A Dream of Ebony and White: A Retelling of Snow White (Beyond the Four Kingdoms Book 4)

by Melanie Cellier

  I shuddered, my sight going black. She didn’t just want me dead—she wanted me ripped apart and desecrated. I felt myself rocking back and forth, my breath coming faster and faster, and then strong arms gripped me.

  Alexander pulled me against his chest, one hand making rhythmic circles on my back as he murmured into my hair.

  “He won’t hurt you. I will never let him hurt you. Breathe, Snow. Steady now.”

  I let myself sink against him, my frantically racing heart slowing to match the rhythm of his as my breaths slowed to match the rise and fall of his chest.

  “And how did she mean to explain such a thing?” I managed to ask at last.

  He gave a long sigh, his arms slowly loosening at the calm in my voice.

  “She intended to make it look as if you had run away. Stricken by grief for your father, of course. That’s why it had to be now.”

  I swallowed. Hadn’t I contemplated something all too similar? Perhaps the court would even have believed it. Or at least, pretended to do so, the story just plausible enough. Plausible—just as she had said. I shuddered again, and Alexander’s arms briefly tightened.

  But a new thought made me sit up straight, jerking away from him.

  “But wait. Isn’t that exactly what I’ve now done?”

  “Run away?” Alexander frowned. “Yes, I suppose you have.” He shook his head. “But with one very important distinction—you’re not going to be attacked by anyone—human or wild animal. I won’t—”

  He broke off abruptly, his head turning as he scanned the trees around us. When I took a breath to speak, he held up a hand to silence me. I froze, every muscle tense, every sense alert. What had he heard?

  But my ears could hear nothing, and my wildly darting eyes could detect no sign of danger.

  Silently, Alexander stood, gesturing for me to remain in place. With long strides, he crossed the tiny clearing and melted into the trees. I sat, still frozen, struggling to make my breaths as silent as his steps. I counted them even, in an effort to remain calm.

  Seventy-four. Seventy-five. Seventy-six. Was that movement in the trees just there or merely the wind shaking a branch?

  One hundred twelve. One hundred thirteen. One hundred fourteen. Was that Alexander returning? Or a fox in the bushes? Or…

  One hundred fifty-five. One hundred fifty-six. One hundred fifty-seven. A cloud crossed the moon, and I flinched.

  Two hundred. Two hundred one. Two hundred two. What if the queen had sent the guard after us? What if they had caught Alexander? What if Randolph decided to rip him apart instead? But no. Alexander was born and raised a huntsman. He knew these woods better than any guard.

  Two hundred eighty-eight. Two hundred eighty-nine. Two hundred ninety. What if it was me Randolph found? Alone here and defenseless. What if he slipped around Alexander in the dark? Again I reminded myself of Alexander’s skill. He had promised me. He would not let anyone find me here.

  I swallowed a scream as a figure appeared from between the trees. Alexander returned as silently as he had left, his expression worried. He didn’t speak until he stood directly above me, and then his words were the faintest whisper.

  “They’re here in the forest. We’re being tracked.”

  I bit my lip, my eyes darting around him as I strained yet again to see anything other than trees in the dim light of the moon. He quickly shook his head.

  “They’re not here. Not yet. But they’re getting close. We need to move.”

  He hauled me to my feet, and I stumbled against him. I had been so frozen I hadn’t even noticed my foot go numb.

  He looked down at me in silent concern, but I just shook my head, pulling away, my face flushed with embarrassment. He could track people through the forest as easily as he tracked wild animals, and I couldn’t even manage to sit in one place without incapacitating myself.

  My foot tingled and throbbed as feeling returned, but I ignored it, determined not to disgrace myself again. One glance at the fear in his eyes reminded me that my life might depend on it.

  He led us on through the trees, but not in the headlong rush I had imagined. We moved more slowly now, more carefully. I tried to follow his footsteps exactly, but I still couldn’t manage to move silently as he did. Every crack and rustle sounded deafening in my ears, and I winced with each one, my ears straining to hear shouts of discovery or the sound of pursuit.

