by Jenni James
“Yes, we must leave at once.”
His gaze skimmed over her, not meeting her eyes as he searched her room. She could tell he was thinking of all that had transpired with Melantha. “But it is dark,” she hedged, and then, not able to resist, asked, “What happened?”
Ignoring the question, Corlan walked over to the wardrobe and fetched her cloak. “Put this on,” he said as he handed it to her and then picked up her bag, which was set next to it. “Hurry. We do not have time to dally.”
“Corlan?” Her heart began to race. “Corlan, what are you hiding from me? Why will you not say what happened? You are behaving so oddly.”
He halted at the door and turned toward her. “There is no time to explain. We are leaving this instant. Now come!”
“Will I have a moment to say good-bye to Raven?”
“Certainly not,” he said as he stepped into the hallway and then whispered, “Now, complete silence until we leave the castle.”
Whatever Melantha had said to him must have been awful. Snow scurried to follow him out of the bedroom and down the narrow servants’ stairs and out the back entrance of the palace.
“We are to head to the forest as quickly as possible,” he commanded. His pace across the damp grass of the darkened castle lawn was brisk and it was hard for her to keep up. Looking back at her, he yelled, “Run!” with such fierceness it startled her into a frantic sprint.
As she came up to him, he shouted, “Go!” and pointed with his hand for her to be in front.
What was he protecting her from? She was afraid to look back as she held her skirts and passed him, beginning to run as fast as she could toward the dark forest.
“Keep moving!” She could hear his footsteps close behind her. “Do not turn around, whatever you do!”
Her heart pounded wildly and yet she found the strength to continue on. What was happening? It was as if great beasts were after them. It was all she could imagine, a terrible monster of some sort chasing them into the woods. She was running too fast to be able to speak or even breathe properly. All she could think was to hurry, hurry, hurry.
As they reached the forest, she darted into it, dodging shrubbery and rocks and fallen logs.
“Go!” he shouted again when she began to slow her pace.
She pressed onward. The branches snagged and ripped into her cloak, scratching her arms and face and whipping into her legs. And still deeper into the forest they went.
It felt as if they had been running for hours, but it most likely had been less than one. Just when she thought her heart would surely burst, Corlan grabbed her arm and brought her to a halt.
“Stop.” His breath came in huge gasps. “We are safe, but do not turn around. I need you to remain perfectly still.”
They had come to a smallish clearing. The moon lit the meadow from behind them and she loved how pretty it looked in the darkened sky. Heaving in breaths, she tried to focus on the meadow and not how hard her heart was beating within her chest. Corlan’s shadow behind her loomed to her right. She smiled when she thought of how protective he was. He was so strong and wonderful to guard her—she did not feel half as scared knowing he was there.
His shadow moved and she saw that he unsheathed a dagger from his hip.
Was there danger? She took a deep breath and willed herself not to panic. No matter what was out in these woods, she knew he would defend her with his life. His skill with the blade was beyond anything she had ever known.
“Hold very still,” she heard him whisper.
Watching his shadow on the ground, she saw him raise the dagger above his head. His arms began to tremble above her. And then she heard a loud groan. Was he hurting? It did not make sense. His arms were above him, not battling something.
Did he need help? When she heard him groan again, she turned just as his hands dropped and the dagger was plunged directly at her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CORLAN SAW THE SHOCKED look upon Snow’s face as she crouched instinctively to get away, and it woke a greater part of him up. At the last second, he yanked the dagger to the left and sliced her sleeve, leaving a long scratch upon her arm. He felt that if he did not murder Snow, he would cease to exist, so strong had been the urge forged within his heart. Though the need to slay her raged inside him, his love for her fought against it. The fierce battle within him to hold the knife steady took every ounce of strength and control he had. He could not fling it aside—the thing would not leave his hands.
“Argh!” His hands flew upward again. “No!” He plunged the knife again and forced it away once more, missing her by mere millimeters. Instantly, his arms jerked upward, ready to repeat the process again and again.
“Go!” he shouted to Snow. He planted his feet into the ground and fought to keep the dagger as far away as possible from her.
She hastily stood up. “What are you doing?” He had never seen her so frightened before as she stared in horror at his shaking arms. “Corlan, stop! Please stop!”
It hurt to breathe, let alone speak when all of his energy was used to combat the mirror’s spell. Clenching his jaw, he attempted to convey what was happening even as his body protested. “You . . . have to run . . . now.”
“Corlan? What is it?” She stepped several paces back.
Every ounce of might was used to stop the dagger, so he could only battle his quivering legs a few seconds before they began to follow her.
She scrambled backward faster. “Corlan, is it the mirror? Did your mother do something to you?”
“Yes!” he grunted as he tried to halt his feet from chasing her. “I . . . have to . . . kill you. Run, Snow! Go!”
She choked on a sob. “Corlan, no! I cannot leave without you! Please, stop.” Unable to see where she was going, she stumbled over a rock and fell to the ground.
Instantly, he sprinted the last few feet to her, his large body looming over above hers.
“No!” she cried as she covered her face with her hands.
