Category: Fairy_Tales

Miyran knew the suitor was following them. She was the youngest of the family, but it had long been recognized that she was also the smartest. It helped that as a child, one of her eyes had been lost to an angry magpie. When her father went to the King of Birds to complain, the old raven gifted him a glass eye and sent him on his way. Since then, Miyran’s right eye had seen what all others saw, while the left had seen what was truly there. An invisibility cloak was nothing against the Bird King’s magic.

Of course, that simply meant she knew there was a problem, not that she knew what to do about it. The fact that the suitor had made it thus far made him an anomaly. Most fell deep asleep after drinking the wine her eldest sister prepared, waking in the morning to the news of their imminent execution. He had only pretended to drink and pretended to sleep before slipping after them. That told her he was clever. The cloak told her he had powerful friends.

The woods whispered to her as they passed. Ever since the glass eye entered her life, she had also heard things that weren’t there. Soft voices called to her in the rustle of the branches. The dead, crying out to her for clemency. Poor fools trapped in their father’s impossible wager – find out where my daughter’s go at night and you may marry one. Fail, and I will have your head. They begged as they failed, one after the other. Tell us princess, save us. At least give us a lie he will believe. Please.

He never believed any of their lies. He demanded evidence.

Heads rolled.

The sisters had discussed giving in and letting one follow them, over and over again. The type of men who answered such a summons were hardly the type one wanted to be bound to for the rest of their life though. “Power or death” was a sorry ad for a husband. None were willing to take the necessary step of actually marrying one, or the risk that once one of them was married off it would simply continue until all were. And so they kept the men at bay, leaving them dozing on the bedroom floor as they slipped off on their nightly errand.

Some didn’t even make it that far. Some just wanted into the royal bedroom.

The eldest sister Esme killed those herself.

Miyran shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. The smell of blood lingered in her nostrils. She took a deep breath of crisp winter air and forced it out. Esme had already reached the shore of the lake and was getting the boat ready for launch. In the distance, a giant castle rose out of the waves. Music drifted across the water. The other girls were babbling excitedly. This strange world in their closet was the only change they got to escape the room their father kept them in. It was a good escape though. Different as they all were, they shared a love for dancing.

The suitor did not risk clambering into the boat with them. He watched from the shore as they sailed slowly away. Miyran watched back, though she was careful to keep her gaze just to the side of him. When they were a few hundred feet out, he turned and began to return up the path they had come down. Miyran sighed. He had come further, but he had no proof. He would tell the story to the king in the morning, and be beheaded in spite of it. Next time she would make sure Esme was more careful with the sleeping aid.

A pang of guilt gnawed on her heart but she shoved it away and focused forwards towards the night’s festivities instead. Their twelve princes were already waiting for them in the dock. They were empty minded, nothing more than beautiful simulacrum. fake like the rest of this world. But at least they could dance, and demand nothing in return. One by one the princesses disembarked. The dance began.

***

The suitor was back the next night. The rules technically allowed for a suitor to spend three nights in investigation, but none had ever had the wits to use more than one. The king was as surprised as they were, but rules were the rules and so he allowed it.

This time Miyran watched closely as the suitor drank his wine and stretched out to sleep on his bedroll by the fire. Nora pinched him on the soft of the elbow, Bethany tickled his nose with a feather. No reaction. He seemed truly asleep this time.

The mood was jubilant as they dressed. Off came the nightgowns, on with layers of silk skirts and ribbons and velvet sashes. It had been years since the kingdom last had a ball – since the princess’s mother died. The elder girls could remember, but Miyran herself had never been. All their dresses were cobbled together from castaways and leftovers, hand sewn during the long days trapped in their room. Miyran’s was a light grey, the color of a dove. It swirled around her ankles as she moved and made her feel like she was floating.

The suitor was still out cold as they left. Still, Miyran found herself casting suspicious glances behind as they walked. Halfway to the boats they proved warranted. There he was, chasing quietly after them through the trees. How had he done it? He had certainly swallowed the wine this time. Perhaps his powerful friends had magicked him back awake. She glanced behind herself again. Curiosity tugged at her mind and she gave in.

“Elaine?” The eleventh sister turned to look back at her. “I want to go for a walk tonight. Just through the woods. I’ll meet you at the end of the night okay?” Elaine didn’t understand, but Miyran knew the others were used to thinking of her as the strange sister. True to expectation, she just nodded assent and continued on her way.

Miyran stopped and took a few steps to the side, pretending to examine one of the trees. Its leaves were the purest silver and jingled like bells as she reached up to touch one of the branches. The other trees were a mix, some gold, some crystal. A man could easily gather a fortune in leaves from the forest, but the instant he brought them out of this world they would crumble to dust. Nothing could cross back.

The suitor was just visible out of the corner of her eyes. He had stopped as well and was looking between her and the others. She would wait until they were already in the boat and gone, and then make her move. Even though it would soon vanish, she plucked a branch from the tree and took her time working it into the crown of pearls that circled her head. Finally the others were out on the water. She turned to look directly at the suitor.

To his credit, he had enough self-control not to jump. Even invisible, the sudden movement would have made a sudden noise, albeit a quiet one. Instead, he stayed as he was, stock still except for his breath gently jostling his plain shirt. Miyran addressed him cooly, “I can see you, you know.” He did not respond. Probably expecting it to be a fake-out. She continued, “You’re wearing a brown shirt, peasant’s cut. Dark grey pants, the bottom hem of the left one is unraveling slightly. Your eyes are widening with the realization that I am not, in fact, bluffing.”

A faint smile snapped across his lips at her last sarcastic comment. It darted for cover behind the polite mask he pulled down over his features. He bowed low to her and greeted, “Good evening, your majesty.”

She nodded curtly, “We will see about that. Come over here and lets talk. No sense yelling across the forest.”

He approached slowly, hands held out to the side awkwardly. Trying to prove he was unarmed while not making a fuss of it? Or perhaps just a fool. Ten feet away, he stopped. “Better, your majesty?”

She nodded again and surveilled him more closely. His black hair was cut in a short military cut and his arms were strong, but he did not carry himself with the discipline of a soldier. Maybe he could be a soldiers son, or maybe he just rejected his training and deliberately slouched. As she examined him, he was doing the same, green eyes sweeping up and down. She bit back a complaint about his rudeness – she was doing the same after all.

He seemed to know well enough not to start the conversation. She asked, “What is your name?”

“Peter, your majesty.”

“Peter…?”

“Just Peter. I don’t have family; they died when I was young. House fire.”

Her lips twisted involuntarily into a grimace. “Sorry. I lost my mother too.”

He nodded, “Yes, I know.”

Of course he did. There was little that happened in the palace that didn’t make it to the outside, either through the official announcements or the rumor mills. Had he really lost his parents, or was he just trying to find a sympathy card to play with her? It wouldn’t matter except that she had almost fallen for it.

She shook herself and moved on quickly, “Why are you here, Peter?”

He hesitated before answering. Probably trying to think up of a polite way to say ‘I wanted to marry a girl I never met on pain of possible death.’ Instead though, he slowly explained, “My friend, Frederick. He came before me. You might remember him – tall fellow, bright red hair, always smiling?”

He paused but she said nothing. The flood of suitors came and went so fast that few of them stuck in her memory.

He continued, “I told him it was a bad idea, but he didn’t listen. Once he got something in his head… Well, he came, he tried, he failed. And he… died.” He paused again, taking a deep breath to steady himself before finishing, “I didn’t want any others to die like he did. So I prepared, and now… here I am.”

