by Lily Blake
Soon they were deep in the forest, completely alone. The silver birches rose up around them. A light dusting of snow covered the earth. “Up here, it’s as if nothing has changed. The world looks beautiful again,” she said, shaking her head. Her voice was calmer now that William was by her side. She felt just a little less alone.
“It will be. When you are queen,” he said. Snow White turned to him, unsure why he’d say that. Why was everyone so certain they could defeat Ravenna’s army? Had they not seen her magic? “The people of this kingdom hate Ravenna with their very fiber,” he explained.
She shook her head. She remembered what Ravenna had said the day of her wedding—how they were bound together. “It’s strange.…” Snow White started. “But I feel only sorrow for her.”
William cocked his head to one side, curious. “Once people find out you’re alive, they will rise up in your name. You are the king’s daughter, and the rightful heir.”
“How am I supposed to do this? How do I inspire?” Snow White said, shaking her head. “How do I lead men?” Gus was dead because of her. She had asked the dwarves to take her to Carmathan. How could she be responsible for many more lives when she had failed one man already?
William smiled. “The same way you led me when we were children. I followed you everywhere, ran when you called. I would’ve done anything for you.” He stared at her intently.
She turned away, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “That’s not how I remember it.” Wasn’t she the one who’d followed William up the apple tree that day? He was always teasing her, telling her to run faster, complaining that she wasn’t a boy. He wanted someone to dig up rocks with and chase through the castle courtyard. “I remember we were always arguing. And fighting, and …” She would have gone on, but he was looking at her so intensely, his eyes searching her face for something unseen.
He leaned so close, she could feel his breath on her skin. He smiled, his cheeks flushed. His lips were just inches from hers. Then he pulled something from his pocket and held it between them. Snow White looked down at the apple. Its white-and-red skin didn’t have a mark on it. William inched it toward her, a mischievous grin crossing his lips.
“I know this trick.” Snow White laughed, remembering it from all those years before.
“What trick?” William asked. He held it up, just inches from her face, daring her to take it from him.
Snow White smiled. After all these years, he remembered. She wondered if he’d thought of her as often as she’d thought of him. Maybe, in some ways, those memories had kept him alive, too. She snatched it from his hands. Before he could retrieve it, she bit into the thin skin, letting the sweet juices run down her throat.
William’s eyes narrowed. There was something strange in his smile. He looked on, watching her chew, laughing as she swallowed. She felt a strong pain in her chest. Something was terribly wrong. As she gasped for breath, William looked on, his face more familiar than it ever had been before. She stumbled and fell, collapsing in the snow.
Her limbs went numb. She stared up at the sky, trying to move her fingers or toes. It was useless. Her body felt like it was made of lead. She couldn’t even blink. William’s face appeared in view, his hair falling down over his eyes, which now glowed a brilliant blue. She realized at once it wasn’t William at all—it was her. Ravenna had found her after all.
“You see, child,” Ravenna said. William’s face changed, revealing the full lips Snow White had admired as a child, and Ravenna’s small, delicate nose. “By fairest blood it was done, and only by fairest blood can it be undone. You were the only one who could break the spell and end my life, and the only one pure enough to save me.”
Snow White’s heart pounded in her ears. Ravenna’s clothes changed back. She wore a black cloak covered with raven feathers that rustled around her high cheekbones in a tall collar. She reached into it, retrieving a jeweled dagger. Then she ran it along Snow White’s breast bone, marking the spot where her heart was. Snow White opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out.
Ravenna leaned down. She pressed her lips to Snow White’s ear. “You don’t realize how lucky you are. You’ll never know what it is to grow old.”
Off in the distance, Snow White heard the crunching sound of footsteps in the snow. Ravenna looked up, alarmed. She raised the dagger above Snow White’s chest, about to drive it through her sternum, but then she instantly transformed into a dense mass of ravens. The sky above Snow White was filled with them. The black birds circled in one great swarm, flying around her body. Bloody feathers fell to the ground. A few cawed loudly. Others took off through the trees. Snow White could see the Huntsman’s bloody axes swiping through the mass.
William appeared, cutting at the birds with his sword. Their dead bodies fell into the snow around her. The dwarves came running as well, hearing the cries from Eric and William. The men kept swinging at the air until all the wretched creatures were gone. Snow White’s vision blurred, and her eyelashes fluttered. She heard them calling to her, but their voices seemed farther away now, the words running together in a strange, low hum.
William knelt down beside her. He cradled her head in his hands. She couldn’t feel his fingers on her skin. His mouth was moving, but there were no words coming out. She fixed her gaze on his face, watching as it changed, overcome with sorrow.
He kissed her. She couldn’t even feel his lips on her own. It was as if he were kissing someone else as she watched from far away. He pulled back, and his lips formed her name, calling again, and he crushed his mouth again to hers. But it had no effect.
She left the world just as fast as she came into it, and the scene before her went black.
Eric stood in the doorway of the cold tomb, a flask in his hand. It was strange to see the girl like this, so silent and still, her arms folded over her chest. She lay on the stone block as though she were just resting there for the evening, enjoying a long slumber. If it weren’t for her pale face and cold purple lips, he would’ve never known she was dead.
