Read Snow Online

Authors: Deborah M. Brown

Snow (4 page)

“But I don’t want that! I don’t want
slaves
.”

Gault jerked as though she had slapped him. “What do you want?” he asked, his husky voice laced with bitterness.

“Friends,” whispered Snow White.

Gault surged to his feet and, ignoring Ander’s outstretched arm, strode from the room. “We are not your
friends
, Princess,” he hissed over his shoulder as he flung the door open hard enough to rattle the windows.

In the sudden silence, Snow White looked around at the other six dwarves. Kaffion and Meris met her eyes briefly before glancing away. Shyla wouldn’t lift his head, and Hiram stared resolutely at a spot on the wall. Kaliko’s eyes swam with tears, but when he sensed Snow White’s gaze upon him, he lifted a hand and swiped them away.

In Ander’s eyes she thought she saw grief. And pain. But the dwarf’s eyes were so dark, darker than a midwinter sky, she wasn’t certain of anything she saw there. He bowed his head.

“Forgive him, Princess. If there is to be punishment for his transgression in speaking to you thus, then let it fall upon me.”
He has been punished enough.
The words were unspoken, but Snow White could hear them beneath Ander’s strained whisper.

“There will be no punishment. Not for speaking what is in your hearts.”

Kaliko’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Ander.

Snow White reached forward and gently rolled Ander’s sleeve back down, concealing the slave braid from view once more. “I know you don’t trust me and I’m not sure how to make you believe what I say.” She let her gaze travel around the circle of dwarves once more, and this time all of them met her eyes. “Perhaps it is too soon for you to feel that we could be friends, but here, with me, you will not be slaves. You will be men.” She rose to her feet, and the dwarves scrambled to theirs. With Gault gone, only Kaffion could look her in the eye without tilting his head. For the most part they looked wary, but Kaliko’s face wore a burgeoning joy that made Snow White want to smile back in return.

She was not used to smiling.

There were shadows in Ander’s eyes. She could see them clearly now. He vibrated with tension like a bowstring too tightly drawn. “Go after him.”

Ander bowed his head. “Princess,” he whispered. Snow White watched as he hurried from the room. He moved like all of the dwarves, with a lithe, graceful stride.

“You won’t change Gault’s mind,” said Hiram. There was a hint of challenge in his voice as though he tested the limits of her declaration.

“Then I shall have to settle for changing yours, Master Hiram,” said Snow White serenely. “Come. Tell me more of your homeland. Tell me about yourselves. Tell me everything. Teach me.”

Kaffion and Meris exchanged a look and a grin. Shyla groaned.

“You don’t know what you are getting into, Princess. Once you get those two started, there’s no stopping them.”

Meris draped an arm around Shyla’s neck. “Knowledge is power, my friend.”

“Give me knowledge,” said Snow White.
Give me power…

Kaffion bowed deeply. “It will be our privilege, my Princess.”

Snow White learned, drinking every drop of knowledge that the dwarves shared with her. While Anais and her lover ruled the court, she kept her knowledge to herself and continued to show the world her blank face of ice. Her eighteenth birthday approached, and with it came several letters from her betrothed, the northern prince.
Prince Charming
. She tasted his name on her tongue. His letters were everything that a young woman could desire, full of ardour and passion. But she knew him not. Would he be an ally? Or another enemy?

She sent to the witches of the east, seeking an answer to another question. When finally an answer came, she called her seven dwarves to her, her heart beating fast with nervous excitement.

Snow White studied their faces as Ander read the letter aloud.

“There is a way to break the spell,” she said. “To free you all from the slave braids you bear. Will you let me try?”

Gault’s mouth curled with derision. “Hedge witches,” he said dismissively. “They know nothing.”

“This letter comes from the head of the guild in Pompano,” Snow White replied. “If anyone would have knowledge of how to break this spell, then surely it is she? At least give me a chance.”

It was Kaliko who stepped forward, his face resolute. “I will give you the chance, my Princess. Let it be me who goes first.”

