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“Nuh-uh.”
Cassian sighs and throws himself back, tucking his arms behind his head, staring at the cornflower-blue sky. He turns his head, eyes beseeching me to let it go.
Pursing my lips, I join him on the ground. He moves an arm under my head to use as a pillow, and I snuggle into his side. Very quietly, I tell him what I had seen.
My stomach growls painfully. Some days the maid forgets to feed me. It’s another thing I’ve noticed that’s wrong. Before Morana came, my maid would wake me in the morning, bathe me, then help me dress and do my hair before providing breakfast. I was given my own suite of rooms after Momma died, consisting of my bedroom, closets, garderobe, and a solar. The solar is my favorite, with soft chairs near the window to look out over the gardens, and a case with my most prized possessions—a handful of books, a locket of Momma’s hair, and little treasures such as the bird’s nest Cassian brought me after a storm knocked it from a tree.
It is late, most of the castle asleep. I can no longer ignore the grumbling of my belly, so I grab a candlestick and pad silently out of my room and down the expansive hall. Jansa, my maid, never came at all today, leaving me to struggle on my own and as hungry as a church mouse.
I’m not sure why church mice are hungry, but it is something Momma used to say, so it must be true.
At the end of the hall lays two staircases; one leads to the main floor below, the other to one of the towers. My eyes narrow when I see a faint light coming from upstairs, along with a chanting voice. Too curious to consider what a bad idea this is, I set the candlestick down and quietly creep up the winding stairs, thankful I hadn’t put shoes on. My bare feet are silent on the cool stone, leading me up to the room that should be empty.
When I reach the top, the light becomes brighter, illuminating the oak door that has been left halfway open. Peeking around it, I notice Morana standing in front of a tall mirror, one unlike any I have seen before. Its surface is silvery and . . . it’s moving. I slap a hand over my mouth before a gasp can escape. Peering intensely at it, I watch as smoke moves over the mirror before dissolving. A terrifying face appears, looking back at Morana.
It’s not a real face; I realize after a moment of letting my heart settle back in my chest. More like a mask but with a moving mouth. Where the eyes should be, are large black holes, a red liquid leaking from under the eyes like tears. Blood, my mind whispers to me, and I swallow harshly, shivers of dread racing down my spine.
When she’s finished chanting, Morana shifts out of the way, and I see a boy, around Cassian’s age, kneeling at her feet. He faces the mirror, head bowed, his body trembling with fright. Morana grabs his hair, pulling him to his feet. He struggles against her but is no match for her strength.
“Mirror!” she calls out. “As I have agreed, a sacrifice for you.” And with that, she wrestles the boy closer to the mirror. He drags his feet, whimpering. A small pebble dislodges under my foot, and the boy turns my way, his wide eyes begging for help. I crouch down, keeping my hand over my mouth, desperately keeping the scream locked in my throat at bay.
I can do nothing to help him, as much as I want to. I don’t even understand what is happening, but a moment later, I do. Morana shoves the boy into the mirror, his screams abruptly cutting off when he disappears into it. I don’t know where he goes, or what will become of him, but I can only assume the worst. I know what ‘sacrifice’ means.
Quietly inching away from the door, I quickly make my way back down the stairs. Scooping up the candlestick, I race back to my room, locking the doors behind me.
I’m not hungry anymore.
“Gods,” Cassian whispers, his eyes wide. “Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?” I elbow him in the stomach. He lets out a whoosh, the corner of his mouth ticking up. “Sorry, Snow. It’s just, it sounds so fantastical.” He goes very quiet for a moment, staring at the clouds. “What color was his hair? The boy?”
“Red.” He freezes below me, his arm turning to stone. I lift my head, frowning. “What is it?” With his free arm, he brushes his hair back, his jaw ticking. I don’t like it when he makes that face, it means he’s upset. My heart hurts when he’s angry or hurt.
“One of the pages disappeared last year. He was the nephew of one of the huntsmen, sent here by his family to begin his training.” His voice cracks, and this time, I don’t make fun of him for it. “His name was Quincy, and he had red hair.”
I rest my head back on his arm and curl into him, offering what solace I can. Cassian remains silent as we watch the clouds race across the sky, both of us lost in our thoughts.
Thirteen years old
Mybarefeetscrapeagainst the uneven slate tiles, pain lashing up my legs as I race through the palace. My chest aches with the labored breaths ripping from me, and a sob tears itself from my throat as I pass startled servants.
“Elspeth!” comes the deep roar from behind me, and my feet pick up their pace. I can’t do this again. I can’t let him catch me. Rounding a corner, I knock over a table, its contents spilling across the floor behind me. I skid, waving my arms for balance before moving on.
“Stop her!” the voice shouts, a ring of authority in his voice.
“Snow!” a voice hisses, urging me to slow. Cassian’s arm reaches out of a door, begging me to come with him. I meet his wide eyes and shake my head.
“He’ll kill you,” I spit, and continue on. Seconds later, hands grab my arms, lifting me off the floor. Two huntsmen grin down at me, their eyes black and expressions vicious. “No!” I scream, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Please let me go.”
They say nothing, holding me in place, waiting forhimto catch up. “Take her to the black room,” he orders, striding into the room. I desperately search his face for any kind of compassion, but there is none. It was ripped out of him years ago, turning him into the monster that stalks me through the halls of the home that once brought me so much joy.
Cassian sneaks out of the room he was hiding in and creeps along the wall, trying to get past unnoticed. Snapping my attention back to the man before me, I beg, “Please, Father. Don’t do this.” Bile rises in my throat, knowing he likes it when I beg. Not that it ever makes any difference; nothing I say or do will change the course he’s set on.
But it does at least let Cassian slip away, and I’ll take any small victories I can.
The huntsmen drag me down the halls until we reach a dimly lit corridor. My heart hammers painfully in my chest, my throat tight when I see the door looming ahead.Be strong, Snow,I command myself, but as much as I wish to be, my trembling legs give me away.
Opening the door, the huntsman on my left lights a single torch while the other tosses me into the room. I stumble and fall against the curtained wall, listening to their dark laughter as they leave, closing the door behind them. There’s no use trying to escape; I can see their shadows beneath the door, guarding it until the man that was once my papa comes for me. Tucking my knees up, I rest my chin on them, hugging myself.
I don’t understand how this has become my life. I know where it all went wrong—my mother’s death and papa’s marriage to Morana. My life should have been something out of a storybook, like the ones Momma used to read to me. I’m a princess, living in a beautiful palace. No life is without flaws, without heartache and strife. But I should have been dancing in the sun, twirling among the flowers. I should have been attending balls, having tea parties with friends, laughing with my mother, and riding horses.
