“I’m sure he loved you,” he said at last. “Although I wasn’t around to witness it for myself. He certainly seems to have trained you well for the role you will have to bear, so I cannot fault him there.” He hesitated. “And who am I to rule on who is or is not a good man?”
I stood to my feet, pushing my chair back so quickly it nearly toppled. “He was a good man. And a good king.”
“In many ways he was a good king. He was fair to his people and just in his dealings. His policies were—by and large—good ones, and he made no unnecessary taxation demands.”
“But…” I spoke the word for him since it hung so loudly in the air between us.
“But he was also weak, and that is not a good quality in a king.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up his hand to stop me.
“Think for a moment. I know you loved him—as you should. But you are no longer a child, Snow, and you are about to ascend to a throne. It is time for you to see things as they truly are. Can you really deny it? He allowed that woman to badger him into marriage, although he had no love for her, of that I am sure. And worse, he showed no care for his kingdom in doing so. All these years our kingdom has stayed on course because he retained the good sense to prevent her interfering in his rule. But while he may have overruled her, he also failed to truly check her. Even you were not protected from her, were you? How she must have poisoned your childhood.” His last sentence was uttered in a whisper, and it carried self-blame as well as grief.
I tried to push his words away from me, but I felt them well up and crash over me, like a wave I wasn’t fast enough to escape. I struggled to breathe, and still he went on.
“He fostered no relationships between you and other young nobles. Relationships that might have served you when he was gone. Instead he chose to keep you close with him. And then as he grew sick, you must have seen how things began to deteriorate. He closed his eyes to what that woman was doing in his final years, choosing the comfort of his sick bed, unable to act through his pain. You yourself, in your person, are his shining legacy, reflecting all his strengths. But your situation…” He shook his head. “That is the legacy of his weakness. And but for your most loyal friend, it might have meant your death.”
He had been looking at the ground as he spoke, but he looked up now and pierced me with his gaze. I gasped and collapsed back into my chair, the tears streaming down my face unchecked. How much it hurt to admit that he was right. To see my father as he truly was—a loving man, but a flawed one—and not as the hero of my childhood. But the deepest part of my heart whispered that it was true. And that I had already known it.
“I do not mean to wound you, Snow,” my grandfather said, taking my hand again. “I wish only to see you come through your crucible of fire and emerge the stronger for it. A granddaughter I can bow to with pleasure—a queen who will lead our kingdom out of trouble and into prosperity.”
I looked into his face, and I could read the sincerity there. And I knew with blinding clarity that it was only due to his support that I had any chance of ever taking my father’s place and sitting on his throne. Inside I felt as if I were breaking, but I could not withhold from him what he wanted.
“I…I understand, Grandfather. And I forgive you. Perhaps…perhaps when this is all over, you can tell me more about what my mother was like as a girl. I should like to know more of her.”
Light broke across his face, and he squeezed my hand. Leaning across the short distance between us, he placed a kiss on my forehead.
“I should like that more than anything, Granddaughter.”
Somehow I forced my legs to lift me to my feet. “I find I am no longer hungry. I shall leave you now.”
He made no demur, his eyes all too full of gentle understanding.
“Today and tomorrow, you should rest,” he said. “And then, as long as our troops have arrived as planned, I will call the court together the morning after that. By the time Alida realizes what is happening, it will be too late for her to prevent it. She cannot close the castle gates against the court. And then you will stand up, and everyone will see the worthy young woman that I see before me. Your court will bow to you, Snow. I promise it.”
I halted with my hand on the door, but I was too afraid of what he would see if I turned around. So I merely nodded before fleeing from the room.
Chapter 26
I spent a large part of the next two days shut in my room. It was what I was supposed to do, anyway, since we didn’t want word of my presence leaking out and proving Roger a liar before the right moment, but Alexander at least could tell that something was wrong. I pushed him away, though, because this was something I had to work through for myself.
When I thought of my mother, I felt buoyed up. She had held me and loved me. I hadn’t caused her death. But thoughts of her came weighted with a heavy grief. And more powerful still were the thoughts of my father.
All the grief that I had pushed away during the dangerous and fear-filled weeks since his death crashed over me now, and I spent hour upon hour crying. Only this time, I couldn’t always be sure what I was crying over. Was it over his absence, my heart crying out to feel his dearly-loved presence again? Or was it grief for his failings? For the knowledge that despite all his love, he had left behind in me a fatal weakness.
Because my grandfather saw me as the best of my father, but I knew the truth. My insidious voice of self-doubt had returned with a vengeance.
You didn’t want it to be true, but you have to admit he was right. Your father was weak. So is it any surprise you are too?
I tried to fight against the thoughts, reminding myself of how hard I had trained. How I had made myself strong. How I had helped rescue Alexander. But then I would remember how many people had shielded me, suffered for me. How many times I had fled, afraid.
I had always defined myself by my father, and I felt unanchored now, tossed around far too easily by every wave of my own fear and failing. I wanted to believe in the version of me that my grandfather saw. That Alexander saw. But was that just another form of weakness? Another closing of my eyes to the truth?
Could I stand up and be queen when I knew how deeply I was flawed?
