Snow White (Enchanted Fairytales) Read online

  Sneezer glanced at him and away, shrugging. “Sometimes.”

  “Won’t work if you don’t take it all the time,” Medic remarked, turning back to his examination of her. “Well, you look a little dehydrated and quite hungry, but not as bad as you could have been for three days of wandering.”

  “I found a creek,” Snow said, “and followed it. That way I at least had water to drink.”

  “Smart girl,” Medic proclaimed, gathering his equipment and repacking it in his bag. “But you should have drunk more.”

  “And why was the ‘smart girl’ wandering in the forest for three days?” Grouchy asked. He leaned both elbows on the table, leveling his gaze on her.

  “I got lost when I entered the forest,” Snow said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. She was lost. “I wasn’t sure how to get back out. Any chance one of you can help me?”

  They all glanced at one another again. Finally Medic stood, his place taken by Blithe. “You’ve never been in the forest before, have you?” Grouchy scoffed and Blithe shot him a withering glance. Snow shook her head. “Do you live near the forest?” he asked gently.

  “Yes, I live in—”

  Blithe held up a hand. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to tell us where you live.”

  Snow was relieved. She’d been trying to remember the name of any of the other towns surrounding the forest other than the one she was from. Then his words sunk in.

  “Why doesn’t it matter?”

  Blithe sighed, looking at the others before returning his attention to her. “You’ve stumbled upon Fableton.” When she just stared at him, no recognition for the name showing on her face, he continued. “No one leaves Fableton, Snow White. Never have.”

  Snow pushed away from the table, standing. “What do you mean?” She couldn’t keep the quiver from her voice. She glanced toward the door.

  “We won’t keep you here,” Blithe said. “The curse takes care of that on its own.”

  “Curse?”

  Blithe sighed again, tiredly. “It’s a long story, and not mine to tell. Eat some dinner, get a good night’s rest, and tomorrow you can do the thing you’re itching to do right now, which is get outside and test what I’ve told you.”

  Snow glanced at the door again and moved toward it. They all looked at her, but no one moved to stop her. She opened the door and stepped outside. Glancing back in showed that none of them came her way.

  However, just then Coy walked over to the table, placing a large pan of some kind of steaming food on the table. Dozy set down a big bowl of salad. Snow’s stomach grumbled. The peach and apple hadn’t done much to cure her hunger. Coy smiled at Snow then dropped his eyes back to the table, shifting back and forth from foot to foot nervously.

  Snow glanced behind her into the darkening night. She had no idea where she was and was likely to get lost again. She didn’t know if she’d survive another night with the little food she had in her. She turned and went back in.

  *****

  Snow broke through the trees, falling to her knees in frustration at the sight of the cottage before her. Grouchy sat in a chair, arms crossed over his chest, and Snow could have sworn he was laughing beneath the scowl. The others had long since given up and gone inside.

  She’d been running for three hours now. No matter which way she went, no matter what ways she marked the path to be certain not to backtrack, she always ended up back at the cottage. She threw her hands skyward and let out a half-growl, half-scream.

  “Wanna come inside for some lunch now?” Grouchy asked.

  “Why?” she demanded.

  “Because it’s lunch time. And I’m hungry.”

  “No! Why is this happening? How are you doing this?”

  Grouchy stood. “It isn’t us, as we’ve told you. We’ve also told you it isn’t our story to tell. If you’re ready to believe us, we’ll take you to the one whose story it is.”

  “And how are we supposed to find him? Every path leads back here.”

  Grouchy nodded. “That’s because you haven’t been anywhere else. Once you’re shown other places, you’ll be able to find them easily enough.”

  “You’re saying there are other places and people here, but I can’t see them until you show them to me?”

  “Sounds about right,” Grouchy said.

  Snow scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Grouchy turned and pulled the door open. Before entering, he said, “You don’t want to miss out on lunch. You’re too skinny.”

