Snow: An Enchanted Story

by Deborah M. Brown

  Besides, her father had grander plans for his Snow White. A betrothal with a prince from the north. The papers were signed on her sixteenth birthday. They would wed when she was eighteen. There had also been an exchange of portraits. Like all northern men, he was dark, with a wide smiling mouth and laughing black eyes.

  “He looks charming,” Anais had said in a bored voice.

  Snow White had tucked the miniature away in a chest.

  On the night of her birthday, her father had given her a gift. Seven dwarves from the mountains of the east. They had black hair and even blacker eyes. Their skin was the warm gold of sun-ripened barley. The tallest of them was almost of a height with her. He met her eyes and looked away, but not before she had seen the resentment burning there. The top of the youngest one’s head came up to her chin. His eyes were sad and gentle.

  “They will protect you from all harm,” her father said. “They are bound to you and you alone.”

  Another burning look from the tallest dwarf.

  Snow White thanked her father and led her new attendants back to her apartments.

  The eldest was called Ander. The tall one with the burning eyes was Gault. Kaffion and Meris were twin brothers, impossible to tell apart. The quiet, scholarly one was Shyla. Hiram liked to joke. The youngest was Kaliko. They became her shadows, her protectors. But try as she might, she could not overcome the fact that they were her possessions. Nor could she make them her friends, much as she longed to. For friends were something she sadly lacked. Something she needed.

  Snow White had no doubt that her stepmother had lain with the king’s huntsman. There was hunger in Anais’s eyes whenever she looked at Rui Alvarez that even Snow White could recognise despite her lack of knowledge of the concourse between a man and a woman. She wondered that her father did not recognise it too, but it seemed that his indifference to his wife blinded him to any indiscretions. What made Snow White uncertain and sent her restless to her bed was the knowledge that Rui Alvarez directed that same hungry look at her sometimes when he thought Anais wasn’t watching.

  But her stepmother had noticed. And Anais was afraid. Especially after Snow White and Kaliko had come across the queen and the huntsman in the servants’ passageway. Anais’s skirts were hiked about her hips. Rui thrust against her, his breathing ragged. Anais caught sight of her stepdaughter, and all colour fled from her face.

  “Stop,” she had cried.

  Rui turned his head and stared at them. His eyes were so blue. Snow White could see her image frozen in their lambent depths. Kaliko’s hand had tightened around hers. A slow wicked smile curled Rui’s full lips.

  “Let her watch.”

  And so, she had. Watched the hard powerful thrust of his body into Anais’s. At the end, just before he threw back his head and gasped out a strangled cry, he looked at her again.

  Kaliko tugged on her hand, and she let him lead her away.

  From then on she felt her stepmother’s dislike coalesce into something deeper and colder. Something implacable.

  Then her father died.

  Snow White grieved in private. She would reveal no hint of weakness to the court or to her stepmother. She knew Anais wished her harm. In a short while she would be eighteen. Old enough to wed and thus to rule in her own right. If she could survive until then. She needed to learn. Of power. Of men and women. To use her power as a woman over men.

  She needed to learn from someone she could trust. Over the years since her father first gave Snow White her seven dwarves, she had grown close to the youngest one, Kaliko. She looked upon him as her dearest friend and there was ease in her dealings with the brothers Meris and Kaffion. With Shyla and Hiram. Even Ander, the eldest, had become less restrained in her company. Only Gault, with his dark, angry eyes and the resentment he wore like a cloak, a cloak he never discarded in her presence, could not be won over.

  She decided to broach the subject at supper that night. As usual, one of the dwarves had tasted every dish set before her. Tonight it was Hiram’s turn. When the dessert of iced plums was placed before him, he took a spoonful and pulled a face. Then he took another spoonful. And another, shaking his head.

  “There is something wrong with this dish.”

  “Poison?” asked Snow White with a smile. They had played this game before. Hiram loved iced plums.

  “Hmmm. I can’t quite put my finger on it.” He took another mouthful.

  “If you can’t be certain that it is safe…” She let her voice trail off suggestively.