  But I could still make out nothing but the night sounds that had surrounded us before. The wind in the trees. The hoot and screech of distant owls. The rustle of small animals in the underbrush.

  The tension began to wear on my already tired muscles, and I felt my legs trembling with every step. I tried to step more carefully, not less, but the noise I made increased despite all my efforts. Not once did Alexander shush me, his patience and forbearance as steady as the arm which constantly reached back to brace me.

  At one point, we veered sharply to one side, moving onto a long stretch of rock bordering a small creek. Loose gravel made walking silently even more difficult, and I gritted my teeth against the scraping sounds, focusing my attention on not twisting an ankle.

  Alexander led me parallel to the creek for what felt like a long way before he stepped straight into the shallow water. But instead of crossing directly, he turned and began to slosh through the water, moving upstream against the light current.

  I followed, glad I had never pulled my skirts loose. My boots should keep out the water from such a tiny stream. Keeping my footing here was even harder, however, and I abandoned all pride and clung to the back of Alexander’s jacket for balance. If the pursuers were far enough away to make disguising our tracks in such a way worthwhile, then the small noises we made must not be a danger.

  The creek twisted and turned, and we followed it for what seemed an interminable time. The moon had dipped lower in the sky, or perhaps been covered by a thick bank of clouds, and only my grip on my companion kept me from falling and soaking myself through. Once my eyes actually drifted closed, jerking back up a brief second before I lost my grip on the soft leather.

  At last, Alexander paused. He remained still for a moment, surveying our surroundings, before abruptly turning and scooping me into his arms.

  I squeaked, too shocked to actually protest. He looked down at me, his eyes warning me not to speak, and I subsided. In truth, though I wished I didn’t need his assistance, I wasn’t sure how much longer my legs could hold me up. And his arms were so very strong and sure around me. His chest so warm and inviting. I snuggled against it, his arms tightening in response.

  Admit it, Snow, said my irritating internal voice. You’re not going to complain because you’re exactly where you want to be.

  But what was so wrong with that? If I had ever needed comfort, surely tonight was the night.

  Alexander strode through the forest, his new load not slowing him down at all. If anything, I suspected he was moving faster and more freely now. I looked up at him, admiring the soft light on the angles of his face. He looked down and met my gaze.

  “One set of footprints. And not like mine, either. Heavier.”

  I blinked, trying to get my brain—which was half asleep—to process his words. What was he talking about?

  Sudden comprehension dawned. I didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. Relieved to discover he hadn’t picked me up because I was too useless even to walk on my own two feet, disappointed because it hadn’t been any desire of his that had prompted the action.

  No, the expert huntsman had ensured the tracks which left the creek—far, far from where our tracks had entered it—looked nothing like our tracks at all. Instead they would appear to belong to a single man, one larger and heavier than Alexander. It was no wonder he was so good at his job.

  The brief conversation—if it could even be called that—did little to hold off my exhaustion. The rocking movement of his walk, and the warmth of his body soon made it almost impossible to keep my eyes open. After a while I gave up tr
ying and let myself drift into a half-sleep. A delicious state in which I could briefly forget my fear and anger, conscious only of the safety and comfort of my best friend’s arms.

  I might have fallen deeper asleep than I realized, because my body jerked when we finally stopped. I would have fallen if Alexander hadn’t been gripping me so firmly.

  I flushed, wiping surreptitiously at my mouth and hoping I hadn’t embarrassed myself. But Alexander was placing me gently down on a surprisingly soft clump of ferns, his soft voice telling me not to stir.

  “We’ll be safe here. You can sleep.”

  My traitorous arms tried to reach for him as he pulled away from me, but I forced them back down, tucking them under my body to keep them from going rogue. And then my lids were dragging down and true sleep was rushing up, and I was gone.

