Snow

by J. E. Taylor

  Blackie glanced back at me, his gaze transmitting a warning. I heeded, dropping my gaze to the floor.

  “Snow White was the figment of a senile old man,” the troll king said.

  “My father was not senile!” I snapped before I had the good sense to tie my tongue. I straightened, ignoring the flare of ripping pain across the length of my back. “I warn you not to speak ill of the former king.”

  Blackie stared at me with his mouth open and eyes wide with shock.

  The king sent a deadly glare at me. “Witch, I will speak ill of anyone I choose.”

  I pulled on my magic, conjuring the fiery sword I’d fought the dead with. “I have battled against the army of the dead. You don’t scare me.” I held the sword at the ready, tapping into my power to keep my body upright and fierce.

  “Maggie,” Henry said from behind me. When he placed his hand on my shoulder, he winced and withdrew it like I had burned him.

  I ignored Henry and his damned reasonable tone. My blood simmered. I was tired. I was in pain. And I was hungry. Ravenous, as if I hadn’t eaten for days. I was hungrier than I could ever remember being.

  I gripped the sword tighter as my temper escalated.

  “You sit here in this cavern, hiding from the world, when you could be helping us save it from the horrors the queen will ultimately deliver. You say this is none of your concern, but it is, because if you do not help us, the army of the dead will march through here and decimate your lands, leaving no one alive.”

  The troll king sat back, blinking his eyelash-less lids. His dark gaze locked on me. “The army of the dead?” he asked with a frown.

  I lowered the blade and pressed the tip to the floor to steady myself. “Yes. The queen has command over an army of the dead.”

  His hand swiped out and grabbed me. The sword fell to the ground with a clang as he pulled me close to his face, two stories above the ground. “What kind of a fool do you think I am, witch?” he bellowed in my face.

  I recoiled and pushed on his tight fist with my hands, trying to break his grip. Terror washed over me as completely as his sour breath.

  “She was struck by one,” Blackie called from below. “Look at her back!”

  The troll king turned his hand so he could see what was exposed of my back. His eyes widened, and then he opened his fist as if I were diseased.

  I fell through the air, gasping. I reached for my magic to slow my descent, but the fall was faster than the spell. I hit the floor hard.

  Hard enough to rip a yelp from my chest.

  Hard enough to rattle my bones.

  Hard enough to shoot pains through every muscle and I collapsed into a heap.

  The king stood and picked his foot up as if he were going to stomp me out of existence.

  Blackie stepped next to me, raising his sword. “I would not do that if I were you.”

  The king hesitated, his face a grim mask of frustration. He slammed his foot down next to the throne, shaking the ground with the impact. “You would give your life for this infected witch?”

  “Yes.” There was no hesitation in his answer.

  Henry stepped forward and collected me in his arms, then moved us out of the king’s immediate reach. I trembled in his grasp. Every muscle still shook from the collision with the floor.

  “I believe the myth,” Blackie said.

  “I do not.” The king spat his words like a viper spits venom.

  “And yet you dropped her as if you were holding hot iron.” Blackie’s head cocked to the side.

  The king wiped his hand on the side of his pants with a grimace before meeting Blackie’s gaze. “I will let you and the other six dwarves stay in my kingdom, but the human and the witch must leave.”

  Blackie shook his head. “No. That will not fulfill your debt.”

  “My debt owed to you is not enough to keep that witch within these walls.”

  “Whatever you require, I will pay.”

  “You do not have what I would require to allow her to stay here...alive.”

  “What is it you require?” Blackie asked.

  “Her magic.”

  I blinked, staring up at the massive troll. Without my magic, I would have no hope of surviving against the army of the dead, never mind if I had to face the queen.

  Blackie glanced at me and then at the floor. He shifted his weight, and then after one last glance at me, he looked up at the troll king.

  God help us all.

  Blackie nodded. “But not all of it.”

  “But...”