She bit her lip until the tang of blood filled her mouth. None of them liked to think of the family and friends that their father’s murderous obsession left behind. It was hard not to when one of those poor people was right in front of them. Maybe giving in and marrying one of them would have been the right thing to do.

Or, Whispered the treacherous voice deep in her heart, Or, he is just trying to make you feel guilt and you are falling for it like an ignorant fool.

Miyran steeled her nerves again and pushed forward with the conversation, “And you have a mage friend? Or are you a mage yourself?”

“My dad saved a mage, during the war. After he died, the mage came and offered to help me. She knew of this castle, and of your hidden land, and told me what to do in exchange for the life-debt she owed my dad.”

Miyran frowned and asked cautiously, “What to do?”

“Yes. How to close the hidden land. It’s just an illusion, though a very, very good one-”
She cut across him, “Close it? How can you close it! It’s all we have!”

He crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. “No offense, your majesty, but I would much rather people have their lives than you have your playground.”

Her voice shook as she took a step forwards towards him, “It’s not a playground! This is the only place I have ever been other than our room! It is my home!”

He stared at her. What was that in his eyes? Contempt? Anger? Finally he just shrugged and answered, “I’m sorry then. But I have to do it. Maybe you can go outside in the real world. The trees are only made of wood, and there are quite a few more bugs, but it is still pretty nice.”

Desperately she pointed out, “If you break our world, you’ll have no way to get proof. He’ll kill you too.”

He shook his head. “There’s no way to get proof out of here, you know that as well as I. Anything crossing the boarder vanishes into wisps of dust. But, I think you not going out tomorrow night will be proof enough that I solved his issue.”

“How…”

“I am not telling you how, your majesty, I can’t risk you trying to undo it. I will warn you though – don’t try to stay past your usual time. You’ll be turned to dust with the rest of it.”

She stared at him. An eternity locked in their bedroom sounded even worse than one tied to an unwanted husband. He was at least a little smarter than the others, maybe he wouldn’t be too bad? She offered, “What if we make a deal. You fix… whatever you did, so this world stays. And in exchange, I’ll marry you. Deal?”

He let our a sharp bark of laughter. “I could not have less interest in marrying you. You and your sisters killed my best friend.”

“We did not! Our father did!”

“Oh get off your high horse. You drug them as soon as they come in; they don’t even have a chance to prove themselves. You’re just as bad as he is.”

She crossed her arms and snapped back, “And what were we supposed to do? Marry random strangers to appease him and damn the consequences? Maybe your friend was fine, but most of you haven’t exactly been the loving spouse types.”

He scowled and hissed through gritted teeth, “I am not one of them. As I said, I have no interest in anything other than stopping you and your psychotic father from killing any more men.”

“The men can stop themselves from getting killed! All they have to do is leave us alone. Nobody is forcing them to go to the palace, they’re doing it of their own free will. If they just stop being such idiots we wouldn’t have this problem!”

He glared at her. She glared back. Finally he said softly, “Maybe they come of their own free will, but that doesn’t mean their not forced to it. Marrying one of you means wealth, comfort. If you’re starving on the street and getting desperate, then hope can be a powerful bait.”

She rolled her eyes. “Half of them are merchants by the looks of their clothes, and as for the others, they can just get a job.”

His eyes narrowed. “You really have no idea what it is like out there do you.”

She threw her arms to the side in exasperation. “No! That is what I am trying to get through your thick skull. This is our home. We don’t get to leave the bedroom. This is the closest to an outside that I have seen in my entire life. And you’re going to destroy it because people don’t take a death threat seriously enough to avoid walking on the clearly marked trap!”

She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. Wheels were turning in his head, but what towards she had no idea. He no longer looked angry at least, but the cold calculation was almost worst. Finally he said slowly, “I will offer you a deal. A counter-deal. I’ll leave this world alone, for now. But you will come with me tomorrow out into the world. The king will send a guard with me if I leave the palace, so you’ll have to stay quiet and hidden under the cloak. But you can see it for yourself, and maybe then you’ll understand.”

“And then? What happens after that?”

He shook his head. “I am still working on it. Let me think about it okay?”

“I am not particularly a fan of putting much faith in you. Offense definitely intended.”

He shrugged. “What choice do you have? If you would rather, I’ll just dust this world tonight?”

She most certainly did not want that, and he knew it.

He jerked his head towards the beach. “Go stand over there and I’ll disable it. If you try to follow me though, I’ll set it off. So behave.”

His instructions grated on her, but she obeyed. He vanished into the woods. She was tempted to follow him, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Instead she waited antsily. Finally he emerged from a different patch of forest and returned to her.

“Alright, that’s taken care of. Now then, here’s my cloak.” He undid the brooch at his neck and slid it off his shoulders to offer to her. Even in her magic eye, the fabric was nearly invisible. It was like looking at woven water. Light distorted slightly as it passed through, but the fabric itself had no discernible color. She took it from him carefully. It was rougher and heavier than she had expected, more like coarse-spun wool than the silks she was used to.

He explained, “It’ll only make you invisible if you shut the clasp, though it itself seems to just always been invisible. You can use it to sneak out right after me when the guard comes in the morning, and then follow me outside of the walls. Nobody can hear you, or we’re both in trouble. Understand?”

She nodded. “I will have to tell my sisters I’m leaving. They will panic if I don’t.”

He shrugged. “It’s your head, protect it however you see fit. Now then, I’m going to go back into the room and get some rest. I’d explain to your sisters out here if I was you. They would have caught you years ago if the walls had ears, but there’s still no such thing as too much caution.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and strode back up the path towards the stone wall that held their door home. Once he was through and had vanished, she let out a long breath. How was she going to explain this without panicking the others? Perhaps it would be easiest to just tell Esme. But what if she wanted to take her place? It would be reasonable – Esme was stronger, smarter, older – but despite her dislike for her escort, Miyran wanted nothing more than to see the outside. Maybe Elaine then. She was only a year older, and quite used to explaining Miyran’s shenanigans to the others.

Decided, she sat down on the bank and stared out across the water. It was a pity they only had the one boat. She could spend the rest of the evening forgetting her worry by dancing in the arms of her prince if only she had a way to get there. Instead she lay back on the cold grass and stared at the leaves overhead. This tree was one of crystal, sparkling and shimmering as it rustled in the winds. There was no need for sleep here – it was part of the magic of this world – but she let her thoughts wander pleasantly as she waited out the night.

***

True to Miyran’s expectations, Elaine had accepted but not understood when Miyran said she would be vanishing after breakfast. She did not ask any questions though – another good reason to tell Elaine and not one of the others.

Peter ate with them at their long table, sitting on a stool stolen from Nataline’s dresser. He was silent, and stayed silent when the guard knocked on the door. Miyran followed as he slipped away politely from the table. The others were still eating and did not react to her departure. Twelve sisters meant there was always something going on to divert attention, and she was glad for it.

Halfway across the room she dropped the cloak across her shoulders, flipped the hood up, and fastened the brooch. She was right on his heels as the door opened. The guard stood aside to let him pass and she slipped through quickly after him.

The most she had ever seen of this hallway was the small sliver visible through the open door. In person, it was far grander than she had imagined. The ceiling was a full twelve feet and arched like a cathedral. Chandeliers dangling from gold chains lit the corridor. The crystals dripping from their tiers cast moving patterns as they gently swayed in an imperceptible breeze.

They did not stay in the hall for long, soon turning into another, equally grand, passageway. From there she lost track of their path. Unlike the forest, everything looked the same here. There were no windows, no way to tell direction other than counting left and right. She was already putting a lot of trust in Peter; she would just have to trust him to lead her back in the end as well.

