“As a matter of fact, we are. A duke and duchess, so you would do well to make yourself presentable.” He allowed his valet to help him into his coat and sat down so that he could put on and tie his boots. “It really is a shame, Snow. You’re so beautiful, yet you insist on going about dressed in rags.”
My handmade, beaded moccasins were hardly rags, but anything that wasn’t expensive was a rag to Charming. Instead of standing around to take any more of his insults, I decided that I’d avoided my children long enough. I was going to have to endure their company at some point during the day.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be up to your standards by dinnertime,” I said.
I left the room swiftly, my mind reeling as I realized that we had company coming for dinner and I had no idea what I was going to cook. Charming had chased away all of our staff, leaving me to see to the day to day running of the castle. Most of the many rooms remained closed off unless we had visitors. I refused to dust and clean one hundred rooms daily on my own.
Deciding that nothing would get done unless I saw to the children first, I turned toward the nursery, a tight fist of worry working in my gut as I speculated over what I’d find when I entered the room.
I suppose it’s unnatural for a mother to abhor her children, but it wasn’t always this way. When they were born, they were innocent little angels, each of them the spitting image of their father. Unfortunately, the older the twins got, the more like their father they’d become despite my efforts at repairing their spoiled, outlandish behavior. Now six years old, with Ephraim being four minutes older than his sister, Lilith, they were a terrible twosome striking fear into the hearts of everyone who crossed their path. They are also partly responsible for chasing away the castle staff.
The banging and shouting from the other side of the door told me that no good could come of opening it, but I had no choice. It was nearly noon and they hadn’t eaten. While I wasn’t fond of them, I didn’t wish to starve them to death … yet. Rumors of young Hansel and Gretel and how their parents turned them loose in the woods with naught more than a few hunks of bread have had me tempted, though not brave enough to try it.
The moment I open the door, Ephraim’s lanky frame comes hurtling at me. I duck just in time to avoid his body, which is swinging from the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. When he lands I realize that he is completely naked and streaked with paint. Based on the lines running across his face and body I deduce that he’s decided to play jungle warrior again and brace myself for the inevitable sharpened stick or weaponized silverware to materialize. I’ve been nearly stabbed more times than I can count.
“Ephraim, where are your clothes?” I ask, even as I spot them a few feet away on the floor. “I won’t feed you unless you put them on.”
“I don’t need to be fed!” he roars while climbing on top of a cedar toy chest, makeshift spear raised high, legs spread wide in a sailor’s stance. “I am Roan the Fierce, Viking warrior! I will hunt for my meat.”
He hurls his spear through the air and it pierces the wall, pinning his sister’s doll to it in the process. Her piggish squeals are sharp and loud, and I fight the urge to clap my hands over my ears to block out the sound. It takes her several moments to rise from the small stool she’s seated on, as she is well over twice the size of any normal six-year old. When she finally unseats herself, she stomps over to Ephraim in a swirl of lace and bows, black curls bouncing around her bloated face. She jabs him with a stubby finger in the chest.
“You filthy little bugger, you killed my dolly!”
Ephraim places his hands on his skinny hips and sticks his tongue out at Lilith. “What are you going to do about it, you fat cow!”
Lilith squeals again, this time in anger, her face going as pink as the pig she sounds like. “I am not fat! Mummy, tell Ephraim to stop making fun of me.”
She emphasizes her command with a stomp of her foot and I tread into the room with a heavy sigh. “Ephraim, your sister is beautiful. Stop making fun of her. Put on some clothes and for God’s sake stop killing baby dolls. Lilith, stop crying! If you father sees your face all red and splotchy he won’t be pleased.”
That shut her up for now. Lilith doted on her father and knew that he valued physical appearance above all else, so she strove to please him in every way she could. Charming doted on her as well and found it amusing to stuff the overgrown child with pastries and sweets. It was no wonder her belly inhibited her view of her own feet.
