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Cassian catches me as I fall, my lower lip trembling at the assault. Fear tears through me as Papa turns his back on me to scoop Momma into his arms. Bitter tears course down my face as I slowly follow behind them, the anguish and confusion making me trip. Cassian continues to hold my hand tightly, and I can feel his gaze on me. I squeeze his hand but look straight ahead, unable to meet his eyes.
Alaric and the other guards make their way toward us, and I quickly glance down at my feet when his gaze clashes with mine. He tries to take Momma from Papa, but he screams at Alaric, refusing to let her go. Wiping away my tears, my throat tightens, threatening to strangle me. How am I to live without her? Who will tuck me into bed at night, checking under the bed for the monster I know lives there? Who will sing to me when I’m sad, or braid my hair just the way I like it?
The palace looms before us, its white granite facade glowing softly in the sun. I had always loved my home, filled with laughter and the songs Momma would sing. It was where I felt safe, where bumps and bruises were kissed with love, and I could always depend on it to protect us. For a moment, I imagine I see blood dripping down the walls before the vision disappears as quickly as it came. Shivering, I clutch Cassian’s hand harder. I have the feeling the loving home I’ve always known is no more.
I had no way of knowing just how prophetic that thought would become.
Chapter 3
Morana
Three Months Later
Pattingmyhairtoensure it’s in place, I blow out a breath and then lean forward to take the coachman’s hand. Stepping down from the carriage delicately, I glance around, schooling my face to hide the disappointment at the emptiness of the palace’s courtyard. I had hoped—in vain, it seems—that King Silas would have arranged some sort of welcome for us upon our arrival.
Sweeping my gaze across the courtyard, I notice little has changed since the last time I was here. Washerwomen scurry to and fro, their hands reddened and chapped from the harsh soaps. The blacksmith, his thick arms corded with muscle, heaves a heavy hammer to fashion a sword. Various servants dash from one side to the other, going about their chores.
It’s all so very pedestrian. Where are the screaming crowds? The fanfare? Where are the nobles? I should be treated with the heralding of trumpets and the roar of crowds. This is not what I expected.
The king steps down from the carriage and joins me at my side. Taking his proffered elbow, I allow him to lead me up the stone steps and into the palace. I will quietly admit that the castle is indeed stunning. Far too bright for my tastes, of course. Ravenswing Castle, with its dark towers and glowering gargoyles, far better suits me. Adarvan Palace will do nicely for now, though.
The king leads me from room to room, passing richly decorated hallways and walls, past priceless art and artifacts. It takes everything in me to contain the excitement buzzing through my veins. After seven long years, the time is nearly nigh. Becoming queen of Valderán is just the first step. With my power, looks, and cunning, it won’t be long before I conquer the other lands. In time, I shall rule them all, and they will bow down and worship me as their goddess.
Silas comes to a stop in the throne room like the good little puppet he’s slowly becoming. Since our last meeting, I ensured his dreams were filled with images of me. Of me wet and glistening in the bath, or covered in blood during one of my sacrifices. He dreamed of untold sexual desires fulfilled, of passion and wild embrace. With each dream, my magic gradually seeped into his subconscious, preparing it for the day he’s ready for me to take control. It won’t be long now—once the last vestiges of feeling he has for Snow White and Elspeth disappear, he will be my creature, nothing more than an empty puppet ready to do my bidding.
The doors fling open as Alaric enters the room, Snow White in tow. Quickly dashing the smirk off my face, I replace it with a kind smile. Over the years, I had spent more time observing the king and queen than the little princess. Despite her eyes filled with sadness and mouth turned down with grief, her beauty shines inside her, which may become a threat to me as she ages. Gritting my teeth behind the false smile, I let my gaze roam over her. Her delicate skin is white as snow, her hair as black as ebony, and her lips the scarlet red of a rose.
