Chapter 22

M orning light brightened her window, pressing against her closed eyes. As she lay curled on her side, she smiled, stretched, and opened her eyes. It had been weeks since she'd seen morning light gracing her window. It made her happy to see it once again.

Snow bounced from the bed and dressed in a simple gown. She didn't know what Yirrie had planned for today, but decided to see if there were any chores with which she could help. As a peace offering. They hadn't been speaking much since Elator boarded the window. She brushed her long, black hair, tying it back.

When she opened her bedroom door, she smelled spice tea and baking bread. Her stomach rumbled. She made her way to the kitchen to see Elator at the table with his morning tea and Yirrie busy making more bread.

"Good morning," she said, announcing her presence.

Yirrie halted what she was doing to peer up at her in shock. Elator sipped his tea with a faint smile and gave her a nod. Snow walked over to him, bent, and kissed his cheek.

"What was that for?" he asked.

She grinned. "Nothing special." Then she bustled into the kitchen and washed her hands. "Can I help you with anything, Yirrie?"

She gaped a long moment and then finally nodded. "One of the Elders is ill. I'm taking a care package to him and his family. You can help me with the baking."

As Snow threw herself into her work, she hummed a faint tune. Despite everything that happened last night, her heart was light. She decided she was not going to worry about the dark wizard, Seraphina, or Roderick today. She was going to enjoy the day. Perhaps she would even ask Ardan to walk with her in the woods.

Even as she resolved to push all those thoughts to the back of her mind, she sensed a ripple of energy entering the village. She halted her kneading for a moment, letting the feeling wash over her. The tingling sensation shuddered through her with such force, her hands halted in the dough. For a moment, she tapped into the feeling, trying to understand what it was. It was nothing like when the Shadow creature came to her on the first night of festival. No, this was something different. It was not dark magic.

The feeling faded and she went back to her kneading, though it was hard to shake that sense that something wasn't quite right. When she finished with the dough, she placed it in a bowl and covered it with a towel to let it rise.

Yirrie gave her the broom to sweep the kitchen floor. As she started on her next task, there was an abrupt knock on the door. Her gaze flew to it, her heart suddenly in her throat. She froze, the broom in hand. Yirrie went about the business of making another batch of dough while Elator unfolded his long body from the chair and lumbered to the door.

When he opened it, Tasnia stood on the other side with a fierce look about her. Angry lines creased her forehead.

"Tasnia?"

Yirrie dropped what she was doing, her head snapping up. She reached for a dish towel, wiping her hands and hurrying over.

"There is a stranger in the village," Tasnia said. Then her gaze cut to Snow. "A human stranger."

That rippling sensation shuddered through Snow once again as she clutched the broom until her hands ached.

Roderick.

"A human stranger?" Yirrie repeated. "Who is it?"

"A man," Tasnia said, her gaze still focused on Snow. "He's asking for Snow White."

Elator and Yirrie both turned their gazes to her. Yirrie's was one of apprehension while Elator's was curiosity.

"Do you know this man?" Yirrie asked.

Snow pressed her lips together, trying to decide how to answer.

"I—"

"He called her Princess Snow White," Tasnia said.

Elator and Yirrie both gaped at her. Her heart clogged in her throat as she continued to clutch the broom handle. How could he have followed her to the village? She wanted him to return to Bridgefort and forget this nonsense about her reclaiming her throne.

"Snow?" Yirrie asked. "Why would he call you princess?"

She sucked in a deep breath, held it, and then expelled it. "I don't know what to say."

"Perhaps you should come speak to the stranger," Tasnia said in a way that sounded like more than a suggestion.

"I forbid it," Yirrie snapped. She clutched the dish towel in her hands until her knuckles were white.

Elator reached for her, placing a consoling hand on her shoulder. "Yirrie, we knew this day might come."

"If her family has come for her, then they can just go away," she said with such vehemence it surprised Snow. "She belongs here. With us."

"Yirrie—" Elator began.

"He's not my family," Snow interrupted. "But he has come for me."

