“Ah. My love,” the King said, smiling as he entered the chamber.
The new family sat down to a fine meal of baked rosemary bread, sweet butter, hearty cheeses, roasted pork, and sweet potatoes smothered in garlic and olive oil.
“I miss Great-uncle Marcus!” Snow said between bites of bread soaked in gravy.
The Queen had cut Snow’s bread into interesting shapes, soaking them in gravy in hopes of inspiring the girl’s appetite. Snow was a finicky eater.
“Come now, little bird, will you have no pork?” urged the Queen.
“I feel bad for the piggy, Momma,” said Snow.
“Very well, my girl,” the Queen sighed.
“What do you miss most about your uncle, Snow?” her father asked.
“I want to hear more about dragons, Papa,” Snow said, her eyes lighting up, as she straightened her back and pretended to be one of the rare breed of ice-breathers Uncle Marcus had spoken about.
The King smiled mischievously. “Oh do you? Well, perhaps we should play a game of dragons and knights then.”
Snow jumped from her seat, knocking it over, and bolted to the farthest end of the hall.
“Try to catch me, dragon!” the King shouted as he stood upon his chair and with a giant roar jumped off and tore after his daughter as she screamed with peals of laughter. He gathered her into his arms and smothered her with kisses.
“Save me, Momma! The dragon is getting me!”
The Queen laughed. She considered the gorgeous stone woman. She was gazing at her, smiling down upon all of them. The Queen felt this shower of approval, and it made her happier than she’d often been.
“Shall I have the servants bring our desserts to the morning room? We can sit by the fire and tell stories until bedtime, if you’d like,” the Queen said.
“Oh yes!” said Snow. The dining hall might have been homey, but the morning room was cozier still. There were many cushions and warm furs laid before the fire. The walls were constructed mainly of paned glass, and the doors opened onto a lovely garden filled with beautiful flowers in shades of pink, red, and purple. During nighttime hours it was lit with candles and torches.
The three snuggled together in the morning room eating strawberries and cream. A storm had stirred up and rain pelted the windows. Snow’s eyes looked heavy, and the King told her it was time for bed.
“No, Papa! Just one more story, please!” Snow pleaded.
“I’ve no stories left in me this night, child. We’ll continue tomorrow.”
“Momma, you tell me a story about dragons, please.”
The Queen looked at her husband nervously. The King shrugged.
Unable to deny her little bird anything, the Queen put aside her inhibitions and complied: “Once, a very long time ago, a sad, lonely, and greatly misperceived woman enchanted a young princess into a deep sleep for her own safety….”
“Why was she sad, Momma?” Snow interrupted.
The Queen thought about it for a moment and said, “I think it was because no one loved her.”
“Why?” asked the child.
“Because she didn’t love herself. She feared rejection because she was so unlike anyone she’d ever known. She was so full of fear that she sequestered herself away. This sad woman’s only companions were striking blackbirds that soared in the skies around her home, perching in trees and on ledges, gathering information so she would have news of the outside world. That is how she learned of the princess’s christening. No one understood why the woman was so angry for not being invited to the christening. But you see, my little bird, she knew something the girl’s parents and fairy godmothers did not.”
“I thought you were going to tell me a story about dragons, Momma,” Snow interrupted again.
“I am, my dear. For you see this was no ordinary woman, she could turn into a dragon, and when she did, she was a fierce, frightening creature.”
“Really?” Snow’s eyes were closing, heavy with tiredness.
“Indeed, but we are getting ahead of the story….”
Before she could continue the tale, Snow had fallen asleep in her arms. The King took his wife by the hand and looked at her tenderly. The firelight flickered upon his face, transforming him from a King into something more like an angel.
“You have already become a mother to her. And I adore you all the more for that.
“I’m sorry to be away from you so soon after our guests have left, my love,” he said with a sincere gaze.
“Away?” the Queen asked, taken aback.
“My Queen, I am not a King who sends my men off to die in battle without sharing in that risk. If we are fighting for something—some worthy cause—then it should be worth my life as much as the lives of my men.”
The Queen thought this was an honorable and valiant ethic. But it did not alter the fact that the thought of her husband out on the battlefield paralyzed her with terror. And how could it be that he would rather be in battle with his life on the line, when he was King and could choose to be home with her? Was he choosing his duty over his love for her? And shouldn’t she—and Snow—be paramount in his life? And then, a more worrisome thought entered her mind—perhaps his loving words to her since his courtship had been untrue and he wanted nothing more than to escape her, even if it meant certain death.
“We will have to make the most of our time together, then,” she said, crestfallen.
“And what will you do while I am away? How will you spend your days?” he asked.
“I think I will take Snow to the forest to pick wildflowers. And if you do not object, I would like the child to visit her mother’s grave.”
The King fell silent. His eyes welled up. It was strange to see such a great man, still with stony countenance, dissolve into such a state.
“I’m sorry, did I overstep…?” the Queen began.
“No, love, you did not. It means so much to me that you should want Snow to know of her mother. You are a remarkable woman. You have a beautiful heart, my darling. And I love you more than you will ever know.” The Queen kissed the King on the cheek and stepped away from him.
“And I, you. We will anxiously await your return.”
The Queen spent the following months further acquainting herself with her new home. With the King away, Snow occupied much of the Queen’s time. The two picnicked in the woods, and the Queen taught the child delicate needlepoint. She told her tales of dragons while they snuggled by the warm fire in the Queen’s chamber, where Snow slept while the King was deployed.
The two also spent many sunny afternoons visiting Snow’s mother’s grave site. The mausoleum was surrounded by a lovely overgrown garden filled with creeping roses, wisteria, jasmine, honeysuckle and gardenia—all favorites of the King’s first wife.
The scent was almost intoxicating. The Queen would sit with Snow for hours, telling her the stories of her mother that she had learned from the letters the King had brought her, and reading some aloud.
“Was my first mother very pretty?” Snow asked.
“I believe she was, my dearest. I shall ask your father if there are any portraits I may show you. I’m sure she was very beautiful.”
Snow looked distressed.
“What is it darling?”