Page 12 of Snow White

When Snow’s eyes lock on mine, the cold, glacial color seems more distant, more icy. They should chill me to the bone, not fill me with tenderness or make me think about calling her back. Where are these thoughts coming from? They make me want to forget decades-long plans. She can’t be as pure as she pretends. No one can. The world takes us, destroys us, and then dares to wonder why only monsters win.

“Yes,” she whispers. Her voice is off, and I don’t like it, not one bit.

My lips pull down in a frown. “What is wrong?”

Snow shakes her head, walking up the steps to join me at the top. Her scent of frosted apples overwhelms me for a moment. “It is too bad she had to go.”

I cross my arms across my chest. “She was rude to you.”

An unforgivable offense. Those who fail to see the power in front of them will be crushed beneath its boot heel. Too many people think me weak and mild at first sight. Usually, they never get the chance to correct themselves before I’m holding their hearts in my hands.

She shrugs. “Perhaps she had a terrible morning.”

I barely hold back a hiss. I don’t like how much Snow cares about some irrelevant little princess. Her heart is going to break when she realizes the world is dark. I glance through the open doors into the palace. “They’re waiting for us.”

Snow sighs. “I’ll go change. I’ll see you at dinner.”

My hand moves almost of its own accord, clutching her shoulder. “Snow.”

The way I say her name is soft, almost an entreaty. It is as if I am begging her to understand that I did this to protect her. I shake my head, trying to dislodge these crazy thoughts. No, I don’t care about her. I can’t care about her. But when she looks back at me, a part of me dies at the painful coldness in her eyes.

I hate the sight of it.

“Hm?” she asks, spinning to look at me.

I touch her cheek gently as if I can fix whatever just broke inside of her. How does the broken fix the broken? How does the blind lead the blind? She leans into my hand, and I want to take on all the things that are weighing on her. She forces a smile and says, “I’m just a little sad. That’s all. I’ll be alright.”

As a professional liar, I know when people are not telling the truth, but I can see that Snow believes her own words. She’s probably said them to herself so much that she’s forgotten what the truth is. It is another thing we have in common.

I rub my thumb against her cheek. The small comforting move is the most I’ve ever offered another person. “Sad?”

She closes her eyes, nodding. “I was so excited to meet everyone.”

She sighs sadly, shivering slightly, but I can’t tell if it’s from my touch or that her hair is still wet from the swim.

I step closer, mesmerized. “It’s just one.”

She nods and sniffles. “You’re r-right.”

I frown again. “Snow…”

Her eyes open slowly, and she shifts. I have to focus on keeping my gaze from dropping to her breasts, especially when I feel the graze of her nipples. “Hm?”

I step even closer, unable to resist the temptation. I lean down slightly and whisper into her ear, “Dinner will grow cold.”

She lifts her chin, goosebumps climbing her skin. “Right.”

I should step away and let this moment end, but I don’t. “You’re shivering.”

She whispers, “My blood runs colder because of my powers. I should have dried off better.”

I finally shift, putting some distance between us. “You should go then.”

She blinks. “G-go?”

I smother my grin of satisfaction. “Change.”

She nods, her gaze darting to her hands. “Yes, that is probably a good idea.”

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