Snow (9 page)

“Then perhaps for once I want to deal in truths and not wickedness.”

“And perhaps the sun will rise at midnight. You were born wicked, Rui.” Charming claimed Rui’s mouth in a kiss.

Anais reached out blindly and, finding the dwarf’s forearm, dug her fingers into it. Quietly he helped her to her feet, and they backed away. She was sick twice before they reached her rooms again. The second time he held her upright, holding her hair back from her face. When they entered her room, she stumbled to her bed and collapsed upon it, curling herself into a ball.

Numbly she was aware of the dwarf moving around her room. Sitting on the bed beside her, he gently wiped her hot face with a damp cloth. She opened tear-swollen eyes to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. She pushed herself upright against the pillows.

“What is your name?”

“Gault.”

“You lied,” Anais said hoarsely. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me. But you did. You have.”

He said nothing.

“And you would use me too, Gault. Yet when you tell me you are sorry for it, I believe you. Why is that?”

He merely watched her with his dark eyes.

Anais touched his bruised face. “They did this to you.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. Rising from the bed, he once more offered her his hand. When she stood beside him, he was a half-head shorter. “There is one thing more I would show you.”

Anais gave a wild laugh.

Taking his dagger from his belt, he closed her stiff fingers about the hilt. Then he unbuttoned his shirt. There were bruises on his body too, and high on one shoulder the marks of someone’s teeth. He placed his hands over hers and guided the tip of the dagger to rest against his chest, just below his left nipple.

“Here,” he breathed. “Between these two ribs. It’ll slide in like butter.” His eyes remained locked on hers, the dagger pressing against his skin. He let his hands drop. Anais’s hands trembled and a bead of blood formed. She let the dagger go and it fell to the floor.

“You won’t find your death at my hands,” Anais breathed just as softly, and a smile flashed across his face, transforming it to something of sheer beauty.

“My queen,” he said, bowing his head. He turned about and walked from the room, leaving the dagger lying there on the floor.

Having established through one of her women that Charming was presently to be found in the great hall, Anais made her way to Rui’s room. She didn’t knock. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it and gazed across at the disordered bed. Rui sprawled naked atop the sheets, his dark head pillowed on his arms. Anais crossed the floor to kneel beside the bed. She stroked his dark hair back from his face, and his eyes opened, blinking at her sleepily.

“Anais? What are you doing here?”

“Do I need a reason? I missed you.” She sought his mouth with hers and kissed him.

“Mmmm,” he murmured. He stretched, and a pang shot through her as she drank her fill once more of all his dark beauty.

One last time…

She leaned down to kiss him again, carefully shaking the dagger she had concealed in her sleeve into the palm of her hand. Her other hand gripping his shoulder, she drove the dagger into his chest. Right where Gault had directed her to. Then she released him.

He gave a small sound, a tiny huff of breath, looking down at the hilt protruding from his chest with an air of puzzlement before sagging sideways and dying.

It was that easy.

For a time, she sat unmoving beside Rui’s cooling body. Then she carefully straightened his arms and legs. She combed her fingers through the black silk of his hair. She kissed away the smear of blood at the corner of his mouth. Lastly she looked into the mirror of his eyes, frozen open in death, and tried to convince herself that she was still the fairest of them all.

There was an ironbound casket beneath Anais’s bed. She withdrew it now, pressing her fingers against the secret catch that sprang the lid. Inside nestled an apple. A red apple, glossy-skinned and perfect. Back before Rui had come up with his new plan to get rid of the Snow Bitch, Anais had arranged for the apple’s creation. One of the travelling hedge witches who passed through the city periodically had taken her silver and brewed a deadly poison. Each full moon for three months saw Anais dipping the apple in the witch’s brew.

She had meant the apple for Snow White.

She took it from the casket, cradling it between fingers that shook only slightly. Lying down upon the bed, she lifted the fruit to her mouth. It smelt of summer. A summer she would never see.

Closing her eyes, Anais bit into the apple.

