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

by Melanie Cellier

  The answer, of course, was obvious. I should have seen it immediately. And once my mind started down that track, sleep became even more difficult. Eventually I slipped back out of bed and rummaged through my bag until I located a small piece of parchment and pen.

  I wrote furiously for several minutes—with occasional pauses to stare into space. When I finished, I looked at the list I had made and wondered whether to be encouraged or discouraged at its length. But now that I had committed my thoughts to paper, my body was calling me toward sleep. I sighed and shoved the paper back into my bag. There was nothing more I could do tonight at any rate. I would discuss it with Alexander in the morning.

  Chapter 10

  My late night meant I was one of the last to wake the next morning, scrambling out of bed to the smell of cooking breakfast. When I hurried toward the stream for a quick wash, I nearly stumbled, my gaze caught on an unexpected sight.

  Daria and Alexander stood just inside the clearing, clearly in deep conversation. The girl sent me a contemplative look as soon as I appeared, and a flush raced across my face. What was Alexander telling her? I nearly changed direction and veered toward them, but neither gestured me over or called a greeting, so I kept to my original course. I would ask Alexander about it on my way back. Assuming they had finished by then.

  But when I returned from the water, both of them had disappeared. I was the last to the breakfast table, so I refrained from questioning Daria in front of the others. Alexander hadn’t joined us—in fact he hadn’t entered the cottage since that first meal. Had someone already taken him food? Perhaps that had been what Daria was doing.

  “Louis, you’ll be staying back with Jack and Poppy,” said Ben, interrupting my thoughts. “The rest of us will be back at the mine as usual. But we’ll make a late start and take an hour to train before we go.”

  “I can watch the children,” I said quickly. Did they mistrust me at the task since Alexander had shown up on my first day alone?

  Daria shook her head. “Alexander has offered to check our traps for us. You’re to go with him.”

  Ah. Another phase of my training then. And Alexander had already sorted it out with the children. I wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or annoyed at being cut out of the process.

  But after an hour of training—working muscles already sore from the day before—I didn’t have the energy to be either. I tried to hide my exhaustion from Alexander as he led me into the forest, but I could see from the mix of compassion and amusement in his face that I had failed.

  “It will hurt less over time, I promise,” he said.

  I made a face and didn’t reply. Silence stretched between us as we walked, but it was the comfortable silence of old friends, used to each other’s presence.

  It had been a long time since we had spent a day in the forest together that didn’t involve running for our lives. But it used to be a common occurrence. Of course I had been more interested in flower gathering in those days than in trapping or tracking, my only concerns being how to keep up with my long-legged friend and how to convince him to carry my flowers back for me when I gathered too many. He always protested, and then he always obliged in the end.

  Of course, then he tried to get me to reciprocate by helping him carry any small game he managed to catch, but I’m afraid I was always far less amenable. I tried to make up for it whenever we got back, though, by sneaking into the kitchens and making off with sweet buns for us both. The pastry chef had a soft spot for me and always turned a blind eye.

  The memories brought moisture to my eyes. Those had been good days, before my father’s long illness began. Alida had been the only shadow on our lives then. Neither my father nor I had ever said it aloud, but there was a reason we both escaped to the woods whenever we could, preferring the company of huntsmen to the court where we could not avoid my stepmother.

  “How do you know where to find the traps?” I asked at last.

  He glanced at me. “Ben told me the general direction and showed me the markers they use. I’ll find them.”

  So he’d talked to Ben as well as Daria. I bit my lip. “I suppose you’d better tell me how to do it, too. What are you looking for?”

  But he shook his head swiftly. “You’re not here to help me with the traps.”

  “I’m not?”

  “No, you’re here so we could have a chance to talk in private. And so I could give you some more training.”

  “But this would be training. I want to know how to feed myself if I ever end up alone in the forest again.”

  “I know.” He gave a little sigh, a shadow of his earlier guilt crossing his face. “But you don’t need me to do that. These children can teach you how to recognize edible plants and how to set traps.”

  My eyes flew to his face. “You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question.

  He grimaced. “I have to. I take extended hunting trips, sometimes, but there’s a limit to how long I can be gone. I don’t want to arouse any suspicions.”

  A pang shot through me as I tried to calm my suddenly racing heart. I hadn’t forgotten the danger which lurked in the capital even though I had decided to return there myself as soon as I was ready. I hated the thought of Alexander far away from me, facing that danger on his own.

  Because you’d be such a help? I pushed away the unwelcome thought. That’s why I was training, after all.

  I guess I’d hoped he could stay until I was ready. But the more I thought about it, the more obvious it became that such an idea had been foolish. Especially given the piece of parchment currently tucked into my dress.

  I forced myself to straighten, trying to look as if I’d always known this was the plan.

  “How long do you have?”

  “I can stay for training tomorrow morning. But I need to be on my way back well before nightfall.”

  “So soon.” I sighed. “That doesn’t leave me much time. I’ll have to work fast this evening.”

  He shot me a questioning look, and I managed a smile.

  “I’m going to write some notes for you to deliver.”