After a few minutes of walking, they entered an even larger hallway. Or was this one a room? It was relatively narrow compared to its length, but it was still unspeakably large. Thick red carpet muffled their steps as the approached the far end. Watchful statues seemed to follow her with their gaze, seeing her as the people could not. The row all wore crowns. Past monarchs then. Few looked particularly friendly.

Their destination was a throne. The man sitting in it seemed an afterthought. Carvings draped with velvet and jewels towered over him, dwarfing him even though he was by no means a small man. He was tall, and could once have been handsome before years of excess inflated his features. Miyran examined the puffy face closely, searching for any trace of herself or her sisters in it. She found none, and felt no feeling of kinship with this man she could not remember ever meeting.

Their guard peeled off to one side discretely and they walked the last few steps alone. To her surprise, Peter went down on one knee and bowed his head before the king. “Your majesty, good morning.”

The king’s voice was wheezy but forceful, “What have you found? Nothing, right boy?”

His eyes shone brightly. He seemed almost excited at the prospect of Peter’s failure. Peter continued calmly, “I think I may have something, your majesty, but I am not positive yet. I have come seeking permission to journey into town and consult with a friend of mine.”

The king squinted at him with suspicion. “This is the worst escape ploy I have heard, and I have heard many. I should get the executioner to chop your head off now and not let you waste any more of my time.”

“I assure you my intentions are honest, your majesty. Your daughters are lovely, I must come back to them. And of course, I would travel with a guard detail of your choosing.”

For a moment, the king just stared contemplatively down at Peter. Finally he nodded. “Alright, if you are so desperate.” He snapped his pudgy fingers wetly and the guard hastened over. “Guard, get Captain Woolbright to deal with this man. He is allowed to go into the city, but he will be chained and well watched.”

The guard bowed low. Peter rose from his knee and bowed as well. “Thank you, your majesty. I will have results for you tomorrow.”

The king waved them away irritably and with one final bow from Peter, they followed the guard out of the room. The captain he led them to seemed irritated to have to deal with them, but she quickly pulled together a squad regardless and fifteen minutes later, the castle gates opened in front of Miyran for the first time.

She was not sure what she had expected. Certainly nothing as grand as her woods. But perhaps something like the cottages shown in her books: small, neat thatched roofs, pretty flowers in the windows. Instead there was filth.

The streets were littered with mud and, by the smell of it, much worse. Yet children still played in them, the fetid spray clinging to their rags as they raced after a tattered ball. The adults did not avoid it either – but then again, how could they when it covered everything? Peter began to walk forward and she kept close behind him, trying to step in his foot prints and avoid as much of the mess as possible. She would have to throw these clothes out when she returned or the stench would surely give her away. How had she never noticed it on the suitors? Did the king clean them before sending them to his daughters? She would never have expected to be grateful to the nasty man on the throne, but felt a twinge of it nonetheless.

The houses they passed were hardly better than the streets. There was no glass in the windows, and many of the shutters hung crooked in their brackets or were missing. Thatch dripping with mold clung to the roofs. Other than the bright blue sky, no color broke the dull world of greys and browns.

That just made the carriage stand out all the more. It was painted blue and gold, the royal colors. A man in a neat velvet suit of matching colors stood before it, flanked by four guards. They were all looking at an old woman kneeling in the street. Tears ran down her face. Peter and their entourage did not slow, but Miyran found herself drawing to a stop to watch.

The woman sounded desperate as she pleaded, “Please sir, I have no more. I spent the last on bread for my children. Please, we’re just trying to survive.”

The man sighed. “We both know that is no excuse. Everyone must do their part to provide for the kingdom. I’m sure we can come to an accord though. How old is your eldest boy?”

She looked like there was nothing she dreaded more than answering. One of the guard’s hands drifted towards the hilt of his sword and she flinched before quickly spilling out, “Thirteen sir. He is apprenticed to the baker.”

A curt nod, and a motion to one of the guards who immediately peeled off to head down the street. “Good. We can make use of him in the castle I am sure. Be on time next month. Remember, taxes are for everyone.”

The man spun on his heel and clambered back into the carriage as the woman stared numbly after him. She remained in the street long after the rumble of the wheels had faded into the distance. It took all of Miyran’s strength not to approach and comfort her. Revealing herself would draw too much attention. Even if she managed not to give away the cloak by ducking into an alley to untie it, she would be completely out of place with her bright green dress. She felt a surge of revulsion as she felt the silk rub against her arms. So this was how it was paid for. She stood silent vigil until finally the woman struggled to her feet and left, head low.

Peter and the others were long gone. Miyran was not lost though, not really. The castle looming over the town made an excellent landmark. With nowhere else to go, she let her feet wander for a while, weaving between people and taking it all in. The farther she got into the city, the worse it seemed to get. In the space of a half hour, she overheard and saw more tales of misfortune and woe than in her whole life of listening to Lydia reading horror stories aloud.

She became desperate for something to break the monotony of gray lives and gray town. When she saw a flash of color out of the corner of her eye, she turned down a side street to follow it. After navigating between some makeshift homes tucked against the walls of the alley, she got close enough to make it out. A statue, far larger than life, of the king. The bottom was smeared with mud as high as a person could reach, but the top was clean other than a few bird poops and gleamed with enameled blue and gold. Miyran stopped to stare it at and think.

The rain would wash the base clean fairly regularly. People must be applying – she shuddered at the thought of picking up some of the waste on the ground – people must be applying it regularly. She cast her eyes around the squalid square and then back up to the statue. It was all his fault. He had failed as a father, that much she had known her whole life. But here was evidence, in the form of a whole town, that he had failed as a king as well. Father, king, both were about protecting people and it was clear he had no interest doing either job.

She turned away and started walking slowly back to the castle. What could she do about it though? The cruel fact of the matter was that he was king and father. Changing the chances of birth was not within her power. Maybe a powerful witch could do it, but in all the stories she had heard, dealing with witches lead to its own problems.

Her steps took her past a dismal cemetery and she paused to look at the stones as an awful, horrible idea popped into her head.

Yes, she could not change the past, but she could change the present in such a way as to save both her sisters and this city. Dare she do it? Something in her heart wanted the answer to be no. Better to be powerless than to be like him. Dismay and relief filled her as she realized that yes, she was capable. She just had to figure out method.

She had picked up enough from watching Esme to know poisons were difficult. They needed to be calibrated precisely to body mass – too little and nothing happened. Of course, she could also just use too much, but the bigger issue was that she had no idea where to even get poison. If she went back to their room there was a chance she wouldn’t be able to sneak out again, so getting help was out of the question.

More conventional means then. The town was hardly empty of weapons and a few blocks later she spotted a dagger and quickly filched it while its owner took a deep draught of beer. She memorized his face as best he could and the bar’s name. Hopefully she could pay him back after this was over. How much was a dagger even worth? She would have to ask; never before had she needed to think of money.

When she reached the castle, the main gates were shut but a trickle of traffic was flowing through the side door under the watchful gaze of a guard. Knowing her intentions were hardly innocent anymore made her even more nervous as she skirted past him. She need not have worried though; the cloak had been working fine all day and it did not quit on her now.

It was just starting to get dark. In a way, that was ideal. If the king was asleep, it would be much easier than if she had to deal with a moving target. The only issue was that she had no clue where he was, or where anything was in this giant maze of a castle. Finding him could take many days of wandering. By then it would be too late for Peter, or for her sisters, or for both.

Luck was on her side however. As she contemplated how to start searching, the drawbridge fell behind her with a heavy thunk and Peter’s little party came back through. Miyran smiled with relief and fell into step behind them. They threaded through the corridors before stopping before a door. The guards opened it and Miyran’s heart fell as she realized it was just the door to the Princess’s room. Of course it was, what did she expect, him to report to the king?