But it is her eyes that fascinate me, having never seen their like. They are the same hazel color as her father’s, but that’s where the similarities end. A band of gold surrounds the irises, which are also covered in small gold flecks. At that moment, a sunbeam lances through the window, lighting her in its golden blaze. The light catches her eyes, and I take an involuntary step back when they seem to almost glow. Something pricks at my mind, but it is buried deep and refuses to surface.
Snow White lowers her head and drops into a graceful curtsey. “Papa, I am glad you are back. I’ve missed you.” She steps forward, raising her arms, but he shoos her away. Devastation fills her eyes as she steps back, her bottom lip trembling. I bite my tongue in glee at the display; surely it won’t be much longer until the king is ready.
“Snow, I would like to introduce to you my intended, Morana. We shall be wed tomorrow. She will be your new mother,” Silas intones, barely looking at the girl.
“But, Papa, I do not want a new mother!” she wails, stomping her feet.
“Do not speak back—“ he begins, but I place a placating hand on his arm.
“Let me, my love. Sometimes little girls need another woman to talk to.” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, waving me ahead. Stepping forward, I kneel in front of her with a rustle of skirts. “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine, won’t we, my dear?” I ask, locking my gaze with hers. Lowering my voice to a whisper, I add, “For, if you do not, I will arrange for you to be sold to the Beast of Granton.”
Snow gasps and steps back, her eyes wide as they search mine. “He-he’s not real,” she stutters, swallowing hard.
Pulling myself to my feet, I pat her head. “Oh, but my sweet, he is. He roams the forests and mountains looking for lost children. I’ve heard he eats three or four a day!” She shakes her head, lip trembling once again. Now for the icing on the cake. “And I’ve heard that little princesses are his favorite.” I snap my teeth at her, and she shrieks.
I put my finger over my mouth and back up, swallowing down the chuckle threatening to burst from me. Snow White stands frozen in terror, her eyes bobbing between me and her father. Alaric’s brows lower menacingly, but he doesn’t move, just gestures for the princess to stand at his side.
“Go back to your room, Snow. Tomorrow I expect you to behave accordingly. You will smile and be glad I have provided you with a new mother.” After issuing his command, Silas presses a kiss to my lips, and I smile inside at the hurt on her face.
Alaric rushes her out of the room, her tiny sobs feeding the darkness within me.
Ihavespentthemorning being poked and prodded, pampered and primped. The heavy navy and silver gown with long bell sleeves they’ve provided me has a square neckline that shows off my décolletage, its cinched waist highlighting my slimness. A silver circlet adorns the cascade of curls tumbling down my back, and a touch of soot darkens my lashes. I pinch my cheeks sharply to bring a little color to them, then brush away the maids before beginning the long walk to the chapel.
Two huntsmen stand watch at the main doors of the palace. They throw them open, bowing deeply. Tossing my head back, I march forward with anticipation. Trumpets herald my arrival, and I pause at the top of the stairs, soaking in the sight before me. The courtyard overflows with people, from nobles to knights, to villagers and servants. Even more line the curtain walls while others lean out of the windows in the towers. Flags wave gaily, and when the crowd sees me, a great cheer rises.
This is what I expected yesterday. I suppose a day late is better than nothing. Plastering on a victorious smile, I wave, the cheers growing louder. The two huntsmen escort me down the steps and onto the ornately embroidered carpet below, specially designed to protect my dress from the dirty slush left over from last night’s snowfall. Hands reach out to touch me, to wish me good fortune. I inwardly shudder at the thought of their filthy hands on me, but I hide it well. I cannot let them see the true me. Not yet. But soon enough, they will fall to their knees before me, worshipping me.
The skies briefly darken when hundreds of ravens flock to the barren trees surrounding the palace, answering my silent call. Some settle on the towers, while others cover the chapel’s roof. My babies deserve to be a part of my special day.
The chapel itself is small, made entirely of the same white granite as the palace. Narrow stained-glass windows line each wall while a multitude of cathedral candles bathe the room in a warm glow. Garlands of flowers dangle from the beams, and a harpist plucks a melody from her instrument.