Lilith calmed down and swiped at her tears, drying her hands on the pristine white pinafore covering her pale pink dress. She stood by meekly—surprisingly—while I chased down Ephraim and forced him into his shirt, vest, and knickers. I left off the stockings and shoes after taking one bare foot to the face, deciding that some battles were best not fought at all.
At the promise of honeyed scones, the children accompanied me—somewhat quietly—to the kitchen. My only thought as I led them there was how I wished that Charming wasn’t so opposed to corporal punishment. I smiled as I imagined taking each one of those little buggers over my knee one at a time and spanking them until their butts were raw. Just the thought gave me as much satisfaction as my morning in the Huntsman’s cabin had.
***
As promised, I was ready for Charming’s pre-dinner inspection promptly at seven o’clock in the evening. It’s really just like it sounds; I stand at attention—perfect posture—while Charming circles me like a general, deciding whether or not my attire is up to his high standards. I know he can find no fault with my emerald silk gown with silver embroidery and beading; it was part of my wedding trousseau and has never been worn. After an afternoon of slaving away in the kitchen in preparation for the evening’s dinner, I’d taken an hour to soak in the tub and scrub the dirt, grime, flour, and other unidentified food particles from my body. My skin was gleaming, and my hair was brushed and elegantly styled for the first time in weeks.
Charming stopped in front of me after his third trip around me—really, how long does he have to stare before he decides if he likes my dress or not?—and paused, his finger tapping the dimple in his chin. He’s stunning as always in a blue, military style jacket with gold buttons and epaulets. I am always amused at the saber he wears at his side. The jewel encrusted weapon has never seen a day’s battle.
He nods his approval just before his eyes come to rest at the bodice of my gown and I flush crimson, knowing what’s coming next. I hide my humiliation well as he jerks at the neckline of my dress, exposing way more bosom than I’m comfortable with. But Charming likes to flaunt what he has, and that includes me. He tops it off my coming up behind me and draping a humongous, gaudy diamond and emerald choker at my neck. It once belonged to his mother, as most of my jewelry does, and our tastes are not at all alike. He hands me the matching earrings and allows me to clip them on before he offering me his arm to guide me to the dining room.
The gleam in his eyes says he is pleased and I know what that means. He’ll want his husbandly rights tonight, and I am in no mood to oblige. As we walk toward the nursery to pick up the children on our way down, I remember to break out the good wine and keep Charming’s goblet full. If I can get him to pass out in a drunken stupor, he’ll keep his manicured hands to himself and I’ll go to bed somewhat satisfied.
The children are dressed—with the exception of Ephraim’s neck cloth, which he puts on after a sharp remand from his father—and waiting expectantly to go down for dinner. I know that their sweet smiles will last about as long as the first course. I will have to be on the lookout for Ephraim’s tadpole-in-the-soup trick, or Lilith’s overeating tonight. Though I’m sure it’ll be great fun to watch the Duchess of Wainsbridge discover an amphibian in her soup. I am not fond of her or her stuffy, boring husband, but entertaining is yet another one of my duties.
How is it that I woke up to the man of my dreams, allowed him to whisk me off to his castle … and turn me into his own personal footstool?
***
> Dinner was the disaster I’d known it would be. By dessert, I’d had to apologize to the Duke and Duchess so many times, I’m sure they think ‘beg your pardon’ and ‘so sorry’ are the only words that I am capable of saying. Ephraim has abandoned his tadpoles for crickets, which are much harder to catch once released. The one that made its way down the bodice of the Duchess’ gown was the only one that got away, but I left it up to her to fish that one out. I believe that there might have been one in her hair, but it was overrun with feathers and even a tiny false bird’s nest—complete with robin and eggs—so it was hard to tell. Lilith managed to disgrace herself early on in the meal by pulling the entire platter of stuffed mushroom caps to her end of the table and devouring every single one.
Charming did no more than smile and laugh at his little princess. I glowered at them both from my end of the table, knowing that someday Lilith would be large enough to sit on Daddy’s lap and crush him. Perhaps there was something to this overeating thing.
