by D. L. Boyles
Philip leaned back in defeat, blinking up at the Wand Star where Snow had been gazing only moments before. It was disappointing to learn that she was a thief. It was the truth and he wished it weren’t. Though, he had found her in the castle, so he should have guessed that she was trying to steal something there as well. What other reason could she have for sneaking around the castle in Wessix? But the dwarfs? They were a hard-working, honest species. He’d never known them to be thieves or to associate with any. Primarily mountain dwellers, they generally kept to themselves and their communities were well-guarded. It was rare for them to mingle with humans; just as it was rare for the fae and humans to do so.
“Why do you help her?” he wondered aloud.
“She’s our family.”
“Family? She’s part dwarf?”
The grumpy dwarf bopped him on the head, causing him to wince. “You are a fool. Does she look like a dwarf to you?” He did not wait for Philip’s reply. “No. But she has been our family for a long time.”
“She said you found her in the snow.”
The friendlier dwarf sucked in a sharp breath. “She told you that?” Philip nodded. “Well, there’s no harm in confirming it then. She was young, alone, cold, hungry.” He paused a moment, a smile spreading across his face at the memory. “While she may have been cold and hungry, she was an impressive sight. Had managed to catch herself two winter hares and made them into shoes, but the rest of her was shivering and scraped all up. Her knees and fingers were bloodied from climbing the mountain. Said she was trying to find her family but didn’t know exactly how to get to them. And she’s been trying ever since.”
That sounded like the girl he’d met eighteen years ago. Brave, courageous, and determined. What had happened in her life since then that caused her to turn to thievery? Or was it because he’d been sent to hunt her that she had turned to such a lifestyle? Was it his fault, as so many other tragedies seemed to be?
Was that why she needed the Crown of Roses? To sell it and retrieve her family? Was her family being held captive by Isadora? Or were they maybe slaves in Malesia? There were so many questions whirling around in his head but none of them had answers that made an ounce of sense; none explained his current predicament or her current mission.
It didn’t matter. She was a thief. That was a truth and she did not even try to lie about it. There were other ways to earn money that did not involve stealing. It had been eighteen years. That would have been more than enough time to find herself an honest job and save money for her family’s release, surely.
“Hi-ho!” a voice sang out.
“Hi-ho!” the grumpy dwarf echoed. He turned a wicked grin at Philip. “Time to go, Your Highness.” Another rag was stuffed in his mouth and this time, he recognized the lavender shade long before the rag reached him and his vision blurred and his head swirled.
“Why do you keep poisoning me?” he asked, or tried to ask. His words were muffled and slurred so badly he guessed no one knew what he was saying at all.
“Eh, fae cannot be poisoned so easily,” the grumpy dwarf grinned. “Just a little something to keep you…comfortable.”
∞∞∞
A strange smell filled his nostrils that made him cough then sneeze violently. “Oh, thank the wind and darkness.” a feminine voice sighed. “Doc, you can’t let Bear use so much next time.”
“I won’t help you,” he murmured, “so you can stop drugging me and dragging me along on your half-brained adventure to steal from Prince Malecinth.”
“That’s fine,” Snow told him, a mocking smile on her face. “If you won’t be a willing participant, you will do just fine as an unwilling one.”
He grumbled, blinking and trying to focus his eyes. Everything was blurry. “Really? And how do you expect that to be helpful?”
“I will take your advice, Prince Philip, and I will ransom you. Your life for the rose crown. I’m certain that the King of the Animal Court will be more than pleased to save the Prince of the Summer Court and have Queen Milagros eternally grateful for returning her son alive.”
“You’re insane, you know that, right?” He tried to sit up but realized immediately that his wrists were tied to his ankles before he was very ungracefully slung across the back of a…mountain ox. Opening his mouth to protest further as he tried to shimmy himself upward in order to look around, he wound up with a mouthful of mountain ox hair. He spit it out, listening to the wild laughter of his captors. Everyone except Snow, that is.