He pushed back his sleeve, baring his wrist. Snow White swallowed as she picked up the small dagger that was lying on the table before her and scored it across her palm. Blood welled in the cut, dark and red. Taking a deep breath, she held her hand above Kaliko’s slave braid and let a single drop of blood fall upon his arm. Where the blood touched the braid, smoke rose, along with a faint hiss. Kaliko gasped, his arm shaking. The smoke thickened a moment before dissipating completely. The braid about Kaliko’s wrist was broken. Where the blood had touched it, the ink was completely obliterated. He stared at it blankly before lifting his head to stare at Snow White with dazed eyes.

“It’s gone,” he whispered. A sudden joyous smile crossed his face. Rising to his tiptoes, he placed his lips against hers and kissed her. Soft and slow. The sweetness of that kiss took her breath away for a moment, and when he drew back they stared at each other uncertainly. “I did that because I want to,” he said. “Not because I have to.”

He stood aside as the others came forward, each baring their braids so that Snow White could let a drop of her blood fall upon them. Gault was the last, trembling like a leaf in a winter wind. His arm shook so much that Ander had to hold it still. At the end, to Snow White’s shocked dismay, it was Gault who wept. He fell to his knees, cradling his arm against his chest, his head bent whilst sobs tore through his body.

Ander knelt beside him, taking him in his arms and rocking him like a small child, murmuring soft words against his hair.

“You are free now,” Snow White said, fighting back her own tears. “You may leave, if that is what you wish.”

Kaliko shook his head, taking her hand in his and bowing over it. “Never,” he said fervently. “You are our princess, and we will stay with you. Because we want to.” One by one the others murmured their assent, faces shining. Even stubborn, bitter Gault, his face pale and stained with tears.

The lessons continued. Art and poetry with Shyla. Music with Hiram. The twins Kaffion and Meris shared their love of geography and language with her. From Ander she learned of court intrigue and the treachery of men and women. As the youngest, Kaliko shared her lessons as he also shared his shy smile and gentle heart.

Gault taught her how to kill a man, a lesson she hoped she would never have to put to use. Gault’s sneer told her that he thought her hope to be a vain one.

Time raced towards her eighteenth birthday. The latest letter from her betrothed informed her that he would arrive at court the following month and expressed his regrets at not being able to attend her natal ball.

Kaliko had scowled when she read the letter out loud to them all and refused all attempts by Snow White to coax him from his black humour.

The night of her ball, Snow White sat upon her throne and watched as the nobles of the court vacillated between the queen and herself, wondering which way the wind would blow. Wondering if she would be strong enough to oust her stepmother from her seat of power and rule for herself. Wavering betwixt the known and the unknown. Snow White, as usual, showed Anais only the deepest respect. Her stepmother masked her feelings well, except for when the huntsman Rui Alvarez led Snow White into a dance. Snow White saw her stepmother’s mouth draw thin, her hand tighten around the silver goblet in her hand.

Snow White and the huntsman did not speak. He watched her, his clear blue eyes never leaving her face, a little half smile curling his lush, sensual mouth. He was beautiful, yet something about him made her skin crawl, even as her body shivered with awareness beneath the light touch of his fingers at her waist. Only at the very end of the dance did he pull her close against his body. Just the briefest touch, but enough for her to feel the hard length of his erection pressed against her stomach before he released her. She saw him lift his eyes to the dais where Anais sat watching, and his expression made Snow White shiver, but whether from fear or wanting, she could not tell.

He led her back to her seat and bowed over her hand. Snow White thanked him with a cool nod, hiding the uncertain thudding of her heart. She could feel Kaliko’s eyes burning into the back of her neck. She could feel the huntsman’s gaze caressing her through her heavy silken gown. She could smell the wildness in him, and the danger. He had power over her because he knew things that she did not. Things her stepmother and most other women in the court knew. She followed Anais’s eyes as they feasted on Rui. Saw the hunger in them. A hunger laced with fear. If she was to have a hope of controlling him, then she needed knowledge, and thus she turned to the only ones she could ask. The only ones she trusted in this cesspit.

“Teach me how a woman pleasures a man.”

She and her dwarves were sitting at the table in her private apartment eating supper. Kaffion spat out the mouthful of wine he had swallowed, coughing. Eyes watering, he turned to Ander, who put down his own goblet.

“Princess?” he asked carefully.

“I need to know,” she said. “I am going weaponless into this battle.”

“You are scarcely without weapons, my princess,” said Shyla wryly. “You have only to look to see how they watch you.”