  Blackie raised his hand, stopping me with both the motion and a glare that would silence just about anyone. “Trust,” he said softly and turned back to the king. “And you have to heal her.”

  The troll crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Healing her is not possible. Anyone with eyes can see the poison has already started to eat away at her.” The king waved at me. “By the rise of the next full moon, she will become one of the undead.”

  I gasped, and I glanced at Henry. He was studying the floor, his lips pressed together tight. As if sensing my stare, he looked up at me. The agony of the king’s words seared right through his green-eyed gaze.

  “Is there any way to free her of this curse?” Henry asked.

  The king sneered at him. “According to the myth your dwarf friend believes, she must kill the spell master before the next full moon.”

  “And if she fails?” Henry asked.

  “Then she becomes the master’s minion.”

  Chapter 6

  I paced the small camp we made outside of the Hobgoblin caverns. The king’s words still rang in my ears sending throbs of shock to every nerve ending. Every time I glanced to the night sky, I shivered. According to the troll king, I had less than a week before I became one of those ghastly things.

  “Maggie, sit down,” Henry said and patted the log next to him.

  “You lied to me,” I hissed.

  He ran a hand down his face and closed his eyes. “Blackie got us exactly what we needed without having to sacrifice your magic.”

  “That doesn’t matter. You told me you thought they got all of the poison.”

  Henry opened his mouth and then closed it. His gaze dropped to the ground. He nodded. “What else was I supposed to do?”

  “Tell me the truth. We are together no matter what. Isn’t that what you have always told me? That despite what life has thrown at us, we would survive?”

  He climbed to his feet and crossed to where I stood. “We will survive this.”

  Even though he sounded sure, his eyes betrayed him. Loss lived in his irises. Even with Blackie and the rest of the dwarves still pleading our case for some other solution, I knew just as well as Henry that I was doomed.

  Doomed to play right into Queen Odette’s evil plan and lose everyone I loved.

  He pulled me into his arms and brushed his lips against mine. “Somehow, we will survive.”

  I wished I could believe him, but my heart told me a different story. If I stayed, I would probably be the one who killed my love. I couldn’t stand the thought of Henry’s blood on my hands. But he would never let me leave without him. My only hope was to sneak out while he slept. And there was only one thing that made him sleep sounder than if I used magic.

  With my mind made up, I kissed him with all the urgency pooling in my belly. I wanted him to understand just how much he meant to me. And words didn’t seem powerful enough. As my hands unclasped from around his neck and slid down his muscular chest, the kiss deepened. When I slid my hand around to cup his ass, he pulled away from my lips.

  His eyes searched mine. “You’re injured.”

  I lifted a single shoulder. “Not enough to stop me from making love to you once more before I’m too far gone.”

  He cupped my cheek with his hand. “Maggie,” he whispered with such love that my heart squeezed. His thumb caressed my lips and his eyes shifted from grey to green the way they always did when the mood struck. “Are you s
ure?”

  I smiled and closed the distance, covering his mouth with mine. Our tongues intertwined in a slow dance of need. He pulled me beyond the fire and onto the blankets that littered the floor. Once within our little private enclosure, Henry dropped to his knees and pushed the hem of my nightgown up, ducking underneath the fabric, surprising me with gentle foreplay.

  His ministrations with his fingers and tongue left me breathless. He erased any sense of pain with a longing so deep I nearly moaned. When he pulled away and stretched out on his back, unclasping his trousers, I lowered on top of him.

  His length filled me, and his hands slid up my thighs to rest on my hips. Each slow stroke created an intricate web of pleasure through my body. Languid motion like the slow roll of the ocean captured us. Bliss coursed through my veins in warm pulses.

  I stared into Henry’s eyes, memorizing his captivating gaze and the small smile playing on his lips. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead as we kept the slow pace despite the need bringing me to the brink. I wanted this slow ecstasy to last long enough to sear it to my deepest memories.

  His eyes closed, and he tilted his chin back, the muscles in his jaw and neck tensed. His hands gripped my hips tighter, his fingers digging into my flesh. The wave hit me and I cried out, lifting my gaze towards the heavens. He followed me into our momentary paradise.

