Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Raveena stirred as the creaking groan of iron wheels slowed beneath her. Her head pounded a sharp, throbbing ache behind her temples. Her mouth was dry with the bitter aftertaste of magic.
The carriage door opened, spilling pale moonlight inside.
Flame-red hair filled her vision. Her captor's serene face came into view.
The girl didn't look entirely human. Her chin was too sharp, her ears a bit pointy.
There were slits at her neck like gills.
Most telling, she smelled like the bitter magic of a witch and the salty depths of the sea.
"Siren," Raveena guessed.
The girl kept her mouth shut. It was good that she didn't speak again. Not when the first song still rang in Raveena's ears. At least she was awake now and under her own faculties. But how long would that last?
Princess Aurora stood beside the redhead, who Raveena had to guess was the Sea Princess Ariel. So she knew the players. Now she just had to figure out the game.
“Where am I?” Raveena asked.
“The Forbidden Forest,” Aurora answered softly, as though not to disturb the monsters sleeping within.
Raveena turned in a slow circle. Her skirts rustled against the frost-laced underbrush.
The air here was damp, dense. The trees loomed like watchful sentinels.
Icicles hung from twisted limbs that clawed at the moonlight as if trying to snatch the stars from the sky.
Somewhere in the distance, an animal called out.
It was a sharp, keening cry that scraped down her spine like a blade.
Another call answered, lower and closer, and then was abruptly cut off.
Eyes blinked in the darkness. Dozens. Maybe more. Gold, silver, green—reflections of wild things, waiting things, hungry things.
Her boots sank in the mossy soil with each step, the earth too soft, as if it might open beneath her feet. The scent of decay clung to the wind, sweet and rotting, like overripe fruit left too long in a gilded bowl.
She had never set foot in the Forbidden Forest before. It wasn’t a place for queens and politics. This was ancient ground, older than any throne. She was a queen on the wrong board, surrounded by pieces she hadn’t placed in a game she hadn’t agreed to play. But she refused to be anyone's pawn.
“This is Snow’s plan? Have you two displaced princesses play nursemaids while she storms the castle gates?”
The two girls exchanged a glance. Not one of triumph. One of unease. Ariel looked like she was regretting everything. Aurora’s mouth was pressed into a thin, uncertain line.
“We didn’t bring you here to hold you,” Aurora said. “Snow's not out storming the castle. We brought you here to take her back with you. To take all of us back with you.”
Raveena blinked. Her mouth parted. No words came.
They turned, leading her toward a small, lopsided house tucked into a clearing. The forest wrapped around it like a protective spell, hush and shadow between the trees. Ivy curled along the wood-planked windows. Smoke drifted from the chimney in a lazy ribbon.
The door creaked their arrival when Ariel opened it, the worn hinges groaning like an old sentinel roused from sleep.
Inside, the cottage was dim but warm, the hearth alive with amber light.
Seven chairs, each slightly different in height and carving, ringed the long wooden table.
Behind them, seven axes hung on pegs by the door, blades clean but well-used, their handles worn smooth by familiar hands.
Woven rugs softened the stone floors. Jars of herbs lined the shelves beside tin cups and sturdy plates.
A set of embroidered curtains—clumsily stitched but clearly an effort at beauty—framed the back window.
There was a kettle steaming over the fire.
Tucked into the corners were signs of domestic care: a basket of mended socks, a pile of polished stones arranged like decoration, and the lingering scent of lavender and cedar.
A woman had been here. Or at least, a woman’s touch.
"The domesticity of it all makes my stomach hurt," Aurora said under her breath.
Raveena’s gaze lingered on a chipped ceramic bowl full of ripe berries, then moved to the set of hooks by the door, each holding a different colored cloak. Order, despite the wildness outside. Safety, despite the blades.
Snow White paced across the wooden floor, her raven black hair tangled, her gown wrinkled. She turned as the door opened and froze. Her eyes met Raveena’s—and flared with betrayal.
“You… you brought her here? I can't believe the two of you betrayed me after all I've done for you.”
"Exactly what have you done for us, Snow?" Aurora spread her hands around the small cabin. "We came seeking refuge in a castle, and you bring us to a cramped cottage."
"It's not cramped. There's plenty of room and all the wide open space of the forest."
Ariel and Aurora shared another look. Ariel's fingers began to move in rapid fire. Aurora watched those hands and spoke as though she were translating. "We're royalty, not ruffians. Our idea of roughing it is a manor house, not a hovel."
Ariel's hands stopped, but Aurora wasn't done. She turned to Snow with words of her own. "And to top that off, you're in an active war with a queen. We told you we're done fighting. We just want our happy ending to begin."
"Excuse me, ladies." Raveena cleared her throat and held up one finger as though making a point of order. “You’ll forgive me, but I’m having trouble keeping up. I thought you were running a coup.”
Snow turned her back, raking trembling fingers through her hair. "This would have all been over if that stupid huntsman had just killed you."