  His eyebrows raised, so I rushed to add. “Anonymously, of course. I don’t want anyone knowing you’re involved in this.”

  His eyes narrowed, a shadow passing across his face as he regarded me silently. I waited for him to protest, but he didn’t.

  “Notes?” he asked instead.

  “I was thinking about what you said. About being prepared. And I realized you didn’t mean training.”

  “It’s a good idea,” he said, cutting in.

  I smiled at him gratefully but continued. “You mean we need allies. Back in the capital. We need to make sure we have support, and that when the time comes we’ll actually be able to rouse the court.” I pulled out the parchment and handed it to him. “I made a list last night. Of all the nobles who I suspect are sympathetic to my claim.”

  He frowned as he took it from me. “Who are loyal to the crown, you mean. Who respect the law.” Anger rumbled beneath his words.

  I sighed and rubbed a hand across my face. “How can I blame them? When I’m terrified of Alida myself.”

  His eyes suggested he didn’t forgive them so easily, but he made no further protest, instead running his gaze quickly down the list.

  “It’s short, I know.” I twisted my hands together. “Shorter than I’d like, anyway. But I think it might be long enough.”

  I watched him anxiously, trying to read his thoughts on his face. He gave nothing away.

  “Writing notes is a good idea.” He glanced at me quickly for permission before folding the parchment and tucking it away. I didn’t need it, I had the names memorized.

  I worried at my lip as we continued to walk. “There’s one thing I haven’t figured out, though.”

  He glanced at me questioningly.

  “How can they get a reply back to you? I might be wrong about some of them. And if I am, I don’t want them being able to trace the note back to you.”

 
; “Leave that to me.”

  I stopped, reaching out to grab his arm. He halted and swung around to face me, his expression impassive.

  “Alex, you have to promise me you’ll deliver those notes anonymously. That you won’t do anything to let any of them know who you are.”

  He didn’t say anything, so I shook his arm.

  “Promise me or I won’t write them at all.”

  He sighed. “You should have more trust in me, Your Majesty.”

  I narrowed my eyes and raised my chin, and he actually chuckled.

  “You look very regal, Snow.”

  I released his arm and put my hands on my hips. Was he teasing me?

  “You haven’t promised.”

  “Very well, I promise not to reveal myself to any of these people. I will think of a way for them to contact me and include it in a second note enclosed with yours.”

  I eyed him skeptically. “Perhaps I should include the instructions in my own note.”

  He shook his head. “I might need to change the arrangement or use different ones for different nobles. I’ll need to assess the situation once I’m back in the capital.”

  I considered his words before giving a reluctant nod. I didn’t like it, but neither did I want to lock him in to something that might prove to be a dangerous course of action.

  He paused for a brief moment before speaking again. “You know there’s still going to be a danger that one or more of them can’t be trusted?”

  I resumed walking. “I know. I’ll have to meet them in person eventually, too. But this is a start. The rest we can work out once we have a chance to read their replies.” I looked down at the ground. “There’s no path forward from here that doesn’t contain at least some danger.”

  A short, uncharacteristic hitch in Alexander’s stride was his only response. But I didn’t need to look at his face to know that he was aware. And that he didn’t like it. But what could we do? We were only two people against a queen. A usurping queen, perhaps, but currently a queen all the same. We had to start somewhere.

  Neither of us spoke of it any further, and I was soon hard pressed to speak at all. It turned out that while Alexander assisted the children by checking and resetting their traps—making up for the day they lost to training yesterday—he had a series of endurance and strength exercises for me.

  When we stopped in a clearing, he made me dash back and forth between two trees on either side of the small space, not letting me stop until I almost lost the contents of my stomach. When we stopped among trees, he made me climb one of the sturdier looking trunks. He called up soft advice on foot placement and ways to improve my grip, and by the end of the day he was selecting trees with more complicated branch placement.

  When my arms began to shake from exhaustion and strain even when I wasn’t climbing, he had me run again. By the time we returned to the children, I was wishing fervently I had never suggested training in the first place. In truth I might have abandoned the effort half way through the day except that Alexander never gave even the smallest hint he thought I might not be able to follow his instructions. And I wanted to prove him right.

  But that wasn’t the only thing, I realized as I dragged my tired feet back toward the cottage. I also wanted to prove something to myself. To prove that I had strength buried somewhere inside me. That I could be the sort of queen that subjects like my new friends deserved.

  I wasn’t convinced yet, though. Not when I could barely place one foot in front of the other. Not when I needed Alexander’s presence to stop me from sinking into the first patch of fern I found and never moving again.

  Only when we got back to the cottage and I collapsed into a chair, did I remember that I still needed to write all those notes. I put my head down onto my arms and groaned.

  “Tough day?” Ben sounded a little too amused, and I lifted my head to glare at him. He actually chuckled.

  “Poor thing,” said Daria, as if she hadn’t spent the day pounding at solid rock for little reward. “You just sit there, and we’ll have food sorted in just a moment.”