Peter stepped through and the door swung shut behind him. The guards split up. Three began to wander off, chatting casually about supper. The fourth strode in the opposite direction, moving more quickly. With nothing better to do, Miyran followed. Perhaps it was silly to expect Peter to return to the king, but maybe this guard would? Surely the king did want to know what Peter had gotten up to in town?

Several turns later, luck showed its head again and they entered the vast throne room. The guard gave a bland report to the king – Peter had gone into town, chatted innocuously with a few people on the street, bought some candy, and eaten it in the park – before he bowed and took his leave. Shortly thereafter, the king rose to his feet with a yawn.

Attendants stepped out of the shadows and buzzed around him as he walked slowly to a grand bedroom. His royal robes vanished down to the light blue long underwear underneath and were replaced with silk pajamas. Before he even reached the bed, the servants had turned back the covers. He fell onto the mattress and closed his eyes. Silently they all slipped out of the room, leaving a solitary lamp burning on the bedside table.

His snores cut through the quiet. Had he really fallen asleep that quickly? Best to wait a few minutes to make sure. After half an hour she slipped to the side of the bed. The knife tip wove back and forth as her hands shook. She set it to the side and squeezed her palms together to steady herself. When she picked the blade up again, it was still and controlled. She lined it up and with one last deep breath, drove it home.

He died quietly. The rasping gurgle of breath cut off, and then stillness. Blood seeped into the mattress around him. In a corner of Miyran’s mind, someone was screaming. The rest of her just felt… nothing. Not even calm, just blank emptiness. She watched her hands as they broke the stained chain that held the Princess’ bedroom key around his neck. Her feet took her back to the door, somehow knowing the way better than she did herself. She turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

As expected, the room was empty. She could slip in after them and pretend she had spent the day in the forest. Peter would know the truth, but it hardly mattered. If he was so indiscreet as to bring it up, she could just say she got lost on the way back. It wasn’t even entirely a lie.

She quickly changed into clean clothes and bundled the others together before stuffing them down the narrow chute that served as privy and trash. For a moment she considered tossing the knife down as well before deciding it needed a more private disposal. The cloak she hid inside her duvet cover, and then she straightened her hair and composed herself before entering the forest.

Her feet crunched the precious leaves as she walked down the path to the shore. At the edge of the water, she pulled out the knife. Tiny waves sent up sparkles of light as they lapped against the snow-dusted grass. Esme’s face floated before her eyes and for a brief moment, she could see the family resemblance in the king’s smile. Instead of throwing the dagger into the lake, she carefully washed the blade clean and then hid it in her stocking.

Hopefully she would never need it again. And if she did, well. There were eleven more princesses. Eventually her kingdom would have a fit ruler.

She would make sure of it.

The ice was glass clear. Here and there thin trails of air bubbles had gotten caught as it froze, rising through in perfectly spaced lines. If you knew more about how ice formed, could you use the bubbles in it to tell how fast it had frozen? Were air bubbles in ice like rings on a tree somehow? Claire did not know. Instead she used the bubbles to see the thickness, about an inch. Not enough to go out on safely then, but that was hardly surprising. It had been a warm winter thus far. The last few days had been bitter, true, but the lake was big.

She rose again from her crouch and looked around. The smoke from her father’s mill was still visible, curling up against the blue sky. If she squinted just right, she could pretend it was a dragon. Her sister would have insisted that it was just smoke, but then again Abby never had been the most imaginative. The only way to get her to play such games was to give her something to correct, a reason she was not really “playing.” Claire always dragged her into it anyway.

The woods around her were quiet and empty. Convinced no one was watching, she gathered her thick winter skirts into a tight bundle and lifted them to her chest before bringing down her foot on the edge of the ice. The heel of her boot left a fault line as the impact sent waves rippling across the surface. She watched them dissipate. Ice may be solid, but part of it seemed to remember being liquid and yearn for those days. She brought her heel down again. The fault widened and water began to seep up onto the surface. She dropped her skirts and crouched to pry with her fingers.

The cold stung the tips and stained them purple. The feeling seemed distant as she focused on her task. One edge was popped up already, now she just needed to get a finger under it. She bit her lip as she pried. It was slick – Abby would have laughed at her for such an obvious observation. Her fingers just couldn’t get purchase. She could wiggle it a bit further out, but invariably it slid from her grasp and plonked back into the water beneath, splashing her cold hands. She muttered irritably under her breath and kept trying.

Suddenly a voice asked, “Do you need a hand, miss?” She sprang to her feet, guiltily tucking her hands into her pockets. Ten feet from her stood a tall man. A thick wool hat was pulled low over his ears and the rest of his face was covered in a scarf. His clothes were patchwork and mismatched. He could be one of the poorer village men, if not for his eyes. Their clear blue almost matched that of the sky, only a shade lighter. Definitely not a local then. Most had brown eyes like her own, and the odd ones out never went past a pale hazel.

He was still waiting politely for her response. She forced her eyes away from his own and nodded, wishing she had a scarf to cover her own, presumably burning, cheeks.

He bowed slightly and asked, “How may I help then?”

She stared at him before remembering his original question and stammering, “Oh sorry, I meant yes I am fine. I don’t need help. I’m just… looking at the ice.”

He turned to look out over the lake as well. “It is quite beautiful, isn’t it.”

He was not near. He had stopped at a respectable distance, and had made no move to approach. Still, her heart beat fast in her chest. Abby was full of horror stories about things that happened to girls who went alone into the woods and were found by huntsman, or woodcutters, or trappers. Their father always sternly reprimanded her, pointing out all the nice men they knew who did those very jobs. Still though, Claire could not help but remembering her sister’s words now. She shivered.

The stranger turned to her. “Are you cold?”

His voice held nothing but polite concern and yet she shivered again. An idea hit her and she nodded quickly. “Yes, indeed. I should return home now.”

For a moment she was worried he would offer to walk her but thankfully he just nodded. “Have a good afternoon then, miss. It was nice to meet you.”

She nodded and without a reply, turned and walked away as fast as she could without running.

***

By the next day, Abby had of course pestered her into explaining why she had come back from her walk so jittery. Claire had expected her to laugh, or freak out and warn her again of the dangers of a woman out on her own. Instead she just looked thoughtful, and then announced that today they would go together.

After lunch they gathered their things, said goodbye to their father, and headed out across the snow. Abby went first, as always. When they were together, Claire was her shadow. She liked it though; behind her sister was always a safe place to be.

Claire’s tracks from yesterday still crossed the narrow bank; it had been a still night without even a whisper of wind to sweep them clean. They followed her path, tamping it down further. The edges cast a stark shadow across the landscape. A scar cut into the snow, though of course Abby would call that silly as well.

Finally they reached the end. Abby stopped. “No tracks.” Her voice was calm, thoughtful. Claire felt anything but. She stepped to the side to look around her sister. The ground was indeed unmarred. Only her own tracks dented the snow. Of the stranger, there was no sign.

She looked over to Abby, unable to keep a quaver out of her voice as she asked, “What does that mean?” She did not vocalize her real question: was she going mad? Their grandfather had started seeing people who didn’t exist near the end of his years. She was still young though, and Baba had been perfectly normal until seventy.

Abby crouched to feel the snow and then stood. A wild smile twisted her lips. Claire stepped back involuntarily as Abby declared, “It means, dear sister, that we’re going to set a trap.”

Claire frowned less from confusion than worry at her sister’s behavior. She asked cautiously, “A trap? For… who?”

“The elf king, of course.”

