The queen muttered some words as she did this, words that Snow didn’t understand with her mind but with her heart, words that sounded like the hot sun and blowing sand and the cool dark of shadows beneath a pearled moon. They were the words of the Queen’s homeland, that enchanted place she had left because she fell in love with a King who lived in a far green country.
“I am tempering the charm so that it will not poison you to sickness. It is just enough to make the ring sick of your blood. But you must only eat one bite of the apple a day, and take care that the ring does not see you doing it, for anything the ring sees so too will the Prince see.” The Queen handed the apple to Snow.
Snow took a single bite of the apple before tucking it away in her skirts. That bite was strange on her tongue, spicy instead of sweet, and left a trail of fire in her throat.
“I don’t know what else I can do for you,” the Queen said, “except that the moment your brothers return I shall send them after you. The prince cannot deny his wife’s kin entry into his castle, and he cannot harm you as long as they are near.”
Snow did not say aloud what she was thinking, for she saw the same fear on her stepmother’s face.
What if I don’t survive long enough for my brothers to find me?
“As soon as your hand is free of the ring you can hide from him,” the Queen said. “Until then any effort you make would be pointless, for he could track and find you as surely as any falcon. So hold your tongue, and hide your heart, and pretend to be a good and loving wife until that day.”
“And then?”
“And then, my daughter,” the Queen said, “you must run.”
* * *
The wedding took place three days later, in the center of court, with the sun shining through the high windows and flower petals strewn upon the stone floor. Everyone smiled and cheered when the prince kissed their princess, and Snow held herself still and did not shrink from him, though she wanted to.
When the prince pulled his head away Snow saw puzzlement there, as if he expected something else.
“What is it, my prince?” she asked in a low tone as streamers and roses were tossed at them.
“It is only that your mouth is like sweet wine touched with spice,” he said. “I expected the sweetness, but not the spice.”
She knew it was the poison apple that he tasted, and she feared that he might discover her secret, so she said (in an almost flirtatious manner that was very unlike her), “I find that all things sweet taste better with a little bite, don’t you?”
He stared very deeply into her eyes, and Snow felt an uncomfortable pricking sensation all over, like he was trying to see into her heart. But she built up a wall of thorns all around it and kept her secrets there, and finally he looked away, a twist of dissatisfaction on his lips.
They were to depart immediately after the wedding, for now the Prince’s business was concluded he wanted to return to his own kingdom. He said that this was because he’d been away too long and that he must secure his borders, but Snow knew it was because the sooner he secreted her away then the sooner he could complete his plans for her.
But I have many days of travel, she thought as she climbed inside the carriage. I have time still.
The prince had insisted – in a manner both smooth and uncompromising – that Snow had no need of a lady’s maid to travel with her.
“I have many servants in my palace, and there is no reason for one of yours to make such a long journey.”
The Queen had tried to argue, to speak of the impropriety, but the King had only waved his hand in a vague way.
“Snow will be in the company of her husband. There can be no impropriety,” he said, and of course the King’s word was the final one.
Oh, Father, Snow thought in despair. What will you think when you wake up from this enchanted sleep? Will you be horrified at what you have allowed to happen?
So Snow sat alone in the carriage with the curtains closed while her new husband rode his horse with his men. Every day she took a secret bite of the apple that the Queen had given her and every day the ring seemed to loosen a little, though the gaze of the ruby never darkened.
She tried not to worry about her future, or if she would even have one.
She tried not to worry about what would happen when he demanded his marriage rights.
Thus far her new husband was unfailingly polite and solicitous of her comfort. Each night, when they made camp, he made certain that Snow was comfortable in the grand tent while he went outside to sleep. But she saw the gleam in his eye, the one that said he was anticipating some future pleasure, and that gleam made her shudder and turn away.
At last they arrived in the Prince’s country. Snow peered out the window of the carriage and saw only grey – grey rocks and grey tree bark and heavy grey clouds that hunched over the land. There were hardly any crops, and those that she saw were thin and sickly, the same as the people who tended them.
How do the people survive? she wondered, and then thought that this must be a very unhappy kingdom if its ruler neglected his own people so.
The Prince’s castle was perched on a high hill with a steep road that rose to meet it. All around the base of the castle was a huge field of boulders that made it impossible to reach the castle by any route except the road.
One way in and one way out, Snow thought, eyeing the rocks. Unless one is very brave, or very foolhardy.
As the gates of the castle closed behind her carriage, she thought: I might be very foolhardy. I may have to be.
The Prince offered his hand so Snow could climb from the vehicle. As she placed hers in his grasp the ruby ring shifted on her finger. It was only a little, hardly noticeable at all, but the Prince gave her a sharp glance.
Some of the teeth have receded, she thought, and then she smiled at him with her very best princess smile and said, “Where is the chatelaine?”
The Prince narrowed his eyes and said, “My home is very unusual. You will see once we are inside.”
Snow was half-sick from anxiety. Had the Prince seen the movement of the ring, or did he think he imagined it? Did he suspect her? She’d hoped that the ring might loosen before they arrived at the castle. She’d had some notion of slipping out in the night and disappearing into the wilderness of the Prince’s country. But there was no wilderness here, no easy escape, and though the ring was not as tight as it had been it still would not leave her finger.
I must wait. I must bide my time until he cannot track me, cannot find me.
There was no man at the door of the castle to greet them, nor the chatelaine. There was no servant waiting inside to take Snow’s cloak or to lead her to a room where a bath was waiting. There was only the ringing echo of the door slamming shut behind them.
Snow stared around at the empty hall, at the threadbare tapestries, at the rotten straw covering the stone floor.
The Prince’s face was no longer charming. There was no need for the mask now that he was away from others.
“Where are all the servants?” Snow asked. Her voice came back to her, a hollow thing in this joyless room.
“Anything you require, this castle will provide,” he said. “You need only ask.”
More enchantments, Snow thought in despair. No nosy maids and lads to wonder why the lady of the house is screaming.
She longed to fidget with the ring, to see if she could yet free it, but instead curled her fingers into fists beneath the sleeves of her gown. She would not draw attention to the very thing she wished the Prince to ignore.