Yirrie sniffed. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at Snow. "What does that mean?"

"It means he wants me to return to the Mystic Vale and reclaim the throne that is mine by birthright."

Silence descended between them. Tasnia remained in the door, standing rigid, her eyes hard and unforgiving. Yirrie twisted the towel in her hands. Elator dropped his hand from her shoulder and gave Snow his full attention. But when he spoke, he spoke to Tasnia.

"Bring him here, Tasnia."

"No!" Yirrie said on a gasp. She wrapped her hand around his upper arm. "You cannot—"

"Yes, Yirrie. We have much to discuss with him and Snow."

"Very well," Tasnia said without emotion and was off before Yirrie could protest again.

Snow went back to sweeping, trying to occupy her hands and her mind and not think about Roderick or how furious she was with him for coming to the village when she told him to return home. Now, things were altered between her, Yirrie, and Elator. The air had shifted around them.

She should have known something was wrong when she felt the shift in energy. She wondered, then, if that was when Roderick broke the magical barrier and entered the village. He was a stranger, after all, and the Elders would immediately sense a stranger within the borders of their village. Most of the elves were reclusive by nature.

Moments later, Tasnia returned with Roderick following her. She paused at the doorway and made a hand motion for him to enter. Snow caught his eye but did her best to act normal. She replaced the broom in the nearby closet. Yirrie bustled into the kitchen to put the kettle on to boil. Elator greeted Roderick with a broad smile, though Snow was aware it was forced.

"I leave him with you, then," Tasnia said. She closed the door behind her with a snap.

Roderick stood ramrod straight, glancing between the three of them. Snow busied herself at the table, cleaning up the remains of breakfast Elator left behind.

"Snow?" Elator asked. "Are you going to introduce us to your friend?"

She dropped the dishes in the sink and turned to him, her gaze on Elator. Her fury was so great, she refused to look at Roderick. "He's not my friend."

At least not yet. At the moment, he was her sworn enemy by coming into the village.

"My name is Roderick," he said. "I'm a master blacksmith from the village of Bridgefort in the Feywood Kingdom. I've come with a gift for the princess—"

"Do not call me that," she snapped, her voice hard with a hint of warning.

But Roderick was impervious to the heated glare she pinned on him. "Is that not what you are? Princess and heir to the throne of the Mystic Vale?"

Her hands trembled with rage as she clenched them into tight, white-knuckled fists. Her nails dug into her palms, a physical manifestation of the boiling anger consuming her.

Elator and Yirrie both gaped at her. It was Elator who spoke, his tone even and quiet.

"You are the heir apparent?"

"I am nothing!" Snow slashed a hand through the air in her fury.

Roderick stepped toward her. "You are not nothing. The people in the villages of the Mystic Vale love you and want you to be their queen."

"Oh, what do you care?" she snapped. "Why do you even have an interest in the Mystic Vale when you are from the Feywood?"

"Snow!" Yirrie said her name on a gasp. "Whatever else he is, Mr. Roderick is our guest."

Just then the tea kettle whistled. She bustled to the stove as Snow continued to glower at him.

"Forgive us. We have been inhospitable," Elator said then. He waved to one of the dining chairs. "Please, sit and enjoy a cup of tea and some apple bread my wife made."

Watching Roderick take his seat at the table, Snow concealed her anger. She wanted to shout at Elator for allowing him a seat at their table. With a confident demeanor, he swung his long leg over the chair and lowered himself down, all while maintaining eye contact with her. Yirrie brought over the kettle, four cups, and sliced bread on a tray. She placed it in the middle of the table and took her seat as Elator sat across from her.

They all glanced her way, but Snow refused to move.

"Snow, please sit," Elator said.

She wanted to refuse. Everything inside her told her to remain where she stood. But when she looked at Elator, saw the expectant look on his face, she forced her feet to move. She lowered herself into the chair opposite Roderick. Yirrie poured tea, handing him a cup.

"Now," Elator said, "perhaps you begin at the beginning. What brings you here to our village?"