he loves you,’ Snow said. ‘He always says he loves you.’

‘He wants me. That’s different.’ Lilith smiled. ‘And I want his power. Men take it so much for granted. You need to learn that the only way to wield it in the kingdoms is by making a great match.’ She leaned forward slightly. ‘Now he’s gone to war and I have it. I will train you to be a lady. I will find you a husband. Then you’ll be gone from here and I will have some peace.’ She spat the last words out before turning back into her room. She slammed the door in the dark beauty’s face and shot the bolts across.

Beneath her milky complexion her face was burning and she rested her forehead against the cool wood for a moment. Only the sound of her own ragged breath filled her ears. No fists beat from the other side. Eventually, she straightened up and poured another glass of wine. Snow White had gone. No doubt crying on her bed already, mourning her dead mother and wishing her father had never married again.

The candlelight was softly comforting and she lost herself in its dance on the crimson surface. Her thoughts were as dark as the liquid she swirled in the glass and she was drowning in them, the here and now forgotten. In the corner, hidden in the shadows, a black cabinet hung on the wall. The imp who’d sold it to her, long ago, had said it was made from the bones of burned saints from the barbaric lands across the sea, that the glass the cabinet housed came from the blood of mermaids, and the magic bound in it came from the Far Mountain itself.

For a long while she’d tried to ignore it. As the door creaked open, she took a deep drink from the glass. Her head would hurt in the morning.

‘She truly is the fairest in the land.’