  I trembled with my release and with every aftershock until I fell forward, draping myself over Henry. He kissed my cheek.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered in his all-too-husky after-sex voice.

  “Yes,” I pushed myself back onto my knees and uncoupled from him, then shifted so I lay down next to him.

  Henry buttoned his pants and rolled towards me. He took my hand in his and brought it to his lips. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” I yawned. The physical exertion took more than I’d anticipated, and my eyelids slid closed. The soft caress of his thumb on the back of my hand lulled me. When his thumb stopped moving, I forced my eyes open.

  Despite how exhausted I was, I needed to leave when I knew Henry wouldn’t immediately wake. His breathing evened out, and I slid my hand out of his. He shifted, his hands closed into loose fists, and he tucked one under his cheek.

  I studied his sleep-relaxed face and sighed. I clenched my teeth against the sudden sheen of tears that ballooned out of nowhere.

  When his eyes started moving under his closed lids, I knew it was time to sneak out of our little camp. I pressed my lips together, refusing to let any sound of discomfort from moving slip out. Getting up was much more difficult now that my muscles had stiffened.

  I finally got to my feet and took an unsteady step towards his horse. Thankfully, Henry had untied Rio from the cart earlier, and all I had to do was unravel the rope from a tree limb and lead him away from the camp before I mounted his bare back.

  Rio waited patiently for me to climb up on him. It took me a few failing tries out in the open. Then I spotted a fallen tree and led the horse to the space next to the biggest of the limbs. This time I succeeded in mounting the beautiful stallion.

  I clicked my tongue and grabbed two fistfuls of his mane, steering him away from the camp. I glanced over my shoulder and prayed Henry would forgive me when he woke, but I doubted it was that simple.

  Prince Charming would likely become the Prince of Darkness raining hell on anyone who crossed his path when he realized I was gone.

  Chapter 7

  No light penetrated the trees as Rio navigated through the brush. My eyes kept closing, but I refused to succumb to sleep until we had gone far enough that Henry would not be able to catch up on foot. Besides, if I fell off the horse now, I doubted I would ever get back on.

  So, I held on like my life depended upon it, or the lives of my love and my friends to be more precise.

  The wind stripped the heat from my bare back and I shivered. Each pound of Rio’s hooves echoed in my bones, rattling my teeth. I needed to get to the cottage and get some proper clothes before I headed into the heart of the queen’s kingdom.

  Rio ran faster now that he wasn’t saddled with the weight of the cart. I prayed we would make it home before the next sun set. Even then, I wasn’t sure I would last that long.

  By the time the sun lightened the sky, my stomach rumbled, folding in on itself at the pure emptiness. I couldn’t stop to satiate my hunger, especially since I was sure Henry was already awake and panicking at my absence.

  So, we rode.

  Relentlessly.

  I held fast, despite the exhaustion and pain pummeling each muscle. All I could envision was how good my bed would feel once I got home. But that was as much of a fallacy as dreaming about a proper wedding.

  Henry had always told me that as soon as we found a way to beat the queen and claim the kingdom back, we would get married in such a grand, royal wedding that the entire countryside would be talking about it for years. I closed my eyes, envisioning the pearlescent gown I would wear. Henry stood before me in the royal colors of his family, blues and reds so deep they nearly blended together. A gold embroidered lion stood out on the front of his tunic in a proud display of his family crest.

  Heat rippled through me, and I blinked my eyes open. Rio entered an open field, and I could see the enchanted forest in the distance, shimmering like a beacon. The late afternoon sun beat down on my back, and I slowly sat up.

  I’d lost half the day, but at least I had clung to Rio, even as sleep pulled me into its grip. A deep longing cramped my stomach. It was stronger than hunger pangs. It was the agony of having that dream ripped from my future.