So he’d gotten her here after all. He had kept his promise, almost despite himself, and had taken her to the duke’s castle. He’d never imagined coming here like this, though. They’d carried her through the snow to the stronghold, finally delivering her to the duke. The boy, William, had explained to his father what had happened. Ravenna had taken her from them. Somehow she’d gotten past them in the night. She’d come into their camp, where they slept, and killed her. Somehow they hadn’t noticed her presence until it was too late.
Eric took another swig of the grog, enjoying the familiar burning in his throat. He’d watched the mourners file into the duke’s castle. Mothers had brought their children to see her. The princess they had believed was dead had been taken from them once again. A few grown men had walked past her, tears in their eyes. They’d knelt before her body and prayed. She represented something to them—he could tell that by all the grief they felt. They hadn’t known the king’s daughter, had never seen her smile and hadn’t enjoyed the fierce look she got in her eyes if you dared challenge her. But this was still an end for them, too.
The duke had spoken to his son, telling him they would not retaliate. There would be no war in Snow White’s honor. He was a coward—just as Eric had always thought. How many more people had to die by the Queen’s hand before he would strike back? What was the point of an army, however small, if not to fight?
Eric stepped toward the girl, drinking down the last of the alcohol, wishing it numbed him more. “Here you are,” he said, his voice echoing in the cold chamber. “Where it ends. Dressed up too pretty.” He stood over her, noticing the stiffness in her fingers. It was almost too much to see her this way, just as Sara had been. So drained of everything real. Snow White had been right beside him as he went to sleep. He’d watched as she rested against the rock, lost in thought, her hands combing through her tangled hair. He had seen her just before he drifted off.
How had he not heard Ravenna? And why hadn�
��t she come for him first, the man who killed her brother? He hated himself for letting it happen. He’d awoken with a start, sensing something was wrong. He’d taken off into the woods. He’d flown through the silver birches, seeing Ravenna hovering over her. She’d changed shape as soon as he’d struck her with his axe.
“You’re asleep,” he tried desperately, taking another swig from the flask. “About to wake up and give me more grief. Am I right?”
He reached out, his hand hovering just above hers, not certain he could do it. Slowly, he set his palm down, feeling how cold she was. He pinched the end of her sleeve, taking in the beaded pink dress they had put her in. It was so frilly and feminine. He somehow knew she would’ve hated it.
He swallowed hard. She wouldn’t want him to turn into some bumbling mess—not over this. Not over her. “You deserved better,” he said softly. He studied her face. Her black hair had been done in curls. Someone had placed a rose behind her ear, though it was wilting now.
“She was my wife,” he said, speaking as though she were alive. The words came easier with the grog. “That was your question that went unanswered. Sara was her name. When I came back from the wars, I carried with me the stench of death and the anger of the lost. I wasn’t worth saving, but she did so anyway. I loved her more than anything or anyone. I let her out of my sight, and she was gone.”
He lowered his head. “I became myself again. And it was a self I never cared for. Until you. You remind me of her. Her spirit, her heart. And now you are gone, too.” He faltered over his words, feeling the knot rise in the back of his throat. “You both deserved better. And I’m sorry to have failed you as well.”
The torchlight cast a warm glow on her face. He reached down, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead. “You will be queen in heaven now.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, just for a moment, the gesture calming him. Then he turned away, throwing the flask on the ground. Yes, he was drinking again. He was certain she would’ve hated that, too.
He left the stone chamber, his footsteps echoing off the walls. The Huntsman never looked back. Had he turned and studied her, he might’ve seen the faint color returning to her cheeks, or the way her eyelids fluttered. Snow White’s lips parted ever so slightly. Then she drew in her first breath, the tiny gasp barely audible in the giant tomb.
Eric reached the gate just after sunrise. His head throbbed from the night before. The old pains had returned. The blood pulsed in his stitched-up wounds. “Open the gate!” he yelled to the soldiers stationed above. He was careful not to look directly at them, afraid he’d be recognized. “Open the gate!” he yelled again, but it didn’t move. He glanced up. The men were looking past him, at the beaten path to the castle. A young man was coming after him. He walked slowly, struggling with the burlap sack in his hand.
“Huntsman!” the young man called. Eric lowered his head. He had been so careful at the procession. He kept his eyes down, his hair covering the sides of his face, trying to go unnoticed. He’d been there less than twelve hours—how did they realize it was him?
The young man ran toward him. He wore a white linen shirt and clean trousers, his black hair oiled to the side. Eric recognized him as one of the duke’s clerks. Percy … was that his name? “Yes, I recognized you.” Percy nodded, as if in apology.
Eric sighed. He held up his hands in front of him. “Look, if you want—”
“We have no quarrel with you,” the young man said. “Not anymore. You returned the princess to us. For that …” He hoisted the sack into Eric’s arms. Eric cradled it, suddenly realizing what it was.
The gold coins were heavier than he’d imagined they’d be. He had already spent the money in his mind—on a house in the countryside, beyond the kingdom, on the horse that would get him there. When he was traveling through the Dark Forest, in those hours after he’d met the girl, he’d bought three new axes, a fur-lined winter coat, and cowhide boots. He’d actually counted the flagons he could trade for with just one of these coins (two hundred and thirty-three).
