A Heart of Snow ✓

II. Blood & Snow

I leaned against the tree, shock freezing me as blood trickled through fingers I was holding against my stomach. I'd asked Reth to do it, told him I was ready, but I never could have been ready for this. The worst injury I'd ever had was scraping my knees on the palace steps, and now my life was seeping out through my hand.

"A'snowlyne!" His panicked face hovered hazily in front of my eyes. "A'snowlyne, are you alright?"

Somehow, I managed a jerky nod. He thrust his arm under my shoulder and helped me to my horse.

"My- my sword," I gasped.

He laid the weapon, blade bloodied by a pig, across my lap, and I fumbled to grasp its hilt. As I took the reins in my other hand, he slapped the horse. It thundered through the forest.

The trees passed by in a blur, my thoughts turning into a green haze tinged with memories. 'Do you see them, Snow?' my nursemaid asked, pointing off the castle balcony.

Little me frowned. 'My name's not Snow. It's A-Snow-Lin,' I pronounced carefully. 'Grammar Mistress says a princess ought to know how to say her own name.'

The nursemaid squeezed my hand. 'And I never said you didn't. But you'll always be my little Snow. Fair and pure as the world right after winter's first fall. And a fine little White Warrior, you'll make, too,' she said, tugging at my white training outfit.

I giggled, and a soft smile touched her lips. 'Now, you distracted me. Do you see them?' She pointed again.

I peeked over the rail of the balcony, eyes roaming the rolling hills, the forest, and the sprawling town beyond. 'See what?'

'Your people. They might not live in a fancy castle like you, but that's all the more reason to protect them. Your job is to make them prosper, Snow.' She sunk down to my level and tapped my chest. 'And only you, dearheart, can do that. You're the last of Kylosia's princesses. The crown is your destiny. So you must be a good queen, alright?'

I nodded earnestly.

'Good, girl.' She tweaked my nose. 'Now, let's go get you changed. We're going to visit your people.'

Thatched impressions of the villagers' houses appeared before me, and for moment, I thought I was five again, riding into town with my nursemaid. A moving mosaic—a crowd, my muddled mind argued—swam in the streets. My horse's cracking hooves mingled with a distant scream, and I tugged weakly on the reins. The mosaic fluttered away from me.

As the horse came to a stop, pain lanced through my stomach, and the jolt seared a single line of clarity into my mind: stick to the plan. I tried to dismount. Instead, I fell to the ground, my sword clattering to the cobblestones beside me. A door opened, people rushing out. My world was so vague, though, they might as well have not had faces. As blackness sought to cover my vision, I lay on my back, unable to focus on anything but grey clouds swirling in a cold sky.

It looked like we might get the season's first snow soon.