Below, Snow White slapped the horse affectionately on the rear as the boy led him away, and then turned to head into the castle. With the sudden awareness a mouse might get as an owl swoops above it she glanced up, her eyes meeting her step-mother’s. Her smile wavered nervously for a second and then she raised her hand in a gesture of hello. The queen did not return it. Snow White dropped her hand.

How did she look from down there, the queen wondered. Did her own blonde hair shine in the sunlight? Or was she merely a resentful ghost – a shadow against the glass? She clenched her delicate jaw. The girl disappeared from view but still the queen’s teeth remained gritted. They couldn’t both stay in this castle for much longer. She couldn’t stand it. She stayed where she was, gazing out of the window, and after a few moments the king came and stood behind her.

‘It’s still early,’ he said, his thick body pressed hard against her back. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer before one hand slid between the ribbons of her nightdress, seeking out her breast. His fingers were rough against her soft skin; a soldier’s touch. She let him caress her.

‘We should go back to bed,’ he whispered hot in her ear. ‘You know I go to war again tomorrow.’ He pulled her back from the window, one hand inside her clothes as the other tugged at the bows that held it together. ‘Show me how much you’ll miss me.’

Finally, she turned away from the window and faced him. His eyes were glazed already and that made her smile. It took so very little from her to make him this way. His dead wife might have been well-loved, but she had never had this power. She had never realised her husband was a glutton for everything, or that all men wanted more than just good food on the table and excitement on the battlefield. They wanted excitement in the bedroom too.