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Settling into the plush chair, I lean back, lifting my skirts and spreading my legs. “Momma’s in the mood to celebrate,” I announce to them, snickering under my breath as their shoulders hunch and they exchange wary glances. “You,” I point to the one on the left. “Come here and please your queen.” He scurries over and buries his head between my legs. Snow White’s death deserves an orgasm or three. “Mmm,” I moan, tilting my head back. “Yes, just like that.”
I narrow my eyes at the other, who freezes when I catch him inching toward the door. Wetting my lips, I run my gaze over him. Momma doesn’t only want to celebrate; she’s fucking starving. My lips tip up and I crook my finger at him. His Adam’s apple bobs as he shuffles forward, terror flashing in his eyes. Grabbing hold of his tunic, I yank him closer, then rip into his chest, removing his heart.
As his body drops to the floor, I greedily eye the blood trailing down my arm. My tongue darts out, lapping it up. The other huntsman pauses at the sight of his expired friend, but I reach down and thrust his head back where it belongs. “If you stop, you’ll join him,” I hiss, and he quickly resumes his task.
“Mirror, show me the village.” A destroyed Cassian kneels at Snow White’s coffin, his shoulders bowed in defeat. The sight rips an orgasm from me, leaving me panting at his despair. “Again,” I demand, then bite into the heart, my eyes never leaving the view of the village and the fall of the so-called army Snow White thought she could defeat me with.
Chapter 30
Snow White
Awarenesscomesslowly,nudginggently at my consciousness. It beckons me out of the oblivion, its skeletal fingers tugging and pulling at me, whispering promises I can’t make out or understand.
My fingers twitch and jerk, the darkness receding further. The absolute silence wraps around me, not so much as a breath of air or the wings of an insect to keep me company. My body is heavy, lethargic, refusing to obey commands, as if it is not under my control. It’s too much like when I was lost inside myself, and I swore I would never surrender to that despair again.
Aged eyes, heavily lined with wrinkles, dance in my memory. A coy smirk, malicious laughter. An unpleasant taste sitting on my tongue, numbing my face. A sense of impending doom shattering my psyche as I collapsed onto the cobblestone street.
Morana.
I heave in a mighty breath, my body springing up into a seated position. Panting heavily, I bring a trembling hand to my throat, then slowly climb to my feet, my heart thumping erratically as my gaze bounces around. Taking a stumbling step forward, I brush my sand-covered hands down my hose, realizing the ground is made of black sand instead of soil.
Where am I, and how did I get here?
The last vestiges of daylight ring the deep-purple sky, leaving me with the barest of light to see by. Peculiar-looking trees surround me, the trunks appearing to be carved from smooth stone. Their barren branches, misshapen and ugly, twist and bend in unnatural ways. It’s when I take a closer look that I gasp in dismay. Each tree has a face carved into it, all with different expressions. Some look to be caught in an eternal scream while others appear to be sleeping.
Come back to me, Princess,Cassian’s voice whispers overhead, and my heart lurches painfully.
“Cassian!” I scream at the sky, but no response comes. Spinning around, I call out to him, again to no avail.
“Snow White,” my mother’s voice moans, the sound low as if in pain. A finger traces up my spine, and I stumble over my feet before glancing over my shoulder.It was just a branch.The tree it belongs to opens its eyes, coming to rest on mine. Its face contorts into one of pain. “Help us,” it says, once again in a voice eerily similar to my mother’s.
“Momma?” I whisper, my mouth going dry. I shake my head, backing away. What is this place?
The eyes narrow, its mouth opening wide. “Come back,” it screams, no longer sounding like Momma, but instead my father’s voice. Fingerlike twigs reach for me, grabbing at my doublet.
“Let me go!” I break away, waves of horror washing over me. It reaches for me again and I dodge to the left, then turn and sprint as if Morana herself were chasing me. The trees begin to blur as I race past, each of them waking as I do. A thousand voices howl my name, and I cover my ears as my feet pound into the soft sand.
I’m unsure how long I run, but eventually, I break out of the forest and fall to my knees, my lungs burning and desperate for air. As my muddled mind tries to make sense of what is going on, the evening darkens further, twilight surrendering as night wrests control. There’s nowhere to take cover, nowhere to go. Peering up at the sky, I notice there is no moon, or even a single star to break the vast expanse of midnight blue. A sob tears from my chest before I choke it off.
I can’t do this without you,comes Cassian’s voice, and a tear leaks down my cheek.
“I need you too,” I murmur back, my eyes fluttering closed.
Somethingsoftticklesmyface, and I swipe it away sleepily. It comes back, wrapping around my ankle. For a moment, I think it’s Aren’s tail, and the corner of my mouth lifts in a small smile, until reality bursts through the wall of sleep fog and shakes me awake.
I hold very still when I meet the azure blue gaze of a large black cat. She sits regally beside me, her tail firmly wrapped around my ankle. Around her neck rests a collar made of several gold chains intertwined together, while an empty clasp dangles from the longest one.
We stare at each other, neither of us moving. I don’t want to assume her friendliness; she may look like a larger version of a housecat, but her claws look plenty sharp. “Hello,” I murmur, careful not to startle her. She cocks her head and unwraps her tail, purring loudly. “Does this mean I’m allowed to move?” She butts her head against my chest, rattling the necklace the Valkyries gave me. “Yes, I have one like you.” She settles back on her haunches and narrows her eyes. Her gaze bounces from the necklace back to mine, and it clicks. Reaching behind me, I undo the clasp and spill the disks into my hand. The cat eagerly nudges one of them, the one with the hieroglyph of a cat. One that looks suspiciously like the one in front of me, gold chains and all. “Is it okay if I put it on you?”
She straightens, lifting her head. Taking that as permission, I clip the disk onto her collar. The design shivers and clears, the nameBastetreplacing it. I freeze. Bastet is the protector of royalty, the cat goddess of love, passion, joy, and pleasure. Unsure whether this is the goddess herself, or merely one of her agents, I bow my head and lower my eyes to the ground.
Sharp teeth prick the skin of my hand. Raising my head, I meet the cat’s gaze. She backs away and I stand, brushing the black sand off of my hose and backside. Bastet prances away, tail high in the air, and then glances at me over her shoulder, with a very humancome onlook. I take a second to wonder if following a strange cat—goddess or otherwise—is the safest course of action, but as no other avenues have been afforded to me, I shrug and follow.
Once out of sight of the haunted forest, there is nothing as far as the eye can see—just miles upon miles of sand in every direction. We walk for hours. Although the clear sky offers no relief from the sun, I do not thirst. Nor do I need to relieve myself or desire food. My mind shies away from thinking about this too deeply. I’m not ready to hear that my life is over before I had a chance to live it.
When the silence becomes too oppressive, I begin to talk to Bastet. Haltingly at first, then with more gusto. She’s an excellent listener, talking back to me with an occasional chirp or meow. I explain to her all about Morana and the plight of my kingdom. She brushes against my legs in support when I mention my mother. I speak of the Valkyries and how they saved me, and of my love for Cassian.
By the time the sun begins to set, the landscape begins to subtly change. Sand gives way to marshland, and I’m thankful for the knee-high boots I wear. The scent of fish and salt grows thicker the farther we travel, and I stop my mindless chatter, too busy watching where I place my feet.
