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One of the dwarfs backs into me, then spins around, apologizing. When I glance back up, Snow is gone. I drop the reins as an icy finger of fear slides down my spine. “Snow!”
Tick.
The old woman catches my eye, the corner of her mouth lifted in a smirk. “Too late,” she hisses, disappearing into thin air. I stare at Snow White lying in a heap on the ground.
Tick.
People gape, eyes wide with horror, their shrill screams blocked out by the steady thumping of my heart. Terror clogs my throat as I begin to move toward her, a roar of anguish ripping from my throat.
Tick.
Morana appears at the opposite side of the square, and my blood turns to ice. “Cassian,” she shouts, throwing an object at me. I automatically reach out to catch it, and a skull lands in my hands. I stutter to a stop, staring dumbly at it, my uncomprehending mind a mass of confusion.
Tick.
“Daddy says hello!” Morana screams before throwing her arms out to the side, disappearing in a puff of raven feathers. Her vicious laughter remains behind, taunting me. Snow. Father. Denial fizzes in my veins, refusing to believe they are both gone. Time returns to normal, the sounds of women screaming and children crying slamming into me like a wall.
Panic sweeps the village. Men shout from the roofs, scanning the area for any further threats. Mothers clasp their children to their breasts, hurrying them into the cottages. Those that missed the action listen with slack-jawed curiosity as they are filled in, and still more gather around Snow’s lifeless body.
I stand there stupidly, unable to move, almost in some kind of trance, until Aren roars at me to do something, anything, to save our mate.
Snow.
The skull drops from my trembling fingers, and I race across the square. Marian leans over her, her fingers at Snow’s neck.No.She shakes her head at Robin, tears slipping down her face.No.Robin crashes to the ground beside her.No.“Don’t touch her!” I bellow as my heart tries to regain its rhythm. Somehow I know it never will again.
I fall to my knees and scoop Snow’s limp body into my arms. An apple rolls from her fingers, a single bite taken from it. Deep racking sobs shatter me as I tuck her against me, rocking back and forth. “Please don’t leave me,” I murmur over and over. “I cannot do this without you.”
The ravens’ caws mock me, laughing at my devastation. I ignore them, lost in my grief and insanity.
Sometimelater—hours,days,Icannot say—Merlin drops a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Come, lad. Bring the princess with you.” I stagger to my feet, swaying under the burden of my dual loss. Ahead of me sits a golden slab resting on a flat-topped boulder. I’m too weary to make out the symbols etched around the edges, but in the middle, “Snow White” has been engraved.
It’s her coffin.
I rear back, shaking my head. She’s not dead. She’s not—she can’t be. “Cassian, come. I need you to set her down.” My nostrils flare and tears fill my eyes. Swallowing the despair, I gently lay her down, then position her so that her hands rest over her chest.
She looks peaceful, as if she’s sleeping. Disbelief still blankets my mind, muddling my thoughts. Nothing seems real. When a crowd gathers and people lay flowers around her, it takes me several minutes to understand what they are doing.
She’s gone.
They bow their heads, dabbing at their tears. Merlin raises his staff, and a glass cover settles over Snow, protecting her from the elements. Unable to continue standing, I once more slip to my knees, hanging my head.
My one job was to protect her, and I failed.
Chapter 29
Morana
Materializinginthetower,triumph blazes through me. It was so easy. The little whore took the poison herself, with very little prompting needed. And Cassian? Ha! The traitor’s son deserved the dual blows I dealt him. Not only did I kill his love, but I literally threw his father’s death in his face. I thought the skull was a nice touch.
In a month’s time, all of Valderán will have fallen, and my revenge will be complete. Then I will sacrifice King Silas to the mirror and move on to Granton. Nothing will stop me from taking over the Restüra Continent, and all will bow before me.
Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I saunter over to the mirror, running my finger over the runes. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”
The disembodied mask appears in the glass, its sightless eyes staring back at me. “You are,” it intones, then fades away until only my reflection remains.
Satisfaction curls my lips into a victorious smile.Of course, I am.Then my brows lower. The mirror isn’t usually so abrupt, or lacking in rhyme. It’s almost as if it’s unhappy with the turn of events. Refusing to let its rudeness ruin my mood, I shrug a shoulder, then stalk over to one of the windows and peer down. Two huntsmen loiter in the otherwise empty courtyard.
“Bring me a comfortable chair!” I screech, and they glance up, startled. “Now!” They trip over themselves to do my bidding, and minutes later, they arrive in the tower, huffing and puffing, sweat lingering on their brows. They set it in front of the mirror, then back away, heads lowered.