  I opened my mouth to make a weak offer to assist but shut it when I remembered the notes. If she was giving me the reprieve, I needed to take it.

  With murmured thanks, I drew out a clean piece of parchment and positioned myself in the most private corner of the cottage. Several of the children eyed me curiously, but thankfully no one asked outright what I was doing.

  It took several attempts, but I finally had a note that I felt hit the right tone. And thankfully I could merely copy the wording for all the others with only slight adjustments. I soon had several written out neatly and tucked safely away in my bag unsealed. I would seal them last thing in the morning with the royal signet I kept hidden on a chain around my neck. I didn’t know if any of my new housemates would recognize my seal, but I didn’t want to take the risk.

  I barely spoke at dinner, and by the sympathetic glances of the older children, they attributed my silence to exhaustion. But, in truth, it was motivated by guilt. Penning the messages to my potentially loyal nobles had reminded me all too forcibly of the danger that surrounded my existence. Danger that I had brought into the home of these children. Danger that I still hid from them.

  I reminded myself that Alida’s guards had ceased to search the forest for me. At least for now. None of us were in imminent danger, and I would be gone soon enough. But still the guilt lingered.

  The next morning I woke early, slipping out of bed to heat some wax before anyone else awoke. I sealed all of the now-completed notes and hurried outside. Despite the early hour, Alexander already awaited me, seated calmly just inside the trees. He leaped to his feet at my approach and took the missives without comment. A look of understanding and resolve passed between us, and gratitude overwhelmed me. Where would I be without him?

  Dead. The answer came quickly, and I couldn’t help throwing my arms around his neck and resting my cheek against his chest. He froze beneath my touch, making no move to embrace me back.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. “For everything. I don’t deserve a friend like you.”

  His body relaxed slightly, and one hand came up to pat my back. “Of course you do, Snow. Despite everything, you care about people. Unlike your stepmother. You want to do the right thing—to make a difference. You are your father’s daughter, and he was a good and kind king.”

  The mention of my father made the breath hitch in my throat as I swallowed back tears. What would my father think if he could see me now?

  Alexander’s hand stilled, and then he grabbed my shoulders, pushing me away from him and gazing down into my face.

  “He would be proud of you, Snow.” Could he read my mind? “You’re doing the right thing.” He hesitated. “I’m proud of you.”

  Warmth crept up my neck and across my cheeks, and I looked away. I instantly resolved to train just as hard in his absence as I had done under his watchful eye. I knew he would return as soon as he could, and I wanted him to be proud of my progress.

  Neither of us said any more until we all began morning training. Alexander stayed long enough to oversee our efforts, instructing us on where our technique had gone wrong, and to give us each a chance to practice against him. I still couldn’t break any of his holds, but his smile was warm after my attempts.

  “Keep up those strength and endurance exercises, and you’ll be escaping from me no problem when I return,” he promised.

  I smiled back, my mind clinging to the assured way he spoke of his return. Alexander was smart and capable. He could navigate the capital and return safely. I had to believe that. I had to.

  He farewelled the children without emotion, and I walked with him a short way down the stream.

  “They’ve agreed to train you on foraging and trapping,” he said into my silence. “And some basic tracking.” He shook his head. “And none of them asked me any questions about who we are. It’s remarkable really.”

  I nodded. “They are remarkable.
And I would have died already without them. I’m sure of it.”

  A hiss of indrawn breath beside me made me wince. I hadn’t meant the words as an accusation. “And without you, of course. I don’t know why I have so many people looking out for me.”

  Alexander shook his head. “Only you would see your horrible situation in such a light. You are the true queen, remember, so really there are far too few people looking out for you. But the High King and his godmothers are on your side, at least, so maybe it isn’t such a surprise that your steps would be guided in the right direction, after all.”

  I tried to smile, but I knew the attempt was weak. The godmothers might have returned to some of the other kingdoms, but we’d seen no sign of them in Eliam. And weren’t they known for favoring those who were deserving rather than those with a blood right to rule? Perhaps they had avoided our kingdom so far because they saw no one who fit that description.

  “You should get back,” he said, startling me from my uncomfortable thoughts. His eyes twinkled down at me. “Your training awaits.”

  I grimaced and gave him a playful shrug. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

  His expression turned serious. “You can do this, Snow. I just wish I’d thought to suggest something like this earlier.”

  I shook my head. Only Alexander could consider that to be somehow his fault.

  “I’m the one who should have asked. I’m the princess, remember?” I threw our usual joke back at him, reminding him where the responsibility—and, therefore, fault—lay.

  An expression crossed his face that I couldn’t read. “You were the princess, you mean. Now you’re a queen.”

  “Not yet I’m not, whatever you insist on calling me.” I tried to stand tall and look confident. “But I will be. And you’ll be my Chief Adviser.”

  He looked like he wanted to laugh, so I grinned at him.

  “Or Head Huntsman, or…any position you want. You can take your pick.”

  “And if I want to be a duke?” The laugh sounded in his voice as well as his eyes.

  “Done!” I said instantly. “Just pick which one you want me to behead. Or strip of his title, or whatever.”