But now that they were right here, in his arms, he didn’t want them anymore. He’d failed her in the worst way of all. Who could care about coins when Snow White was dead? He passed it back to the young man. “Keep your money,” he said, turning to go.
He didn’t get more than a few feet before stopping. Inside the castle walls, he heard the roar of applause. There were shouts and cheers. He looked at the young man for an explanation, but Percy just shrugged. Eric couldn’t see beyond the castle’s stone facade. But he started back in anyway, sensing already that something had changed. He quickened his pace as the cheers rose up around him, even louder than before.
Snow White stood at the top of the stairs, overlooking the castle courtyard. The duke’s men had set up canvas tents in the open air for all the kingdom’s refugees. Families huddled beside fires for warmth; others stood on the twisting soup line, waiting for their breakfast. Muir and Quert sat beside each other. They spoke quietly outside a battered tent, blankets draped over their shoulders.
She’d awoken suddenly, the Huntsman’s voice echoing in the stone chamber. She’d noticed the torches beside the funeral bier. The walls were covered with a thin layer of grime. Little by little, she could smell the mildew in the air. She heard the condensation dripping from the ceiling to the floor. That sound counted out the passing minutes. Within the hour, the feeling in her legs returned.
As she slowly came back to herself, her mind awake inside her still body, she thought only of Ravenna. She’d pressed her lips against Snow White’s ear. “You were the only one who could break the spell and end my life,” she’d said. “You were the only one.” As Snow White breathed again, the warmth returning to her hands, it was so clear. There was only one thing left to do.
She started down the stairs. Quert saw her first. He whispered to Muir, who called to the other dwarves. They came outside the tent, staring up at her, their eyes wide. “It’s a miracle!” Beith shouted across the courtyard. He pointed to her as she came down the last steps.
William and Duke Hammond looked on in awe. Women and children left their tents and huddled at the base of the stairs. William covered his mouth, unable to speak.
“Your Highness …” Duke Hammond said. He covered her hands with his and searched her face. He was so much older than she’d remembered him. His hair had gone completely white. He was bent forward with age. “We thought you …”
William came forward, resting his hand on her shoulder, as if to affirm that she was real. Snow White shook her head. She couldn’t say what had awoken her from her sleep. In those hours, she’d heard nothing and felt nothing. The last thing she remembered was the black birds circling above her head and the glinting blade of the axe, sending them scattering into the sky. All she knew was that she was alive now, here, and there was something she had to do.
“No, my lord,” she said softly.
The people in the courtyard all looked on. Far off, near the back tents, the Huntsman stood, shaking his head in disbelief. He walked toward her until he was close enough that she could see his face. Tears filled his eyes.
Duke Hammond gestured to a wooden chair. “You must rest—”
“I have rested long enough,” she said. She looked out on the thick crowd. A woman was crying, her face in her hands as she told her children how Snow White had been brought back from the dead. “It’s a miracle,” everyone kept whispering. That word hung the air.
Snow White looked into the duke’s gray eyes. His face was covered in wrinkles. “I am ready to ride by your side, my lord,” she said, “when you face the Queen in battle.”
William stared at the dirt. The duke looked down at his hands on hers, his face full of concern. “There will be no battle, Your Highness. The best thing you can do for your people is stay safe behind these walls.”
Snow White looked at the emaciated children behind him. They looked at her with the same sad, desperate eyes she’d seen in the ruined village. “
That is all I thought to do when I escaped. But I have come to learn there is no peace while others suffer.”
The duke squeezed her hands. “The Queen cannot be defeated,” he said loudly. The soldiers around him nodded. “She cannot be killed. There can be no victory.”
Snow White turned to the group of generals behind him, remembering Ravenna’s words. “I can defeat her. I am the only one—she told me so herself.”
She pulled away from Duke Hammond and started into the courtyard to address the hundreds of refugees who’d gathered around them. Soldiers looked on, clutching their helmets in their hands. The dwarves held their hats over their hearts.
“I have been told that I represent you,” Snow White called out, the words coming easily. She felt nothing but peace. Never had she been so certain of anything. “I have been told my place is not to fight but to stay here, safely behind these walls. I will not.” She looked at Muir, who was staring in her direction, his eyes glittering.
“I hold life sacred, even more since I’ve tasted freedom,” Snow White continued. “But I’ve lost my fear of death. If Ravenna comes for me, I will ride to meet her. And if she doesn’t come for me, I will ride to meet her. Alone, if I must.” Snow White turned to the generals standing outside a massive tent. “But if you join me, I will gladly give my life for you. Because this land and its people have lost too much.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. She stood before them, her shoulders back, waiting for their support. Duke Hammond studied her carefully, taking in her pale pink funeral robes and the hair that cascaded down her back. She waited, listening to the sound of the birds crying out in the distance. She wondered if she would have to leave tonight on horseback, alone, and face Ravenna herself. Then, slowly, the duke bowed his head in reverence. William got down on one knee, following his father’s lead. The knights and generals followed.