  Hiram nodded. “I should taste a little more, Your Highness. Just to be sure.” By now, half the dish was gone.

  “Indeed. I should wish to be entirely sure before I ate any of it.”

  “Exactly so,” said Hiram with a grave nod as he scooped up another plum.

  “In fact, I believe I have lost my taste for iced plums tonight.”

  “Mmmm,” mumbled Hiram around a mouthful. He swallowed, chased the last plum around the plate and popped it into his mouth. He licked his lips.

  Snow White laughed, and he grinned back at her.

  “If it had been poisoned, you’d be dead now,” said Gault coldly.

  Fear scraped its way down Snow White’s spine. Would her enemies resort to poison? Would Anais?

  Hiram raised an eyebrow. “I’m more likely to die of shock if I ever see you smile, Gault, than I am from a dish of iced plums. Does he ever smile?” This was directed at Ander.

  “Oh yes,” Ander replied softly. A muscle jerked in Gault’s jaw. Snow White had learned that the taciturn Gault and the grave self-restrained Ander were lovers when she accidentally caught them kissing one day. Embarrassed, she had tried to back away without them noticing, but Gault had raised his head and caught sight of her, angry colour flooding his face as he pushed Ander away. Without a word, Gault had strode from the room, leaving Ander to face her, his expression one of uncertainty.

  Under Snow White’s gentle questioning, he had revealed that Gault had been his lover of many years, since they were little more than boys.

  “We had no wish to anger you, Your Highness. If it displeases you…”

  Snow White shook her head. “You love him,” she said, hearing the wistful note in her voice. Ander had closed his eyes, swallowing hard.

  “More than my life,” he said fiercely.

  Tears prickled at the back of her throat at the intensity of his words. Had anyone ever loved her except her father? Would anyone ever speak of her as Ander spoke of Gault, with the sun and the stars in his voice?

  From that day, she and Ander had grown closer. If anything, she and Gault grew further apart, try as she might to make him see that she was not an enemy.

  Now, after the servants had cleared away the supper dishes, she gathered her courage and spoke to her dwarves.

  “From now on,” she said, “I have no wish for any of you to sample my dishes before I do. If anyone is to be poisoned, let it be me.”

  “Is this because I ate all the iced plums?”

  Snow White smiled at Hiram, shaking her head. “No. It’s because I want…I want you to do things for me because you want to, not because you have to. Whatever my father intended that you should be to me, well, I want more than that.”

  “Your father bought us from the slave market at Veshy, Your Highness,” said Kaffion carefully. “I think it is clear what his intentions were.”

  “We do not keep slaves here in the south,” Snow White said, her voice shaking slightly. Gault gave a hiss of derision as he wrenched his sleeve up to reveal an intricate tattoo woven about his wrist.

  “Do you know what this is?” he asked harshly. “It’s a slave braid, Your Highness. It’s not just ink, but blood and pain that mark us as yours. We have no choice. We never had a choice.”

  “But I don’t want…there must be a way to free you?” She looked hopefully at Ander.

  Ander rolled back his sleeve and fingered the slave braid tattooed around his wrist. “The spells woven into this c
annot, to my knowledge, be broken, Princess. We are yours to do with as you will. And we will lay down our lives for you.”

  “But I don’t want that! I don’t want slaves.”

  Gault jerked as though she had slapped him. “What do you want?” he asked, his husky voice laced with bitterness.

  “Friends,” whispered Snow White.

  Gault surged to his feet and, ignoring Ander’s outstretched arm, strode from the room. “We are not your friends, Princess,” he hissed over his shoulder as he flung the door open hard enough to rattle the windows.

  In the sudden silence, Snow White looked around at the other six dwarves. Kaffion and Meris met her eyes briefly before glancing away. Shyla wouldn’t lift his head, and Hiram stared resolutely at a spot on the wall. Kaliko’s eyes swam with tears, but when he sensed Snow White’s gaze upon him, he lifted a hand and swiped them away.

  In Ander’s eyes she thought she saw grief. And pain. But the dwarf’s eyes were so dark, darker than a midwinter sky, she wasn’t certain of anything she saw there. He bowed his head.

