Snow pressed herself against the cool wall to make sure he didn’t see her. When he was out of sight, she peeked again to look at the guard. He was young and very thin. Not much older than she. And he had a family he was feeding on meals that weren’t arriving. She looked down at the warm bread and the fruit on her breakfast tray.
Her belly was still full from the night before. She could make it until dinner without anything more. Looking both ways to make sure the hall was clear before stepping out of the shadows, Snow walked swiftly toward the guard, her eyes cast downward. The guard looked surprised when she placed her tray at his feet.
“Your Highness,” he said, struggling for words. “But that’s your meal.”
Snow was too shy to speak. Instead, she waved the food away and pushed the tray closer to his boots. With a small nod and smile, she hurried back to the safety of her chambers before anyone could see them conversing and tell the queen, but not before she heard him speak softly.
“Thank you, kind princess. Thank you.”
She didn’t feel much like a princess these days, but she was proud to help anyone when she could. Back in her chambers, Snow prepared to go about her day. Since the court wasn’t meeting with her aunt, she knew it was safe to mop the castle foyer. It had been looking a little muddy when she’d walked through yesterday. There were also several stained glass windows on the second floor that she hadn’t had a chance to clean recently. And there was a rug she wanted to scrub near the throne room. She hated getting too close to her aunt’s quarters, but that rug was the first thing visitors saw when they came to meet with her, however rare that might be. What people thought of the castle was one of the few things about the kingdom Snow could control, and she took pride in the work . . . even on days when her back began to ache from scrubbing tiles or her hands grew callused from all the pruning she did in the garden. She tried to break up her day between indoor and outdoor activities when the weather allowed it. Today was a fine day, so she hoped to get out to the garden as soon as possible. She wanted to gather flowers to make bouquets for the castle vases. There wouldn’t be many who had the opportunity to see the flowers, but at least the servants’ day would be brightened.
She gathered her cleaning supplies and was heading down the hall when she heard footsteps. Once more, she instinctively moved into the shadows to stay unseen. It was the queen’s seamstress, Margaret, as well as Margaret’s apprentice: a daughter about the same age as Snow. Snow had overheard them talking on their many trips to the castle and knew the daughter’s name was Anne, but the two had never spoken.
“I told you: I don’t know why we were summoned,” Snow heard Margaret say as she wheeled a cart with spools of fabric and sewing materials down the hall. With every turn, the cart made a clicking sound that echoed through the corridor. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
“What if she changed her mind again?” Anne prodded, her brown eyes holding a world of worry. She pushed a stray strand of hair off her tan face. “We can’t afford to throw out any more fabric, Mother. The queen won’t let us sell the discarded gowns to anyone and she won’t let us keep them. One day she wants all purple, the next black, and the following blue. The Evil Queen can’t decide!”
“Don’t you dare call her that! Hold your tongue!” Margaret looked around worriedly and Snow pushed herself farther into the shadows. “Do you know how fortunate we are to have this position? She is the queen, and as you well know, she can do whatever she pleases—including doing away with us.”
Anne hung her head, staring down at the basketful of spools in her arms. “I’m sorry, Mother. It just feels so wasteful! Her tariffs and rules mean so many go hungry. If we could give the unwanted clothes to those in need . . .”
It pained Snow to hear the subjects talk like this. She was forbidden to spend time outside the castle, so she didn’t know for sure, but she sensed that most of the people were struggling. She hated feeling like her life was frozen in time. She’d have given anything to help the people, but she knew her aunt would never entertain her concerns.
Margaret stopped the cart. “Enough now! I mean it!” Anne grew quiet. “I am grooming you to take over this position when I am too old to thread a needle. Do you want the job to go to someone else?”
“Honestly?” Anne started to say, and Snow couldn’t help laughing.
Anne seemed like a funny girl, one Snow wished she could spend time with. But that was out of the question.
“What was that sound?” Anne said in alarm, and Snow grew quiet. Anne was looking in her direction.
“See what I mean?” Margaret hissed. “She is always watching, girl. Always! Enough griping. Whatever the queen doesn’t want today, you put with the rest of the waste we leave behind.”
Anne sighed. “Yes, Mother.”
More rags! Snow thought. She wondered what the queen would think if she knew her unwanted clothes were being torn up and used for cleaning. (The staff joked that the castle had the finest cleaning rags in the land.)
Snow watched them both continue down the hall and waited till they turned into the queen’s corridor before she stepped into the light again. Then she heard movement and froze, turning around slowly. Anne had come back around the corner and was looking right at her. The two stared at one another for a moment. Snow wasn’t sure what to do, so she stood there, still as a statue. Then Anne smiled and did something surprising—she curtsied in Snow’s direction.
“Have a good day, Princess,” she said. And then she was gone.
Snow grabbed her cleaning supplies and disappeared before Anne could return again. As lovely as it was to be acknowledged, she knew she couldn’t respond. Not there, out in the open. Not without the queen hearing about it and punishing Snow—or worse, Anne, for “endangering the princess” with her company. She walked down the hall in the other direction, taking the stairs down two levels, past the banquet hall, the dining area, and the empty living quarters, and heading straight to the doors that led out to her mother’s garden.
Blue. It always amazed her how blue the sky was on a cloudless day. Was it always this color, or was it just more stunning because it had been so long since she’d seen it? It had rained the last three days, forcing her to stay indoors, which was painful. The sun made her more grateful today. Her mother was very much on her mind after last night’s dream, and being in the gardens near the aviary always made her feel closer to her.
She looked down at the stone steps beneath her feet. Moss had started to creep up the walkway and was turning the white stone green. She would start there. With a sigh, she dropped to her knees, wet her sponge, and began to scrub, humming a tune to herself as she worked. A few moments later, a group of white birds landed on the steps to watch her. “Hello there!” she said and removed some birdseed from her pocket, laying it on the steps for them to eat. When they were finished, they stayed to watch her work. She didn’t mind. It helped to have company, even if they couldn’t talk. She found herself talking to them sometimes. True, some might call her mad for conversing with animals, but who was paying attention?
The moss began to vanish under her scrubbing, and the steps looked almost new again. Pleased, she went to the well to get a fresh bucket of water. Perhaps if she finished with this in a timely manner, she could visit the aviary. The birds followed, watching as she hoisted water from the well, and she couldn’t help smiling.