“There are huge creatures up that mountain, Snow. Your buddies here are well aware that there are certain…dangers up there that will not care in the least that you have me along.”
Much to his dismay and despite the many reasons he listed for not venturing into the mountains and the litany of reasons he needed to stop, they trekked up into the Candes Mountains, not stopping, murmuring to one another in dwarvish. Several times Philip was certain he saw shadows of creatures lurking just out of view, but thankfully, nothing impeded their journey. They finally stopped when darkness prevented them from proceeding. He mocked them and called them fools for not stopping sooner to set up camp but was unpleasantly, or maybe somewhat pleasantly surprised to find that they’d stopped at a dwarf trading post of some sort.
Inside, he discovered the cavernous place was occupied by at least a half dozen dwarfs and one extremely plump, matronly tree fairy. She smiled a toothy grin and slapped his backside, eliciting a riot of laughter from all of the men…dwarfs. Snow simply shook her head, glancing at him with an unspoken apology.
He was dragged behind Bear, who made Philip his personal shadow for the better part of an hour, having to attend to his private needs under the man’s scrutiny and sarcastic, degrading commentary on the finer qualities of manhood. Philip bit back his own remarks regarding observations about little men and their little appendages.
If that wasn’t humiliation enough, he had to endure an uncomfortable groping session between the dwarf and the tree fairy. The fairy, whose name he discovered was Tilde, had no scruples whatsoever in sharing her ministrations with any of the dwarfs present; of which, there were at least a dozen or more newly arrived, creating tight spaces and boisterous laughter. It came as a great relief to him when Bear deposited him at a short table, albeit in a chair not meant for someone with Philip’s height, across from Snow. He’d barely had a moment to settle into his place, however, before Bear and Coy plopped down beside him and immediately began shouting lewd things to Tilde, who laughed raucously—all of which made Snow blush. Philip wanted to box their ears and curse the foul-mouthed fools for talking in such a way near Snow, but he doubted she would appreciate his defending her honor. Besides, why should he care? She was a thief, and he was her prisoner.
The use of the common tongue must have been for Philip’s benefit because once the dwarfs had gotten into their cups, they began speaking dwarvish. Surprisingly, Snow was well-versed in the language and chastised them several times. What she said, he had no clue, but the impish grins and sulking looks the men all gave her indicated at least some meaning to her words.
“I didn’t think dwarfs allowed non-dwarfs to speak their language?”
Coy flashed him a goofy grin and Bear jabbed an elbow into his side. “Mind yer business, Prince,” Bear slurred.
Snow responded with a quiet comment that made Bear growl, and he glared in Philip’s direction for a moment before redirecting his attention to the lively story one of the newly arrived dwarfs was in progress of telling.
“You’re not really a dwarf, are you?” he teased Snow, leaning across the table with a smile.
Her only response to him was an eye roll, something which he saw from the corner of his eye was repeated much more exaggeratedly by Bear.
“Good night, Prince Philip.” Snow stood, gave him a soft smile then slipped away into the shadowy depths of the cavernous trading post. It had low, narrow hallways that twisted and turned, traversing deeper and deeper into the mountain itself. Phili
p wondered if this were part of a mining system but dared not ask. Dwarves were a tight-knit species who did not relish their secrets getting out.
Once Snow left, he felt a twinge of sadness at her absence, but he knew she hadn’t gone so far because he could still distinguish her scent amongst all of the ale and sweat, the rum and the crackling fire in the hearth, and the scent of mountain ox, which seemed to linger on Philip’s person even now.