  Snow stared after him, huffing out a frustrated breath. She ran her fingers through her hair that desperately needed to be washed. She looked around at the towering trees. Well, guess I may as well eat something and maybe get a shower before I’m ‘shown’ around, she thought.

  After she’d eaten and showered, Snow felt much better.

  “Alright, let’s go get the story,” she said to the seven men who sat on the couches and chairs watching Dozy and Medic play a card game. Seven pairs of eyes glanced up at her, then they all began making motions to leave.

  “I don’t need all of you, do I?”

  Blithe answered. “When we go, we go together. Besides, none of us worked today, so we should probably show up for at least a short time. We’ll drop you off and then pick you up to come home later.”

  “Oh.” Snow didn’t say she was hoping to find somewhere else to stay. She didn’t think she should continue to stay alone with seven men.

  “Why do you wear breeches?” Grouchy asked as they walked. “All your clothes are strange.”

  I glanced down at my jeans and t-shirt. The Seven all wore clothing that looked like it was straight out of a storybook: pants that ended just below their knees where their socks began, black high-top shoes that laced up, off-white twill shirts covered with vests.

  “This is what we wear in . . . at home.”

  Grouchy grunted, but didn’t say anything further.

  They led her from the cottage in the same direction she’d last left. She saw her piles of rocks lying on the ground. She paid close attention to details, trying to memorize the path they walked. At about the time Snow would have been bursting back into the cottage’s clearing, the came upon a small village of cottages similar to the one Snow was staying in with The Seven. She glanced behind her at the path they’d just come in on. It looked entirely different now than the many times she’d traveled it this morning.

  They continued past the cottages, from which Snow spotted people watching their passage. Less than five minutes later they came upon what Snow could only describe as a castle. It was large and white, shining in the sun as if it were covered with a layer of ice. The spires reached heavenward, disappearing into the clouds. She blinked, sure she must be hallucinating again. The castle remained, as beautiful and mysterious as before.

  Blithe waved Snow forward. He pointed. “Do you see that bridge down there?”

  Snow looked. The bridge crossed a small stream. There wasn’t anyone or anything anywhere near the bridge. “Yes.”

  “Follow this path,” he said, pointing to the stone path beneath their feet. “Once you cross over the bridge, you’ll find him.”

  “Who?”

  “The man whose story it is to tell. We’ll be waiting for you when you return.”

  The seven of them turned and left as Snow watched them. At the last second, Grouchy met her eyes. He reached out and gave her a reassuring squeeze on the arm. As they rounded a bend in the path, Snow called out, “What do I ask him?”

  “Ask him to tell you,” Medic called.

  “Either he’ll tell you,” Sneezer yelled.

  “Or he won’t,” Dozy said as they disappeared.

  Snow placed her hands on her hips. “Cryptic much?” she murmured. She turned back to the bridge.

  The path looked harmless enough. Of course, so had everything else weird in this place. What choice did she have? She walked down the hill, keeping her feet and eyes on the path. She’d already been lost enough for one
lifetime. If she stepped off the path, she might not find it again.

  As she stepped on the bridge, she felt a slight rumble beneath her feet. She stopped, looking down. Nothing appeared any different than it should. She waited. It didn’t come again, so she took another tentative step. Again nothing, so she continued on. Everything suddenly changed when she stepped off the other side of the bridge.

  She no longer stood on the empty plot of grassy land next to the castle. Instead, she stood in a dense thicket of dripping willow trees, their branches brushing the ground. Only instead of being the dark green she associated with willows, they were dark red. The color reminded her of the strawberries that grew outside of her home, planted and tended by Katarina. They were darker than normal strawberries, and Snow had never tasted them. They weren’t natural. Neither were these willows.

  The path had disappeared both beneath her feet and behind her. Knowing she’d never find her way back until she completed whatever the men had set her to do, she moved forward, ducking beneath the branches. She reached to push one out of her way, then stopped at the feel of it. The leaves were soft, like feathers.

