Snow - By Deborah M. Brown Page 0,10

at Ander.

Ander rolled back his sleeve and fingered the slave braid tattooed around his wrist. “The spells woven into this cannot, to my knowledge, be broken, Princess. We are yours to do with as you will. And we will lay down our lives for you.”

“But I don’t want that! I don’t want slaves.”

Gault jerked as though she had slapped him. “What do you want?” he asked, his husky voice laced with bitterness.

“Friends,” whispered Snow White.

Gault surged to his feet and, ignoring Ander’s outstretched arm, strode from the room. “We are not your friends, Princess,” he hissed over his shoulder as he flung the door open hard enough to rattle the windows.

In the sudden silence, Snow White looked around at the other six dwarves. Kaffion and Meris met her eyes briefly before glancing away. Shyla wouldn’t lift his head, and Hiram stared resolutely at a spot on the wall. Kaliko’s eyes swam with tears, but when he sensed Snow White’s gaze upon him, he lifted a hand and swiped them away.

In Ander’s eyes she thought she saw grief. And pain. But the dwarf’s eyes were so dark, darker than a midwinter sky, she wasn’t certain of anything she saw there. He bowed his head.

“Forgive him, Princess. If there is to be punishment for his transgression in speaking to you thus, then let it fall upon me.” He has been punished enough. The words were unspoken, but Snow White could hear them beneath Ander’s strained whisper.

“There will be no punishment. Not for speaking what is in your hearts.”

Kaliko’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Ander.

Snow White reached forward and gently rolled Ander’s sleeve back down, concealing the slave braid from view once more. “I know you don’t trust me and I’m not sure how to make you believe what I say.” She let her gaze travel around the circle of dwarves once more, and this time all of them met her eyes. “Perhaps it is too soon for you to feel that we could be friends, but here, with me, you will not be slaves. You will be men.” She rose to her feet, and the dwarves scrambled to theirs. With Gault gone, only Kaffion could look her in the eye without tilting his head. For the most part they looked wary, but Kaliko’s face wore a burgeoning joy that made Snow White want to smile back in return.

She was not used to smiling.

There were shadows in Ander’s eyes. She could see them clearly now. He vibrated with tension like a bowstring too tightly drawn. “Go after him.”

Ander bowed his head. “Princess,” he whispered. Snow White watched as he hurried from the room. He moved like all of the dwarves, with a lithe, graceful stride.

“You won’t change Gault’s mind,” said Hiram. There was a hint of challenge in his voice as though he tested the limits of her declaration.

“Then I shall have to settle for changing yours, Master Hiram,” said Snow White serenely. “Come. Tell me more of your homeland. Tell me about yourselves. Tell me everything. Teach me.”

Kaffion and Meris exchanged a look and a grin. Shyla groaned.

“You don’t know what you are getting into, Princess. Once you get those two started, there’s no stopping them.”

Meris draped an arm around Shyla’s neck. “Knowledge is power, my friend.”

“Give me knowledge,” said Snow White. Give me power…

Kaffion bowed deeply. “It will be our privilege, my Princess.”

Snow White learned, drinking every drop of knowledge that the dwarves shared with her. While Anais and her lover ruled the court, she kept her knowledge to herself and continued to show the world her blank face of ice. Her eighteenth birthday approached, and with it came several letters from her betrothed, the northern prince. Prince Charming. She tasted his name on her tongue. His letters were everything that a young woman could desire, full of ardour and passion. But she knew him not. Would he be an ally? Or another enemy?

She sent to the witches of the east, seeking an answer to another question. When finally an answer came, she called her seven dwarves to her, her heart beating fast with nervous excitement.

Snow White studied their faces as Ander read the letter aloud.

“There is a way to break the spell,” she said. “To free you all from the slave braids you bear. Will you let me try?”

Gault’s mouth curled with derision. “Hedge witches,” he said dismissively. “They know nothing.”

“This letter comes from the head of the guild in Pompano,” Snow White replied. “If anyone would have knowledge