Snow White and the Huntsman (3 page)

She held out her hands, taking in the heat. He visited her some mornings, watching her from beyond the bars, his small eyes darting above his long, thin nose. He never said anything, never left anything—not even a plate of food or a jug of water. She wondered if it made him happy to see her now, just past seventeen, still locked away in the tower
dungeon. Did he feel any remorse? Did he care? She doubted it. He was his sister’s brother.

Snow White pulled her tattered dress around her body, tucking her bare toes underneath the hem. It had been ten winters. At a certain point, she’d stopped counting the days or weeks, instead paying attention only to the changing seasons. She could see the tops of the trees from the cell window. She knew each limb as well as she did her own. In the warmer months, bright green leaves burst from them, spreading out, staying that way through the height of summer. Then they would change. The green gave way to golds and reds, until all of them shriveled and fell, one by one, onto the hard soil.

Now, with the faint traces of spring in the air, she wondered if this year would be different—if it would be the year Ravenna came for her, finally, to end this imprisonment. It had been so long that she almost didn’t mind the dank cell anymore. The walls were always cold and moist, smelling of mildew. Light streamed in only once a day, for a little more than an hour, when the sun came over the trees. She always sat there, letting it kiss her face, until it was gone. But the loneliness was what killed her. Sometimes she wanted nothing more than to talk to someone. Instead, she found herself replaying the same memories in her mind, adding new details, changing some, trying to piece together her past.

She thought of her father, how she’d discovered his bloody body the night of the wedding. She remembered the warmth of her mother’s hand on her forehead, comforting
her before she went to sleep. But more than anything, she always returned to the same moment. It was so vivid, even now, ten years later.

It was right after her mother had fallen ill. The king and Duke Hammond had watched them from the castle balcony, as they did sometimes. The duke’s son, William, was her age, and they played together often, chasing each other through the courtyard or rescuing sick magpies. He’d climbed the apple tree, his dark brown hair sticking up in a hundred directions. A toy bow was slung over his back.

Snow White followed him, hugging the tree to keep from falling. When they were fifteen feet up, William plucked an apple from a branch and held it out to her. It was red, without a single mark on it. “Go on,” he said, his hand outstretched, waiting for her to take it. He had light brown eyes. When he tilted his face toward the sun, she could see they were speckled with green.

She reached for it, and he pulled it away, biting into it himself. Then he grinned, the
I’m- just-teasing-you
grin she’d grown so accustomed to. “Gotcha!” He laughed. She was so annoyed, she pushed him. He lost his balance, grabbing for her and taking her down with him. They both fell, their breaths knocked out of them when they hit the ground. They lay there panting, until one of them finally laughed. Then they couldn’t stop. They’d laughed and laughed, rolling onto their sides. She’d never felt so happy.

Now, years later, she sat in the cold cell, her eyes closed, trying to remember his face. She wondered if he was still
alive or if Ravenna’s soldiers had tracked him down somewhere beyond the castle walls. The last time she’d seen him was the night of the wedding. In the chaos, Duke Hammond had thrown him onto the back of his horse. One of the duke’s bodyguards had put her on another horse, and the four of them raced toward the portcullis, trying to escape. William was yelling to hurry up. The gate was coming down as they galloped toward it. Just when they’d almost made it, an arrow struck the bodyguard in the chest, throwing him from the horse. The horse had reared back, slowing Snow White’s escape. William and the duke ducked underneath the portcullis just as it closed, leaving Snow White trapped inside the castle walls.

William screamed for her. She heard him begging his father to go back. But the shadow soldiers were already swarming the courtyard. Her bodyguard writhed on the ground. Snow White was tied up and dragged back into the castle. The last thing she’d seen was William’s face as he and his father had galloped away.

The sound of footsteps suddenly echoed down the hall. It was like thunder to Snow White’s sensitive ears.

“Let me go!” a girl yelled, her voice barreling through the stone corridor. “Get off me!”

Snow White got up and went to the door. She pressed her face between the rusted bars, trying to get a better look. They rarely kept other prisoners in the north tower. She’d seen only three in the entire ten years she’d been there, and most of them had been awaiting execution. An older man,
nearly sixty, had been caught stealing food from one of Ravenna’s supply wagons. He was there only a few hours before he was executed. He’d been beaten so badly he could barely speak. The other two prisoners hadn’t stayed long, either.

The soldier came down the hall, dragging a young girl in his wake. She couldn’t have been much older than Snow White. She had wide-set blue eyes and a pale round face. Frizzy blond hair fell down her back. She strained against the soldier’s grasp, but it was no use. He threw her into the cell and closed it, the lock clicking in place.

The soldier started back down the stone corridor, his footsteps growing fainter as he descended the stairs. Snow White waited for silence before she dared to speak.

“Hello … ?” she asked. She was surprised by the sound of her own voice. She coughed. “What’s your name?” She leaned to the side, trying to get a better view of the girl, who’d disappeared in the back of the cell.

After a few moments, the girl reappeared. She pressed her face against the bars, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I am Rose,” she said softly.