He howled as his arms lunged downward. At the last second, he yanked the dagger away and growled as it sank into his thigh.
He toppled over in agony as Snow scrambled to her feet and stepped toward him. “Oh, no!” she whispered.
“Get out of here! Leave, before I kill you!” he shouted.
She darted away, but called to him, “I cannot leave you like this. You are hurt.”
“Snow, now! I am holding the spell at bay with every ounce of strength I have left. When I begin to weaken, you will die if you are anywhere in my vicinity.”
Her breathing came in frightful gasps. She sounded so lost and alone. “Where do I go?”
“I cannot say. You will have to find your own place. Anything I say to you at this time gives power to the mirror and Melantha to find you. Now, go!” Flipping over onto his back, his hands wrenched the knife from his leg and he saw with satisfaction that Snow gathered up her skirts and ran with all her might, fleeing into the forest.
He closed his eyes, hoping that if he did not see where she went, he would not be able to follow. Even that was a struggle, keeping his eyes closed.
He began to feel the edge of the spell wearing off the further away she went. It was fascinating to feel the urgency to murder her rushing through his veins. He could almost taste her fear. He wanted it, needed it, but it was not so powerful as before.
What had become of him? He wanted to weep. He wanted to curl into a ball and sob. What had he done to her? His sweet, sweet Snow. Now she was terrified of him.
Now she would never wish to be around him again.
She could never be around him again.
All was lost. It was hopeless.
Corlan lay upon the ground, his eyes still closed, for several more minutes. He could not risk finding her.
After the despair sank in, he began to become angry at his mother. How could she have done this to him? How could any of this be what she truly desired? The foolish woman had ruined everything—simply everything he had ever dreamed of havi
ng. Snow could never come home again. He would never have a chance at her hand now!
His mother was a stupid, selfish hag!
Irritated, he sat up. The action caused fresh blood to pour from his wound. He grimaced as he took off his shirt and wrapped it around his thigh. At least the knife had landed in him and not her, forcing his body to halt its chase. It ended up being the perfect way to allow her to escape. Slowly he climbed to his feet and began the long walk back toward the castle, limping as he went. He stopped and gathered his bag and Snow’s luggage before proceeding forward.
His small pack held a beautifully carved box the queen had given him.
He needed a heart for his mother to eat so she could believe it was Snow’s beauty filling her.
Melantha deserved no beauty!
Someone whose soul had become so ugly warranted something just as hideous.
Corlan grinned as he limped. He knew just the place to go—King Herbert’s personal farm.
My, my, my… What a surprise his mother would have when he finally announced that she had eaten the heart of a pig.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SNOW RAN WITH ALL her might through the darkened forest, dodging trees and shrubs and fallen logs and all sorts of hazardous rocks and dips in the ground. She ran and ran and ran until she simply could not run anymore. And then she walked. When her walking eventually slowed to a stop, she collapsed against a large pine tree and wrapped her ripped cloak about her.
She was lost.
Alone.
And so very afraid.
It was not right that princesses should cry and so she attempted bravely not to do so. But the memory of Corlan lunging at her with that knife caused her to shut her eyes tight. He was going to kill her. He was commanded to kill her.
This was beyond her worst fears.
Why Corlan? Of all people, why him?
Burying her face in her hands, she slipped to the forest floor that was covered in pine needles and leaves and she sobbed until she could not cry another moment. And then with tear-filled gasps she eventually fell asleep, too exhausted to care if Corlan found her or not. Her last thoughts were of her father, somewhere very far away battling to save them all.
“Father, I love you,” she whispered as she drifted to sleep. “Prevail and come home soon. I need you. We all need you.”
***
“DID YOU DO AS I asked?” Melantha demanded to know when Corlan came into her chambers later that night. She wore her robe and slippers, but it looked as though she had not slept, probably anxious for him to return.
“I have the heart for you in here,” he replied in a monotone voice. He passed the ornate box over to her as she lounged upon the red velvet sofa near her window.
He saw her looking over his bloodstained torso and leg.
Glancing down, he blinked, surprised to see the amount of gore the pig had left on him. Cutting out a heart was a messy business. He had deposited the dead animal in the chef’s butchery room to be found the next morning.
“Really, Corlan, you need to clean yourself up and get dressed. It is improper to be walking around like that. What if someone were to see you?”
Did she honestly think he would care at this point? “What is wrong, Mother?” he asked. “Are you worried about what others might think? Truly? Is this your greatest concern right now?” He walked backward a few steps and bowed low, mocking her. “Knowing that your stepdaughter is dead does not trigger anything within you, only how your son will be portrayed without his shirt on, covered in blood?” Straightening, he continued, “Did you not think this is how I would appear after your gruesome task was performed? How should I have approached you, then—bathed and freshly dressed?”
“Corlan, enough!” She stood up, clutching the box to her chest. “Your sarcasm is not acceptable. We are protecting our family, our kingdom. Snow White was the biggest threat to us. Now that she is gone, we can finally go forward with our plans for peace.”
