Snow: An Enchanted Story

by Deborah M. Brown

  The tallest dwarf, the angry one. He studied her with expressionless black eyes. Where Snow White’s other dwarves clung to her side like leeches, this one had not been seen about the court for many days. One side of his face was a patchwork of fading yellow and green bruises. There was a half-healed scab on his bottom lip.

  He could mean her nothing but ill.

  “What do you want? What are you doing here?” Anais forced the words through a throat gone tight with terror.

  “I won’t hurt you.” His low, husky voice, although soft, did nothing to reassure her.

  Anais’s hands fisted in the bedclothes as she scuttled across the bed. “Leave. Immediately. Or I shall scream.”

  “Scream if you want to,” he said tonelessly. “It won’t do you any good.”

  For no reason that she could fathom, Anais believed him. She didn’t scream. “You are her creature. Do you mean to kill me?”

  Anger flared deep in his eyes. “I am no one’s creature. And I told you. I won’t hurt you.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  Rising from the chair, he sheathed the dagger at his hip and held out his hand. “I want you to come with me.”

  Anais shook her head.

  A brief, humourless smile touched his mouth. “Don’t you wish to see how your lover besports himself when he isn’t in your bed? Don’t you wish to know where his heart truly lies? If he says he loves you, then he is a liar.”

  His words struck Anais like blows. “You are the liar,” she said, her voice trembling.

  “Mayhap. But have you courage enough to put that to the test?”

  “You are mad! Return to your mistress and be assured that she will hear of your audacity.”

  Again that unsmiling smile. “It is not my mistress who means you ill. You have invited a rabid dog into your bed, my Queen, and he will turn on you and rip out your throat…”

  “Get out,” she hissed. “Go. Go!”

  He merely held his hand out to her again.

  Anais would never know why, with a despairing sob, she lurched across the bed and took his hand. His fingers were warm and dry in hers. Instead of leading her from the room, he moved to the wall, stretching up on tiptoes to press his fingers against a carved wooden rose. With a soft snick, a section of the wall swung inwards, releasing a whiff of stale air.

  Letting go of her hand, he took a small tinderbox from a pouch at his waist and lit one of the candles that sat on a chest by the door. With a faint look of challenge on his impassive face, he took her hand in his and led her into the passageway.

  She balked after a few steps, pulling against his firm grip. “What is this? Where does it lead?”

  “You have been here in the palace all these years and you haven’t yet discovered the secret ways that honeycomb it? I must admit to a sense of disappointment. I thought you more enterprising than that.”

  She bridled at the mockery in his voice. “Perhaps, unlike you, I am unaccustomed to scuttling around in dark places like a rat!”

  “Perhaps,” he said equably. “In truth it took me little enough time to discover these passages. You are probably right. I am more suited to the dark.”

  Anais stole a look at him, unaccountably saddened by his bitter tone. Why did he unsettle her so? And why was she following him down a dark passageway? In all likelihood he would slit her throat and leave her body here to rot.

  Still, she went with him.

  After climbing up a flight of dusty stairs and numerous twists and turns that convinced Anais she would never find her way out alone again if it came to that, the dwarf came to a halt.

  “You must keep quiet now,” he said.

  Anais nodded.

  He gave her a hard look, and she nodded again. He blew out the candle. A few feet ahead, Anais could see faint stripes of light falling across the floor. Moving carefully he led her forward. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently pressed her to her knees. The light came through two thin slits in the wall, wide enough to put an eye against and to peer through. She followed his lead and placed her eye to the peephole.

  She recognised the room immediately. Rui’s room. The peephole looked down upon the bed where two people lay entwined in a tangle of long, pale limbs. Anais’s heart stuttered. She knew each curve, every muscled inch of Rui’s body. She watched him now as he moved languidly against the second body in the bed, sweat gleaming on his back. His spine bowed as he gave a soft moan and a shudder ripped through him. He rolled onto his back, legs akimbo, one arm flung across his face.

