A Dream of Ebony and White: A Retelling of Snow White (Beyond the Four Kingdoms Book 4) Read online

  But somehow my stepmother had negotiated his release. I had lacked the courage to question her on how she managed it. And my father’s health had become so precarious at that point, that I dared not raise it with him. At least the queen had waited for his death to officially promote her favorite lackey to head of her guard. She must have known my father wouldn’t tolerate his presence anywhere near their elaborate shared suite.

  Randolph bowed to me as he opened the door, the action at odds with the threat in his eyes.

  “Your Highness,” he murmured as I sailed past, but I ignored him, keeping my gaze firmly ahead.

  I had expected my stepmother to be awaiting me in the reception room, but it stood empty. Reluctantly I glanced back at Randolph, and he gestured toward the closed door that opened onto one side of the dais that held the thrones. So she had already begun without me. Why was I surprised?

  Drawing a deep breath, I opened the door and strode through, my heavy skirts rustling around me.

  Chapter 2

  It took only a moment for me to absorb the scene before me. My stepmother held court from her usual place in one of the two great thrones. While my father had lived, she had ruled equally beside him. But now that he had died, she should have taken one of the smaller chairs to either side. One of the seats that usually belonged to me.

  But no one in the assembled court appeared to have taken issue with her position. And surveying the crowd, I concluded that the entire court must be in attendance—every noble born family in Eliam represented, and even some of the more influential merchants. Had she ordered them all here? Or had they hurried here of their own volition—eager to show their loyalty? I suppressed a shiver.

  A slightly startled count knelt at the bottom of the steps, his eyes now on me. He was clearly one in a long line pledging their support to Queen Alida. My stepmother gave me a single glance that promised I would feel her anger later before turning a smiling face to the crowd.

  “Ah, my dear daughter has joined us at last.”

  Her words set my teeth on edge. And not because of her not-so-subtle rebuke. I hated when she called me her daughter. A ripple blew through the crowd as they bowed or curtsied toward me. But a lifetime of etiquette training told me none of them bowed deeply enough for a reigning monarch.

  Except for one tall man in the back. I forced my eyes to skim quickly over the familiar tangle of my friend’s dark hair, hoping no one else had noticed the small anomaly.

  With a wave of her hand, my stepmother gestured for me to cross over and join her. She indicated the smaller chair set back to one side of her own throne, instead of the smaller one I had previously occupied next to my father’s throne.

  For a moment I hesitated, indecision sweeping through me as anger almost overpowered my caution. I had expected a show of power from her eventually, a moment of crisis between us when I would have to choose. But I had not been expecting it so soon. And I had not been in this room since my father’s death—his empty seat mocking me and lending fresh fuel to my grief.

  What would she do if I took his great throne instead of the place she indicated for me?

  My eyes turned to the crowd. What would the court do? Rightfully the seat belonged to me.

  But the soft sound of an opening door behind me drove all thought of rebellion from my mind. Only one person could be there, and I had no desire to turn and see Randolph’s dark eyes on me again. I already had their threats memorized.

  Instead I crossed the dais, my steps heavy, and took the seat she had indicated. My father had been ill for a long time, and she had won over too many of the guards in that time. They followed her, and the court clearly had no wish to demur. All I had was one loyal huntsman. My eyes wanted to seek out his in the crowd, but I forced my gaze to stay in my lap.

  “I am so glad to have your support beside me, dear child,” the queen said. “Together we must soldier on, despite our tragic loss.”

  The next in line, a junior baron, nodded solemnly and professed his condolences. Ah. So that was how she had framed this. The court had come to offer their support to a grieving widow—who also just happened to be their queen.

  I had no doubt that my stepmother’s words had been chosen carefully. They generally were. Together, she had said, coming just short of outright rejection of my claim to the throne. But dear child she had called me, reminding everyone present that I wasn’t yet of age. She clearly had no intention of adding the legally correct Regent to her royal title, and as noble after noble and official after official came forward to offer their ‘condolences’—none of them using the address of Queen Regent either—any whisper of hope that someone intended to call her on her oversight died.

  I steadily looked into the eyes of every person who came forward, yet another small and insignificant act of defiance as I forced each of them to face the one they had betrayed. I took careful note of those whose gazes skittered over mine, unease or guilt lurking beneath the surface of their gaze. I was glad for their discomfort, however uncharitable that might be. At least that meant they felt some sense of their own treason. Better than those who showed no qualms at all.

  And I took even more note of the few who directed their condolences toward both queen and princess. They made no protest to my stepmother’s place, but their gazes on me carried not guilt but grief. Would they have acted if their number had not been so few?

  One in particular gave only the shallowest of courtesies to my stepmother, his eyes instead lingering on me. A tall man with graying hair, his years gave him dignity rather than weakness. And unlike most of the others, I didn’t recognize him. Yet something about the line of his nose and the sweep of his brow looked familiar.

  He was already retreating back into the crowd when a shock of recognition swept through me. They were familiar because I had been looking at them in the mirror only today.