Of course I’d had to sit through the long, tedious conversation between Charming and the Duke, as they each tried to one-up the other with tale after tale of manly escapades. Though, I was positive that most of Charming’s stories were greatly exaggerated. I’d allowed only one unladylike snort to escape as he flat out lied to the Duke about once having split an entire tree trunk in twain with only one blow of his axe. A glare from Charming had me on my best behavior for the rest of the meal.
All his lies did was call to mind the face of a man who was truly everything Charming was claiming to be. Strong, loyal, courageous … my Huntsman. I spent the rest of the evening with my chin resting on my gloved hand, staring off into space and daydreaming about spending my days in the woods and my nights in a simple, two-room cabin with a man with the greenest eyes I’d ever seen. I didn’t care about flying peas or Lilith’s complaints that she hadn’t had enough mutton. I didn’t care that my husband had displayed my cleavage to everyone present as if it were to be served up as the third course, or that he was slowly digging his way into a hole with his bragging and lies. All I could think of was ending this ridiculous evening so that I could go upstairs, change into my comfortable breeches and soft moccasins, and retreat into the woods with my Huntsman.
Somehow, those thoughts got me through the rest of dinner without the threat of a nervous breakdown.
***
“Do you remember when we first met?”
It’s an idiotic question, but I like to hear him tell this story and I can never get enough of hearing it. I think I need to hear it now more than ever after the night I’ve had. It took me two hours to chase the children down, undress them, bathe them, and coax them into bed. And by coax, I mean cajole and argue—that is, before I finally broke down and threatened them both with bodily harm! Thankfully, Charming had just enough wine at dinner to render him unconscious, fully clothed on the settee in his dressing room.
Not daring to wake him and move him to the bed for fear of missing a golden opportunity, I slipped into my own dressing room and traded my gown and jewels for a pair of leather breeches, boots, and tunic. Then I ran from the castle as fast as my legs would carry me.
My Huntsman was waiting for me, as I knew he would be. He understood me more than anyone, and knew that after a dinner with my husband, kids, Duke and Duchess, I was going to need his company. We sat on a wooden bench that hung over his porch—one he’d carved himself into a makeshift swing. His thick arm rested behind me to support my back as we sat, and his long legs propelled the swing in a slow, hypnotic dance.
I glanced over at him as I asked the question, nearly struck dumb by the glow in his eyes and the way the soft breeze played through his long, ginger locks. I wanted to run my fingers through that hair, but decided to leave it up to the wind. I loved watching those waves whip about his chiseled face.
“How could I forget?” he asked, reaching across with his free hand to grasp mine. He squeezed my fingers. “I’ve never seen a girl so beautiful, yet so frightened all at the same time.”
I laughed as I remembered. “How else was I supposed to feel when this large bear of a man came crashing out of the woods toward me with an axe?”
His laughs mingled with mine and the two sounds melted together between us on the night air.
“Ah, my lady, I could never have done you harm. Not for all the gold at the end of a leprechaun’s rainbow.”
“Could you have if I weren’t so beautiful?”
This was my favorite question to ask him when he told this story, because his answer was the same every time. It was how I knew he truly loved me.
“I tell you, the whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth from the start. But who was I to second guess a queen? She told me of a treacherous banshee, one who wandered these woods stealing souls from men’s bodies. She told me I would recognize the she-devil by her hair, skin, and lips.”
“Skin white as snow, hair black as ebony, lips as red as the rose,” I whispered, a shiver running through me as I thought of the icy cold eyes of my stepmother, once queen of this realm. I have never been more thankful to be rid of someone in my life.
He nodded, turning his head to plant a kiss on my temple. “She told me to be cautious, not to be fooled by the siren’s beauty, for she would surely lure me into her trap and steal my soul before I could blink. Well, with so many strange things afoot in these woods, I didn’t think twice about the truth of her story. Wild things have been known to happen with only these trees to witness them. She promised me land and gold if only I would bring her the bloody heart of the she-demon haunting these woods.”
