7. Snow White

Chapter 7

Snow White

LORI

F resh, powdery snow peppers the roofs and turrets of the Winter castle. The stone fortress is perched at the foot of a snow-peaked mountain range, cradled between steep cliffs and the bustling city beyond the gates. The busy streets of Tundra, the Winter capital, are mere footsteps away from the castle. It's wild to witness that kind of proximity between the High Fae and the ordinary people considering most of the Shadowlands' citizens were barred from the grounds of the Shadow Court for decades.

The Spring brides drag their feet, taking in the splendid view. A gigantic frozen lake made of turquoise ice shines in the distance, smooth as a mirror. Awed whispers and delighted gasps buzz through the ranks as we walk along the parapet to the stairs leading down to an interior courtyard. Inside the castle grounds, the dramatic scenery is quickly replaced by secluded gardens that shield us from the icy wind.

A maze of cedar hedges crawls deeper and deeper inside the Winter stronghold, and Sarafina guides us through its corners and curves without hesitation. "Never enter the labyrinth without an escort. It protects the king's private gardens from uninvited visitors and stretches all the way to the mountains. Many powerful Winter Fae have lost their toes and fingers after getting lost in this maze. You'd never make it through on your own."

On the other side, steep rooftops create walls of packed snow around the inner gardens that extend past my head.

A dark frown obscures Seth's face, and I follow his gaze to the three uneven towers reaching out to the cloudless sky. The tallest of them is a little crooked, its blue stone shingles laden with ice instead of snow. I halt and blink a few times, my gut in knots. For whatever reason, the lonely window at the top gives me the major creeps.

Up ahead, Sarafina spins around to face us. "This is Winter's sacred tree, the only Hawthorn in existence to produce the infamous frost apples. If you're lucky enough to make it to the top three, you will receive one of these apples, and the healthy, long-lasting life that comes with it."

I'm at the back of the pack because of my quick stop and tilt my head to take a good look at the tree. Compared to the Shadow Court's Hawthorn, Winter's sacred tree is small and brittle. Ice coats the white trunk and branches, making them twinkle in the sun.

Beautiful, but barren. Almost sickly.

Sharp, deadly icicles hang from the network of gnarly branches right above our heads, and I gawk at their terrible beauty.

A handful of blood-red leaves hang on despite the frost, and tiny white apples dangle from a dozen branches. Some of them are bigger and slowly ripening into a deep, midnight blue.

Frost apples. The reason why mortal women flock to this mind-boggling contest in droves. The real treasure they covet. A six percent chance to taste the proverbial fountain of youth and see their lives expanded by centuries. No wrinkles. No sickness.

The one in fifty chance of actually marrying the king and dying at his hands is seemingly forgotten. A long, healthy life is all mortals dream about, but I wouldn't take a bite out of the creepy fruits to save my life.

An ice statue stands behind the tree and marks the location of a sleek glass coffin. Sarafina breezes past the roped-off path leading to the tombstone, but I pause. By Morpheus…

A handful of brides stop near the macabre display, but none of them dares to walk past the ropes. I catch up with them and slip inside the restricted area.

"What are you doing?" Poppy whispers.

"If they didn't want us to see her, they wouldn't have put her in a glass coffin in the middle of the gardens, no?" I answer playfully. I want to take a closer look at the dead queen, but if I'm to break the rules, I might as well not be the only one caught on the wrong side of the ropes. "Come on. Let's steal a peek."

My companions exchange nervous glances.

"You're going to get eliminated," a girl whispers, giving us a wide berth.

"Who cares? No Spring seed makes it past the first round, anyway," Poppy says as she joins me on the path.

The cheerful way she declares us out of the contest before it even starts shakes my confidence, and I promise myself to give Seth hell later for not mentioning that huge asterisk.

Daisy scoffs, her arms crossed awkwardly over her chest because of her thick fur coat.

"You chicken?" I taunt her.

The blonde digs her heels in the snow. "Not at all. But I stay away from corpses as a rule."

Aster skips to my side of the ropes. "I'm game."

Snow crunches under my boots on my way to the sepulture, Aster and Poppy quick on my trail. Under the most disturbing and crooked Hawthorn tree in history, dead in the center of the Winter King's inner gardens, Iris Lovatt lays in her glass coffin, entombed for all eternity. Her hands are clasped over her stomach, the bright red shade of her lips bringing chills to my spine.