Claire stared at her. She knew of the elf king, yes. He was a children’s story, a dangerous face out in the night used to scare the kiddies into going to bed on time. Her sister did not seriously believe… No of course not. Abby was just messing with her. Much as she loved her sister, she knew Abby could have a bit of a mean streak. Voice weak, she responded, “Haha, very funny.”

Abby rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. I was in town yesterday and – well you know Lt. Parker? Blond hair, sweet spot for me after I gave him the pie that once? Well Lt. Parker says he and some of the guys are on a top secret mission. From the king no less. To catch his elfy counterpart.”

Claire crossed her arms. “Stop it Abby.”

Abby crossed hers as well. “I am not messing with you, I swear. Look into my eyes and tell me I’m not being honest.”

Claire obeyed. Determination, excitement… but not deception. She swallowed hard. “The king… thinks elves exist.”

Abby nodded. “Yep. Apparently they’re a righteous pain too if he’s sending folks after their king. If we catch him, we would be heroes. There’s a reward too, a thousand crowns. Think of it!”

Claire did. Oh how she did. A thousand crowns would be dowry enough for both of them, and some extra for the mill. She did not go into town enough to have her eye on anyone herself, but she knew the only reason Abby wasn’t leaning on her Lt. Parker to propose was because their father could ill-afford it.

It was a dangerous idea, but there was no chance of talking Abby out of something when she had that look in her eyes. Claire sighed and assented, “Alright, fine. Let’s do it. I assume you have a plan already?”

Abby smiled triumphantly. “Yes, of course. We’ll use you as bait, and then snag him. Easy.”

“Easy?!”

“Yes. He has already approached you once – probably to steal you away to be his queen or something – so he’s sure to come back. They’re bound by iron, silver, and gold. You’ve got Amma’s chain. Just wait til he get’s close, tie it around his neck, and then that’s it!”

Claire crossed her arms. “And what will you be doing?”

“I’m going to get Lt. Porter to help us carry him off at the end. Don’t worry, if he comes before I return you can just wait with him!”

“What? We’re doing this now? You can’t just leave me!”

Abby was already walking though, and tossed a wave over her shoulder. “It’ll be fine you worry-wort! Trust me!”

Claire stared after her. What on earth had gotten into Abby today? She must be planning something, she would not seriously… No, her sister was clever. She was working on something bigger. Despite their arguments, Claire really did trust Abby. So she stayed. She even carefully took off the golden cross hanging from her neck and curled it in her fist instead as well.

The world was quiet except for the soft moaning of the ice as it flexed in the prison of the shore. Claire looked around suspiciously. Nobody in sight. After a few minutes she began to pace impatiently. Hopefully Abby would hurry.

Suddenly a dark figure loomed in front of her. She screamed and fell backward into the snow. The stranger laughed and crouched to offer a hand. “Sorry miss. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She stared at the hand, then down to his feet. His leather boots hovered just above the surface of the snow. He followed her gaze. “Ah. Oops.”His feet broke through. He shuffled them around a bit as if searching for the ground and then nodded. “Sorry about that. Sorry about that too I suppose. This is going well, wouldn’t you say?”

She made no move to take the hand, but finally was able to bring herself to words. “What do you want? Are you… actually the elf king?”

He laughed and sat in the snow opposite her, dropping his hands into his lap. “No, no. I’m not the king. Just one of his huntsmen. And you? You’re the miller’s daughter, am I right?”

She nodded suspiciously. He seemed happy to talk on his own and continued, “That’s nice. You must eat lots of bread and such right?”

She nodded again, almost more put off by his casual conversation than the fact that he had just admitted to working for a mythical figure.

“I’ve always liked bread. Especially the rye, something about the texture is very satisfying when had with a bit of blackberry jelly. Exquisite.”

He paused to regard her. She wished he would undo his scarf so she could see his expression. Then again, perhaps she wouldn’t like what she saw. His eyes were calm and interested. Did he suspect that they were planning a trap? Was he sizing her up? She on her own was hardly that threatening. She had the necklace, but how on earth was she suppose to get it on him?

For now, stalling seemed the best option. Maybe she could gather some information while she prayed for Abby to get back. It seemed to be her turn to drive the conversation so she asked as casually as she could, “So, where does he… live? The… elf king?”

The stranger flopped back on the snow and spread his arms like he was preparing to make an angel. “He has many palaces. Under the hills, in the trees, amongst the clouds… for the winter though, we stay in the lake.”

She gazed over the cold ice and shivered. “Doesn’t it get cold?”

He threw himself back to sitting and nodded, “Oh, extremely. You can’t start a fire underwater either! But it doesn’t freeze solid, so it could be worse. Warmer than it is out here some days…”

“And you can… breathe? Down there?”

“Mmmmhm. We’re not as limited as your kind are.”

“Huh.”

They fell into silence for a moment before she asked, a bit nervously, “You never answered my other question. About, you know, what you want?”

He shrugged and answered, “Oh, just company. It gets boring always talking to the same people you know.”

“How many of you are there?”

He tilted his head to the side and then shrugged. “A few thousand. Give or take.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And you know all of them?”

The skin by his eyes crinkled as if he was smiling. “I get around.”

Silence returned. The woods were still. No sign of Abby, or the guards. Though maybe that was for the best, seeing as they had the wrong person. The question was whether she brave enough to try to get the right one. If she waited and they came back, their chance would be gone. The king was hardly going to come once he knew they were hunting him. She steeled herself and asked cautiously, “So, you are a huntsman. That means you must know the king, right?”

He nodded calmly. “Of course. We go hunting together all the time.”

“What, up here?”

He nodded again enthusiastically, “Indeed! What did you think, we hunted fish? You can hardly find something more boring!”

She smiled tensely. If he came to the surface regularly, this might actually be possible. “Can I… come? Sometime?”

He stared at her. “You want to come hunting. With the king.”

His tone was flat and emotionless. Unsure how else to respond, she just nodded.

“You’re a miller’s daughter.”

She scowled and put her hands on her hips. “And what is wrong with that? At least a miller makes something useful!”

He stared at her and then laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Fair, fair. But you are hardly hang-out-with-the-king class you must admit. You’d have to be a princess or something.”

She crossed her arms and tilted her chin up haughtily. “I don’t have to be his guest. I can be yours. Or is a miller’s daughter not worthy to be a huntsman’s guest either?”

He regarded her. Again she wished she could see more than just those eyes, pretty as they were. He asked, surprisingly serious after his banter, “Do you really want to? It might be dangerous.”

She bit her lip but nodded. He watched her for a moment longer before nodding decisively. His voice was heavy as he said, “Very well. I will pick you up tomorrow, same place. Noon. Dress warmly.”

He stood and she scrambled back to her feet as well. Her skirts were soaked through. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. He tilted his head to the side and sighed. “Here, take this.”

The scarf he held out to her was longer than she had expected, a full ten feet. His face underneath was surprisingly normal. Nut brown skin, clean shaven, strong jawline. She took the scarf hesitantly. Her fingers curled into the warm fabric and she looked down to inspect it. Cashmere by the feel of it, dyed in muted browns and greens and woven into a subtle plaid. She opened her mouth to thank him, but when she glanced up he was already gone. She whispered it to the wind anyway before curling the wide band around herself like a shawl and hurrying home.

***

Claire ate her breakfast in silence. She had not told Abby about her plan. She told herself it was because she needed to gather more information first. They would have a better trap if they knew what paths the king hunted along, how many hunted with him, and what weapons they carried. Abby would try to come along if she knew; it was safer this way. The scarf’s weight on her mind betrayed the truth. Once they went after the king, the only real adventure she had found would be over. That wasn’t really it either, but it was the lie she chose to believe.