Hardened and numb against anything the woman said, Corlan did not even attempt to disagree. There was no shock left within him at her words and actions. She had removed all the good left inside. He was simply hollow now, a mere shell of the man he once was.
She giggled as she lifted the lid of the box and asked, “Would you like to see what becomes of me? You will be astounded! The mirror has promised that it will be extraordinary!”
He smirked. “You will eat it now? Raw?”
Glancing up in surprise, she said, “Of course! I must. But it will be worth it to receive all the beauty I deserve now that she is gone.”
He grimaced. Perhaps he was not as immune to her plans as he believed. This woman before him was certainly not the mother who had raised him.
She walked to the looking glass and chanted while the green mist began to fill the room.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Beseeching thine assistance, I do call
As this heart within the box
Speaks of a fairer beauty that mocks.
I ask you grant me the beauty fair
To wind itself through me its splendor share
Partaking of its glories be
Give me the power to become like she.”
Again, Corlan could not move his body while she spoke, nor he could hear the reply of the mirror. Disgusted, he closed his eyes as Melantha reached in the box and began to eat the heart. The sloshing, wet sounds of her eating nearly made him ill.
He knew she was finished when he heard her snickering. Opening his eyes, he saw her full of glee, wiping the red blood from her face with a cloth that had been upon her dresser. “I am ready!” she shouted to her ceiling. “I am ready to become the fairest in the land.”
The green smoke wrapped itself around her ankles and then slowly spun up her body and over her head. Melantha continued to chortle with excitement. When her laughter turned to cackles, the smoke began to fade away. Corlan stared in fascinated horror at the hideous woman before him. Short, gray wisps of hair barely covered her balding, aged-spotted scalp. Her back was bent and twisted, her face a series of deep lines and hideous warts. She looked old enough to knock upon her grave.
His limbs began to release as the smoke faded away and his mother ran for the mirror. Corlan flinched, ready for her screams, but then was surprised when her glee continued. Could she not see herself? He stepped over to view her reflection and let out a stunned chuckle when he saw the beautiful woman in the glass. Indeed, Melantha had no idea how truly hideous she had become. She could only see what she wished for more than anything.
A striking woman in her late teens, with fiery hair and smooth skin, stared back at her.
The enchanted mirror would only lie to feed her vanity.
No matter the cost, she could never know what she actually looked like. As quickly as possible, he removed himself from her chambers. Melantha was so enthralled with the beauty in the looking glass that she did not even glance over when he shut the door.
He limped as quickly as he could to the guest wing and into Terrance’s rooms. Thank goodness the castle was asleep or talk of his bloodied, naked chest would be gossip throughout the village. As it was, he only startled the sleeping prince.
“Terrance! Terrance!” he shouted as he entered. “I need help immediately!”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“ARE YOU OUT OF your wits?” asked Terrance as Corlan explained everything. “You want to remove all the castle mirrors within the next couple of hours?”
“Yes! And we must hurry. Get dressed, man!” Corlan said.
Terrance rubbed his face and then chuckled. “My nightclothes are a sight more decent than you are, chap. Perhaps you need to get dressed.”
Corlan looked down and laughed. “Touché.” Hobbling toward the door, he said, “I will be back quickly. Meet me in the library and I will see about waking Raven to help as well.”
“Raven?” Terrance grinned. “In that case, you win. I will meet you there in about five minutes.”
“Ha! I see how it is. You will come if a maiden is present.”
“Corlan, one day you will come to understand—it is always about the maidens being present. There is something about them that allows a man to become his best self.”
Corlan shook his head and shut the door.
Terrance got out of bed and let out a whistle of amazement, a bit stunned as he dressed. Snow was gone, left alone in some forest. Corlan had no chance of saving her or protecting her at all. And the witch had become an old hag after eating the heart of a pig. He smirked, enjoying the irony, and then scolded himself for smiling.
He always did find humor at the most inappropriate times. If he did not learn to control that peculiar habit, one day it would be sure to get him into trouble.
Sighing a bit, he pulled on his boots and allowed the heaviness of the situation to hit him as he stomped his feet to fit more comfortably. What a mess they were all in. Hopefully Snow could find a place to remain hidden until they resolved the queen’s betrayal. He worried about her, though, and he could tell Corlan was beside himself with fear for her safety. Though neither of them mentioned it, Terrance knew they were both worried about wolves or other beasts.
Taking an oil lamp, he slipped out of his room and made his way down the darkened corridors to the library. Perhaps there was a chance he could go find Snow himself and guarantee that she was safe. Excitement poured through his limbs at the thought. Yes! It was the perfect solution. Allow him to protect her.
He waited until Corlan came back to spring it upon him.
So eager was he to share the news that he did not see Raven slip in until she said, “So, you will now become Snow’s hero and not Corlan?”
Terrance glanced over and smiled, his heart jolting at the sight of her. She looked stunning, her long hair shimmering in the soft glow of the lamps around them. “Hello.” When she did not reply and appeared to be waiting, he thought back on the question she had asked. “Yes. Yes, it will be me who claims the hero part, I imagine. Though,”—he turned to Corlan—“did you not tell her what happened?”