The back of Snow White’s neck tingled. Something about the look was different from all the casual glances she’d collected in the corridors since she had flowered into womanhood. Those had been curious, admiring, sometimes clumsy. This felt heavier, like a hand. She shifted her weight, hugging the book closer to her chest, covering herself. “I’m glad you’re home,” she said. “Maybe you can take me for a ride sometime. Outside the castle walls?”
“Home,” he echoed, as if tasting the word. “Yes. We’ll see. My job is to keep you safe for now, Princess. Your mother’s orders.”
He smiled again then, but this time Snow White saw it for what it was—a man trying to reassure, even as something darker swirled behind his eyes. She told herself she was imagining things.
Still, in the weeks since his return, she caught Hunter watching her more than once. In the yard, from the far end of the great hall, from the shadow of a staircase. Always he looked away when she caught him. Always a fire brewed low in her core afterwards.
“Comeon,”SnowWhitesaid to Grimm, patting his neck. “Before the day grows long.”
She led him out into the castle yard, past a pair of kitchen lads hauling sacks of grain and a pair of guards who pretended not to notice that the ragged girl with the horse walked like she owned the stone beneath her feet.
Liora’s edict still held: Snow White was not to leave the castle walls without explicit permission. Today, that permission had been grudgingly given—she was to exercise Grimm “within sight of the gate” and nowhere near the village. Snow White smiled, knowing it was likely Hunter’s doing that allowed her finally outside the castle perimeter.
She swung herself into the saddle with practiced ease. The leather creaked, familiar as a sigh. She settled her weight, gathered the reins, and nudged Grimm into a trot. They rode straight for the main gate, weaving between piles of firewood and a cart of barrels. Snow White let him stretch his legs a little more along the outer wall, the cobbles ringing under his hooves. From the parapets above, guards watched, some with wary eyes, some with thinly hidden admiration. She didn’t notice any of them. “Not too fast,” she pleaded, though her whole body wanted to push him into a gallop. “Not until we get outside.”
He flicked an ear back, then complied, settling into a steady rhythm that pulled a sigh of pleasure from her. They approached the main gate. Beyond it, she could see the tops of trees, the faint line of the hills. They were finally going to be reunited with the vast meadows of green grass. Each rise and fall as they got closer soothed something inside her.
She was almost there when trumpets blared from the gate tower. Grimm snorted, ears jerking forward, and he half-turned to run back to the safety of the stables. Snow White reined him in, turning him back towards their freedom. The heavy gates were opening. A company of riders came into view beyond theportcullis: men in rich cloaks and polished armor, their horses’ tack glinting with metal. At their head rode a man draped in dark fur, his crown a heavy band of gold around his brow. A visiting king.
This was not the first intrusion they’d seen—in fact, since Wilhelm died many lords and princes and kings had visited Queen Liora, likely attempting to win her over and request a partnership in marriage.
But something about this time felt different. Snow White had noticed Liora had been making plans. The throne room had been polished with care that morning. The great stone floor gleamed. Tapestries depicting conquests and alliances—each one embellished since Wilhelm’s time to give Liora a more prominent place in the stitchwork—hung proudly on the walls. Candles blazed in iron chandeliers, making the air shimmer. Servants poured from castle gateways to line the approach, heads bowed. The steward scuttled forward, wringing his hands. Somewhere above, Snow White knew Liora would be watching from a window, calculating.
Grimm danced under her. She patted his neck, exhaling, “Easy, boy,” even as her own curiosity sparked. She guided him to the edge of the yard, out of the main path, and watched the procession enter. The visiting king sat on his horse like a man very aware of his own importance. His mouth was thin, his eyes sharp, his cloak lined with something that looked uncomfortably like ermine. She always thought wearing fur seemed cruel, not regal.
Behind him rode a handful of knights and attendants. One of them caught Snow White’s eye without meaning to—a young man with hair the color of ripe wheat and eyes so clear a blue they seemed almost unreal. Her breath held. The young man’s gaze brushed past her, lingering just long enough for her to feel it. His brows drew together slightly, as if something about thesight of a ragged girl on a fine black stallion had puzzled him. Then the procession moved on, swallowed by the grand doors.