She had, however, explained that her elf was the wrong one. Initially Abby had insisted it must be a deception, but after a thorough description of his disheveled appearance she yielded. The money would have been nice, but it was not such a disaster as it might have been – she had already used the story to secure a date with her Lt. Parker. In fact she would soon be late, and with a quick pat of her sister’s hand, she ran off.

That suited Claire just fine since she had a date of her own, albeit of a rather different sort. She dressed as if for the coldest day of the year and packed a small bag of snacks and a thermos of warm tea into her bag before hastening out the door herself. She was of course early, but better early than too late. Perhaps he would be as well and they could chat a bit before the hunt.

In the meantime she paced along the edge of the ice until she found the place her heel had cracked it a few days back. It was of course healed, the spiderweb filled in with new ice. The patches would be weaker than the original though. She stomped on it again, then once more. The ice groaned protest as the waves from her impact spread across its surface. Finally she broke through.

Her gloves were warm but she took them off hurriedly anyway and tucked them in a pocket. After this, her fingers would need somewhere nice to return to. The ice chunks bobbing in the shallow water were slippery but had nowhere to go, hemmed in on all sides by shore or their compatriots. She fished one out easily. Its surface burned her fingers but she did not hold it long. With a snap of the wrist she sent it spinning out over the lake like a skipping stone.

It shattered as it hit, shards splintering into a shower of tiny meteorites which glittered in the sun. They slid along the surface, their glass klirr echoing along the distant hills like a carillon playing off tune. She grinned. Skipping rocks took more skill, but ice was more fun.

An hour later, her fingers were numb and the surface of the ice no longer smooth and clean. She regarded the sparkling landscape she had created with satisfaction before looking up at the sun. It was still a few hours early. There was plenty more ice to skip, but she did not think her fingers would agree to it. Perhaps she could make a fire to wait beside? But no, the branches were heavy with snow and their dampness would make them smoke. Maybe no one would notice, but she was loath to explain why she was out here to anyone.

The gentle whisper of someone clearing their throat snapped her out of her considerations. She spun to see the elf waiting patiently a bit to the side. He smiled. A pleasant smile, except for the sharp tips of his teeth poking past his lips. She shivered and quickly wrapped her hands around herself to disguise it as cold.

He took a step towards her, remarking as he approached, “You are early.”

Claire retorted, “So are you.”

He laughed softly and nodded. “Indeed. Things are ahead of schedule. It is good you are here; I thought you would miss it. Are you ready?”

She nodded, though she felt anything but. He turned and motioned to the woods. “My mount is in the trees.” No path cut through the snow but she did not expect one. His feet were once again hovering just above the surface. As she trudged up the gentle hill she wondered if he had forgotten about gravity again, or simply wasn’t bothering now that she knew the truth. She glanced sideways but there was not much to read in that his. A faint smile pinned his lips in place. Pleasant, but cold. Frozen. She looked away.

His mount was a horse, of sorts. Or perhaps a millipede. She tilted her head to the side to regard it. The head was of a horse, and the limbs. There were far too many though, arranged one after the other like legs on a bug. It stood like he did, perching right above the surface of the snow. Thick fuzzy moth antenna poked through its tawny mane, right behind its ears. It neighed softly as he approached to pet its nose gently. She followed him, holding out a hand for it to inspect like she would for one of the village horses. It accepted, snuffling at her palm hopefully for a snack. She rubbed its nose in apology for the empty hand. When she looked up, the elf’s smile had thawed somewhat.

“Where do I sit?” She asked.

He swung up onto the long back and offered a hand. She took it and joined him, nestled between the next pair of leg down from him. “You can hold on to me if you need.” She hesitated but the first jolt of motion as the horse began moving was enough to send her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He chuckled softly to himself. Her cheeks burned deep red and she thanked the cold for providing an excuse.

He spoke as they rode, calmly and softly as if lulling a child to sleep, “You will have to obey some rules if you want to do this safely. Whatever happens, stay on my mount. She’ll keep you out of danger. And don’t talk to anyone, even if they talk to you. I’ll answer for you, or if for any reason I am not there, just don’t answer. It’ll cause less mess to be rude than to say the wrong thing, trust me. And don’t look the king in the eyes. You’ll know which is him; he’ll have enough gems to decorate the gates to heaven themselves. Understand?”

She thought for a moment then asked, “Can I talk to you?”

He nodded. “Yes, that’s okay. But only me. And my mount I suppose, but don’t expect her to answer.” She laughed nervously. He reassured, “Don’t worry. If you obey the rules, you’ll be fine.”

They fell silent. Even through the strange bundle of layers covering him, she could feel the warmth of his body radiate out. Was that faint fluttering his heart beat? No, that would be silly, she couldn’t possibly feel it. This whole thing was ridiculous really. A wave of panic began welling up in here. What was she doing here even? She had never believed in fairy tales as a kid, why was she getting into one now?

To distract herself from her rising uncertainty, she quickly restarted the conversation. “So, in the stories elves don’t give names right?”

He nodded without looking away from the woods ahead of them. “Yes. Names have power. You’d do best to keep yours quiet as well.”

“Well, okay. But I don’t just want to call you ‘you.’ So… what about fake names? Are those okay?”

For a moment he was silent but then he jerked his head up in a small nod.

“Okay. Then… Based on your interesting relationship with tracks, how about Snow?”

This time he took longer to consider. Finally, another terse nod. He seemed done talking and she let the conversation die.

In the silence, she could hear the sound of animals in the distance. A few turns later they came into view. Remembering his warning, she kept her eyes low. That was still enough to get a sense of the party. There were seven “horses” total, all pure white and taller than Snow’s speckled brown paint. They wore elaborate harnesses covered with glass medallions that jingled as they shifted from foot to foot. The boots hooked into the stirrups were similarly fancy, snake leather dyed in bright gem hues. She forced herself to resist the urge to look up. Meeting the king’s eyes by accident would be a stupid mistake.

She need not have worried. The mounts shifted and what she had previously thought to be a shadow resolved itself into one more, and eighth. Its pelt was ebony. Instead of the rainbow glass, milky moonstones adorned its tackle and dangled from the end of its braided tail. Snow’s breath stopped. The fluttering underneath her fingertips sped up – it really must be his heartbeat. Was he scared of the king? Should she be? Her earlier fear had fled now that they were here, curiosity taking its place.

The king’s voice was honey, thick and deep and melodic like the church pipes in the village. The mild rapprochement in his tone couldn’t make it less pleasant, or less friendly and enticing. She closed her eyes as he spoke to keep herself from searching for his own.

“A guest? Hm.”

The hoofsteps came slowly closer. Snow answered calmly, though she could feel him tremble, “Yes, M’Lord. She is nobody, just the miller’s daughter.”

She could feel the king’s breath as he stopped in front of her. It smelled of spring, warm and inviting. Could she really hurt him? After all, she didn’t even know why her king wanted him caught. Or what kind of person her king even was. The chain in her pocket weighed heavily against her thigh. She didn’t move. A gentle hand caught her chin, tilting it left and right before letting the fingers slide off. “Hmm. She is quite pretty. I see why she wears your scarf. Very well, she may stay.”

Snow breathed out finally. “Thank you, M’Lord.”

The hoof steps retreated. She had missed her chance. Idiot. Perhaps she would get another.

Perhaps you don’t want to, muttered a quiet treacherous voice deep inside her.

The sound of moving horses filled the small glen. Snow’s hand closed over her own and squeezed it gently as he whispered, “Well done.”

He let go and snapped the reigns. They began to move as well. She cautiously opened her eyes, keeping them low. They were at the end of the train. A safe place to stare, thankfully. She leaned to the side to examine the others. All were dressed elaborately, if eclectically. Billowing silks mixed with sashes of dark velvet and bands of embroidered wool. The colors were wild and mismatched, yet beautiful in their own way.

