There would be no more wars. Raveena had spoken peace into being with the other kingdoms. Sliced through politics with the same precision she used to carve an adversary's ambition to pieces. No more battlefields. No more months spent watching for Graham’s name to appear on a casualty list.
The Snow Kingdom had sent nothing to aid the other kingdoms when the trolls first descended from the mountains—no soldiers, no steel, not even a single sack of grain. Not until Graham had volunteered the day after she said her vows to another man. The next day, she’d set to work.
Behind closed doors and beneath layers of diplomacy, Raveena had done what kings could not: forged quiet alliances, mended old grudges, and stirred pride from dusty matriarchies. She had promised them security, trade, and shared defense. In her heart, all of it had to ensure that one man came home.
One ally, however, came at a sharper price.
Valebright. The Charmings had extended olive branches through gilded letters and velvet-wrapped envoys. They had offered Raveena the backing of their coffers and court—provided her stepdaughter was made available for their young prince to court. It had seemed a tidy solution. Snow White, always playing at sweetness, would be safely delivered into another queen’s hands. The union would elevate her, move her out of Thornhall, and solidify Raveena’s claim as the ruling queen without bloodshed.
Then the king had died and left Snow with the stronger claim to Thornhall. The Charmings had begun to circle like vultures cloaked in velvet. Raveena’s plans had to shift again. If she claimed the prince, she might lose her hunter.
She crossed the courtyard and descended the narrow path to the stables. The scent of hay and horses thickened with every step—earthy, warm, tinged with leather and snow. The stables smelled like him. She heard echoes of his laughter bouncing off the wooden walls. She caught a shadow of him pressing her against the walls, the stall doors—wherever he could get her alone.
Raveena smiled as she reached the entrance. The wintry evening air was crisp and sharp against her skin. Her blood was already singing. But when she stepped inside, her smile vanished.
Snow White stood in the center of the stables. Light sliced through the beams above, catching on her raven black hair. She was brushing down a chestnut mare with quiet focus. Her gloves were off. Her delicate hands moved in slow, practiced strokes.
Snow looked up at the sound of Raveena's entrance, blinking once. That ever-serene smile touched her lips. It was the same one she’d used since girlhood, soft and unassuming, like a blade disguised as a blossom.
“Stepmother,” she said, tone honeyed with deference.
Raveena’s lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. “Why aren't you attending to our guests?”
“I needed some air.” Snow set down the brush, then gently stroked the mare’s neck. “The court is so… thick with perfume and politics. The horses are simpler. They never lie.”
Horses shifted in their stalls. The occasional stomp of a hoof or flick of a tail was the only interruption in the silence that stretched between the two women.
"Except Charming." Snow ducked her head, but her smile lifted so high her cheeks were nearly in her ears. “He’s been so attentive since he returned. Even more than before. It’s as though something’s changed in him. As if he knows what he wants now.”
Oh, the boy knew what he wanted. In bed, at least. And that was just to please himself. Raveena remembered his hands fumbling at her waist, his mouth trailing wet heat down her skin without finesse, his breath panting her name like it was a prize he hadn’t earned. She’d lain still beneath him, eyes on the ceiling, counting the seconds between his desperation and his release. He’d found his pleasure quickly, selfishly, as boys often did.
Outside the bedroom, the princeling needed a woman's strong touch. Just like all noble men did. It's why the matriarchs had taken possession of all crowns across the snow-covered lands generations ago.
“He has been decisive of late,” Raveena said smoothly. “He told me he had no doubts left. That he’d never felt so… consumed.”
Snow blinked. “Consumed?”
“Mmm.” Raveena plucked a strand of straw from her sleeve and dropped it. “He said he needed someone who could understand him. Match his fire. Someone experienced enough not to be afraid of what he is.”
And yet as the words left her tongue, her mind strayed—not to Charming. To Graham. To the burn of his eyes, the sound of his voice like gravel and thunder. The way he growled when she dared touch what he called his. The way he looked at her—not with lust or reverence—but ownership. Graham didn’t worship her. He claimed her.
If you let him touch you again, I will castrate him.
Raveena pressed her thighs together at the memory. Her swollen flesh thrummed to life. Her clit pulsed, still eager for the orgasm Graham had denied her. She hadn't bothered to get herself off. She'd been doing that for the last three years and had never once reached the teeth-chattering, soul-shaking orgasm that only Graham could give her.
No, she'd bide her time and wait for her hunter's bite. Because he would come back to her. He was angry now, but he must know the truth. He must have known that no man had ever meant anything to her. Not since him. Not before him. Not the old man she’d married. Not the boy she’d seduced.
Charming was a pawn. A stepping stone to the crown she would never surrender, the castle that felt more like a lover than most men she'd known. Once she secured her position—once a daughter grew safe and sound in her womb—Charming would become expendable. A necessary casualty.
“And when the prince proposes,” Raveena said, voice light as frost, “what will you say?”
Snow smiled with teeth now. “Why, yes, of course. As any queen would.”
Raveena stepped closer, close enough to smell the floral oil in Snow’s hair. She refused to let the fragrance wrinkle her nose. “Remember what I taught you; prepare for surprises, my dear.”
The two women held each other’s gaze—neither blinking, neither backing down. Around them, the stable fell to silence.Both believed they’d won. Both believed they were the one Charming would choose.
Raveena turned first, her cloak snapping behind her like a banner of storm clouds, the scent of her magic sharp in the air. She didn’t look back as she left the stables.
