The raven had flown all night, and although it was morning the castle was still shrouded in darkness from the heavy black rain clouds that hung thick across the land. Candles flickered here and there in the gloom, and as the wind and rain from the open windows gusted in, their flames went out one by one.

Lilith was cold but she didn’t care. A hot fire burned inside as she sat on her lone throne, her knees pulled up under her chin, and stared at the small mirrors which relayed all the bird had seen. She watched it over and over. Snow White and the handsome prince in bed. Alive and breathing. The wine glass was tight in her hands. If her great-grandmother had still been there she would have tutted and taken it from her. Wine in the morning was no good for kings or paupers, she’d have said. Wine never solved anyone’s problems. Have some milk instead. She took another gulp and her head swam.

The wind howled outside, lashing rain across the tower’s marble floor as thunder growled in the sky, and on the window sill the raven shivered. She snapped her fingers and the images stopped. The raven flew away, released from her charm for now. She’d seen enough. She’d seen far too much.

She got to her feet, her legs stiff and aching, and headed to the small room at the back. Her head was a jumble of drunken thoughts and as she thought once more of Snow White and the handsome prince being so base together in that cheap country inn, lightning flashed bright. The tower was in the eye of the storm. The queen was the eye of the storm.

As she touched and caressed her magical items, hoping to find some calm in them, she raged against her own stupidity. She’d been to that dwarf cottage. She recognised the little man the raven had shown her, standing at the back of the church as Snow White had wed her weak-chinned prince. He’d lied to her face and she’d believed him. She’d thought their fear of her would overwhelm their love of Snow White, but once again she’d been wrong. The diamond shoes glittered on a red velvet cushion. Where was the huntsman now, she wondered? Dead in the forest? Eaten by an owl? Had Snow White’s beauty been worth the price he’d paid?

In the corner the cabinet creaked open and, hearing it, Lilith’s shoulders slumped. She didn’t need this. Not right now. She didn’t turn to look at the face she knew would be staring back at her, but drank more wine. She was getting drunk, she knew it. But drunk was good.

‘Snow White is truly the fairest in the land.’