The Prince

Charming took another swallow of his drink, an irritated frown creasing his forehead. Where was the queen? The bitch was late. The note he received from her had indicated that she would join him in his apartments over an hour ago. A rap on the door made him utter a grunt of satisfaction. At last.

There was no queen waiting in the corridor. Only a nervous-looking servant who handed Charming another note in a bold sprawling hand that he recognised immediately. He frowned again.

“Wait here,” he directed the servant. He had dismissed his own retainers earlier. “If the queen comes, tell her I will return shortly. Ask her to wait.”

The servant’s eyes widened, but she nodded obediently. Charming crumpled the note in his pocket and strode down the hallway. He flung open the door to Rui’s room with a bang.

“What is so urgent that I had to drop everything and come running?” he began before his words stuttered to an abrupt halt. “Rui?”

Charming could hear his heartbeat echoing in his head. The blood in his body seemed to have turned thick and cold. He took a step forward and his breath sawed in his throat.

Step by step, on feet that had turned to lead, Charming approached the bed. There was no doubt that the man who lay upon it was dead, even without the evidence of the dagger that protruded from his chest. Rui lay still and straight, his blue eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, and Charming felt his heart crack open. He reached out a trembling hand. Someone was muttering, “No. No. No.” Over and over. He threw his head back and screamed.

“Rui!”

There was remarkably little blood. Just a small dried trail that ran from where the dagger had pierced his chest, down across his belly. He hadn’t been dead long. A few hours, maybe more. The body was only now beginning to stiffen. Charming pulled the dagger free. It slid from Rui’s body like a piece of silk.

He was weeping. He couldn’t remember the last time he had wept, but he thought now that he might never stop. Charming stared at the blade in his hand. The chased silver work of the hilt and the runes incised on the blade made it instantly recognisable as dwarven work. Something dark and cold uncoiled itself in Charming’s chest. Raked his belly with sharp claws.

There was another note. There on the bed beneath Rui’s limp hand. It was in Rui’s handwriting, but Charming knew it had not been written by him, any more than the note in his pocket had.

Consider this a thank you gift. A token of how much I enjoyed your company and that of your late friend. Should you wish to renew the acquaintance, you know where to find me.

Gault Bessarion

The Princess

The day of her wedding galloped inexorably closer. Snow White had a host of scholars and clerics poring over the marriage contract, looking for a legal way to break it that would not lead her country into bankruptcy or worse.

“It is watertight,” she said with frustration to Kaliko as they lay in her bed. “Charming’s father has overlooked nothing.”

“He has overlooked me,” said Kaliko, his hands idly stroking her hip. “Charming will never have you, Snow. Trust me. Trust all of us. None of us will let you come to harm.” His hand drifted lower to the damp flesh between her legs. In the past days, they had learnt much of what pleased the other. Each time they made love revealed some new delight.

How she loved him.

The sound he made when he was buried deep inside her. How he always cried her name when he came. The wonder and the love in his dark eyes as he looked down at her, his body moving so sweetly against hers.

How she loved him.

If not for the ever-present worry of her wedding, everything would have been perfect. That, and her worry for Gault.

Gault, who was present in body, but not in spirit. He was achingly polite whenever Snow White addressed him, trying to coax him from the dark place to which he had retreated. He was achingly polite to all of them. Even to Ander, and that was the worst hurt of all. Seeing the growing despair on Ander’s face as each day seemed to take Gault farther away from him. Ander carried the marks of strain like scars.

Until this morning when she and Kaliko had risen from her bed to take breakfast and Ander had entered the dining room. There was colour in his face for the first time in days. He exuded a joy that was palpable.

“Gault came to me last night,” he said, eyes shining.

Snow White had taken his hand with a glad smile.

“Perhaps? Perhaps it will be all right?” said Ander.

She nodded, her throat tight, squeezing his fingers.

Gault came to the table a short time later. There was an ease to his dealings with Ander and the other dwarves that Snow White had never seen him display before. He even went so far as to smile at one of Hiram’s inexorable jokes. Snow White stared at him, arrested. When Gault smiled, he was truly beautiful.

When he had finished his meal, Gault rose and shocked them all even further by leaning down and giving Ander a slow, deep kiss. Hiram’s mouth fell open. Ander touched his own lips with dazed fingertips.

