And his mind concentrated as the axes beat out a steady rhythm towards him, branches creaking as they were torn free. He could run. But what would happen then? They’d search the cottage. He tried to remember if there was anything incriminating in there? Something of Snow’s from times gone by? Her breeches were kept somewhere. Maybe they’d find them. Chances were they’d then search the surrounding areas. The mound was well-hidden but nowhere near well enough to escape a determined queen. He thought of the ravens. How much did she know already?

Ahead of him, a gap formed in the butchered trees and he glimpsed the soldiers coming forward. The Queen’s Guard. He couldn’t run. He knew that much. He was the only one who could save himself and his friends.

‘Hello?’ he called, and stepped forward, his voice innocent and wary. ‘Who’s there?’

‘Her Majesty the Queen!’ a soldier barked.

Dreamy fell to one knee and bowed his head. He waited. Finally the axes fell silent and there was only the cool breeze rustling in the trees and the clank of soldiers’ metal.

‘Get up, dwarf.’

‘Your Majesty.’ He paused for a moment in deference before standing with his head bowed. ‘What an honour. What can I do for you? I live to serve.’ He’d been worried that, not being a natural liar, his face would give his guilt away; but instead, as he finally glanced up, his mouth dropped open and all thought was momentarily gone. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. A monster? A crone?

She was beautiful. He’d heard she was beautiful, of course. Snow White had said as much and the soldiers at the mines made plenty of lewd jokes about the old king’s luck, but Dreamy hadn’t been part of the birthday ball joke – his balance hadn’t been good enough to stand on another’s shoulders without causing them all to collapse – so he had never seen her for himself. He hadn’t thought that there could ever be anyone as beautiful as Snow White, but here was proof otherwise.

Where Snow’s hair was dark and thick, the queen’s was white-blonde and like a sheet of silk down her back. Her eyes angled upwards like a cat’s. He noticed that beneath them were dark shadows. He felt terrified and full of pity all at once. Guilt could drive a person mad, he was sure of it.

‘The princess is missing,’ she said curtly. ‘I know how much she likes to socialise with you . . . people.’ She looked at the cottage and its surrounds as if the idea of spending any time in such a place was her idea of hell. ‘If any of you have caused her any harm, then we will find out.’