Cover

Dedication

For Paul Kane & Marie O’Regan,
Seeing how happy you two are
gives me faith in true love
(that can, to be fair, be a mean feat at times!)

Title Page

1

‘Air and earth. Light and dark’

‘She’s too old for that nickname,’ the queen said. She was standing at the window of the royal bedchamber and looking down at the courtyard below. Morning sun beat on the ground, but the air was still chilly. She shivered. ‘She needs to start behaving like a lady. A princess.’

‘She’s young. There’s time enough for that yet. And anyway,’ the king laughed – a throaty sound that could have been born in the bowels of the earth or in the mud of the battlefield. ‘You gave it to her.’ He hauled himself out of bed and his footsteps were heavy. He was heavy. Getting heavier too. She’d married a glutton.

‘She’s not that young. Only four years younger than me,’ the queen muttered. From behind her came the sound of liquid hitting ceramic and for the thousandth time she wished he’d have the good grace to at least piss in a different room. ‘It was simply a passing remark that she was pale. It wasn’t a compliment. It was meant to be a joke.’ Her quiet words went unheard as her husband continued noisily with his bodily functions. ‘And it was a long time ago,’ she whispered, bitterly.

She watched as, far below, the young woman dismounted from her horse. She wore brown breeches and rode with her long legs astride the beast like a man. Her shirt was loose but, as the light breeze touched it, it clung to her slim form, flowing over the curve of her full breasts onto her flat stomach. Her thick raven hair fell around her shoulders and as she handed the reins of her stallion to the stable boy she tossed the dark mane to one side and the sunlight shone on it. She smiled and touched the boy’s arm, and they shared a joke that made her laugh out loud. Cherry red lips. Pale skin with just a touch of dusky rose on her cheeks. Sparkling violet eyes. A living swirl of clichés. So free. So carefree.

The queen’s mouth tightened. ‘She shouldn’t ride in the forest so early. It isn’t safe. And she shouldn’t ride anywhere dressed like a common boy.’

‘Everyone in the kingdom knows who Snow is,’ the king said. ‘No one would dare harm her. No one would want to. She’s like her mother; everyone loves her.’

There was no reproach in his voice. The barb was unintended but it stung all the same. The saintly dead wife. The glorified beautiful daughter. The queen’s mouth twisted slightly. ‘She should be thinking about marriage. Finding a decent match for the kingdom.’