Snow White took a deep breath. “Did you see that?” she asked Grimm. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the image of those eyes.
Onthethroneatthe far end of the hall sat Queen Liora, dressed in a gown of deep red velvet that hugged her curves and spilled like blood over the steps. The hue of her dress matched her perfectly lined red lips and accentuated the cream of her skin. Her crown, adorned with diamonds from the local mines, caught every scrap of light from the candles. Her ladies-in-waiting stood arrayed behind her like a jeweled fan. She had chosen this throne, these colors, this tableau with care. She knew what story she wanted the visiting king to carry back to his own land.
“Announcing His Majesty King—” the herald began, rattling off a string of titles. Liora let the words wash over her. She watched the man himself: the way he moved, the way he held his shoulders, the set of his jaw. Strength, yes. Pride. A touch of vanity, judging by the glittering rings on his fingers. Good.
He strode down the carpeted aisle toward her, cloak swinging. At the base of the steps, he bowed. Not deeply enough for Liora’s taste, but more than some had. “Your Majesty,” he said. His voice was rich, practiced. “It is an honor to stand before you at last.”
She smiled, slow and warm. “The honor is mine,” she lied. “I have heard much of your kingdom’s strength. Your armies are said to be unmatched in the north.”
“They are,” he said, with the easy arrogance of a man not used to being contradicted.
“Then I am doubly pleased you have come in peace,” she said. “We value strong neighbors.” Her fingers trailed along the carved arm of the throne, drawing his eye to her hand, to the flash of gems there. She knew men watched what sparkled. Next she drew her hand back to her chest, adorned with a golden necklace feathered with sapphire gems quarried from her own lands. The necklace lay strategically just above the line of her low-cut dress, revealing ample cleavage. As she fingered the jewels she flashed her eyes back up at the king through heavily painted eyelashes which she batted a few times as if she needed more allure.
“Ahem,” the king spoke, clearing his throat. “I value strong alliances,” he replied. “Especially with those who know how to wield both the sword and subtler weapons.” His gaze traveled over her, appreciation clear. She let it.
“Come.” She rose gracefully, descending the steps to stand before him. “Walk with me, and tell me of your lands.” She laid her hand lightly on his forearm. The touch was chaste by court standards, but the way she did it—thumb resting just so, fingers curling with calculated intimacy—made it feel like more. They walked the length of the hall, talking of roads and trade and border skirmishes. Liora listened, but she also watched: the way his pupils dilated when she laughed, the way his stance opened when she leaned in to whisper a question. By the time they reached the high windows overlooking the courtyard, she knew two things: he was not as clever as he believed, and he was exactly vain enough to be led.
This was the first partnership Queen Liora had truly considered. Sure, other princes and kings from far-away lands had proposed, but the queen was very cunning in the choices she made. She knew this king was from a neighboring lordship to the far west, and a partnership between the two of them would give her power and control over the biggest contiguous area in all the land. She knew this was her chance to really have it all. The only piece left in this puzzle was whether or not she would be able to control this man as she had so many others. The prospect looked good, almost too easy.
“Your men ride well,” she said, letting her gaze drift to the yard below. From here she could see a small dark figure on a black horse galloping in the meadow beyond the castle. Even at this distance, she could see the chopped hair and rags.
The visiting king followed her gaze. “Yes, my heir among them,” he said. “A fine rider, if not yet as seasoned as I would like. He has never tasted battle. His heart is too soft.”
Liora noted the faint impatience in his tone. Fathers always wanted their sons to be more, faster. “He looks strong,” she said.
“He will make a good match,” the king said. “In time.”
Liora smiled. “As will we all, if the fates are kind.” She let her hand slip from his arm, fingers brushing the front of his tunic. “You must be tired from your journey,” she said. “Shall we retire to a more comfortable room to continue our … discussions?”
He caught her meaning. “Gladly.” She led him to a side chamber off the throne room—a smaller, more intimate space with a lower ceiling and a generous hearth. Intricately adorned stained-glass windows lined one inner wall, and maps of all the nearby kingdoms lay rolled up on the table in the corner. Once the door closed behind them, she dismissed all but one of her ladies with a wave. Even that one she sent to the far side of the room to busy herself with a ledger.