A hiccup quakes my throat as I draw closer.

Holy shit! When Seth had told me I was a ringer for the late Winter Queen, I'd hoped it was one of those "I knew a woman of Indian descent who looked just like you" type of scenario.

But the color of our skin is actually the one detail that's not exactly right—her being super dead and all. Well, that and her pointy ears. Aside from that, the dead queen laid to rest at the heart of the Winter gardens, wrapped in pristine white fur and laid on a bed of white feathers, could be my twin.

A sudden, cold sting creeps around my ribcage, and my abs clench. Seeing an almost perfect copy of myself in a coffin was bound to poke at old wounds, and I sink my nails in my palms, waiting for the insidious flash of pain to subside.

Acid simmers at the back of my throat as I examine the bronze plaque at the base of the ominous, see-through grave.

True love transcends crowns, blood, and flesh. It doesn't care for common sense and doesn't play by the rules. Love has no masters, only slaves.

- Elio Hades Lightbringer

Sarafina claps her hands a few times to attract our attention, the royal chief of staff now standing inches behind the ropes. "Brides. Come with me, please. This isn't part of the tour." Her voice holds a sharp edge of reproach, but Seth bites back a smile.

Smothered giggles escape Poppy and Aster as we rejoin the ranks of the guided tour, but my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, parched and dry. Did they take a close look at Iris? Aren't they going to say something?

The sun-filled gardens suddenly look completely different. No matter how much white snow they sprinkle over the earth, this is the kingdom of death. Their king's specialty. So much death, he's drowning in it.

Wife after wife, the first one on display for everyone to see.

My father used to say that in death, we are alone . But this burial site screams for attention with the glass lid, the perfectly-preserved corpse, and the subtle coat of rouge on her cheeks. It's too vivid. The Winter King probably walks by every day to gaze upon a woman who looks like she's only sleeping. Like she might wake up at any moment.

A full-blown shiver quakes my body. I came here to seduce this monstrous king, but now I'm scared. How is he going to react when he sees me? What if he wants to marry me, after all?

Sarafina leads us through a large stone arch, where we join the crowd gathering on the other side. Thick silver ropes separate the small space in four different sections, and a single balcony towers over a sea of women.

Fifty brides… Holy fuck. That's a lot of giggles and manicures in one place, but we're all wearing the same cloaks and masks, so it's hard to tell any of us apart.

Seth follows Sarafina toward the balcony, but I catch up to him and grip his arm. "How did Iris die?" I whisper.

He waits for his guide to be out of earshot before he answers, "She fell."

"From the tower?"

"Yes." His dark brows pull together. "How did you know?"

I bite on my bottom lip, the sudden burst of adrenaline in my blood prompting me to run.

"Brides of Wintermere, Summerlands, Secret Springs, and the Red Forest, welcome. The Yule pageant will commence momentarily." Sarafina's gaze briefly scans the crowd before it latches on to Seth. "Fellow patrons, please join me on the balcony."

I huddle closer to the others not to draw too much attention and keep my head down, grateful for my big hood and mask. Most of my companions stretch their necks and whisper between themselves, excited to see the Winter King.

Sunlight shines through the balcony's structure, the entire thing carved out of ice. Droplets of water drip down the banisters of the two symmetrical staircases flanking both sides of the platform. The intricate transparent railings allow for the royal sponsors to get a solid grip as they head up to meet Sarafina.

A woman wearing red from head to toe climbs after Seth with light feet and unmatched grace. A blood-red hood covers her head, but a long auburn braid hangs over her shoulder, and an earth-toned tunic and sash hug her slender form. Dark marks are painted over her face, the jeweled scarf tied over her forehead masking her brows. A long, majestic katana is strapped to her back, and I press my fingertips to my empty palms.

She's a warrior.

If only I could show off my daggers as proudly as she presents her curved sword, maybe I wouldn't feel so vulnerable.

I've read about Reds, the women that populate the mysterious forest of the same name, but I've never glimpsed at one before. Their gods and customs are completely different to the rest of the Fae continent—and not well-documented. My librarian side is itching for ink and quills to take notes on the sponsor's uniform, but it is said that the secrets of the Red Forest and its inhabitants can only be written down in blood.

