The next morning, she summoned her daughter to her chambers. Snow White arrived with her hair loose down her back, a small foolish hope blooming in her chest that perhaps her mother meant to spend the day with her, to talk of Wilhelm, to share memories. It had been so long since they had simply been together.
Liora’s ladies-in-waiting melted away at a gesture, leaving queen and princess alone. “My little snow-thing,” Liora said. Her voice was smooth, almost warm. “Come here.”
Snow White came, her slippers whispering on the rugs. “You wanted to see me, Mother?”
Liora’s gaze swept over her—over the fall of that dark hair, the glow of youth in her cheeks. “You are growing,” she said.
Snow White smiled, uncertain. “That’s what girls do, I think.”
“Some grow into something dangerous,” Liora said softly. Before Snow White could puzzle that out, her mother’s hands were in her hair. “At least this can be corrected,” Liora went on. “Stand still.”
A chill skated down Snow White’s spine. “What are you doing?”
“Protecting you,” Liora said. “There are eyes everywhere. Ever since your father—” She paused, letting her mouth tremble delicately. “I will not see you taken from me by some assassin who caught you in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“What does my hair have to do with that?” Snow White asked, confusion tinged with fear.
“Pretty things attract attention.” She picked up a pair of shears from the table. The metal glinted. “Attention can be fatal.”
Snow White’s heart started to beat faster, and the bile rose in her throat. “Mother…”
“Hush,” Liora said. “Do you trust me?”
Snow White did. “Yes."
“Good girl.” Liora gathered a thick rope of hair at the back of her daughter’s head, twisted it once, then raised the shears. The first cut was the worst. The sound of metal grinding through hair was louder than Snow White would have imagined. She felt the sudden, shocking lightness as a great dark weight fell away down her back. She made a small, wounded sound.
“Don’t be vain,” Liora said sharply. “It’s only hair. It will grow again. Or not, as I choose.” More snips followed. Liora was not careful. She hacked the hair to chin-length in rough, uneven chunks, not bothering with symmetry. When she was done, she turned Snow White toward the mirror.
The girl barely recognized herself. Her once-silken river of hair was now a ragged frame around her face. She looked younger somehow, and yet harsher. Exposed. “There,” Liora said. “Less… conspicuous.”
Snow White swallowed, blinking hard. “Mother, I—”
“You’ve been spending too much time in the stables,” Liora said, cutting across her. “Your gowns are ruined by straw and mud. It’s wasteful.”
“I’m sorry,” Snow White said automatically.
Liora moved to the wardrobe and flung open the doors. Silks and velvets gleamed inside, a rainbow of luxury. “These are no longer appropriate,” she said. “For now, you will wear this.” She turned, holding out an armful of coarse, grayish cloth. A simple dress, the kind a kitchen maid might wear. No embroidery. No lace.
Snow White stared. “That’s… that’s not a princess’s dress.”
“It is a safe dress,” Liora said. “No one pays attention to a girl in rags. Assassins do not waste arrows on stable hands.”
“But—”
“You spend half your days down there anyway,” Liora went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. “You may as well look the part.”
Snow White’s throat tightened. “Are you—are you sending me away?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Liora said. “You will stay here, inside the castle walls. You will not leave them without my express permission. Not to the village, not to the forest, not even to the courtyard if I say no.”
Snow White’s chest caught. “But I’ve always—”
“Your father was too lenient,” Liora snapped, the first real flash of anger showing. “See where it got him.”
Tears burned at the corners of Snow White’s eyes. “Mother, please. The walls feel so—so small. I can’t—”
Liora gripped her shoulders, nails biting lightly into flesh. “Listen to me,” she said, each word a slow drop of poison coated in sugar. “There are people in this world who would hurt you just to hurt me. You are all I have left. Do you understand? If I must turn this castle into a prison to keep you breathing, I will.”