  The crowd parted respectfully before him, cementing my certainty that I had just faced the duke of Lestern for the first time. My grandfather.

  As a child, when I asked about him, my father would say only that the duke never came to court. It was one of my maids—an older woman long since retired from service—who had whispered more of an explanation, the words meant for another maid not for my curious ears.

  The duke was heartbroken at the death of his only daughter. And his grief turned to anger when the king chose to marry again so soon. He refused from that day forward to attend a court that had so quickly forgotten my mother. A court ruled over by her replacement.

  Even at my young age, I hadn’t needed her to speak the rest of it to understand. Why would he want to see a granddaughter who had been the means of killing his beloved daughter—however unwitting an object of death I had been?

  And yet now here he stood. I struggled to understand it. Unless it was indeed evidence that the entire nobility were here under royal command? Or perhaps death had been enough to win his forgiveness, and he had come to attend my father’s funeral. I would certainly not have noted him in the crowd during the event. I had barely been able to see the ground beneath my feet through my constant tears.

  It took some effort to train my attention on the next in line rather than following his retreating back. Would he approach me later, in private? Did I want him to?

  Finally the whole court had presented themselves before us. The steward stepped forward then, the small collection of servants and local citizens who were present mirroring his movement, although they lingered toward the back of the hall. He offered his condolences on behalf of the servants and the people, and as one the small crowd behind him bowed or curtsied low, each of their murmured words lost in the mass of voices.

  This time I could not prevent my gaze searching out a certain face. Relieved, I saw that Alexander was lost among them, his bow sufficiently reverential. Only, when he finally looked up, it was at me he looked, not the queen. I quickly jerked my eyes away, hoping again that no one was taking note of the individual servants.

  Glancing
across at the queen, I saw that she looked satisfied. The black of her mourning gown suited her fair coloring, and even I had to admit she looked beautiful. Not as beautiful as my mother, the whispers said. But beautiful enough to catch a grieving king in matrimony.

  When she looked toward me, I quickly looked away. I had never felt so drained, and I had no desire to challenge her in the moment.

  Graciously she thanked the court and the people and dismissed them. As the room began to empty, she turned toward me. The smile remained in place, but it didn’t reach her eyes which flashed furiously at me. What had so enraged her? My formal court dress which made me look older than my sixteen years? My delay in answering her summons? Or my hesitation after she directed me where to sit?

  But apparently I would have to wait to find out.

  “I am most disappointed in you.” Her words were spoken too low to be heard by anyone else. “You dishonor the memory of your late father.”

  I straightened, sucking in a breath at her words, but she didn’t give me a chance to deliver the hot retort on my lips.

  “Attend me in my chambers after the evening meal.” She swept to her feet before pausing to look over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed. “And this time, don’t be late.”

  I didn’t reply, holding myself stiff until she had disappeared through the side door, her loyal guard at her back. And then I waited until the whole room had emptied before letting myself slump back into my seat. So it had been my tardiness that had enraged her.

  I rubbed at my head, nearly dislodging the tiara I had forgotten I was wearing. No doubt another cause of the queen’s ire. Placing it in my lap, I massaged my temples.

  I knew all too well what to expect in her rooms. She had always loved to call me in for a “little chat,” although never with my father present, of course. I had never known anyone who could harangue and rail as she did without actually raising her voice. Or even saying anything strongly enough that someone—like me—might report it to my father.

  But every compliment came with a barb. Every suggestion for my improvement carried with it an expectation—an expectation that I would fail. Because if there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that I had always been a disappointment to my stepmother. Every look and every word she directed at me carried the weight of it.

  With my father gone, how could I bear this life?

  Hazel, the middle Marinese princess, was a good friend. My closest excluding Alexander—for all he tried to decry the title. Perhaps I could make an extended visit to Marin?

  Running away? So quickly? asked a snide voice in my head. But why shouldn’t I run? What was left to hold me here?

  But even as I thought it, unbidden, an image rose in front of my eyes. Gertie’s face from only a few hours before. If I turned and ran, what would Alida do to my father’s kingdom? To my kingdom.

  My hands balled uselessly into fists among my skirts. If only I weren’t so weak. If only I could make myself stand up to my stepmother. I hadn’t even spoken up when she had announced that my mourning necessitated my staying away from the upcoming wedding of Celine and Prince Oliver of Eldon.

  We had no such custom, and I had thought at the time she wished to keep me away from Alexander who had still been in the northern kingdom. But now I suspected she wished to keep me from spreading tales of her actions here and perhaps gathering foreign support for my own reign and a different regent. One who would actually acknowledge the title and my upcoming claim.

  I thought of the bride-to-be and sighed. Now there was a princess with backbone. Celine would never have rolled over and let someone treat her the way I let my stepmother treat me. If only I could borrow some of her determination and strength.