  Tears blurred my vision, running hot trails down my cheeks. The swell of sadness mixed with anxiety in my blood, leaving me quivering. I swiped the tears away, focusing on the tree line. The open glen left me exposed.

  “Please don’t let them be here,” I whispered to the wind.

  Midway through the field, a rumbling from the north yanked my attention away from my destination. An entire army galloped towards me. My heart pounded as loud as the hoof beats tracking us.

  I gripped Rio tighter, crying, “Go!”

  The horse either understood my command or the panic in my voice. His burst of speed nearly threw me from his back. I clamped my thighs against his sides, ignoring the burn flushing the inside of my legs as his muscles worked under my grip.

  We crossed the distance and fled through the icy wall of my magic. It had changed since I had gone, leaving me hollow inside instead of giving me a calm sense of peace. I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see the legion following us, but all I saw were the trees and the shimmer of the shield beyond.

  I laid my head against Rio’s neck, wrapping my arms around him as he slowed to a canter. My breath came in ragged gasps that matched the horse’s. It didn’t take us long to reach the cottage. Rio went straight to the drinking trough, and I slid off his back, collapsing on the ground, drained.

  I pulled myself up the side of the wood and dunked my head in the trough. The cold water was like a slap, and I flung my head back, whipping my soaking hair with it. My hair thwapped against my skin like a wet flog.

  The chill went straight to my bones, so I climbed to my feet, heading inside. I could not fight the queen in a flimsy nightgown. I needed something warmer, along with something that wouldn’t expose my injury. If Queen Odette knew I had been struck by one of her dead soldiers, she would likely just wait until I was hers to command.

  I ran my hands over my face and into my wet hair, fighting with the tangles. The smell of apple cider clung to the air. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and every cot was in a state of disarray. Blankets half draped, pillows askew, slippers half tucked under the beds. They didn’t even take the time to pack their most precious belongings.

  Blackie’s whittled wood collection still sat on the shelf next to his bed. Domino’s pipes still sat on the table next to his bed along with his rich tobacco. Simon’s cards remained half shuffled. As I glanced around, a lump form
ed in my throat. They’d dropped everything for me yet again, and what had I done to repay them? I’d left them at the mercy of the trolls.

  I forced myself to move and crossed into our bedroom. Henry’s natural cologne filled the air, and I inhaled, relishing the smell of honey and sawdust just as much as the smell of the cold apple cider.

  I shook my head and crossed to my dresser. One look in the mirror and I cringed. My hair was a mess of wet knots and my body streaked with dirt. My once white nightgown looked like someone had poured mud over it and mixed it with blood. As much as I would have liked a bath to wash the sludge from my skin, I didn’t have time to indulge.

  I pulled my nightgown off and discarded it on the floor. My cream-colored sparring shirt lay on top of the pile of clothing in the second drawer down. I pulled it over my head with a wince and clasped the red leather around my wrists with pins that doubled as picks in case I came across a lock my magic wouldn’t penetrate.

  The matching skirt with red leather trim came next, then I pulled the red leather corset over my shoulders and laced it up the front. The red leather would hide any hint of blood seeping from the cut on my back, although it was a bear to tighten.

  Each yank of the cords pulled a hiss from my mouth and caused a slow spin of dizziness. When I finished, I closed my eyes and leaned on the bureau. I had to count to ten to make sure I wouldn’t pass out. After the initial bout of vertigo, the room stopped spinning and the pain subsided.

  I dragged my brush through the knots, wincing just as much as I had when I’d tied my corset. But at least straightening the tangles didn’t bring waves of dizziness. When I finished, I tied a red ribbon in my hair and stared at my reflection. Besides the dark circles under my eyes and the layer of dirt marring my skin, I didn’t look as bad as I thought I would, but I still looked more battle weary than battle ready.

  I crossed to the far wall where our weapons hung. I stared at my mother’s broadsword, studying the royal designs inscribed in the steel. I still remembered the lessons she gave me whenever my father allowed her to leave the court. She was fierce and brave and just, and my heart still contracted with her loss.