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“What? What is wrong with my eyes?”
The sister with hair the color of rich chocolate whispers, “They’reglowing.”
Turning back to Hilda, I ask, “What do you suspect?”
She brushes a hand down her sage-green dress, then fiddles with her apron strings before meeting my gaze. “You are looking quite exhausted, Your Highness. Let us leave speculations and serious discussions for another time.” I open my mouth to protest, but she waves a finger at me. “We have plenty of time for that later. You need to heal and recover first. Once you’re back on your feet, we’ll talk. There are things you need to know, and a war is coming our way. We, and all your subjects, are going to need you, Princess. Will you recover and stand with us when the time comes?”
I’m not sure what she is talking about. War? Glowing eyes? I don’t like being ignorant, but the determination shining in her eyes prevents me from arguing. A slight movement from the far corner of the room catches my notice, and I imagine I see my mother’s shade, her hand outstretched toward me, eyes pleading. I blink and she’s gone, and I return my attention to Hilda, straightening my shoulders.
“Yes.”
Morana
Ignoring the maid who has come in to light the morning fire, I snuggle deeper into the covers, unwilling to open my eyes and greet the new day. Instead, I examine the dreams that visited me last night—visions from my ravens, snapshots of various places around the country.
Two-thirds of Valderán has fallen to me. Each day, the poison I have poured into the earth slithers farther and farther in every direction, infecting the minds of nobles and peasants alike. Rivers turn to blood, a frothy crimson that rolls over rocks and pebbles in a vicious current that will sweep even the mightiest of men out to sea. Trees, once laden with the famed honeyed apples Valderán is known for, now stand barren, the trunks black and withered.
The once emerald waves of grass are now brown, the bees and butterflies having since moved on to greener pastures. Flies, on the other hand, have arrived in swarms, feasting on the carcasses of animals too weak from starvation to survive.
I have my reasons for destroying this country. Ones I have buried for so long I sometimes struggle to remember the origins. But the desire for vengeance still burns strong in my breast, unwavering and undeniable. I will conquer this land. Every man, woman, and child left standing will fall to their knees before me, their heads bowed in supplication. They will repent for what they did to me. Their eyes will be opened to their treachery, and their screams will be heard across the continent as they burn in the flames of atonement.
My teeth grit when my mind turns to Cassian and Snow White. The mirror tells me that Cassian is still in the Forbidden Isles, but Snow White is nowhere to be found. This gives me hope that she is dead, most likely perishing when Alaric stole her from the palace. My lip curls when I think of the huntsman. Even now, his empty skull decorates the gates, having been picked clean by the birds.
Throwing back the blankets, I ignore the drooling idiot next to me and slip out of bed. I wrap a robe around me, then make my way up to the tower. It has been too long since I have abated my curiosity.
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”
“My queen, I cannot lie, there is one more beautiful than thy.”
No. It cannot be.“Tell me!”
“Snow White lives and has rejoined the light. She lives with seven others and rebuilds her might. I cannot say where she is for sure, some magic protects her, keeps her location obscure.”
My hands slowly form into fists as I stare at the mirror in shock. Never mind that it was speaking in its ridiculous rhymes again—I swear it does it solely to annoy me—but the news that Snow White is indeed alive has floored me.
Turning, I dash to the window and mentally call my ravens. They come in their thousands, hovering around the palace.
“Find Snow White!”
Chapter 15
Cassian
Iranoutofwater last night. My tongue sweeps over my cracked lips, and my legs wobble beneath me as I try to keep to my feet. The pack resting on my back seems to grow heavier with each step, even though it’s lighter than it was when I began this journey.
The sun scorches the earth with its rays, presiding mercilessly over the azure sky. The granite mountains have made way for sandstone ones, the rich red and orange rings stretching far above me. There is no vegetation here, not a single blade of grass, nor a tree whose shade I might shelter under. My sweat dries faster than my body can produce it, and I feel as if I’m losing my sanity. Mirages abound in every direction, each one a false prophet, pointing toward salvation that doesn’t exist.
Dropping to my knees, I lower my head. I need to rest for a moment. Just a moment. Two small dusty feet appear in front of me, a girlish giggle reaching my ears. I use the last of my strength to raise my head, only to see a six-year-old Snow standing in front of me.
Her braided black hair hangs over her shoulder. A flower crown rests jauntily on her head, and an impish grin shows off her missing front teeth. What trickery is this? Does Anansi come again to test me?
The girl holds an arm out, and when I don’t take her hand, she stomps her bare foot and waggles her fingers at me. “Come, Cassian, son of Alaric.”
I stare at her almost in wonder. How did they make her so perfect? I remember that dress and the crown that I wove for her. Even her voice is as I remember, raspy and lispy with the missing teeth.
“Come,” she says again, and I force my aching body to my feet.
“Who are you?”