After another round of drinks and food, Philip was escorted by Sunny, Doc, Bear, and Grog to a room where they all piled on the bed around him for the night. The four of them seemed to sleep easily, while Philip struggled to find any comfort. Sunny, the easy-going of the bunch, smiled in his sleep, and Philip wondered how Doc managed to keep his spectacles on his face as he tossed and turned. Bear, the curmudgeon that he was, somehow managed to frown even as he slept. He was the exact opposite of Sunny in every way. Grog, who normally wore a dopey look at all hours of the day, snoozed with a furrowed brow, open-mouthed as he exhaled the stench of stale beer and cheese into the tiny room. They slept in a tumbled mass of arms and legs, stinky feet in holey socks, filthy beards, foul breath, and body odor. Beneath them, the mattress was nothing more than clumps of straw stuffed inside an oversized, threadbare sack. There was absolutely nothing comfortable about it in any way.
Thankfully, they were terrible keepers and they continued to snore and snooze undisturbed when he dislodged himself from beneath their various body parts and slipped out of the room. In the dining room, only a small fire burned low in the hearth and the sound of sleeping men echoed all around him. His wrists were still bound and he had not been given warm clothes, nor were any lying about for him to commandeer, so trying to escape would be foolish— more so than getting caught.
Simply being able to have time to himself was escape enough for this night, so he shimmied onto one of the small benches and leaned across the table in an effort to sleep. He sat there sprawled out, shivering and half-asleep for what seemed hours before he felt a heavy warmth upon his back followed by a slight tug at his bindings. Blinking his heavy lids open, he caught sight of Snow as she stoked the fire slightly then curled up in front of it on the braided rug.
There was a warm blanket slumped over his shoulders; it was filled with her scent and body heat. Most surprising, however, was that she’d cut the binding around his wrists. He opened his mouth to thank her but decided against it, opting to observe her instead. She didn’t know he was awake judging by her easy demeanor as she unraveled her hair and ran her fingers through it. Philip’s own fingers tingled with a desire to follow her movements, to allow his to roam as freely as hers. An orange tabby cat trotted happily up to her and she bent down to properly greet it. Even from where he sat, silently watching her, he could hear the rumble of its purring.
“Hello, Tom,” she whispered. The cat meowed and Snow smiled. “Thank you. I am glad to see you as well.” She leaned in closer to the cat’s ear as she scratched his chin. “I dropped a piece of fat for you by the door.” As though the animal understood exactly what she’d said, it licked her hand then immediately went to the door and found the piece of fat. She let out a whisper of a laugh when the cat meowed, rolled over, and yawned. “Good-night, Tom.” He sat there transfixed as she stretched out before the fire. Philip was once again in awe of the girl who was now a woman. Thief or not, she stirred something in him that he thought would never be possible and he wasn’t exactly sure whether he should embrace it or fight it.
Slowly, he stood, careful to approach her quietly. A twitch at the corner of her mouth told him that she knew he was there. For a human, she was unusually alert.
Sitting down beside her, he slipped the blanket from his shoulders and spread it out across her body. His heart beat awkwardly in his chest as she stared up at him. “You should not have to be cold because of me,” he told her.
Snow sat up, crossed her legs, and draped the blanket so that it covered both of them. The action surprised him but not nearly as much as it did when her shoulder pressed against his. There was a spark ignited in him as soon as her body touched him; one that made his heart flutter unfamiliarly in his chest and caused his stomach to clench. He swallowed hard, risking a glance in her direction.
For a few heartbeats, he could do nothing but stare at her before he was able to find his voice. “Snow. Do you really think Prince Malecinth will trade the Crown of Roses for me?”
“Worried he won’t?”
Honestly? Yes. He was. “What will you do if he doesn’t?” he asked.
Snow drew in a deep breath and blew it out the corner of her mouth causing part of her hair to flair away from her face. “I will have to steal it from the Animal Court.”
“That’s no plan,” he whispered loudly, not wanting to wake anyone.
“No,” she agreed, “it is not. Desperate times call for desperate measures, Prince Philip.”