  Wood being chopped caught her attention. Looking ahead, she couldn’t see anything though she could discern the direction. She followed the sound and soon spied a man swinging an axe high over his head, bringing it down on a piece of wood, cleanly splitting it in two. It was impressive, the power behind the swing and the perfect cut in the wood.

  He stopped, picking up a container and taking a drink from it. Should she should call out to him, or wait for him to notice her? She examined him. He was wearing a royal blue vest over a white shirt. Not just any vest, one that looked like it had jumped right out of the fifteenth century or something. His white shirt had loose sleeves. His pants were a light brown color, and because his back was to her, Snow couldn’t tell if they were a normal, modern day pair of pants, or something that belonged with his other clothing.

  His dark hair curled over the top of his collar. As he tipped his head back to drink, she studied his strong jaw that had the slightest darkening of stubble on it, as if he’d shaved but would soon need another. His throat worked as he swallowed. She really wanted him to put the jug down and turn her way so she could see him full on.

  “Finished looking?” he called as he set the jug down. Snow blushed, well aware that she had been doing exactly that—looking. He turned her way and her jaw dropped. He was not just good-looking as she’d suspected, but gorgeous. She couldn’t think of anyone she’d ever seen, in life or in one of Channy’s magazines, who could hold a candle to this guy.

  He waited and Snow belatedly remembered he was waiting for her to speak. “Oh, sorry,” she said, wanting to smack herself on the head for her embarrassing display. “I didn’t know if I should interrupt.” Her cheeks flushed again with the lame excuse.

  “By all means, interrupt,” he said, spreading his arms wide and bowing to her. Grinning, he stood straight and tipped his head. “You’re the one I’ve been hearing about.”

  Snow’s brain turned to mush at the smile. She had to scramble to find the appropriate response. “You’ve heard about me?”

  “I know everything that happens in Fableton,” he said, “Except how you got here.”

  Snow shrugged. “I got lost in the forest. I found the cottage where Grouchy and Blithe and . . . well, where they live.”

  “You found the cottage of The Seven? Without being shown?”

  Snow might have wondered at the odd question, except that she now believed what they’d said, that she wouldn’t see anything without being shown.

  “Yes.”

  “Come closer,” he said. Snow walked toward him. When she was ten feet away, he said, “Stop there. I can hear you better now.”

  “They told me . . . I mean, Blithe told me if I wanted to know about Fableton, I’d have to ask you.”

  “Did he?” he murmured. “What’s your name?”

  “Snow White,” she said, and he flinched as if the name were familiar to him. She didn’t know how it could be since she’d never heard of another soul called Snow. Who would name their child after a weather phenomenon?

  “I’m Philip Kingston. Welcome to Fableton, Snow White.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “It’s quite an . . . unusual place.”

  Philip laughed. “That it is.”

  “So, what’s the—”

  Philip held up a hand. Snow wanted to move closer to see the color of his eyes, but she was afraid she’d be overstepping her bounds. “First, tell me your story, Snow White. How did you come to be lost in the forest?”

  Snow bit her bottom lip. Did she dare tell him? How did she know he wouldn’t go running back to Katarina and tell her where Snow was?

  Philip waved toward a fancy white iron bench to her right. “Please, Snow, have a seat. I apologize for forgetting my manners. There’s a glass of water there for you.”

  Snow moved to the bench and saw he spoke the truth. The glass of water was fresh, ice bobbing. How did he know she was coming? Then she remembered his words, I know everything that happens in Fableton. She supposed he was telling the absolute truth.

  As she sat on the bench, he said, “Anything you say here, Snow, becomes my own secret. It will never pass from my lips.”

  Somehow, she believed him.

  “My stepmother, she . . .” Snow swallowed at the enormity of the words she was about to speak. It had been bad enough having the knowledge while she was escaping, and then while she was trying to get away from Fableton, but now, in this beautiful, peaceful clearing, it seemed obscene and horrific. “She paid a man to take me into the forest and kill me. She was planning to make it look like I ran away.”