Raveena blinked. "I beg your pardon, darling?"
Huntsman? She couldn't mean Graham. Graham would never put a blade to her…
"You didn't really think I was going to let the fact that you murdered my father slide. Did you, Stepmother, dear?"
This again. Raveena sighed. She supposed she should come clean about what really happened the night that the king drew his last breath. But Snow wasn't done. In fact, she was just getting started.
"My father was a good man." Snow raised her hands as she spoke, and magic unfurled from her fingertips.
At the window, the trees groaned, their limbs clawing against the panes like impatient fists.
A dark shape moved through the underbrush—a hulking figure on all fours, its breath fogging the glass.
Above, the chimney shrieked with the sound of birds wheeling and crying.
From within the cracks and hollows of the rundown cottage walls came the frantic skittering of claws.
Mice. Dozens of them. They poured out from the floorboards, from between loose stones and beneath the hearth, charging toward her like a wave of fur and teeth.
Raveena lifted her hands and dropped the temperature with a single breath. The air crackled. Ice spiraled from her fingertips, painting the ground in a curling frost. It crystallized along the beams and windows. With a vicious gust, she swept her arms upward.
The mice screamed. Tiny, high-pitched cries as they were lifted in a spinning vortex of snow and sent hurtling up the chimney in a flurry of soot and ash.
The room fell briefly silent. Until the front door creaked open. Hulking and bristling with steam was the form of a bear. One massive paw landed on the first step.
Raveena exhaled. The air hissed with cold. Frost bloomed beneath the bear’s paw, and with a growl, it lost traction—slipping violently, its weight crashing down into the frozen earth with a furious roar.
She turned back to Snow and raised a brow. This was the kind of game she was used to. There was a bit of pride in her chest that her stepdaughter was at least matching her and not making the game boring.
“Your father died in his sleep. He was old. His heart stopped from his… exertions.”
“You lie.” Snow raised both arms, and the trees trembled. Glass shattered. A murder of crows came screaming into the room and aimed at Raveena. They circled her like shadows with teeth.
Wind howled through the cottage, clawing at curtains and sending ash swirling up from the hearth. With the windows open, Raveena pulled the icicles from tree branches into the room. Wind whipped around her. Crystals formed in the air.
The birds shrieked, wings beating frantically against the gale as they tried to scatter.
But they were too slow. The first impaled a crow mid-cry, pinning it to the timber beam above with a sickening crunch.
Another punched through a raven’s chest, feathers exploding in a wet burst of black and red.
Blood streaked the walls. The scent of copper and snow filled the air.
One by one, the birds were speared at the end of the frozen blades.
Snow gaped. "Murderer."
"Well, the birds, yes. But not your father. I was beneath him when it happened. I swore the servants to secrecy. Because can you imagine the embarrassment?"
Snow wasn't listening. She flung out her hand toward the open door, commanding the wilderness like a conductor summoning a crescendo.
The bear, still frozen at the foot of the steps, bellowed and thrashed, claws carving furrows into the ice-slick ground.
Another sound split the air—a long, mournful howl that echoed through the trees like a warning bell.
Between the snow-laden trunks, shapes emerged.
Low to the ground, sinewed and silent, the wolves came.
Half-seen shadows at first, then flesh and fur—thick coats dusted in frost, muscles rippling beneath.
Their eyes glowed with a feral yellow light, twin moons ringed in black.
Lips curled back to reveal teeth, white and gleaming like bone, saliva threading between them as pink tongues licked hungrily at the cold air.
They moved in tandem, circling, paws pressing silently into the snow. One stepped forward, shoulders hunched, nose twitching as it caught the scent of blood, of magic, of war.
And then—
They saw her.
The wolves took one look at Raveena and paused. The one in front, the alpha of the pack, sniffed the air. His gaze narrowed on her. Then he bowed his head and turned. The others followed suit, walking back into the dark forest.
Another howl rent the air, this time from the dark-haired princess. Snow charged. She moved like a tempest of fury and grief, a blade of rage and memory. It was woman against woman now.
Raveena met her head-on. Their hands clashed. Magic surged as their bodies went out the door, over the head of the bear, and fell at the roots of an ancient tree.
Snow’s fingernails tore through Raveena’s shoulder. Raveena’s frost burned red welts along Snow’s arms. They twisted, grappled, eyes locked.
Snow’s boot caught Raveena’s knee. Raveena snarled and threw her off with a blast of snow that knocked them both apart. Snow stumbled, regained her footing, and raised her hand—
Then froze.
Her face twisted.
She dropped to her knees with a cry—not of pain from battle but something deeper, stranger.
Raveena blinked through the haze of magic. “Snow?”
Snow crawled to the base of a tree and retched.
The forest went utterly still. Even the birds stopped crying.
Raveena rose slowly, her power ebbing. The ice receded, melting into dew.
Aurora and Ariel ducked their heads from their hiding spaces. It was Aurora that spoke up. "She's been irrational like this since she found out she's pregnant."