Snow White. Purity. Perfection. He didn’t even know her real name, and neither did he want to. He blew out the candles around the room, leaving only the red glow of the crackling fire that was slowly dying in the grate. He slid beneath the sheets and waited, resting on one arm, his heart thumping in anticipation.
After what seemed like an age, she finally returned. The soft, sheer fabric caught around her legs as she moved towards the bed, hinting at what was hidden beneath. Was she nervous he wondered? Her eyes were dark coals in the dim light, and they gave nothing away. Her hair hung loose and thick around her shoulders.
‘Come to bed,’ he said. His voice choked slightly. However strange he’d found some of her behaviour, he was in no doubt that he wanted her. He pulled the sheets back, but she didn’t move. ‘Don’t be nervous.’
‘I’m not,’ she said, and her hands went to the neck of the fabric and she undid the delicate ties there. The nightdress slid from her, floating to the floor like gossamer. She swayed slightly; a flower caught in a breeze, and he realised she was still a bit drunk. Had she needed to drink because she was nervous? Maybe that was it? She stepped forward out of the shadow and into the glow of the fire. He’d expected her to get into the bed still dressed – he’d half-expected her clothing to stay tangled on her throughout, especially the first time. But instead she stood before him gloriously naked. He couldn’t stop staring. Her skin was smooth and her full breasts sat high, generous dark pink nipples erect in the evening air. Generous. Despite her slim frame, it was the word that best fit her. Generous. Luxurious. Decadent. Her head fell forward slightly, her hair tumbling across her face, and she held her arms out wide and spun slowly round.
‘How do you like your princess?’ She looked over her shoulder at him, her full lips slightly parted, her eyes challenging him from behind her hair.
‘I like her very much,’ he said. Her arse was round and firm. His balls ached and he throbbed with wanting to feel her from the inside; to ride her as she’d ridden that stallion. To tame her. ‘Now come to bed.’
‘Say please,’ she purred.
This wasn’t how he’d expected it to be at all. Where was his nervous bride? Why did he suddenly feel as if he were the one being seduced? He was the prince, the warrior; he’d faced things no man should ever see, but he suddenly felt weak. His mouth dried as lust overwhelmed him. ‘Please.’ The word was barely more than a whisper.
She smiled, the cat with the cream and came onto the bed on all fours, crawling towards him. He reached for her and pulled her close, one hand in her hair, his mouth seeking hers. Her tongue danced with his, and the air was filled with their hot breathing. His hand reached for her breast, feeling the warm weight of it and rolling her nipple hard between his fingers. She moaned slightly and bit down on his lip. He gasped, and in that moment she pulled away, leaving only the night air caressing his skin.
‘What are you . . .?’ The question faded as her tongue ran down his chest and into the coarse hairs at the base of his belly. Her soft, dark mane trailed behind her mouth like feathers over his skin. He couldn’t stand it. He was going to explode.
Her tongue flicked over the tip of his erection and he gasped again, reaching for her hair to pull her mouth over him, but she moved on, her mouth exploring lower, running through the crevices between his thighs. What was she doing? How? Sensation flooded through his body sending electric tingles to each of his extremities and then, just as he thought his pleasure couldn’t get more tantalising, she took him in her mouth.
All thought left him as he thrust deep into her hot throat, her tongue running up and down the length of him as her wet mouth embraced him. He hardened, his balls contracting. It had been too long. He wasn’t going to last.
She broke free and straddled him, on her knees before him, a vision of earthy, animal beauty. She was no perfect princess, he knew that now. He didn’t quite know what she was, this creature before him. He didn’t understand her at all. What kind of royal family was this, where the king’s treasure, his only daughter, could learn such tricks that never came until the marriage bed, and even then were more to the taste of wenches than ladies?
He grabbed her hips, wanting to pull her down on him.
‘No,’ she said, her voice all husky breath; a wolf in the forest. She pushed him back on the bed. ‘Your turn first.’
Her tongue dipped into his mouth briefly, she flashed him a wild smile, and then she was over him, her legs either side of his head. She moaned as she pushed herself against his tongue and he was overwhelmed by the heady, musky taste of her. He looked up as she grew wetter and hotter in his mouth. One hand gripped the headboard, and the other teased one nipple of her perfect breasts. Her head was thrown back as she rode him, lost in her own imaginings. She was a stranger. Someone he didn’t know. He pushed his tongue further inside her and felt her squirm, the firm muscles in her thighs tightening around him. She was panting, loud and raw, moving closer to a climax.
She was riding him. The thought hit him, and his passion and anger and confusion roared into one movement. He pulled her down and rolled on top of her. Her eyes, still hazy with lust, widened with surprise. He pinned her down on the bed, his arms blocking hers, and pushed hard into her, waiting for the moment of give. None came, just tight heat and wetness and an upward thrust from beneath him. He buried his head in her hair and fucked her hard, until finally he exploded inside her, crying out with the release.