Snow White brushed off her tattered dress. She could only imagine what she looked like, after so many years locked away, with not even a brush to comb out her hair. “How did you get here?” Snow White asked. “Did you commit a crime against Ravenna?”

Rose shook her head. She stared at a spot on the floor, her eyes tearing up. “I didn’t do anything,” she said. “All the
girls in our village were taken. I was trying to reach a safe haven at Duke Hammond’s castle when I was caught. I was—”

“The duke?” Snow White said, her voice shaking. “He’s alive?”

“Yes,” Rose answered. “His village at Carmathan has taken in Ravenna’s enemies.”

Snow White’s throat closed. She’d assumed Ravenna had used her dark magic to find Duke Hammond and William long ago. She’d convinced herself that they were dead. “He still fights in my father’s name?” she asked.

Rose studied her up and down, taking in the tangled hair and the dirt that stained her knees. There were holes in the bottom of Snow White’s dress. She tried to cover them with her hands. She hadn’t even noticed them until now.

“You’re … the king’s daughter?” the girl asked.
“The princess?”
Rose’s mouth dropped open. She looked utterly confused.

Snow White nodded. Tears filled her eyes. She thought only of the duke just as she remembered him, sitting at dinner next to her father, laughing a little too loudly at his jokes. He’d lift William up with one great swoop and set him down on his shoulders. She recalled looking up at them, thinking William was the tallest person in the world. She’d always been jealous that he could touch the ceiling.

Rose shook her head. She pressed her finger to her temple. “The night Ravenna’s reign began, we were told that all in the castle were put to the sword. How were you spared?”

Snow White shook her head, not wanting to revisit that night. The stink of blood in the stone courtyard. How Finn had taken her up the long, narrow stairway and to the dungeons. Even after all these years, she didn’t know why Ravenna had shown her mercy at the last moment.

“William … ?” she asked, seeing his face again, those hazel eyes staring back at her through the branches of the apple tree. “The duke’s son? Is he still alive?”

Rose gripped the metal bars. “Yes, Princess,” she said softly. “He’s been fighting for the cause. He’s known for surprise attacks on Ravenna’s army. I haven’t heard about him in a while, but—”

“How long is ‘a while’?” Snow White interrupted. William was out there somewhere, beyond the castle walls, fighting still. She was consumed by this new hope. She couldn’t help it. The duke and William were like family. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her. Maybe Ravenna’s army would be defeated yet.

Rose stared at the dank stone floor. “Six months, maybe a little more.”

Snow White let out a deep breath. All wasn’t lost. There were people still fighting, refusing to give in to the dark forces that had taken her father’s kingdom. She caught the tears as they fell from her cheeks.

“Are you all right, Princess?” Rose asked. She leaned over, trying to get a better look.

“I am,” Snow White said. She smiled, a small, hopeful laugh escaping her lips. “I’ve never been happier.”

R
avenna sat on the throne, her generals standing before her. Dozens of candles flickered around the room, warming the cold stone chamber. The Black Knight General in his gleaming black armor dabbed his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. He still stank from the latest battle—Ravenna could smell him from five feet away.

“There are scattered rebel groups on the fringe of the Dark Forest,” he said. Beside him, a general with fiery red hair held up a map of the kingdom. The black knight pointed to the periphery of the Dark Forest. The monstrous expanse of trees was so dangerous that no one ever entered it. “Here and here. But they cause little harm. We have pushed Duke Hammond’s forces into the mountains, but his stronghold at Carmathan holds firm.”

Ravenna held her head steady, a tall spiked crown perched on her twisted blond braids. She reached toward
the bowl on the table beside her. Five dead songbirds lay on their backs, their bellies slit open from beak to tail. She plunged her fingers into one and plucked out its heart. Then she ate the tiny organ—no bigger than a pea—letting the sweet blood trickle down the back of her throat. “Lay siege to it,” she said, loving how tender the meat was.

Another general stepped forward from a line in the back. He was shorter than the others, with a thick beard that hung four inches below his chin. “The mountains and forest provide impenetrable protection, my Queen,” he said. He wrung his hands together nervously, waiting for her reaction.

Ravenna stood, letting her robe fall back to reveal her full figure in a dress of molten silvery gold. It shimmered as she moved. She appeared as she had ten years before. Her skin was taut and flawless. Not a line marked her face. In fact, she looked even younger than she had when the king had met her, as if each year she became more beautiful. Time could never touch her.

She lurched forward, leveling a finger in the general’s face. “Then lure him out! Burn every village that supports him. Poison their wells. If they still resist, put their heads on pikes to decorate the roads!”

The black knight stepped in front of the general, as if trying to shield him. “My Queen,” he said, bowing slightly, “
they
have taken the fight to us. Rebels harry our supply lines. Dwarves rob our pay wagons.”

Ravenna couldn’t take it anymore. Excuses—it was always excuses with these men. She grabbed the pointer
from the black knight’s hand and rapped him hard across his thighs. “Dwarves?” She smiled, satisfied at the
thwack
sound of wood hitting metal. “They’re half men!”