The final evening came while I still wrestled with this question. Alexander brought me news of the arrival of our guards, and I could see the worry reflected in his eyes. So I forced a smile and emerged for the evening meal, at least. He hovered close to me, and I felt calmed by his presence. Surely I must have some strength and worth in me to have inspired a friendship such as his.
But he had been called away to consult on a matter of guard placement in the forest when Bronson announced my cousin’s arrival, so I went to meet Roger alone, without Alexander’s steadying company.
Roger, who had been sitting on one of the elegant sofas in the sitting room I had come to think of as mine, leaped to his feet when he saw me. When I had heard his name announced, I feared something had gone wrong, but he wore a smile. In fact his face looked lighter than it had done since before my father’s death. The difference made me realize I should have seen something was wrong at that first party.
He hurried forward to bow and clasp my hand.
“I didn’t expect to see you tonight, Roger. I hope all is well.” I sat down and gestured for him to do so as well.
“No, no, nothing is wrong,” he hastened to assure me. “I delivered your message as we agreed, and Alida showed no hesitation in believing it.” He winced briefly. “I probably shouldn’t have come, but I had to thank you in person.”
“Thank me?” I raised an eyebrow.
“In the past two days, two of our footmen got into a nasty fight with each other, one of our maids broke a valuable vase, and our nursery maid was discovered drunk, if you can believe it.” His twinkling eyes suggested he couldn’t, and neither should I. “I’m afraid we’ve had to dismiss them all.”
My lips twitched. “A quite incredible run of ill fortune, it would seem.”
“Yes, indeed. But my wife has been busy interviewing replacements, and we are most pleased with our new hires. Most pleased.”
“And the dismissed servants?”
He waved a hand. “Loyal, all of them. They know it is only temporary and have been given wages enough to cover the gap. But last night my wife slept well for the first time in weeks. And so I had to come and thank you.”
His face turned grave. “Of course we are all hoping that tomorrow goes smoothly and without bloodshed. But none of us can guarantee such a thing. And it has tormented me to know that my family have been so vulnerable.”
“Yes, indeed, I can only imagine.” His words only sparked my own fears, and I thought of all the servants who still remained at the castle. If tomorrow went badly, there were far too many on hand to suffer the consequences of any outbreak of fighting.
“I hope the servants catch wind of the arrival of our guards and get themselves out of the castle in the morning,” I said. “The fewer around to end up hurt or in the way, the better.”
Roger’s brow lowered, and he glanced quickly at me, then away.
I sat up straight. “What is it?”
“I don’t think they’ll be able to do that, Your Majesty.”
“Why not?”
“Your stepmother is becoming paranoid.” He grimaced. “She won’t let any of the servants leave the castle anymore. All errands to the city are carried out by her guards. Apparently she’s convinced some of them are spying on her and carrying information to rebels in the city.”
I winced. Was it paranoia if it was true? At least that she had a rebellion going on under her nose, and that not all the servants were loyal to her. The image of Gertie, feather duster in hand, keeping my room in order in the middle of the night flashed through my mind.
After Roger had given me a quick goodbye to rush home to his family, I remained alone in the sitting room.
I hope we’ll see you again soon. Gertie’s words ran over and over again in my mind. Despite everything, some at least of the servants had pinned their hopes on me. And tomorrow I would walk into their home without warning, an army on my heels, potentially to unleash war in their midst.
The longer I thought of it, the more I felt certain of the path I must take. Neither my grandfather nor Alexander would agree. They would say it was too risky, especially for me. They would place their trust in our coup being successful. In the legitimacy of my claim. They would say that it was the job of others to take risks for their queen.
But neither of them had grown up under my stepmother’s thumb. They didn’t understand how vicious she could be when she lashed out, how little she cared for others. No, I could not leave the servants unwarned.
I had always understood that a ruler must sometimes let others take on danger in their stead. It was the price of ruling, of preventing chaos. My father had taught me that. But now I knew my father had been weak, had allowed himself to be lulled into inaction when action had been needed. If I asked Alexander, if I pleaded, if I ordered, he would no doubt go in my place.
But I couldn’t bear the thought of once again sending him into danger in my stead. I could no more sacrifice him than I could the servants. I refused to be a weak ruler, like my father. I would be a strong one. I would not start my reign by sacrificing those around me. I would save them—and I would do it myself. Who better to contact and convince the servants than me, anyway?
Tonight I would sneak into the castle and warn the servants. I would make a plan for them to flee and be safe, no matter what happened.
I had to wait until well after dark before I could slip from the house unseen. I wore my sturdy boots and my new dagger sheathed at my waist.
I encountered no guards on patrol as I sped through the trees toward my drain. Had the queen recalled them, or had my own troops taken them prisoner? Whatever the reason, it made my path easier. All too soon, I was back within the castle grounds, weaving through the trees toward my familiar window.
I barely had to think about it now as I scaled the vines on the wall. The ease of my ascent buoyed me. I had been right to tell no one of my plan. Alexander would have insisted on coming in my stead, but he could never have gained access so easily.