“With the eye in their cock, not the eyes in their heads,” sniggered Hiram.

Gault fixed a dark glare upon Hiram, who flushed, ducking his head.

“Your pardon, Princess,” he mumbled.

“Will you teach me?” she demanded again.

“Why?” said Kaliko roughly. “So you can fuck him? The queen’s huntsman?” His eyes looked very dark in his pale face.

“I have no intention of…” She made herself meet his eyes. “No. But if I am to play the game, then I must know enough of the rules to survive.”

Ander gazed at her thoughtfully before running his hand over the dark stubble on his head. “Will you let us think upon this a while, Princess? Decide how best we might accomplish it?”

“Don’t look to Kaliko to show you, Princess.” Hiram sniggered again. He waggled his fingers in front of Kaliko. “This is the only way
he
knows to pleasure a man, that man being himself.”

“Whereas all Hiram knows is how to pleasure a bitch in heat,” Kaliko hissed. “
Dog fucker
.”

“Enough,” barked Ander. “You forget yourselves.”

Kaliko stared at the table, his mouth set in a stubborn line.

Snow White rose to her feet. She met Ander’s eye, and he nodded. She tried to catch Kaliko’s eyes, but he wouldn’t lift his head. With a sigh and a nervous flutter in her stomach, she left them to their discussion and returned to her sleeping quarters.

It was several hours later when a rap came at her door. She opened it to find Ander standing there, an oval mirror clasped in his hands. He entered on her invitation and stood before her a moment, a frown creasing the smooth, golden skin of his brow. Then with a sigh he handed her the mirror. The frame was chased silver. Heavily embellished, it felt warm against her fingertips.

“Look into the mirror, Princess. In one hour’s time. I trust you will learn something…” His voice dropped. “But remember, this is not a sideshow. Everything that is done is done with love. And you must not speak of it, to any of them, especially not to Gault. We will do this for you because you are our princess and, as you say, you need every weapon you can possess. But do not demean what he offers you by questions. Look. Learn. And keep silent. Can you do that? Will you do that?”

“Yes,” Snow White whispered, her fingers tightening about the mirror.

She placed it on a chair before her bed after Ander had left, curling up against the pillows to stare into its cloudy surface. She could feel her heart beating rapidly, and her palms were damp.

Despite her nervous anticipation, she had begun to doze off when a soft, sweet chime sounded, startling her awake. The mirror’s surface began to clear, and she found herself gazing into a room. Ander’s room. She recognised the painting, one of Shyla’s, hanging over the bed. The room was lit by candlelight, enough for her to see clearly. And she could hear too. Heard the bedroom door open and saw Ander enter, followed by Gault. Ander turned and she saw one quick warm smile light his face as he looked towards her. Gault’s mouth was set in a grim line. The look he sent her way was full of resentment.

“What do you imagine she will learn from watching us?” Gault asked. “Watching two men rut like she’d watch some goddamned animal?” His voice shook.

“Sshh,” murmured Ander. “How a man pleasures a man is not much different to how a woman does.” He lifted the heavy black braid that hung over Gault’s shoulder and softly kissed his nape.

“As if you’d know,” Gault said.

Snow White saw the shiver that ran through him. He lifted his head, arching his neck, and Ander kissed the pulse that pounded in the hollow of his throat. With gentle fingers, Ander untied the thong that bound Gault’s braid, threading his fingers through Gault’s hair until it hung in curls around his shoulders.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ander drew Gault to stand between his legs and, reaching up, began to unbutton the loose white shirt he wore. When Gault’s shirt hung open, Ander stood and slowly pushed it from his shoulders, exposing Gault’s lithe, muscled torso and smooth, golden skin. Ander ran his hands down Gault’s arms, kneeling before him to remove his boots. Placing his fingers on the placket of Gault’s breeches, Ander undid those buttons too, peeling the breeches over Gault’s lean hips and down his legs so that he stood naked before him.

Snow White realised she had been holding her breath and let it out on a gasp. The tallest of the dwarves, almost of a height with her, Gault’s body was chiseled perfection. Taut with muscle, golden skin shining in the candlelight. The hair between his thighs was dark bronze, and his phallus curved upwards towards his navel, moisture gleaming at its tip.

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