  Hours must have passed before a sound woke me. Although I couldn’t have said what sound. For a disorienting moment I couldn’t imagine where I was, and then memory returned, rushing back all too clearly.

  I pushed myself up, blinking in the sunlight, my arms sinking slightly into my bed of ferns. The warmth of the sun had driven out any lingering cold from the night, but everything still ached. When I struggled to my feet, my legs wobbled beneath me, cramping in painful bursts.

  I closed my eyes and resisted the pain, forcing myself to take a couple of steps. I rolled my shoulders and my neck as I did so, trying to shake out every part of me that was protesting the exertion of the previous day followed by my sleep on the forest floor.

  I put a determined smile on my face before I opened my eyes again, remembering my humiliating performance of the night before. I wouldn’t let Alexander know how much I hurt this morning.

  But when I opened my eyes, I discovered the effort had been for nothing. Alexander was nowhere in sight. I spun around, looking in every direction. I was alone.

  I called his name softly, too wary to call loudly. No reply came. I tried to calm my racing heart. No doubt he had stepped briefly away and would be back any moment. To relieve himself most likely. Perhaps it had been his departure that woke me. I should take the same opportunity.

  It was fine. Everything was fine. I would wait, and he would soon be back.

  And so I waited. And waited. And waited. The sun climbed high above me and still I waited.

  Until at last I was forced to accept the truth. Alexander was gone. I was alone.

  Chapter 5

  The most obvious answer—that he had abandoned me while I slept—I rejected without thought. Alexander would never betray me in such a fashion. In him alone of the whole court—the whole capital—I was certain.

  The remaining possibilities terrified me. But they were almost as quickly rejected. If Randolph had found us, he wouldn’t have left me sleeping peacefully. And no wild animal could have carried Alexander off without waking me in the process.

  Equally impossible was the option that he had stepped away as I had first supposed and lost his way or fallen afoul of the forest. Not when I had seen his skill firsthand the night before.

  But what did that leave? He couldn’t have simply vanished into thin air.

  But as the hours wore on, the question of what had happened to Alexander was overtaken by a more urgent one. What should I do now?

  Even if I had dared return to the castle, I had no idea how to find the way. And I had too much trust in Alexander to doubt his story. Nothing but death awaited me anywhere within reach of the queen.

  But already my stomach rumbled uncomfortably, and my mouth and throat felt dry in a way I had never felt before. How many hours had it been since I ate or drank? I tried not to tally them, knowing it would only make the hunger and thirst worse.

  I wanted to stay here, to keep hoping for Alexander’s return, but I had more to concern me than the empty state of my belly. We had been tracked last night, for some distance at least. And now that I had truly fled, my stepmother would have reason to call out the entire guard and set them to combing the forest. She might even pretend fear that I had been abducted.

  No doubt she intended to keep searching until I was found. Alive or dead with a definite preference on dead. I shivered.

  If I stayed here indefinitely was I only sealing my own fate? I had no hope of protecting myself against Randolph or a troop of guards. Not alone.

  Where are you, Alexander?!

  But the forest made no answer to my silent cry. A nearby rustle made me jump, and I knew in that moment that I couldn’t remain here. It would drive me mad if nothing else.

  With no way to gain information, I could do nothing to puzzle out Alexander’s disappearance. Instead I needed to focus on my own survival. I needed water, I needed food, and—eventually—I would need shelter. Preferably shelter far from the questing eyes of my stepmother.

  I only wished our kingdoms hadn’t been cut off from the godmothers until so very recently. If only I had been given a godmother at my Christening. Now would have been just the moment to call on her. I didn’t know if such a being would find me deserving enough, but surely she wouldn’t have questioned my dire need, at least.

  But those thoughts were as foolish and useless as wishing my father back alive. I didn’t have a godmother, and I had no reason to suppose one would come for me now. Alexander had saved me last night. Now it was time for me to save myself.