Again Snow seemed out of place. The muted plaid of the scarf she now wore had been his most colorful item. Even the dull orange hat she wore was brighter than his muddy brown one. A thought struck her and she pulled it from her head, letting her hair tumble free. She had made it herself, three years back, so there was little sentimental value attached. Quietly she whispered, “Snow?”

He looked back questioningly, trusting the mount to steer itself.

“Here. Want to trade?”

He stared at her. His face was blank. She wished she could better read his eyes. Was that pain? Anger? Irritation? It was not a pleasant emotion, whatever it was. She didn’t remember anything about elves and gifts in the stories, but maybe there was a rule she didn’t know about? Then again, he had given the first gift.

Finally he moved, taking off his own hat slowly. His hair sprang loose in black curls, punctuated by the tips of sharp ears. That much of the stories was true, then. To her surprise, he gently set the hat on her head before taking her own out of her hands and pulling it on as he spun to face forward again. A soft sigh escaped his lips. Again to her frustration she had no idea how to parse it. Was he upset? She sighed as well.

The hunt wove through the woods, silent except for the bell-like jingling of glass. Birds flitted between the trees, knocking little clumps of snow from the branches as they landed. She murmured the names quietly to herself as they rode, like her mother had once done. “Robin, chickadee, cardinal, crow.” His breath stilled. Was he listening? She kept going, staying quiet and expanding to trees as well. “Elm, white pine, oh, there’s a chipmunk as well. And maple, and the big one is a beech. My dad always jokes that you have to be careful to pronounce its name right around children.”

He laughed quietly and murmured back to her, “I had forgotten humans have names for everything, don’t you.”

She shrugged, “Not really. Those are just… classes of things. You wouldn’t say “people” was a name, would you? Now, if I wanted to, I could name that pine ‘Francis.’ That would count.”

He laughed again. The elf in front of them looked back and he fell silent instantly. Her face was framed by a long silk scarf wrapped loosely around her head like a cowl. It wasn’t a pleasant face. Her eyebrows contorted down and lips curled in anger. Claire ducked her head behind Snow’s body again. He squeezed her hand and muttered quietly, “You’re fine. She can’t hurt you, she’s just mad we’re having fun.”

She kept silent for a while nonetheless, though her eyes kept taking note of the woods around them. A deer watched them pass from the brush. Did the elves not notice it, or were they hunting something else? Sometimes nobles from the castle would drop by to hunt foxes in the wood; perhaps they shared the tradition. The gentry always had dogs though to sniff out the slippery animals and flush them from their dens. But who was to say elves did not have another way.

Time dragged on. Her eyes clouded a bit, then drifted shut. Despite her initial uncertainty, it was surprisingly comfortable on the back of this strange horse. The rocking combined with the warmth from Snow’s back soothed her mind. She should be thinking about what she was going to do about the king, but just at this moment it did not seem all that important.

***

A horn sounded. Claire’s eyes snapped open with a start. She was still on the horse, arms wrapped loosely around Snow’s waist. One of his was curled backwards as well, holding her stable. He glanced back and let it fall as she sat up and blinked the sleep from her eyes.

“Sorry they woke you. I would have warned, but I didn’t think we would find anything today.” His tone was worried and tense. She frowned at the back of his head as he turned away. Shouldn’t the huntsman be glad to find something?

It seemed rude to ask though, so instead she just replied politely, “That’s okay. Thanks for keeping me from falling off.”

They were moving faster now. Wind plucked hairs loose from her hat as she leaned past him to look. The hunt was strung out, the front riders already out of sight through the trees. The horn sounded again. She could feel his muscles tense under his coat as he snapped the reigns. He skillfully steered their mount through the woods, ducking between trees to overtake the others one by one. Finally they reached the head, riding next to the king.

Claire dropped her eyes to the snow quickly lest she accidentally catch his eyes. That was when she saw the prey. Her sister lay on the ground, legs caught in a rope and eyes wild. Claire’s breath caught in her throat. She could manage nothing more than a quiet whisper, “Snow…” He shushed her sharply. She remembered his initial hesitance to let her join the hunt as the cold ice of realization slid down her back. He had known this would happen.

Her eyes scanned the woods. No sign of Abby’s soldier. Had they split for the evening? She hoped not. Then again, even if he was lurking in the woods, there was little he would be able do against the whole party. Maybe it was better if he was already gone.

The king leaned forwards to regard Abby closely. His voice was still honey and kindness as he explained softly, “Hello there little fox. Here are the rules. You run, we follow. You may have a two minute head start. If you make it back to town, you are safe. If not…” He shrugged. Abby just stared at him, eyes wide in fear. Gone was the bravado with which she had proposed capturing the king just yesterday. The king prompted her gently, “Do you understand, little fox?”

Claire knew she had to do something, but not what. She looked around wildly. Snow had a bow lashed to the saddle, but it was unstrung and she was a poor shot anyway. He had a knife too though, sheathed at his belt. Quickly, before fear could overwhelm her, she tugged it free and began to slide from the horse.

Snow spun and caught her arm, hissing sharply, “What are you doing?!”

She met his eyes with a scowl. “Let me go this instant or I’ll give you back your knife.”

Truth be told, she had no notion of how to use a dagger outside of utilitarian purposes like skinning a fish. Her bluff seemed to work though. His eyes clouded with dread and he slowly released her arm. She fell to the ground.

The rest of the hunt had caught up, and they turned as one to look at her. She ignored them and strode forward briskly, approaching the king and faking as much confidence as she could. He was watching as well, and given things could hardly get worse, she raised her chin stubbornly to meet his eyes. Or, as she discovered quickly, his lack thereof. Where eyes should sit were instead nothing but holes. Their dark black depths seemed to call for her to dive into them. His voice called out in her mind, Give yourself over to the night, it will care for you.

A lie of course. She tore her eyes off his and fixed them onto his lips instead. They twisted into a smile as she approached. His honeyed tones greeted her, “A brave one, I see. How may I help you?”

She held the knife out in what she hoped was a threatening pose and demanded, “Let her go.”

The king laughed and replied, as if she were a school child missing the obvious answer, “Of course, my dear. Did you not hear the rules? First the prey is released. How else would we get a chase?”

“You don’t get a chase. Leave her along.”

He leaned forward, his breath whispering uncomfortably on her skin. “Oh? Will you take her place then?”

Her words caught in her throat. If she took Abby’s place, she would die. But… she couldn’t let the same fate befall her sister. She forced air into her lungs and declared, “With one condition. Not only may you not hunt her today, you will not hunt either of us ever again from this point forth.”

His smile widened and he offered her a hand. “I accept your terms. They are small price to pay for a much more interesting chase.”

She reached out her own and shook on it. He turned to look back at Abby and dismissed her with a wave. “You heard the deal, little fox. You live to run another day. Off you go.”

Abby stayed frozen on the ground. Claire snapped to her, “Abby! Run you idiot! Go home!”

The sound of Claire’s voice seemed to snap Abby out of her daze. She scrambled to her feet and took off running through the woods. Claire noted thankfully that she was even headed the right direction.

The king looked to her again. “Do I need to repeat the rules, or are we understood?”

She shook her head. “No. I understand.”

“Good. In that case, your time starts… now.”

Claire froze for a moment as ideas flickered through her head. Going to town was too obvious, but going deeper into the woods took her farther from her goal. In either case the real issue was that they would track her easily, and could move faster. Unless…

She ran towards Snow. A ghost of a smile tickled his lips as she approached. Claire didn’t even bother trying to parse it and instead barked sharply, “Get off. Now.” He made no move to dismount. She yelled desperately, “Snow, I said get off! It’s the least you can do after you brought me here!”