They lay side by side in the growing dark as their sweat cooled on their skin. The prince didn’t pull her close to him and neither did she move. There was only the sound of their slowing breathing and the flutter of wings on the windowsill outside.
‘Must be an owl,’ Snow White said, eventually. Her voice was soft and small. Guilty. He rolled onto his side, away from her, and stared into the gloom. His jaw tightened. What was it with women and deception? Why could they never be as they appeared?
‘Look, I . . .’ The bed creaked as she turned to face his back.
‘It wasn’t your first time.’ It wasn’t a question. He knew it as fact. It was obvious from everything she’d done. He’d been deceived.
‘It’s not like . . . there was only . . . it wasn’t like you think.’
He didn’t move. He didn’t speak and the silence became interminable. He squeezed his eyes shut and wished sleep would come.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, eventually, and rolled the other way, pulling her knees up under her chin. The air between them was cold; a few inches and yet vast as an ocean. How had it come to this so quickly? And why had that stupid dwarf not just told him the truth about her? Would he have loved her anyway if she hadn’t been such a shock?
What was his father going to say?
By morning, he had made up his mind.
After a fitful hour or so’s sleep he woke to find her lying on her side watching him, her dark hair spread out on the pillow behind her. As ever, for a moment, he was lost in her beauty.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said. She chewed her rosebud bottom lip slightly, with her perfect white teeth. ‘We could just pretend we never got married. I’d understand. I wouldn’t say anything. I could go back to the dwarves. Or somewhere else. You can go back to your kingdom. No one would ever have to know. I should have said . . .’
He reached a hand out and stroked her face and then leaned forward and kissed her. ‘It’s okay.’
‘But you . . .?’
‘I said it’s okay.’ He moved closer, pulling her ripe body next to his. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he whispered, as he felt himself react to the feel of her. ‘So perfect. I could never let you go.’
He rolled her under him, taking control, and when she tried to speak he silenced her words with his mouth on hers. She was his princess. She was his. And she would stay that way.
11
‘Wine never solved anyone’s problems’
The raven had flown all night, and although it was morning the castle was still shrouded in darkne
ss from the heavy black rain clouds that hung thick across the land. Candles flickered here and there in the gloom, and as the wind and rain from the open windows gusted in, their flames went out one by one.
Lilith was cold but she didn’t care. A hot fire burned inside as she sat on her lone throne, her knees pulled up under her chin, and stared at the small mirrors which relayed all the bird had seen. She watched it over and over. Snow White and the handsome prince in bed. Alive and breathing. The wine glass was tight in her hands. If her great-grandmother had still been there she would have tutted and taken it from her. Wine in the morning was no good for kings or paupers, she’d have said. Wine never solved anyone’s problems. Have some milk instead. She took another gulp and her head swam.
The wind howled outside, lashing rain across the tower’s marble floor as thunder growled in the sky, and on the window sill the raven shivered. She snapped her fingers and the images stopped. The raven flew away, released from her charm for now. She’d seen enough. She’d seen far too much.
She got to her feet, her legs stiff and aching, and headed to the small room at the back. Her head was a jumble of drunken thoughts and as she thought once more of Snow White and the handsome prince being so base together in that cheap country inn, lightning flashed bright. The tower was in the eye of the storm. The queen was the eye of the storm.
As she touched and caressed her magical items, hoping to find some calm in them, she raged against her own stupidity. She’d been to that dwarf cottage. She recognised the little man the raven had shown her, standing at the back of the church as Snow White had wed her weak-chinned prince. He’d lied to her face and she’d believed him. She’d thought their fear of her would overwhelm their love of Snow White, but once again she’d been wrong. The diamond shoes glittered on a red velvet cushion. Where was the huntsman now, she wondered? Dead in the forest? Eaten by an owl? Had Snow White’s beauty been worth the price he’d paid?
In the corner the cabinet creaked open and, hearing it, Lilith’s shoulders slumped. She didn’t need this. Not right now. She didn’t turn to look at the face she knew would be staring back at her, but drank more wine. She was getting drunk, she knew it. But drunk was good.
‘Snow White is truly the fairest in the land.’
She ignored it, listening instead to the anger of the storm and the heavy beat of the rain. So Snow White had been woken by true love’s kiss. She almost laughed. Good luck to them. If she couldn’t see the prince for what he was then she was as foolish as she was beautiful. He was spoiled and vain; that much had been clear from what the raven had shown her. Maybe he was exactly what Snow White deserved.
The girl was finally gone, that was all that mattered.
That was all that should matter.
She drank some more wine.
All she’d wanted was her heart.
12
‘If it will make you happy’
It wasn’t as hot as the previous day had been and there was a hint of rain in the muggy air, but it was still warm in the village and the prince had left Snow White to bathe while he fetched them some breakfast. He smiled, unable to suppress his happiness. Today, he’d get to go home. It felt as if he’d been away forever and there had been dark moments when he’d thought perhaps his life before had simply been a dream. It was supposed to have been an adventure. Something to prove to his father he was a man once and for all, but the adventure had turned into a nightmare and he’d been lucky to get away alive.