  “Forgive him, Princess. If there is to be punishment for his transgression in speaking to you thus, then let it fall upon me.” He has been punished enough. The words were unspoken, but Snow White could hear them beneath Ander’s strained whisper.

  “There will be no punishment. Not for speaking what is in your hearts.”

  Kaliko’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Ander.

  Snow White reached forward and gently rolled Ander’s sleeve back down, concealing the slave braid from view once more. “I know you don’t trust me and I’m not sure how to make you believe what I say.” She let her gaze travel around the circle of dwarves once more, and this time all of them met her eyes. “Perhaps it is too soon for you to feel that we could be friends, but here, with me, you will not be slaves. You will be men.” She rose to her feet, and the dwarves scrambled to theirs. With Gault gone, only Kaffion could look her in the eye without tilting his head. For the most part they looked wary, but Kaliko’s face wore a burgeoning joy that made Snow White want to smile back in return.

  She was not used to smiling.

  There were shadows in Ander’s eyes. She could see them clearly now. He vibrated with tension like a bowstring too tightly drawn. “Go after him.”

  Ander bowed his head. “Princess,” he whispered. Snow White watched as he hurried from the room. He moved like all of the dwarves, with a lithe, graceful stride.

  “You won’t change Gault’s mind,” said Hiram. There was a hint of challenge in his voice as though he tested the limits of her declaration.

  “Then I shall have to settle for changing yours, Master Hiram,” said Snow White serenely. “Come. Tell me more of your homeland. Tell me about yourselves. Tell me everything. Teach me.”

  Kaffion and Meris exchanged a look and a grin. Shyla groaned.

  “You don’t know what you are getting into, Princess. Once you get those two started, there’s no stopping them.”

  Meris draped an arm around Shyla’s neck. “Knowledge is power, my friend.”

  “Give me knowledge,” said Snow White. Give me power…

  Kaffion bowed deeply. “It will be our privilege, my Princess.”

  Snow White learned, drinking every drop of knowledge that the dwarves shared with her. While Anais and her lover ruled the court, she kept her knowledge to herself and continued to show the world her blank face of ice. Her eighteenth birthday approached, and with it came several letters from her betrothed, the northern prince. Prince Charming. She tasted his name on her tongue. His letters were everything that a young woman could desire, full of ardour and passion. But she knew him not. Would he be an ally? Or another enemy?

  She sent to the witches of the east, seeking an answer to another question. When finally an answer came, she called her seven dwarves to her, her heart beating fast with nervous excitement.

  Snow White studied their faces as Ander read the letter aloud.

  “There is a way to break the spell,” she said. “To free you all from the slave braids you bear. Will you let me try?”

  Gault’s mouth curled with derision. “Hedge witches,” he said dismissively. “They know nothing.”

  “This letter comes from the head of the guild in Pompano,” Snow White replied. “If anyone would have knowledge of how to break this spell, then surely it is she? At least give me a chance.”

  It was Kaliko who stepped forward, his face resolute. “I will give you the chance, my Princess. Let it be me who goes first.”

  He pushed back his sleeve, baring his wrist. Snow White swallowed as she picked up the small dagger that was lying on the table before her and scored it across her palm. Blood welled in the cut, dark and red. Taking a deep breath, she held her hand above Kaliko’s slave braid and let a single drop of blood fall upon his arm. Where the blood touched the braid, smoke rose, along with a faint hiss. Kaliko gasped, his arm shaking. The smoke thickened a moment before dissipating completely. The braid about Kaliko’s wrist was broken. Where the blood had touched it, the ink was completely obliterated. He stared at it blankly before lifting his head to stare at Snow White with dazed eyes.

  “It’s gone,” he whispered. A sudden joyous smile crossed his face. Rising to his tiptoes, he placed his lips against hers and kissed her. Soft and slow. The sweetness of that kiss took her breath away for a moment, and when he drew back they stared at each other uncertainly. “I did that because I want to,” he said. “Not because I have to.”