  But whenever Alida looked at me with that hatred and disdain in her eyes, Randolph’s lurking presence behind her, the defiance froze inside me. I had told myself that it wasn’t worth causing trouble that might hasten my father’s decline. Only now that he was gone, it seemed I couldn’t throw off the habit of years.

  I bowed my head. My people deserved a better princess than me. A better queen than me. If Alida had ever shown herself worthy of ruling, I would have gladly put aside my own claim. But she had never shown interest in anything but wealth and power. And even when it came to wealth, she lacked wisdom, showing only a short-term interest in her own gain. I knew our economy faltered, and that the other kingdoms attributed it to my father’s failing health. But I knew better. I knew whose orders had led us into trouble, and they hadn’t been his.

  I stood wearily to my feet. I should have told him what was happening. But the sight of his graying face, aged too quickly by pain and illness, filled my mind. How could I have brought such news to him? And to what efforts might it have roused him? He would only have killed himself in his attempts to set things right, and then we would all have been no better off.

  And you would have had less time with him, murmured a selfish voice which I tried to ignore.

  I had thought the betrayal of the court hurt, but it was nothing to the sad, wounded look in the eyes of the servants I passed on my way back to my room. Gertie had stopped just short of voicing their hope earlier, and clearly the news had already spread that I had proven myself a disappointment.

  A vague thought of the library had been filling my mind, but I directed my steps instead toward my room where I could ensure my solitude.

  Running away again. Too cowardly to face your own servants. The disdainful voice didn’t even make me pause. I was too used to its presence.

  The evening meal had been served late for some years, so that those of us who spent our days at the king’s bedside could eat after he had retired for the night. It meant it would be dark before I had to present myself to my stepmother.

  I ordered my meal delivered to my room, unable to face company of any kind, before shedding my court dress in favor of a comfortable dressing gown and giving myself one last afternoon to wallow in my grief. But when my meal eventually arrived, and I finished off the last mouthful, I knew I would have to change. I couldn’t face Alida in such attire.

  I was standing in front of my bed, surveying several choices of dresses laid out on it, when the door to my small dressing room swung open. I spun, biting off a gasp. My dressing room had no external access, and no one had entered my room since I had returned. Had someone been hiding there for all these hours?

  But when my eyes landed on the intruder, I understood. The dressing room did have a window, and a determined climber could make it up the vines which snaked down the three stories beneath. But it had been many years since Alexander had used that method of access to the castle.

  One look at his face made me fall back a step, the smile of greeting dropping from my face.

  “Alex?” I whispered.

  His eyes swept over me, and he flushed, falling back a step himself. I looked down, following his gaze, and rolled my eyes. I had forgotten I still wore my dressing gown, but it enveloped me from neck to toe, the thick material keeping my curves well-covered. He had seen far more in the years before my father’s illness when we would follow our fathers through the forest, my skirts tied up around my thighs, doing our best to keep up until we were eventually discovered and—after some token protest—I was put up in front of my father on his great mount, and he was permitted to join the hunt.

  “Alex?” I asked again, and my voice seemed to jerk him back to his purpose.

  Striding over to my main door, he turned the key that always sat in the lock. The one I never used. I frowned, hugging myself.

  I didn’t feel even the slightest whisper of concern to find myself locked in a room with Alex. I could no more imagine him hurting me than I could remember the face of my mother. But fear filled me all the same. I couldn’t imagine what might have driven him to such behavior.

  When he turned back toward me, the look on his face confirmed my feelings, deepening them into terror.

  “What is it?” I managed to gasp out.

  “Get
dressed,” was all he said, gesturing toward the gowns on my bed. “Your most practical clothes.”

  I didn’t hesitate, reaching to slide the dressing gown from my shoulders, and he flushed again, spinning to put his back toward me.

  “I’m not naked under this,” I muttered, pulling the garment off.

  The back of his neck turned red to match his face.

  Would he respond like that to any girl? I wondered as I ignored the dresses already laid out and instead crossed over to pull out my most practical gown. Or did his face betray what his voice would not? I held onto the small hope that Alexander might see me as more than a little sister or a princess owed loyalty.

  But the familiar question couldn’t occupy my mind for long. Something had happened since I had seen him in the corridor. Something drastic or he would never have climbed into my room in such a way.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” I demanded. “You can consider that a royal command, if necessary. Oh, and you can turn around now.”

  He spun, the unusual color gone from his face as he assessed my choice of dress. Reluctantly he nodded, and I only shrugged. I didn’t know what he had been expecting. I only had the wardrobe of a princess to choose from, so I had no hope of matching the practicality of his own clothes.

  “You can pack a few things but be quick. And keep them light.”

  “Pack?” I gaped at him. “What do you mean?”

  His brows drew together and then cleared as if he had forgotten he had yet to explain himself. “We have to leave. Right now.”

  Chapter 3

  “Leave?” I stared at him stupidly. Surely he could not mean…

  He nodded once. “We need to be gone from the castle as soon as we can.”

  “Gone?” I wished I could do something other than repeat his words like an idiot. But I couldn’t seem to make sense of what he was saying.