He wondered what had happened to his companion, his guide, but there was no small measure of relief that he would not be returning home with him. Alone, the prince could re-write the tales he had to tell with no shame at someone else knowing the truth. Not that his companion would ever have said – he was a man of few words – but there was an honour about him that would have made the prince feel ashamed of his necessary lies. The story would have to change. He was the prince, after all. And the prince was always the hero.
He wandered through the lively market and bought bread and fruit and some cold meats and then went to the inn kitchen and paid the cook, a warty but warm lady called Maddy, well to finish what he needed and then prepare them a tray. He left her with instructions to send it up to their room shortly. There was no rush. He wanted his princess to enjoy her morning.
Snow White was still in the bath when he returned; he could hear her singing as he passed the washroom. She sounded happy and he was glad about that. He wanted her to be happy. She made him happy. She was going to make him happy.
There were roses in the vase on the window ledge and he pulled the petals from the stems and scattered them across the floor and bed. There weren’t as many as there would have been for a bride at home – the floor in the palace would have been a sea of them, soft and scented and filling the room with perfume – but it was better than nothing. He took the pink and white dress the dwarves had bought her from its hook in the wardrobe and laid it out on the bed. It was the dress they had met in, after all, and he wanted her to wear it when she arrived in his city.
His heart tightened with love for her and he smiled. He couldn’t help it. He waited impatiently.
At last the door opened and she came in wrapped in a thin robe which clung to her hot, damp skin. The dusky patches on her cheeks were shining from the hot water, and her hair was piled up untidily on her head. She paused, noticing the petals under her feet.
‘That’s very sweet,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
He could see the wariness still in her eyes after his coolness of the previous night, but that would pass soon enough.
‘I looked for more flowers at the market, but there were none fine enough for you.’
‘Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.’
‘Yes it is.’
She blushed slightly and then saw the dress on the bed. ‘You want me to wear this one? I thought you’d want something finer. You know, for meeting your father. It’s pretty enough but not, I imagine, the kind of thing the ladies of your castle wear.’ She held it up against her. ‘And I didn’t want to tell Dreamy, but I really hate pink. Maybe we should go back to the dressmaker? See if there’s something else?’ She chewed her bottom lip again. ‘I just want to make a good impression.’
She was nervous of him, he knew. After the awkwardness of the previous night, he’d expected it.
‘But this is what you were wearing when we met. When I first kissed you.’ He smiled. ‘And that is what I will tell my father, when I tell him all that has happened to you.’ He stepped towards her and kissed her on her smooth, pale forehead. ‘For me? Please?’
‘Okay.’ She smiled and shrugged. ‘If it will make you happy.’
‘Yes.’ His heart was racing. ‘Yes, it will.’
He turned his back and let her dress with her modesty intact, although she seemed to have no qualms about taking her robe off in front of him, even laughing a little at his good manners after everything they had already done together. She didn’t understand, of course. He didn’t want to see her like that; earthy and cheap. He wanted his princess back.
‘Breakfast, sir?’ The voice came from the other side of the door and he pulled it open. The kitchen help stood there, a young boy of maybe fourteen or so. He stared at Snow White, a mixture of lust and awe, but the prince’s bride didn’t notice how inappropriate it was and simply sent a sweet smile his way.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m starving.’
‘Just put it on the bed.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The tray held one glass of juice and one plate with warm bread and jam and some sliced meat and cheese. As the boy closed the door behind him, casting one longing look back at the princess, Snow White frowned.
‘Aren’t you having any?’
‘I ate in the market. I wanted to test it all and make sure it was good enough.’
She laughed again. ‘You’ll learn that I don’t have very fine tastes. I like ordinary things. I always have. They’re more real, aren’t they?’
&nbs
p; She pulled the laces tight on her bodice and then sat on the edge of the bed. ‘This looks delicious.’ She smiled at him again, her eyes merry and twinkling at last. ‘Thank you for everything. For being so kind. And understanding. You didn’t have to. I’ll be a good wife to you. I promise.’
‘It’ll be perfect,’ he said, and watched as she raised the glass to her lips. There must have been something in his expression; a sudden hunger or urgency, because just before the liquid slipped down her throat, her eyes widened in sudden panic and darted sideways. He knew what she was looking at. His money pouch. It sat on the bed, thin and empty. The apple was gone. Crushed up into her glass. She looked back at him, the sparkle in her violet eyes replaced with a terrible sadness, and then the cup tumbled from her hand and spilled its cursed contents onto the floorboards which sucked it up greedily. She fell backwards onto the bed.
He kicked the cup under the bed and then lowered his face close to hers. No breath came from those perfect rosebud lips. Her eyes stared upwards, at nothing and everything. He stroked her cooling face. The apple was gone. And this time there was no chunk stuck in her throat that could be dislodged. He’d made sure of that by getting the cook to make a juice of it.
‘Hello again, my darling,’ he whispered, tucking a stray strand of hair carefully behind her ear. ‘I’ve missed you.’