  He stood aside as the others came forward, each baring their braids so that Snow White could let a drop of her blood fall upon them. Gault was the last, trembling like a leaf in a winter wind. His arm shook so much that Ander had to hold it still. At the end, to Snow White’s shocked dismay, it was Gault who wept. He fell to his knees, cradling his arm against his chest, his head bent whilst sobs tore through his body.

  Ander knelt beside him, taking him in his arms and rocking him like a small child, murmuring soft words against his hair.

  “You are free now,” Snow White said, fighting back her own tears. “You may leave, if that is what you wish.”

  Kaliko shook his head, taking her hand in his and bowing over it. “Never,” he said fervently. “You are our princess, and we will stay with you. Because we want to.” One by one the others murmured their assent, faces shining. Even stubborn, bitter Gault, his face pale and stained with tears.

  The lessons continued. Art and poetry with Shyla. Music with Hiram. The twins Kaffion and Meris shared their love of geography and language with her. From Ander she learned of court intrigue and the treachery of men and women. As the youngest, Kaliko shared her lessons as he also shared his shy smile and gentle heart.

  Gault taught her how to kill a man, a lesson she hoped she would never have to put to use. Gault’s sneer told her that he thought her hope to be a vain one.

  Time raced towards her eighteenth birthday. The latest letter from her betrothed informed her that he would arrive at court the following month and expressed his regrets at not being able to attend her natal ball.

  Kaliko had scowled when she read the letter out loud to them all and refused all attempts by Snow White to coax him from his black humour.

  The night of her ball, Snow White sat upon her throne and watched as the nobles of the court vacillated between the queen and herself, wondering which way the wind would blow. Wondering if she would be strong enough to oust her stepmother from her seat of power and rule for herself. Wavering betwixt the known and the unknown. Snow White, as usual, showed Anais only the deepest respect. Her stepmother masked her feelings well, except for when the huntsman Rui Alvarez led Snow White into a dance. Snow White saw her stepmother’s mouth draw thin, her hand tighten around the silver goblet in her hand.

  Snow White and the huntsman did not speak. He watched her, his clear blue eyes never leaving her face, a little half smile curling his lush, sensual mouth. He was beautiful, yet something about him made her skin crawl, e
ven as her body shivered with awareness beneath the light touch of his fingers at her waist. Only at the very end of the dance did he pull her close against his body. Just the briefest touch, but enough for her to feel the hard length of his erection pressed against her stomach before he released her. She saw him lift his eyes to the dais where Anais sat watching, and his expression made Snow White shiver, but whether from fear or wanting, she could not tell.

  He led her back to her seat and bowed over her hand. Snow White thanked him with a cool nod, hiding the uncertain thudding of her heart. She could feel Kaliko’s eyes burning into the back of her neck. She could feel the huntsman’s gaze caressing her through her heavy silken gown. She could smell the wildness in him, and the danger. He had power over her because he knew things that she did not. Things her stepmother and most other women in the court knew. She followed Anais’s eyes as they feasted on Rui. Saw the hunger in them. A hunger laced with fear. If she was to have a hope of controlling him, then she needed knowledge, and thus she turned to the only ones she could ask. The only ones she trusted in this cesspit.

  “Teach me how a woman pleasures a man.”

  She and her dwarves were sitting at the table in her private apartment eating supper. Kaffion spat out the mouthful of wine he had swallowed, coughing. Eyes watering, he turned to Ander, who put down his own goblet.

  “Princess?” he asked carefully.

  “I need to know,” she said. “I am going weaponless into this battle.”

  “You are scarcely without weapons, my princess,” said Shyla wryly. “You have only to look to see how they watch you.”

  “With the eye in their cock, not the eyes in their heads,” sniggered Hiram.

  Gault fixed a dark glare upon Hiram, who flushed, ducking his head.

  “Your pardon, Princess,” he mumbled.

  “Will you teach me?” she demanded again.

  “Why?” said Kaliko roughly. “So you can fuck him? The queen’s huntsman?” His eyes looked very dark in his pale face.