  Except when I stood up, full of determination, I found myself staring blankly at the forest. I didn’t have the slightest idea which direction I should take. I could barely even remember arriving in this spot, and I was just as likely to walk back toward the castle as away.

  After long moments of painful indecision, another rustle made me start and jerk forward, my feet moving of their own volition to carry me away from the sound. My steps quickly slowed as I silently berated myself for my skittishness, but I didn’t stop altogether. With no idea which way to go, this direction was as good as any other.

  At least the bright sunlight made the forest easier to navigate, and I managed to move without stumbling or tripping. It helped that I was alone and could tie my skirts up even higher than I had done previously. After some minutes of forward progress, my ears caught a faint sound, distinct from the previous noises of the forest.

  I froze, straining to hear it more clearly. Was I rushing straight toward capture?

  But the sound continued on, too even and continuous to be the sound of other people. And my eager body recognized it before my mind could catch up. Water. Beautiful, wonderful water.

  I adjusted my direction, my steps picking up speed as I rushed toward it. My dry mouth propelled me forward, no thought of caution or listening for pursuit in my head. I barely maintained the attention to avoid tripping on roots and branches.

  The sound grew stronger and stronger, and I knew before I burst out of the trees almost on its banks that I was moving toward a larger stream than the one we had waded through the night before. Sure enough, this one was almost big enough to qualify as a river. It burbled and rushed, flowing along the mossy grass of its bank.

  I sank onto my knees and stopped just short of thrusting my whole face into the sweet, cool liquid. Instead I used my hands to cup mouthful after mouthful of relief down my parched throat. Only when I thought my stomach might burst did I let my hands drop, rocking back on my heels.

  I groaned at the sloshing feeling that now filled me, doing little to alleviate my hunger. Perhaps I shouldn’t have drunk so much. And yet, eyeing the water flowing past me, its clear depths revealing rocks beneath, I almost wanted to down another gulp.

  I edged back, eventually collapsing into a proper sitting position. My eyes lingered thoughtfully on the almost-river, my mind working more clearly now that my most immediate need had been met.

  There could be no question that this was a different waterway from the one last night. Or, if it was the same one, it was a very different section of it. And I was equally certain we hadn’t passed this one in the dark, even as I slept. Alexander wouldn’t have ri
sked carrying me across the slippery stones of the bottom. Not given the depth and the swiftly moving current.

  Which alleviated the second of my most pressing concerns. I wasn’t backtracking our earlier progress. But a new decision faced me. Did I ford this stream and continue through the forest? Or adjust my course and follow its banks?

  I didn’t have to think long to make a decision. Despite the water dripping from my face now, I could clearly remember the dry feeling that had plagued me since I woke. If I left this stream behind, who knew how long before I found another? My bag had rested in the ferns beside me when I awoke, but I had only been able to pack things from my room. And I had no water skin or anything able to hold water in there. Alexander had been carrying our only water skin.

  As I forced myself to my feet and began to traipse beside the stream, I told myself my decision had nothing to do with not wanting to half-splash, half-swim across the treacherous bed of the stream. I needed water and here it was. It would be foolish to turn away from it.

  And as I walked further, another thought buoyed my confidence. I didn’t have the skills required to survive alone in the forest for any length of time. One way or another, I must find shelter with other people. And people needed a constant source of water. If I followed the stream long enough, I would either find another human or a way out of the forest. Eventually.

  But my spirits fell as the afternoon began to draw toward evening. I had seen a few berries, bright red against the green foliage, but I hadn’t dared eat them. I could no longer remember the tips my father had given me as I rode in front of him as a child. The tips that would let me distinguish an edible berry from a poisonous one.

  I had done far less than a full day of walking, but my legs still ached from the day before, and weakness crept over me, growing along with the pain in my empty middle. I knew I would have to stop soon, but I kept hoping just a little more walking would bring me to someone who might at the very least be willing to give me some food. Perhaps they would trade for something in my pack, although I hated to part with any of my now-meager belongings.