  Charming pillowed his head on one arm and watched him. The other hand stroked Rui’s chest.

  Anais’s fingernails dug into her palms.

  “Do you feel better now?” Charming asked.

  Rui laughed, lowering his arm. He stared up at the ceiling. “I can’t shake the feeling that this is all going awry. That we are sitting atop a runaway horse with no means of bringing it to a halt.”

  “Doubts, my love? That’s not like you. Tonight the queen comes to my bed. In five days, I wed the princess…”

  “She is not fond of you. Your little interlude with the dwarf came dangerously close to ruining everything.”

  Charming’s eyebrows rose. “Your interlude with the dwarf, I think you mean.”

  “You started it.”

  “And you, my darling, finished it. Beautifully, I might add. So what if she had her eyes opened a little as to my…temper. She will learn soon enough once we are wed who the master is. Besides, if you had listened to me and done as I wanted, the dwarf would have been dead and no one the wiser. Instead you had to develop a hitherto unknown predilection for dwarves.”

  Rui turned his head to look at Charming. “I developed a hitherto unknown predilection for dwarves?”

  Charming was laughing at him. “Well, perhaps we both did.” He rose on one elbow and lowered his mouth to Rui’s.

  Anais was acutely aware of the man beside her. She could sense the tension and the fury coiled within him. She should have been afraid. Instead she felt numb. Was she still asleep upon her bed and this all some terrible dream?

  “You need to get her with child at once,” Rui said as Charming lifted his head. His mouth was kiss-swollen, and Anais shuddered as she recalled all the times she had kissed those same lips. “I’ll go mad if we have to wait much longer.”

  “Yet this was all your idea,” Charming said, his mouth trailing kisses down Rui’s neck. “Still, once your queen has had a taste of me tonight, she should be less willing to come to your bed.”

  “My queen?” Anais recoiled from the vehemence in his voice. “Gods, but if I have to listen to her whine that she loves me once more…”

  “Sshh,” Charming soothed. “I’ll make her love me. She seems willing enough. She had her hands on my cock this afternoon and I thought she’d never let go.”

  Rui moved suddenly, straddling the other man and pinning his arms above his head. “You are such a liar.”

  Charming bucked underneath him. “It’s true. I swear it,” he said, laughing.

  They tussled fiercely for a few moments before Charming flipped Rui on his back. “We are so close,” he whispered against his mouth. “So close. A year, my love, and both the young bitch and the old one dead. Then we need merely wait for my father to go to his just reward and we can go home again. I will be king. And you will be by my side. Always. Now, say something wicked to me.”

  “I love you.”

  The words pierced Anais to the heart. Words he had never said to her.

  “And I love you. But that isn’t wicked. That’s a fundamental truth.”

  “Then perhaps for once I want to deal in truths and not wickedness.”

  “And perhaps the sun will rise at midnight. You were born wicked, Rui.” Charming claimed Rui’s mouth in a kiss.

  Anais reached out blindly and, finding the dwarf’s forearm, dug her fingers into it. Quietly he helped her to her feet, and they backed away. She was sick twice before they
reached her rooms again. The second time he held her upright, holding her hair back from her face. When they entered her room, she stumbled to her bed and collapsed upon it, curling herself into a ball.

  Numbly she was aware of the dwarf moving around her room. Sitting on the bed beside her, he gently wiped her hot face with a damp cloth. She opened tear-swollen eyes to look at him.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. She pushed herself upright against the pillows.

  “What is your name?”

  “Gault.”

  “You lied,” Anais said hoarsely. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me. But you did. You have.”

  He said nothing.

  “And you would use me too, Gault. Yet when you tell me you are sorry for it, I believe you. Why is that?”

  He merely watched her with his dark eyes.

  Anais touched his bruised face. “They did this to you.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. Rising from the bed, he once more offered her his hand. When she stood beside him, he was a half-head shorter. “There is one thing more I would show you.”