When I stepped into my dark dressing room, a strange feeling washed over me. Such a familiar place, and yet so much had changed in me that I no longer belonged here. These had been the rooms of the old Snow. A person both weaker in some ways, and more confident in others. Confident in how she saw the world, at any rate, and the people around her.
I shook off the thought. I still needed to find Gertie and get safely back out of here. I didn’t have time for distractions. And yet the thought brought another, and more disconcerting, one. How exactly was I to find Gertie? It was the same problem I had encountered previously, only this time I couldn’t wait here for an unknown length of time.
I hadn’t pondered the issue long, however, when I heard the door in my adjoining bedchamber open. I forced myself to be cautious rather than rushing through and eased the dressing room door open slowly. But only a quick survey of the room told me the good news.
Hurrying in, I whispered a greeting to Gertie. She jumped and turned a pale, frightened face toward me.
“Oh! You scared me!” She then started and curtsied belatedly. “Your Majesty.”
I waved the title away. “Never mind that right now. We need to talk.”
“We…we do, Your Majesty?” She looked dubious and uncertain, and I wondered if she thought I was going to ask her to take part in some act of rebellion.
“I heard you’ve all been confined to the palace,” I said, my words tumbling over each other. “So the rumors may not have reached you. But there’s a confrontation coming tomorrow. And there will be guards involved, lots of them.”
Her wide eyes reflected fear and nervous energy.
“That’s why I came,” I said. “To warn you all. You need to get out of here at dawn. If I succeed, you’ll be welcomed back, of course. If I don’t, there will be bloodshed, for sure, and I don’t want you all in the midst of it.”
“But…but the gates are closed and double-guarded. All of them.” Her voice trembled.
“Then you need to band together,” I said firmly. “Choose one of the smaller side gates. When the court begins to arrive, you all leave. Head out and hide among the trees. At the first sign of any fighting, overwhelm the guards and get out into the true forest. I’m sure if the footmen and huntsmen work together, you can take out the guards at one of the gates. You’ll have numbers on your side.”
Gertie swallowed. “Maybe…maybe there’s an easier way?”
I raised my eyebrows inquiringly, and she almost trembled from nerves.
“The guards get a meal during the night shift. Perhaps the kitchen staff who prepare it could ensure it puts them to sleep. The guards at one of the gates, anyway, like you say.”
“Yes, so you don’t attract any attention. That’s an excellent idea, Gertie. Can they do it?” I knew Alexander and then the bribable guard had both managed to source some sort of sleeping potion to get us past the gates previously, so I wasn’t surprised to learn some was to be found in the castle, if you knew where to look.
“I think they can, Your Majesty. But…”
“What is it?” I asked as encouragingly as I could.
“It’s a big thing to do. Rallying all the servants like that. I don’t know if they’ll take my word for it. You might…you might need to speak to them yourself.”
“Of course.” I stepped forward. “But we’ll need to move quickly.”
“All…all right.” She put down her duster. “We should go to the kitchens. Come with me.”
Together we ghosted through the corridors. My heart rate ratcheted up at moving so openly, but we encountered no one. When we arrived in the kitchen, the banked fires cast only the dimmest light on the deserted room. Gertie hurried to light some candles before moving back toward the doorway.
; “Wait here,” she whispered. “I’ll find the kitchen maids who’ll be taking the guards their meal. They’ll be here soon enough anyway to prepare it. And I’ll rouse some of the more senior servants as well.”
I nodded, but she had already gone. Surveying the large room, I shivered. It seemed spooky in such a deserted state, silent and full of flickering shadows. But I reminded myself that so far everything had progressed smoothly. With any luck, I would be on my way back to the ducal mansion soon enough.
The thoughts did little to reassure me, however, and when a figure appeared in the doorway, I jumped. I immediately saw it was a kitchen maid, but it still took several deep breaths, my hands braced against the long wooden table in the center of the room, to calm myself.
“Sorry, Your Highness,” the girl said, her eyes wide. “Only Gertie sent me, and she said…”
“Yes, yes.” I took another deep breath. “I was expecting you. Only this place…” I waved a hand around me and managed a weak smile. “Did she explain the situation?”
“I think so. But the others will be here soon, and they’re the ones to be making any decisions. I’m just to prepare the food.”
She began moving as she spoke, pulling out bread and wedges of cheese and shiny apples. My eyes lingered on the food, surprised to find I was hungry. But then I’d eaten little in the last two days, my stomach roiling too unpleasantly to have much interest in food.
The girl saw the direction of my gaze and picked up a firm, bright apple, half red, half gold. With a firm slice, she cut it in half and took a bite out of one piece, offering the other to me.
“Would you like some?” she asked around her mouthful.
I hesitated for a moment before accepting the glossy red morsel. As I took the first bite, I looked up and saw Gertie standing in the doorway. She looked tormented, so I hurried to swallow, wanting to free my mouth to ask what was wrong.
Except the apple stuck in the back of my throat, a sudden burning sensation rushing down from it into my gut and up into my head. I coughed, but nothing happened. And then the burning overwhelmed me, and I collapsed to the ground.
A Dream of Ebony and White: A Retelling of Snow White (Beyond the Four Kingdoms Book 4) Page 22