I'd been looking forward to visiting their lands with the Shadow King on Morheim, but I'd missed my chance because of the spider bite—and had spent the week puking my entrails out instead. My nasty scar heats up at the reminder, and I reach for it without meaning to, clasping my side with one hand.

Seth is the only male out of the four royal sponsors. Summer is also represented by a woman, though she's not as striking as the Red Fae, and Sarafina is the apparent patron for Winter brides.

A dozen cameras the size of grapefruits fly over our heads and scatter around the gardens, interrupting my train of thought. The sphere-shaped lenses look like eyes and have translucent, iridescent wings on each side. They zoom through the air with a low buzz. The first kingdoms are notorious for mixing mortal technology with magic, but I've never seen anything like this.

A middle-age looking Fae wearing a white tuxedo and holding a microphone leans against the railing. "Welcome to the Yule pageant." Blush colors his cheeks, and his bright blue eyes are about the only interesting thing about him. "Don't worry. You'll soon forget about the cameras. Not only because you'll get used to them, but also because of the clever enchantments I weaved within them." The Fae winks to the women closest to him and slicks his gray hair back over his head with a small comb.

Thank Morpheus the colonel fried chicken wannabe isn't the Winter King. If I hadn't caught a glimpse of Elio Lightbringer back in the Shadow Court's gardens, I'd be worried to see this man scour the crowd like a bird of prey scavenging for dinner. Looks shouldn't matter in my situation, but if I have to pretend to like some dangerous Fae prick, it won't hurt that he's nice to look at.

"Don't give all of our secrets away, Paul," Sarafina says, her voice higher than it was before—and full of pep.

"It's an honor to host with you again this year, Sara." Paul hikes up his sleeves and licks his lips, apparently excited to kick off the pageant. "The lucky brides who survive the first two rounds of elimination will get to tour Wintermere with us. We'll hit Snowhaven, the Frost Peaks, and Glacier's Edge before we return home to crown the winner."

"I have relatives in Snowhaven," the girl behind me whispers to her wintry friends.

Sarafina clasps her hands together. "I can't believe the wedding is only ten days away, Paul."

"Yes. The brides have a full schedule up ahead. Remember ladies… If you make it through to the top three, you'll be rewarded with one of our precious frost apples," Paul declares with an exaggerated touch of drama.

It's barely been a minute, and the showmanship is already in full swing. Somehow, the part where the winner will soon die is ignored, and all the fallacies of this "contest" are glossed over like they don't even matter.

"But we're a long way off from the top three and finding out the name of our new Queen, Sara. This is our fiftieth annual Yule pageant, so we figured the speed round should have a twist."

My fists clench at my sides. Reality TV used to be a guilty pleasure of mine, but right this second, I can't remember why.

Sarafina nods and offers the closest camera a conspiratorial smile. "Marriage has so little to do with physical appearance. This year, the first step to falling in love will be to connect with a mind—not lust for a body."

Seth turns his head toward Paul, and his serious squint sends my heart into a frenzy. Is she saying…

Paul wiggles his brows. "Instead of meeting every candidate face-to-face, the king will host blind dates, and the brides will only have their personalities, wits, and voices to stand out. Who will hold our king's attention long enough to advance to the next step, and who will simply be eliminated without ever laying eyes on him?"

"This is such an exciting experiment, Paul. A first impression of the heart."

My brows furrow. What fucked-up, alternate universe did I end up in?

Paul raises both arms to the sky, the sleeves of his tuxedo about two inches too short for him to look chic. "I can't wait to get started. Brides, please report to your sponsor for the schedule, and we'll see you tonight for the inauguration ball."

"Let the games begin!" Sarafina concludes the broadcast, and the cameras fly back inside a large leather-cladded chest next to the hosts.

Whispers of disappointment lament the absence of the Winter King, but adrenaline swirls in my veins. My gaze meets Seth's, and the Fae presses his lips together in an uncharacteristic pout. The whole point of me coming here was that the Winter King would see me and keep me around.

My only real chance of saving Ayaan is about to go up in smoke. What am I supposed to do now?