They remained quiet after that, both watching the fire as it reignited itself and blared heat in their direction. He was enjoying this time alone with her. Stretching his arm slightly behind Snow, he shifted his weight so that he was leaning against her back. She must have showered because her hair was damp and smelled of earthy minerals. The dwarfs were not well-known for their personal hygiene, so he wondered where she had found a place to bathe. Snow arched her back in order to pull away from him, a disappointment to be sure. Secretly, he rejoiced because when she moved, her hair brushed across the top of his hand. Gently, he turned his hand over and let the raven-black locks brush against his palm. Once again, his fingers ached to run through the thickness of it, but he settled for the gentle brush against his flesh and the nearness of her.
“Are you playing with my hair?!”
Philip started at her comment, noting suddenly that she’d turned to face him. Caught. He’d been caught staring at her hair that was touching his hand. Was that playing with her hair? Not really. He straightened so that he was back to sitting beside her and not leaning behind her. “It touched my hand.” It was a pathetic-sounding denial and they both knew it.
Snow narrowed her eyes at him but leaned towards him, and despite the murderous look on her face, Philip’s heart raced with anticipation. “You were.”
She was right but he was not about to admit it. “I think you want me to play with your hair.”
“I think I want to get some sleep.”
He grinned and leaned in, too. “Is that your way of inviting me to your room?”
“Ha!”
Their faces were extremely close now. He only had to angle his face just slightly and he’d be able to kiss her. His entire being began to throb with the desire to press his lips to hers. Her eyes sparkled in the firelight, their icy blue depths resembling more of a warm sky at the moment. “I notice you avoided answering.”
“You’re not the only who can twist their words, Prince Philip, and avoid answering questions.”
The way she said his name made him wince. He wanted her to call him Philip, not Prince Philip, and not in that mocking tone she’d just used. He turned his body towards her, placing a hand alongside her hip. Hmm…she’d turned herself towards him, too, putting them much closer than planned. She didn’t flinch or pull away, which made his heart race. Testing the waters, he pushed himself forward, bringing him within an inch of her. Oh, stars above, help him. He’d meant to test her resolve, not his own. Snow’s eyes widened at the closeness.
“What are you doing?” she asked in a breathy whisper.
“I’m not sure,” he confessed.
“Then,” she whispered, her eyes drifting from his down to his lips, “maybe you should not be doing it.”
Yet, she did not pull away and neither did he. His senses were filled by her presence: the smell of her, the heat she radiated, the sound of her breathing. What was he thinking? Thief! the voice in the back of his head screamed. Kidnapper!
With a heavy heart, he pulled back. “You’re right. I barely know you, after all, and what I do, is ho
nestly terrifying.”
“Terrifying?” she asked, a hint of humor in her voice. “Is that what you’re feeling now? Terror?” Her eyes met his, the boldness of her increasing the temperature in the room.
Truthfully? “Yes.” She terrified him wholly. The way he felt when he was around her frightened him. Even more terrifying was the way he lost all sense of himself because of her.
Snow turned towards the fire. “You should get some sleep, Prince Philip.”
He ignored her. “Why do you want the crown? Surely there are other ways to make money.”
“It isn’t about money. I don’t have a need for money.” She glanced back at him with a wave of her hand to encompass their surroundings. “I have a warm roof over my head, food for my belly, and people who care about me. That cannot be bought with money.”
“Then, why do you want the crown?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
She was infuriating. One minute he was thinking about kissing her and the next he wanted to shake some sense into her. He imagined it wouldn’t be much longer before he was dodging her fist or her blade. He wished she’d just explain this persistence in obtaining the Crown of Roses. Maybe he would be able to help her in earnest. Is that what he wanted to do? Help her? Cursed be the moon, but he did. Stars above, he was losing his mind.
That fact was further punctuated when he reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. Snow sucked in a breath and pulled away from him sharply. “Maybe you could explain it so that I could understand,” he said.
In a flash, she had the front of his shirt gripped in her fist and that Malesian dagger of hers pointed at his throat. “I do not have to explain anything to you. You are a spoiled prince, the heir to the Summer Court and The Hunter who tried killing me once. I do not trust you with such information.”