“I love you,” Gault said. His hand lingered against Ander’s face a moment before he turned to Snow White. “Will you excuse me, Snow? I have some things I need to take care of.”

She nodded. He had never called her Snow before. Her heart felt lighter as she went to attend to her daily affairs.

Perhaps it will be all right…

It was the feast day of Dwalen, one of the dwarven gods, and that night her dwarves were to go down into the city to worship at one of the shrines. They gathered at the door now, all except Meris, who would remain to guard her. And Gault.

“I’ll stay too,” he said. “I have no desire for prayer tonight.”

“If you are sure?” Ander said uncertainly. Gault gave him a brief smile.

“Go. You say a prayer for me instead. I’m sure your words will have more weight with the god than mine.”

Kaliko took Snow White’s hand and kissed it. “Shall I bring you back something sweet from the town?”

“I have sweets enough,” she said, kissing the top of his dark curly head.

“We’ll be back by moon-fall.”

Snow White sat now in her sitting room, a book in her hands. Meris was about somewhere. There was a new serving maid and it appeared that she had allowed him to catch more than her eye. Gault prowled restlessly about the room, stopping here and there to pick up some item and turn it over in his hands before replacing it. She studied him over the top of her book. Finally he ceased his pacing and leaned against the fireplace.

“Will you make him your king? Kaliko, I mean,” he asked suddenly.

Snow White blushed. Gault didn’t look at her. Instead, he ran his fingers over the mantle as though searching for dust.

“I love him,” she replied. “And yes. He will be my king. He
is
my king.”

She saw the corner of Gault’s mouth turn up. “Good. He is kind. And he loves you.”

“He is everything to me,” she said before adding carefully. “As Ander is to you.”

“Yes,” Gault agreed softly. “He is my soul. If…you would take care of him, Snow? If anything happened to me?”

A frisson of unease trickled down her spine. “Nothing is going to happen to you, Gault. What has brought on these maudlin thoughts?”

He gave a rueful laugh. “Nothing. Just…nothing.” He glanced towards the door, and she became aware of the air of urgent expectancy that coiled around him. Her unease deepened.

“Are you happy, Gault?’ she blurted out. “Truly happy?”

“Happy?” He paused as if struggling to find an answer. From outside came the sound of voices, shouting. Gault stiffened, straining towards the sounds. The door to her sitting room crashed open, and he smiled at her. Achingly beautiful. “I am now.”

Charming stood in her doorway. He looked deranged, his hair loose about his face and his eyes swollen and red with weeping. The expression in those eyes made her cold down to her very toes. In his hands he held a silver dagger and his eyes were fixed on Gault, who simply stood there, smiling at him.

Snow White surged to her feet, her book falling to the floor.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Charming ignored her. “I’ve come to return something to you.” He threw the dagger at Gault, but it was not aimed to kill. It hit the marble fireplace and clattered to the ground. He crossed the room in half a dozen rapid strides, drawing the sword he wore belted at his hip free of its sheath. Snow White grabbed at his arm as he passed, and he shook her off. She fell against a parquetry table which collapsed under her, to sprawl upon the floor.

“Meris,” she screamed, knowing as she did so that it would be too late.

Gault said not a word. He spread his arms wide across the mantelpiece and went to his death, smiling.

Charming’s sword slashed down, cleaving through his shoulder and chest until it became lodged against his hip. Gault remained standing for a moment before falling, firstly to his knees and then collapsing on his side to lie sprawled and bloody upon the tiled floor.

Charming died an instant later. He reached behind him to fumble at the axe between his shoulder blades, then fell face first beside Gault’s body.

“Snow!” Meris, naked and white-faced, knelt beside her. “My princess? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, pushing him away to crawl towards Gault. Meris took hold of her shoulders, pressing her face against his chest. She was crying, great tearing sobs that shook her entire body.

“Snow?” Kaliko’s voice. She turned blindly in Meris’s grip, holding her hands out towards him. He took her in his arms and held her, murmuring soft words. Stroking her hair.