The court gasped. To her surprise, his grin widened. He slid from the horse and interlaced his fingers to offer her a boost up, bowing his head respectfully. “As you wish, M’lady.”

She stepped up quickly and grabbed the reigns. “Come on, let’s go girl.” Relief filled her as the horse obeyed and slid into a quick trot. For now, she turned it towards town. The obvious choice, but now she had a chance of keeping ahead of them.

As she left, she heard the king’s voice behind her. It’s calm surface was crackling, betraying the rage underneath. “Snow?! You let her claim you? You fool!”

She snapped the reigns and urged the horse into a gallop. Snow’s laugh chased her through the woods, bouncing off the trees long after they were out of sight. As she rode, she counted in her head. Two minutes really was not very long at all. The horse was silent but its tackle was not. She shifted carefully off the saddle and drew her knife though the leather strap holding it in place. It slid from the horse’s back faster than she could grab it and she whinnied in displeasure as a pair of her legs stumbled over it. Claire slid forward and pet her neck and whispered, “Sorry girl, I’m done now.”

 One minute left. They were going fast, but the trees were slowing them down. The elves would be more used to riding through the woods than she was; if she couldn’t speed up then having the mount would just delay the inevitable.

To her left she noticed a large snow-covered boulder. It reminded her of the ramps she and her sister had made on their sledding hill when they were younger. She would always pretend they were flying – which was true, for a fraction of a second at least. It was a silly idea, but the horse clearly had an interesting relationship of gravity. That didn’t mean it would work, but she was getting rather desperate…

She tugged the reigns and directed the horse to run full-tilt up the rock. She did not stop when she hit the other end but as Claire had hoped, ran up into the air. She grinned as the horse’s hooves cleared the treetops and clawed their way into the sky. This was far better than a sled flight. She rubbed the horse’s neck in thanks and looked around.

The view was splendid. Sunlight sparkled off the snow-covered trees, somehow giving the white more depth and color than seemed possible. In the distance, the mountains shimmed purple. Only one thing was missing.

The town.

She spun to peer in all directions. No sign of it. No sign of the lake either. Just endless woods stretching to the distant peaks.

Claire bit her lip. Town should be roughly south. She nudged the horse back to their original path. At least they were heading about the right direction. Or, at least, the right direction to where it should be. She scanned the woods ahead for anything that might indicate people. Smoke, felled trees, the peak of a roof. Nothing. It was all gone.

Time must be up by now. They would be following her. She could do nothing but ride though at this point. Being in the sky would make her more visible, but hopefully the speed was worth it. Her eyes roamed over the woods below, hunting for any sign of home or pursuit.

Suddenly the horse screamed. She looked around wildly. Another rider had just crested the trees behind them, bow in hand. Claire started falling. Blood streamed past her as the horse cried in pain. The ground was rising fast. She squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself for impact.

At the last moment the horse rallied, slowing them somewhat before collapsing to the ground heavily. Claire’s leg was pinned under it. She pushed and shoved, trying to move the mound of warm flesh holding it in place. The sound of bells was getting closer. The horse was just too heavy. Even the panicked strength of fear of death was not enough to budge it.

The bells stopped. A ring of elves surrounded her. Snow rode to the side of the king. His lips were set in a thin line, eyes wet and pleading. Claire looked away, fixing her gaze on the king instead. He clapped slowly and congratulated her, “Ah a good run. You are quite a clever one for a human. Alas, it appears we have won this round.” He drew a silver sword from a saddle sheath and dismounted. “Don’t worry, I will make this quick.”

Claire stalled desperately, “Wait, don’t I get last words?”

The king sighed. “A very human tradition. But I suppose, if you must.”

She took a deep breath, and found her eyes inevitably drawn to Snow again. He looked close to tears and she wondered what his heartbeat would feel like now were she still holding his waist. What had he been planning? She couldn’t believe he had brought her here to die. There must be some way out, something she could do, a trick she was missing.

The king looked impatient. She spoke slowly as her mind tore through memories trying to find the key, “Thank you, that is most gracious.” Finally she found it, a glimmer of hope. She took a deep breath and prayed her gambit would work as she stated firmly, “I name you Ice.”

The king recoiled. “You can’t.”

A grin spread across her face and she declared, “I can, and I have. You are Ice, beautiful to look at but cold to the core. Snow at least has some warmth to it but you, you have none.”

He took another step back, the holes of his eyes locked on her face. Her smile widened and she stacked as much imperious confidence she could to command, “Now then, Ice. You have a job to do. You will leave, and never hunt humans again. If you need your sport, you will chase deer or other non-sentient beasts. Understood?”

His face twisted into an angry scowl but slowly, as if dragged by an invisible force, he nodded. His legs took him to his horse and he swung back into the saddle. As he took the reigns, he hissed, “This isn’t the end.”

She laughed. “Oh, it is. If you come back, if I ever see you again, why, I’ll march you straight to the King’s Guard myself. Now leave before I decide to do it now!”

He spun his horse around with a snap of the reigns and galloped into the woods. The others followed hastily, hooves clawing noiselessly at the air. Soon only Snow remained.

He laughed softly, weight dropping from his shoulders. “He is right about one thing, you are a clever woman. Shall I help you out from under there?”

She nodded. “Yes, please.”

He slid off the white mount he had borrowed and came over to crouch by her and lay a hand on his horse’s flank. “She was a good girl.”

Claire nodded. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Don’t be. She died doing something heroic. I think it’s how she would have wanted to go.” He shifted and slid his hands under. “On three, okay? One, two, three!” With a heave, he lifted the horse just enough for her to slip free. She got to her feet unsteadily.

“Do you want to make her a pyre?”

He shook his head. “Wait.”

She fell silent. After a minute, the tips of the horse’s fur began to glow with soft orange fire. It spread rapidly down to its core, leaving nothing behind but sparks dancing in the air. Claire began to shiver as the adrenaline left her empty and exhausted. Snow reached over and took her hand. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

They rode in silence. Despite the illusion she had been caught in earlier, they were actually quite close. Ten minutes later they stood at the edge of the clearing around her father’s mill. Claire slid reluctantly out of the saddle and looked up at him. He smiled down at her and for once she understood his eyes. Sadness, longing. She asked softly, “Snow, what’s your real name?”

He shook his head and answered, “I don’t know. I lost it long ago. It doesn’t matter though, Snow will do just as well.”

She thought of his appearance, his horse, his kindness. “You’re not one of them, are you.”

He shrugged and looked away. She bit her lip. Fairy tales all ended he same way in books didn’t they? It was stupid, but no more ridiculous than commanding an elf king just on the power of a made-up name. Maybe she just making excuses for what she wanted to do anyway. Did it matter?

 She swung back onto the horse and he turned to look back at her in surprise. She kissed him.

He smiled as they broke apart. His teeth were smooth and perfect, no hint of fangs. The blue of his eyes was still strange – their color must come from being a foreigner, not an elf. It suited him though.

Claire grinned triumphantly and slid back to the ground. She quipped cheerfully, “I’m getting good at this fairy-tale nonsense aren’t I?” He laughed and nodded.

An awkward silence descended before he asked the question she couldn’t find the right words for. “May I, uh, may I see you again?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, I think I would like that. How about Friday, at noon? By the lake? I can bring us a picnic.”

He met her smile and bent down to kiss the top of her head before riding back into the woods. She watched until the sound of bells faded to nothing but the whisper of the wind. Smile still on her lips, she went home.