“We need the help,” Sigurd added. “Winter is coming, and we have very little time left to prep for the cold months.”
“We need lots more firewood,” Der said. “We will need as much as we can cut, and probably more than that. And food preserved for when the game is scarce and the garden is covered in snow.”
“Do you still work in the mines even in the dead of winter?” Makellos asked.
“Oh yes, every day,” Bernhardt said gravely. “If we don’t, the guards have the authority to place us under arrest. Which would then mean taking us to the palace to face the Queen.”
“As far as we know, she’s all but forgotten about us,” Der said, taking his spectacles off his nose and wiping at them with a pocket handkerchief that was more holes than handkerchief.
“What do you do in the mines?” Makellos asked.
“The mine is full of jewels,” said Sigurd and Sigmund at the same time, and they elbowed each other playfully before Sigurd continued. “But we don’t know what we dig them for. They get taken away to the palace.”
Makellos had a sinking feeling in his stomach. “I know what they are used for,” he said softly. “My mother loves jewelry, but even more than that, her magic is powered by jewels.”
“What sort of magic?” asked Hardwic curiously.
“I don’t really know everything she is capable of,” Makellos admitted. “She has never taught me any magic, if I even have any at all. But I do know that she uses the jewels to create the elixir she drinks every day. It keeps her from aging, keeps her beautiful.”
“And yet, for all her magic, she is still not as beautiful as you,” said Sigmund with a flirty bat of his lashes.
Makellos laughed a little at that. “I am sure it was quite the shock to her.”
“Well, I think we understand why you ran away,” Der said with a glance around the table to encompass all of them. “What sort of skills do you have?”
“Oh, yes, of course. I love to cook and bake,” Makellos said thoughtfully. “I admit that I am not overly familiar with most of the work involved with running a home, but I am a fast learner, and I am very willing to earn my keep.”
“Like we said, even just having an extra pair of hands to help while we prep for winter would be most appreciated,” Hardwic said hopefully. “I think he should stay.”
“And what happens when the Queen finds out he’s still alive?” Grimwald suddenly piped up. “If she tried to kill him before, you think she’ll stop now?”
“But she doesn’t know where I am,” Makellos said. “To be truthful, evenIdon’t know exactly where I am.”
“I’m certain she will find out eventually,” Bernhardt said, looking apologetic at the thought. “The old Queen’s a sly one. But the woods are vast, and there are any number of dangers, especially if she thinks that perhaps he stumbled into the Dark Forest. Winter is coming on soon, we can’t expect him to survive in the forest alone.”
“May I offer a suggestion?” Makellos asked timidly, not sure if he should speak out of turn, but every pair of eyes turned expectantly to him, so he continued. “You obviously need help here in preparation for the cold. Let me stay with you and help you through the winter, and then, come spring, I can continue my travels south over the mountains.”
“I think that’s a marvelous idea!” said Hardwic, giving Makellos a rosy-cheeked smile.
“As do I,” Der said. “All in favor, raise your hand?”
Six hands went up around the table. Grimwald’s stayed firmly crossed under his armpit.
“Well, it’s six to one,” Der said brightly. “It is decided, the prince shall stay with us.”
Whoops and cheers went up from the others, and Dagobert gave Makellos’ wrist another loving press.
“We need to be extra careful though,” Hardwic said suddenly. “We can’t just talk openly about the prince of Falchovari living in our house.”
Grimwald let out a derisive snort that everyone else ignored.
“Perhaps a different name?” Bernhardt suggested. “Call him something else when there is the risk of anyone hearing?”
Several of the men nodded. “So, what do we call him?” Der asked. A soft rustle went through the room, a few mutters and mumbles.
Makellos almost jumped in surprise when a hand next to him went up. It was Dagobert. The room went oddly silent, everyone looking at the young man in curious anticipation.Dagobert looked around, his blue eyes wide, his cheeks bright pink. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before he looked adoringly up at Makellos. He reached his hand over to run his fingers shyly over the crisp white sleeve of Makellos’ shirtsleeves. “Snow. Snow White,” he said, his voice soft but sweet and clear.
There was a collective intake of breath around the room from the little men, followed by all eyes turning to Makellos in expectation. Makellos smiled, reaching a hand up to stroke over Dagobert’s fingers on his sleeve. “I like it,” he said.