  Philip’s brows lifted in astonishment. He moved to sit on the stump he’d been using to chop the wood on. “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Wow.” She took a sip of the water, letting the pure clarity of it cleanse her throat.

  “How did you get away from him?”

  “I ran when he wasn’t looking. He didn’t think I could escape so he didn’t tie me up.”

  “Why wouldn’t he think you could escape?”

  “Because she drugged me. I couldn’t move. I didn’t let him know the drug had worn off, so when he put me down, he left me alone.”

  “Clever girl,” Philip said, smiling approvingly.

  “Can you help me?” she asked. “Can you help me get out of the forest in a different place, where I can hide from her?”

  Philip tilted his head again. “Do you think this man would go back and tell her he failed? Or will she believe you’re dead?”

  Snow shook her head. “She’ll know he failed.”

  “How?”

  “She . . . she told him to bring my heart to her. She even had a wooden box for him to do so.”

  Philip shot to his feet at her words. It was shocking, Snow knew. It went beyond simple murder. Then she noticed Philip’s face. He was pale, his brows drawn tightly together in dismay. His fists were clenched tightly at his side.

  “She wanted your heart?”

  “Yes.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. Proof, I guess.”

  “What did the drug she gave you do to you?”

  “It made me numb. I was awake, but unable to move.” Philip began to tremble and Snow became worried. “Are you okay?”

  “Her name,” he said between clenched teeth. “What is her name?”

  Snow stood also. She didn’t want revenge or anything. She just wanted to get away. “It doesn’t matter, Philip. I don’t care if she—”

  “Her name!”

  Snow clamped her mouth shut. She looked to where she thought the path might be. She could find it if she really tried—she hoped.

  “Katarina,” Philip whispered and Snow froze.

  “What did you say?”

  “Katarina,” Philip repeated.

  Snow sunk back down to the bench, her legs unable to hold her upright. “How d
o you know her name?”

  As if someone had pulled a string releasing his anger, Philip also dropped back to the stump he’d occupied. “Let me tell you my story,” he said. “Then you’ll see.”

  Snow went to pick up the glass to take another drink, but when she saw how badly her hands were shaking, she didn’t attempt it, afraid she’d drop the glass. Philip stood again, and began pacing.

  “A long time ago, I was living happily with my family. I had a mother and father who both adored me. Everyone in my . . . village . . . loved me.” He glanced up at Snow, and she guessed he was editing parts of the story. She just didn’t know why.

  “And then I met a girl.” He smiled in remembrance. “She was beautiful, the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And lucky for me, she also found me attractive.” In spite of the weird conversation, Snow had to bite her tongue from saying Duh. Who wouldn’t find him attractive?

  “I thought I was in love with her. I wanted nothing more than to be near her, every day. She was all I thought about. Before I woke in the morning and as I fell asleep at night.” He looked toward Snow, pausing in his pacing. “As time passed, however, I began to notice things about her. She was obsessed with her own beauty. Everything she did was done in a way to preserve that. She didn’t like to be around anyone who didn’t constantly praise her.” He laughed derisively. “She didn’t even want to be around anyone she felt was unattractive. She felt they were far beneath her.”

  “Sounds like a nice girl,” Snow murmured.

  “Not really,” Philip answered, and Snow blushed. She hadn’t meant for him to hear. “In fact, it didn’t take long for me to realize that as beautiful as she was on the outside, her heart was as black as coal. If I didn’t compliment her with my every word, she pouted. She was jealous of anything that took my complete attention from her.”

  Snow squirmed. This story was beginning to sound familiar.

  “I had a dog,” Philip said. “He’d been my companion since I was a boy. She really didn’t like him because he took my attention. And then he disappeared.” Snow gasped, afraid of where the story was going. “Then other things began to disappear.” He looked directly at Snow, though she was too far to read the expression in his eyes. “My parents disappeared.”