I smiled in spite of myself as I took the newborn into my arms. He'd the best complexion of any baby I'd ever seen; he wasn't red or purple, his skin was without blemishes and creamy white. He'd a halo of blond curls he had inherited from his father and deep hazel eyes that could only be credited to his mother. The aforesaid was lying limply on the bed, her glossy brown curls sticking damply to her white forehead. She was smiling weakly at the form of her newborn son and she reached out but her hand fell short. "My baby," she breathed softly. I held the baby to my chest.

"Give her the baby, Christine," said a clear, sweet voice from behind me. It was firm and I reluctantly handed the baby to his rightful mother, Whitney. I turned flashing green irises to the older woman and suppressed a grimace. Snow White's deep blue eyes were wise framed in tissue paper skin and her raven hair was streaked with grey.

I glanced in the wash table mirror and preened for a moment. My mass of auburn curls was concealed in a white towel and my starchy nurse's garb was none too flattering. It was with love enraptured that Whitney drew her son to her creamy white breast and smiled wanly as he fed gluttonously, his rosebud mouth pressed against her pink nipple. This disgusting display made me want to snort, but I smiled for dignity's sake.

As the years passed I became an ever-increasing importance in the young Prince's life. It was on the day of his christening that Whitney, radiant young queen and new mother, took it upon herself to bestow to me a vital duty. Her eyes shone with genuine love as she spoke.

"I want to ask something very important of you, Christine," she said softly, grasping my hand in her own. "I want you to be Wendell's godmother. I know that no one could love him like you and I know you'd take good care of him." I nodded meekly. She smiled at me in the faint wishy-washy way that was her trademark. "You'd take good care of my boy, wouldn't you?" she asked. I nodded meekly. Her hazel eyes became distant and filled with tears. "The royal physician says-" she broke off, and two tears slipped down her cheeks. "He says I can never have any more children." Her eyes were the saddest eyes I had ever seen. "It would kill me, Christine. You know how I love little children! I-I don't think I can bear it." She was crying freely now and I suppressed a laugh.

I put on my mask of sympathy and patted her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Whitney. I'm sure you and Winston are heartbroken."

"Ohhh..." she moaned softly. She buried her small delicately featured face into my shoulder and her body shook. "My little boy is all I've got. Thank you, Christine. I love you."

Wendell grew into a hearty four-year old rapidly and his mother watched him grow with saddening eyes. Her only baby would soon be a baby no longer. She would never get to see him mature into adulthood if my plans went smoothly.

On Wendell's fifth birthday a large ball was thrown and everyone was invited. I dressed in my finest silk dress and put a seed-pearl comb in my hair. When I reached the dining hall it was already pulsing with happy people in gay colours. At the throne sat the handsome king and his delicate wife. I looked at Whitney's beautiful gown hungrily. The full skirt and balloon sleeves set off to perfection her tiny waist. Her thick glossy curls were concealed into a heavily jewelled headdress. About her white throat was a heavy gold chain on which an emerald set in diamonds was suspended. Her cheeks were flushed rosy and her eyes danced. I had never seen her so happy and my jealousy was wild.

I do not remember the party. My vision was blurred by envy. As if in answer to my prayers, that night the Queen took ill. She was put to bed and I volunteered to nurse her. She was grateful and blissfully ignorant of all my contempt for her and her son. Whitney's loving personality acted as a curtain to protect those whom she loved, and by a stroke of great fortune, she loved me. She never knew of my plan. I do not think she knew even at the very last minute.

"It's so kind of you to watch me," she said sweetly. "I know I'm an awful lot of trouble, darling. I'll repay you."

That night I slipped poison into her tea and brought it up to her in bed. She drank the tea slowly and methodically, smiling at me weakly every interval, each smile punctuated with a 'thank you' or a 'I love you, dear.'

The next morning she was much worse. All of the color had drained from her cheeks and she was terribly sick. She could not speak for coughing and would not allow anyone into the room but I. She would not risk the others to catch the disease. I had already had it.

In a week's time she was a thin, delicate creature who seemed to be made of porcelain. When Whitney breathed a horrible rattling sound was in her chest and her eyes were always fever bright. The once beautiful, kind and loving queen had wasted away to a mere shadow and could not even hug the son whom she loved so much.

Two painful months after the initial poisoning (I slipped the toxin into every nighttime tea) Whitney called me to her side. Her eyes were glassy and her yellow face was sunken and pinched. Two long glossy braids fell at her shoulders and she touched my cheek with a child's hand. "Promise me something, darling," she said softly, making a dreadful effort to speak.

"Yes," I said.

"Watch after Wendell," she said weakly. "You know I love him. Tell him I love him, Christine. He must know. He must." Her face was pained. "And Winston... watch after him. Tell him how much I loved him. Ever so much. Tell him that."

"Yes, dearest," I said, feigning sincerity.

"And my darling, Christine," she cooed, stroking my auburn curls. "I love you, too. You were always there for me. Always cared for me like no one else ever did. I love you for it." She beckoned with a thin finger for me to come closer and she kissed my cheek. "Tell Winston and Wendell what I said. Good night, dearest." She closed her eyes and drew a last, shuddering breath. I smiled at her thin form and patted the sallow cheek.

I reached into my pocket and withdrew a small, round mirror. It emitted a soft light and I spoke to it: