“Do you want to hear a secret?” she asked the birds. “This is a magic wishing well. Let’s make a wish.”
Her mother had been the one to tell her the well had the power to grant wishes. “What do you wish for?” her mother would ask, and Snow could recall closing her eyes and thinking really hard. “I wish,” she’d say . . . and then she’d ask for the thing she wanted most in the world at that moment. One time it was a pony. Other times a doll or a tiara that looked like her mother’s crown. All her wishes were granted within days of asking for them at the well. She was old enough now to know her father and mother had made her wishes come true, but still, she loved the idea of the well being magical. She hadn’t made a wish since she was a child, but the movement felt so natural she couldn’t resist doing it again now. Snow closed her eyes. “I wish . . .”
What did she wish for?
She no longer needed a pony or a doll. What she needed was her parents’ love, but no well could turn back time and change her fate. She had accepted her mundane, solitary life and made the best of it . . . but she couldn’t help wishing there was someone to share her days with.
“I wish for love,” Snow announced, the statement simple and profound at the same time.
She opened her eyes and looked into the cavernous well.
No love—true or otherwise—was waiting at the bottom.
One could always dream. And she was still outside, enjoying the beautiful day. It made her want to sing. She thought of her mother and hummed one of her favorite tunes—one she’d said she sang to Snow’s father when they were courting. The birds stayed near to listen to Snow’s melodic voice.
She was so caught up in the music that she didn’t notice the boy till he was in front of her, seeming to appear from thin air.
Stranger!
Snow was so surprised to see a young man walking toward her that she knocked over her bucket and ran for the safety of the castle. Her heart was pounding as she rushed inside. Had this intruder come for her, as Aunt Ingrid had always warned? There is a mark on a princess’s head. Mark my word! she’d say whenever young Snow asked why she couldn’t leave the castle grounds in the early days, back when Queen Ingrid had been around more. And now a man had appeared. What should she do? Alert the guards? She could hear yelling—was he calling to her? What if someone heard him? She ran up the steps to the first landing, went to the nearest balcony, and cautiously looked out.
The stranger was looking right at her.
Snow did as she always did: she retreated into the shadows again.
“Wait!” she heard him call. “Please wait. I am so happy I found you.”
Found you? she thought. Why was he looking for her?
She knew Aunt Ingrid said strangers couldn’t be trusted, but he appeared to be the same age as her, if not slightly older, and looked like he had a kind face. His voice wasn’t menacing, so maybe he meant her no harm. But why was he looking for her? She risked another peek from the balcony to get a better look. She inhaled sharply.
His eyes were as blue as the blue jay that sat on her windowsill most mornings, and his hair, while a bit messy, was a lovely shade of brown. She liked how one curl fell over one of his eyes, and he had such a luminous smile that she couldn’t help blushing. His clothes were fine, indicating that he held a high station somewhere; he had on a dark red traveling cloak over a clean white dress shirt, blue pants, and a royal blue and gold vest. His brown suede boots were muddy, as if they’d been well-used, but still seemed high quality.
It had been so long since she’d concentrated on someone else’s face. Reluctantly, she avoided eye contact. Her aunt didn’t want her to appear friendly. It opens you up to trouble! she’d say whenever she called upon Snow in the early years to scold her for eating with the cooks or bringing flowers to a servant. Maybe he wasn’t there to hurt her, but nothing would save him from Aunt Ingrid when she learned he’d climbed over the castle wall.
“You should leave,” Snow said, forcing herself to look away from him.
“Wait!” he called after her. “Did I frighten you?”
Yes. Snow didn’t answer him. Instead, she hid herself behind the curtains.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said. “Your voice is so lovely. When I heard it, I had to see who was making such beautiful music.”
She smiled to herself. He thought her singing was beautiful?
“Would you please come out?”
Snow looked down at her tattered dress and hesitated. That’s when she heard her mother’s voice in her head again, another memory from long ago. They’d encountered some beggars in the village and she recalled asking her mother why they dressed so differently. You must look past appearances, Snow, she remembered her mother telling her. A person’s true worth is always found within.
Snow did what she could with what she had, and she should be proud of that. She touched her hair to make sure it was in place and stepped out onto the balcony.
The young man smiled, removing his feathered cap. “There you are. Are you going to come down?”
She hesitated. “I really must go,” she said. “I have much to do.”
“Please stay, if only for a moment,” he begged.
Her cheeks felt warm again. No one had ever spoken to her this way before. “For a moment,” she agreed, stepping closer to the railing.
He looked at her curiously. “You look far too young to be a queen.”
“Oh, I’m not the queen,” she said, her fingers gripping the stone rail tightly. For some reason, he made her feel almost dizzy. “I’m just the princess.”
“Just?” He cocked his head to one side.
A small brown bird with a blue head landed on her shoulder, and she handed it a seed from her pocket.
“That’s a bearded reedling,” the young man said in surprise. “You rarely see those anywhere but in the woods. It must really like you to stay here.”
“Yes,” said Snow, surprised at his knowledge. She hadn’t met anyone other than her mother who shared her love of birds. “This one frequents here a lot, but isn’t a permanent resident.” She motioned to the gardens, where her mother’s beautiful aviary reached high into the sky. “My mother commissioned this aviary, and when I was a child she taught me all there was to know about the species that live in our kingdom. We have many sparrows and even a few middle spotted woodpeckers,” she said, noting the small black-and-red birds on the ground.
He turned around to look at the domed structure. “It’s beautiful. The birds must love having such a lovely cage to reside in.”
Cage. She had never called it that before, but it’s what it was, wasn’t it? A prison. A beautiful prison, but a prison nonetheless. A lot like the one she grew up in. The thought suddenly saddened her. “Yes,” she said. “I hope they are happy here.”
He studied her face. “I’m sure they are. You give them all they need—food, shelter, water. What’s not to love?” She didn’t reply. “It’s the perfect setting. All these winterberry bushes you have—they attract a lot of birds.” He began to look around, his boots scuffing the pebbles on the ground. Then he glanced up at her again, his eyes bright. “You know, if you wanted to see more cardinals, you could ask the palace to plant grapevines. They love sitting on those in my kingdom.”