  Anais gave a wild laugh.

  Taking his dagger from his belt, he closed her stiff fingers about the hilt. Then he unbuttoned his shirt. There were bruises on his body too, and high on one shoulder the marks of someone’s teeth. He placed his hands over hers and guided the tip of the dagger to rest against his chest, just below his left nipple.

  “Here,” he breathed. “Between these two ribs. It’ll slide in like butter.” His eyes remained locked on hers, the dagger pressing against his skin. He let his hands drop. Anais’s hands trembled and a bead of blood formed. She let the dagger go and it fell to the floor.

  “You won’t find your death at my hands,” Anais breathed just as softly, and a smile flashed across his face, transforming it to something of sheer beauty.

  “My queen,” he said, bowing his head. He turned about and walked from the room, leaving the dagger lying there on the floor.

  Having established through one of her women that Charming was presently to be found in the great hall, Anais made her way to Rui’s room. She didn’t knock. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it and gazed across at the disordered bed. Rui sprawled naked atop the sheets, his dark head pillowed on his arms. Anais crossed the floor to kneel beside the bed. She stroked his dark hair back from his face, and his eyes opened, blinking at her sleepily.

  “Anais? What are you doing here?”

  “Do I need a reason? I missed you.” She sought his mouth with hers and kissed him.

  “Mmmm,” he murmured. He stretched, and a pang shot through her as she drank her fill once more of all his dark beauty.

  One last time…

  She leaned down to kiss him again, carefully shaking the dagger she had concealed in her sleeve into the palm of her hand. Her other hand gripping his shoulder, she drove the dagger into his chest. Right where Gault had directed her to. Then she released him.

  He gave a small sound, a tiny huff of breath, looking down at the hilt protruding from his chest with an air of puzzlement before sagging sideways and dying.

  It was that easy.

  For a time, she sat unmoving beside Rui’s cooling body. Then she carefully straightened his arms and legs. She combed her fingers through the black silk of his hair. She kissed away the smear of blood at the corner of his mouth. Lastly she looked into the mirror of his eyes, frozen open in death, and tried to convince herself that she was still the fairest of them all.

  There was an ironbound casket beneath Anais’s bed. She withdrew it now, pressing her fingers against the secret catch that sprang the lid. Inside nestled an apple. A red apple, glossy-skinned and perfect. Back before Rui had come up with his new plan to get rid of the Snow Bitch, Anais had arranged for the apple’s creation. One of the travelling hedge witches who passed through the city periodically had taken her silver and brewed a deadly poison. Each full moon for three months saw Anais dipping the apple in the witch’s brew.

  She had meant the apple for Snow White.

  She took it from the casket, cradling it between fingers that shook only slightly. Lying down upon the bed, she lifted the fruit to her mouth. It smelt of summer. A summer she would never see.

  Closing her eyes, Anais bit into the apple.

  The Prince

  Charming took another swallow of his drink, an irritated frown creasing his forehead. Where was the queen? The bitch was late. The note he received from her had indicated that she would join him in his apartments over an hour ago. A rap on the door made him utter a grunt of satisfaction. At last.

  There was no queen waiting in the corridor. Only a nervous-looking servant who handed Charming another note in a bold sprawling hand that he recognised immediately. He frowned again.

  “Wait here,” he directed the servant. He had dismissed his own retainers earlier. “If the queen comes, tell her I will return shortly. Ask her to wait.”

  The servant’s eyes widened, but she nodded obediently. Charming crumpled the note in his pocket and strode down the hallway. He flung open the door to Rui’s room with a bang.

  “What is so urgent that I had to drop everything and come running?” he began before his words stuttered to an abrupt halt. “Rui?”

  Charming could hear his heartbeat echoing in his head. The blood in his body seemed to have turned thick and cold. He took a step forward and his breath sawed in his throat.

