Raveena sat stiff-backed at the table, her hands wrapped loosely around a carved wooden cup of untouched tea. Birds fluttered about the rafters, cawing in frantic whispers as they tucked sprigs of moss and hay back into the places Raveena’s ice had shattered. Squirrels scrambled over the mantle, sweeping away soot with their tails. Even the mice had returned, though they shot her wary glances before scurrying across the floor to drag away the tiny corpses of their avian comrades. One bird, its wing speared through by an icicle, was carted off with solemn care.
The bear sat at the front window like a sentry, massive and brooding, its thick bulk blocking out the worst of the frigid air that howled down from the mountains. Its breath fogged the glass.
Aurora had brewed the tea—chamomile and some forest herb that made the steam smell like crushed apples. She’d handed it to Snow, who sat curled in a chair by the fire. Her pale hands had a death grip around the mug. She hadn’t looked at Raveena once since the announcement of her condition.
Aurora took a seat beside Ariel. Their fingers entwined atop the table. Their closeness was a language of its own.
“We were supposed to be poisoned," said Aurora. "Put to sleep. Have our voices taken. Then promised off to men who didn’t know our names and kissed us without consent. That's what this world had in store for us. Can you blame us for fighting back?”
Ariel pulled her hand from Aurora's and began making signs. Aurora translated.
"We just want to be left alone. To live in peace. To love one another. Not the person that was written in the storybooks for us to wed and be miserable ever after. That’s all."
Ariel folded her hands in her lap.
"And a manor, if it's not too much trouble," Aurora added. "Or a cottage with indoor plumbing, maybe?"
Raveena said nothing. She didn’t look at them. Her eyes were on Snow.
A cut marred the princess’s brow—just above the bone, where her dark hair was matted with blood. It wasn’t deep, but it stood out in the firelight, raw and red and defiant. Raveena rose from her seat and crossed the room.
She sat beside Snow slowly, waiting for the girl to flinch, to pull away.
Snow didn’t. She only tensed.
Raveena lifted a hand. When her fingers brushed the girl’s cheek, Snow jerked… then stilled. Magic pulsed through her fingertips, cool and gentle. The cut closed beneath her touch.
“You really didn’t kill him?” Snow’s voice was fragile. Not like glass—glass was too clean. It was more like cracked ice on a lake: fractured and dangerous beneath the surface.
“It was his time. He died in bed. No poison. No daggers.”
“You never loved him.” It wasn’t a question.
Raveena’s gaze dropped to the fire. “My heart was… somewhere else.”
Snow gave a hollow, brittle laugh. “I always assumed you’d cut it out of your own chest. I didn’t believe you’d willingly given it away.”
It was the truth. Raveena's heart had never belonged to the man who gave her a throne. It belonged to the wolf who gave her freedom.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Raveena said. “We’ll be allies. You and Prince Charming will move to Valebright. I’ll keep Thornhall and?—”
"No!"
Raveena sighed. War was the last thing she wanted with her stepdaughter. She'd give up the crown but not the castle.
“You heard what they just said." Snow gestured to Aurora and Ariel. "Did it not move you even a little?"
The princesses' words had moved Raveena. More than she cared to admit. If it ever did come to a choice between keeping the castle or keeping Graham… well… she wasn't going to say her choice out loud. But it was crystal clear to her whose warmth she wanted to be wrapped up inside on the cold winter nights.
"Why do I still have to marry Charming?”
Raveena’s gaze dipped to Snow’s stomach. “Because you’re carrying his child.”
Silence fell like a guillotine. From the corner of her eye, Raveena saw Ariel and Aurora exchange a glance. Quick. Tight. Nervous.
She turned back to Snow. “It is Charming's child?”
Snow hesitated. Her fingers curled around the mug. She shook her head.