“So the lonely Huntsman strikes out after his prey.”
He shivered and his arm tightened around me. “You were fortunate that I took pause before swinging that axe. My plan had been to avoid looking at you altogether and just end it as soon as you came into sight. You know, to keep you from stealing my soul and all. But just as I raised that axe, the widest, darkest, most innocent pair of eyes I’ve ever seen met mine … and I was lost. I knew just by looking at you that you couldn’t be as bad as that. I’m glad you listened to me when I told you to run. Who knows how many others she’d have sent after you when I came back empty-handed.”
I stared down at our hands, joined in my lap, and my shoulders slumped. “Perhaps it would have been better if you had swung that axe. Then I wouldn’t have lived long enough to make the biggest mistake of my life.”
His work-roughened hand came up to my chin and he tilted my head back until I was looking him in the eye again. His thumb swiped at the lone tear escaping the corner of one eye.
“Don’t talk like that. You were young and believed in fairytales. You opened your eyes to a prince and wanted your happily ever after. No one can fault you for that.”
“Why couldn’t I have seen in you what I thought was in the Prince?” I wondered as I reached up to touch his stubble-sprinkled jaw. “Why couldn’t you have just swept me off of my feet right there and carried me away? Our lives could have been so different.”
His face flushed deep crimson and he shook his head. “Speaking of regrets … you have to know that the thought crossed my mind. Not long after I told you to run, part of me wanted to come after you, to protect you. I was watching that day, too—the day the prince kissed you awake. I watched you take his hand, climb on that horse, and ride out of my life forever. I should have come after you, stopped you, threw you over my shoulder kicking and screaming, and ran into the woods with you if that’s what it took. I wanted to.” He paused and kissed me again, this time on the lips. “So you see, you’re not the only one who wishes things had been a bit different. You’re not the only one with regrets.”
I thought about what he said for a moment, and all it did was make me feel worse. He’d never told me of his regrets before. I never knew that he’d wanted to come back for me. Knowing that made my reality an even bitterer pill. So many ‘what ifs’ that I didn’t even want answered any more. It was just too hard to thin
k of the alternative—a life in which we could have been happy together.
“Hey,” he said softly after a few minutes of silence. “That’s enough of us feeling sorry for ourselves. I’d rather have what little time we are allotted now than nothing at all, and that’s the truth.”
I smiled up at him and tried to put on a happier face for the rest of the night, but I just couldn’t force myself to feel that way on the inside. How could he be happy like this? Sure, he loved me more than anyone ever had, but he had no rights to me. By all that was legal, I belonged to Charming and there was nothing either of us could do to change that.
***
I awoke to the sound of whispers.
Normally, the sound of one or two voices whispering in my room in the dead of night meant the twins were up and about, and bent on sticking a snake in my bed or covering my face and hair with honey. Ever since they became old enough to torture me while I slept, I was never able to allow myself to all into a deep sleep for fear of waking up to some form of juvenile torture. The sound jerked me out of sleep immediately.
It only took a few seconds for me to realize that these were not the impish whispers of my children … these were coming from somewhere else.
The sound began to build and swell, as if one voice had multiplied to two and then two into four, four into eight, and so on. Eventually there were so many of them that I could barely make out what they were saying, though one word was coming through clear as a bell … my name.
“Snooooow Whiiiiiiite,” the soft, feminine voices called, somehow miraculously louder than Charming’s echoing snores coming from the dressing room. The double windows across from my bed swung open on their own accord and the wind bowed my sheer red and white curtains inward. I sat up in the bed and stared, paralyzed, as a golden glow filled the window. Tiny pinpoints of light danced within the golden glow, like dancing stars, swirling back and forth within the mist. The glowing mist flowed through the curtains and surrounded the bed, shading me in a glowing haze of wonder.
Unhappily Ever After: Fairy Tales With a Twist Page 16