  Step by step, on feet that had turned to lead, Charming approached the bed. There was no doubt that the man who lay upon it was dead, even without the evidence of the dagger that protruded from his chest. Rui lay still and straight, his blue eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, and Charming felt his heart crack open. He reached out a trembling hand. Someone was muttering, “No. No. No.” Over and over. He threw his head back and screamed.

  “Rui!”

  There was remarkably little blood. Just a small dried trail that ran from where the dagger had pierced his chest, down across his belly. He hadn’t been dead long. A few hours, maybe more. The body was only now beginning to stiffen. Charming pulled the dagger free. It slid from Rui’s body like a piece of silk.

  He was weeping. He couldn’t remember the last time he had wept, but he thought now that he might never stop. Charming stared at the blade in his hand. The chased silver work of the hilt and the runes incised on the blade made it instantly recognisable as dwarven work. Something dark and cold uncoiled itself in Charming’s chest. Raked his belly with sharp claws.

  There was another note. There on the bed beneath Rui’s limp hand. It was in Rui’s handwriting, but Charming knew it had not been written by him, any more than the note in his pocket had.

  Consider this a thank you gift. A token of how much I enjoyed your company and that of your late friend. Should you wish to renew the acquaintance, you know where to find me.

  Gault Bessarion

  The Princess

  The day of her wedding galloped inexorably closer. Snow White had a host of scholars and clerics poring over the marriage contract, looking for a legal way to break it that would not lead her country into bankruptcy or worse.

  “It is watertight,” she said with frustration to Kaliko as they lay in her bed. “Charming’s father has overlooked nothing.”

  “He has overlooked me,” said Kaliko, his hands idly stroking her hip. “Charming will never have you, Snow. Trust me. Trust all of us. None of us will let you come to harm.” His hand drifted lower to the damp flesh between her legs. In the past days, they had learnt much of what pleased the other. Each time they made love revealed some new delight.

  How she loved him.

  The sound he made when he was buried deep inside her. How he always cried her name when he came. The wonder and the love in his dark eyes as he looked down at her, his body moving so sweetly against hers.

  How she loved him.

  If not for the ever-present worry of her wedding, everything would have been perfect. That, and her worry for Gault.r />
  Gault, who was present in body, but not in spirit. He was achingly polite whenever Snow White addressed him, trying to coax him from the dark place to which he had retreated. He was achingly polite to all of them. Even to Ander, and that was the worst hurt of all. Seeing the growing despair on Ander’s face as each day seemed to take Gault farther away from him. Ander carried the marks of strain like scars.

  Until this morning when she and Kaliko had risen from her bed to take breakfast and Ander had entered the dining room. There was colour in his face for the first time in days. He exuded a joy that was palpable.

  “Gault came to me last night,” he said, eyes shining.

  Snow White had taken his hand with a glad smile.

  “Perhaps? Perhaps it will be all right?” said Ander.

  She nodded, her throat tight, squeezing his fingers.

  Gault came to the table a short time later. There was an ease to his dealings with Ander and the other dwarves that Snow White had never seen him display before. He even went so far as to smile at one of Hiram’s inexorable jokes. Snow White stared at him, arrested. When Gault smiled, he was truly beautiful.

  When he had finished his meal, Gault rose and shocked them all even further by leaning down and giving Ander a slow, deep kiss. Hiram’s mouth fell open. Ander touched his own lips with dazed fingertips.

  “I love you,” Gault said. His hand lingered against Ander’s face a moment before he turned to Snow White. “Will you excuse me, Snow? I have some things I need to take care of.”

  She nodded. He had never called her Snow before. Her heart felt lighter as she went to attend to her daily affairs.

  Perhaps it will be all right…

  It was the feast day of Dwalen, one of the dwarven gods, and that night her dwarves were to go down into the city to worship at one of the shrines. They gathered at the door now, all except Meris, who would remain to guard her. And Gault.