Anne stared at her as if she wanted to say more, but they were interrupted by shouting. A man came running toward them, his face filled with terror.
“The queen is a witch!” he shouted. “Steer clear of the town square—run! Hide! Or Queen Ingrid will curse you, too.”
The princess was so startled she couldn’t comprehend what the man was saying. Anne looked equally frightened. What had the queen done to her people now? She started running toward the town square to see what was going on.
Anne went after her. “Wait! You heard the man. This could be a trap!”
If the queen suspected she was near, so be it. Her gut told her something was seriously wrong. She needed to know what had happened.
As she approached the castle, she could see what looked like the entire village gathered in front of it. Heads bobbed up and down as villagers gawked at whatever was behind the closed gates. Clearly this was no celebration. She watched villagers anxiously jockey for position, trying to get a better look. Some screamed and cried while others lifted children onto their shoulders to get a better look. Anne and the princess struggled to get a better view.
“Don’t look,” she heard one mother say to a young boy. “We must go now! Before one of us is next.”
“Does anyone know who it is?” asked another.
“Looks like royal blood if you ask me.”
The princess pushed her way through the crowd, trying to make her way to the front. Anne clung to her arm, not wanting to lose her.
“Excuse me,” she kept saying. “May I please pass?”
But the townsfolk continued to goggle, talking and staring as if they didn’t see her.
“It’s witchcraft, I tell you!”
“A warning!” said another. “She is not to be crossed!”
“Is he sleeping or is he dead?”
“He hasn’t stirred. He must be dead.”
He? She pushed harder, going against all the manners she’d been taught so long ago to reach the front of the gate and see what the others were so upset about. As soon as she did, she wished she hadn’t.
“No!” she cried, pulling her hand from Anne’s and grasping the bars in front of her.
It was Henrich. Her Henri. Lying in what appeared to be a glass coffin on display on a raised platform. His eyes were closed and he was dressed in the finest of garments. His face looked almost peaceful. Clasped in his hands was a single white rose. It was a message for her, that much was clear. Was he dead? She needed to know.
“Wait,” Anne said as her friend pushed on the gates, slipping inside so fast the guards couldn’t stop her. “Wait!”
But she kept going, the cloak falling from her shoulders as she ran.
“It’s the princess!” someone shouted, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t care who saw her. She rushed up the platform steps and leaned over the coffin, lifting the glass lid. “Henri! Henri!” she cried, but his eyes remained closed. She clasped his hands. They were still warm. She leaned her head on Henri’s chest. There was shouting and commotion behind her. Screams and cries rose up from the crowd.
“It’s her!”
“She’s come back for us!”
“Princess, save us!”
She blocked out their yelling and listened for the most important sound in the world: a heartbeat. But before she had the chance to register one, she was ripped off the platform and spun around. She instantly recognized the large, burly man holding her.
The man smiled, his gold tooth gleaming. “Take the traitor to Queen Ingrid. She’s been expecting the princess.”
She held her head high as he marched her past Anne and the crowd and whispered in her ear.
“Welcome home, Snow White.”
Ten years earlier
Flakes fell softly, covering the already frozen castle grounds. When she stuck out her tongue, she could feel the flakes land on it. The little droplets of frozen water had the same name she did: Snow.
Was she named for the snow or was the snow named for her? That’s what she wondered. She was a princess, so the weather could have been named after her.
Then again, snow had been around a lot longer than she had. She was only seven.
“What’s that smell?” her mother called out, pulling Snow from her thoughts.
Snow flattened herself to the castle garden’s wall so she wouldn’t be seen and tried to stay quiet.
“Smells delicious and sweet . . . Could there be a goose in the garden with me?”
Snow giggled. “Mother, geese don’t stay at the castle in the winter! They fly south. Everyone knows that.”
“Everyone also knows that if you talk during hide-and-seek, you can be found faster.” Her mother rounded a bend and pointed to her. “I’ve found you!”
Maybe she was biased, but Snow thought her mother was the most wonderful person in the world. Father said she looked just like her, and if that was true, Snow was pleased. Her mother had kind eyes the color of chestnuts and ebony hair, which, today, was pulled back in a loose chignon. She had removed her favorite crown—Mother didn’t often wear it during games in the garden, especially in the winter months—but she’d need to place it on her head when they went back inside in a few moments. Her mother had to get ready for the castle’s annual masquerade ball. Snow hated that she was too young to attend and had to take her supper in her room with her nursemaid. She so wished she could go to the party. She preferred her mother’s company to anyone else’s.
“I’m going to get you!” her mother sang, pulling up the fur-trimmed hood on her red velvet cloak. Snow particularly liked the gold buttons on this cloak. She would play with them when she was standing close to her mother during processions through the village streets. It loosened the buttons and drove their tailor mad, but it made Snow feel safe and warm, like her mother did. She rarely ever wanted to leave her side—except during games of hide-and-seek.
“But you haven’t caught me yet!” Snow cried, and she took off through the garden’s maze of bushes. Her mother started to laugh.
Snow wasn’t sure which way to turn. Every path looked the same. The high, neatly trimmed green hedges blocked all but the view of the gray, snowy sky. Most of the flowers had been pruned for the season, leaving much of the normally beautiful grounds bare and Snow’s position in the gardens more visible than usual. If Snow kept weaving around the corners, she knew she would reach the center of the maze and her mother’s beloved aviary. The two-story wrought iron dome looked like a giant birdcage. It was her mother’s pride and joy and the first thing she had commissioned when she became queen. She’d always had a love of birds. Snow’s mother kept several species inside the netted walls, and she patiently explained each bird’s nature to Snow in detail. The two had spent countless hours watching the aviary, with Snow naming all of the creatures inside it. Her favorite was Snowball, a small white canary.
As Snow rounded the turn and spotted the dome in front of her, Snowball fluttered to a perch and spotted her, tweeting loudly and giving away Snow’s position. That was okay. Sometimes Mother catching her was half the fun.
“Here I come!” called Mother.
Snow giggled even harder, her breath leaving smoky rings in the cold air. She could hear her mother’s footsteps growing closer, so she rounded the aviary fast to hide on the opposite side. But she wasn’t being careful—her mother always told her to be careful—and she felt herself begin to slip on a patch of ice. Soon Snow was falling, sliding out of control into a rosebush.