Snow White and Her Queen 2

By Anna Ferrara

Long before there was Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, there were two other stories some preferred not to tell...

“I have three profitable businesses and more money than anybody else in the land, some people even say I’m the fairest in the land, and yet you who obviously enjoys everything I buy for you are ashamed of being seen with me because I am a woman?!”

One year after leaving the North behind, Queen Katherine and Princess Eirwen find themselves struggling with new desires they never had to deal with before.

It doesn’t help that Eirwen’s new cinder dust covered apprentice brings to Eirwen something Katherine can never give, while someone Katherine once knew has taken to calling them “beasts”.

When desire brings out the worst in them and those around them, Katherine and Eirwen have to seek creative ways to get to that happily ever after they once thought possible, before it slips out of their reach once again, this time maybe forever and always.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anna Ferrara
• Release date: Dec 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005159856

Anna Ferrara

Anna Ferrara is a novelist who specialises in plot twists, horror and lesbian characters. Strong, independent women feature in all of her novels because she often finds herself mesmerised by them in real life. You can read more about her work and person at annaferrarabooks.com

Book preview

SNOW WHITE

AND

HER QUEEN

2

© 2020 Anna Ferrara

To Robert Jenner, my patron, whose enthusiastic support has been indescribably energising and appreciated.

(Merry Christmas!)

And also to all who’ve been through difficult times.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

THE TALE

EPILOGUE

Prologue

A long, long time ago, when spring took over from winter and brought to the land flowers, colour and flowing rivers... a wealthy merchant from the East threw a big wedding to welcome his new wife and her two daughters into his home.

This wedding took place in that wealthy merchant’s country home so the day was filled with the prettiest expanse of flowering trees and the merriest of outdoor music performed by the most popular of travelling orchestras, along with the most delicious of sugary snacks and icy fruit punches for both the young and old.

It was a bright and sunny day, with fat and happy clouds blooming in the skies, and the day would have been the most gay ever, had there not been the man’s daughter from a former marriage chewing down her fingernails while pacing around her bedroom, feeling entirely self-conscious about the outfit she had on her.

She had on boys’ clothes—a smart leather jerkin over a doublet above tight trousers, embellished with a long cape—that made her look way more like the merchant’s son. This was the first time she had ever dressed this way in her mere six years of life and the euphoria and anxiety she felt along with it, she had not yet learned to deal with. 

The alternating flushes of excitement and shyness were too much for her to bear. She dashed out of her bedroom, flew down the stairs and flung herself right into the middle of her stepmother’s dressing room.

The room was unlike how she had ever seen it—in a state of chaos, full of the tens of people necessary to prepare a bride for her wedding. The six-year-old could not spot her stepmother anywhere until she called out for her and caught sight of a head—heavily rouged and powdered—popping out from behind a mirror.

Are you sure it’s okay for me to wear this, stepmother? the six-year-old shouted above the din, pushing past female waists in her struggle to get to her stepmother’s side. Really sure?

The rouged lady behind the mirror, dressed in a magnificent jewel-like blue gown, nodded right before her head got thrust back behind the mirror by the woman doing her hair.

What if they laugh at me, stepmother?

Then you do what we talked about. Tell them to sock it!

There you are, young man! An elderly woman the six-year-old had never seen before grabbed her by the arm and pulled her past waists and arms before shoving her towards stairs. Hurry up and get into position. The guests have arrived!

Before the six-year-old knew it, she was standing in the garden at the back of her father’s house, waving at adults and children she did not know while being prompted by that elderly woman she didn’t know either.

Everything after happened in a blur. Her new stepsisters appeared behind her and broke into giggles when they caught sight of what she was wearing. Somebody shoved a basket of flower petals into her arms and she was dragged behind some bushes by an unknown female adult. Music blared out of the blue and the procession the six-year-old had been told to be a part of suddenly began. She and her new stepsisters were pushed out onto a carpeted aisle in view of all seated guests and along it they walked with the big smiles on their faces they had been told to put on, tossing flowers as instructed. The bride and groom appeared behind them. The six-year-old watched her father profess commitment to his new wife and kiss her, then take her by the hand and walk away with her while guests burst into thunderous cheers and applause. There was a sit-down feast in the dining room, with love songs and poems performed, sweet personal stories told, ending with a large, shared loaf of unsweetened bread. Then, faster than the six-year-old expected, the formal bits of the wedding were over and she was at last free to go do whatever she wanted once again.

Like all the children around her, she broke away from her seat and made for the mess of toys her father had gotten their servants to put out in the garden for her and all other invited children. She had just about forgotten about her clothes by then, until... all of a sudden, a girl she knew from school gasped. Loudly enough for many of the kids to hear.

Do you want to be a boy? Why are you wearing boys’ clothes? the girl shouted, catching the attention of the other kids near the toys in the garden at once.

Just sock it, the six-year-old said as her heart began to race and her discomfort from being dressed in boys’ clothes jumped right back into awareness. She could feel all of the kids in the garden gawking at her now and it made her realise how little she enjoyed the attention. My stepmother said it was okay to dress this way.

She must hate you then, that girl from school added with a cruel sneer. Don’t you see? She wanted you to get laughed at. By everybody.

Some of the other kids began laughing indeed and a couple of older boys who were playing with her jump ropes began calling her a weirdo.

The six-year-old didn’t know what to say. It had never occurred to her that her stepmother might set her up and her regret over having trusted her stepmother enough to do as she said now took on the form of rage. Stop that! she told the girl from school. To the boys calling her a weirdo, she said, "Stop playing with my ropes if you think I’m weird! Big meanies shouldn’t get to play with my toys!"

The older boys dropped her jump ropes at once in feigned horror. What if touching her toys will make us all turn into weirdos? one said. What if we all end up like her?

The second boy broke into a scream and darted away from her at once. Soon after, all the other children in the garden were dropping the toys they had in their hands and darting away from her and the play area in a chaos of wild screams and giggles.

I’m not a weirdo! the six-year-old shouted after them. She tried to get close to a few of them to explain herself but every time she got anywhere close, the children would scream and run away like they had encountered a monster. Soon there was a chant going on about how the six-year-old was a creepy little weirdo and it became next to impossible for the six-year-old to get a word out amidst the din.

Ten minutes later, the six-year-old found herself sitting behind bushes in the far corner of the garden, hidden from all the other children and guests, staring from afar at the large wooden horses, jump ropes, racquets and tricycles the other children would no longer touch. Something big and heavy seemed to be forming in her throat and she didn’t understand why. She contemplated going back to her bedroom but quickly changed her mind when she saw her father and stepmother standing between her and the doors leading into the house.

For some reason, she didn’t feel like ever having to tell them—or anyone for that matter—about what just happened.

Who was to say what her stepmother would do next if she found out her big mean plan to shame her had worked beautifully?

More of the same?

Do you want to play? a high-pitched voice suddenly said from behind her.

The six-year-old turned and found a tiny, likely younger girl in a bright yellow dress standing right behind her. The girl had a thick porcelain mask over her eyes and in her tiny hands and over her mouth was a rainbow-coloured lollipop bigger than her face.

You want to play with me? the six-year-old heard herself say.

The tiny girl shrugged. Yeah. I like weirdos. 

For some reason, that tiny smile on that tiny girl’s face and the way she so carelessly kept at sucking her gigantic delicious-looking piece of candy made the lump in the six-year-old’s throat gush upwards towards her eyes and spill out down her cheeks.

Don’t cry, the tiny girl then said, petting the six-year-old gently on the cheek with a sticky hand. She seemed so unsurprised to see tears moving down the six-year-old’s cheeks, the six-year-old couldn’t help but wonder if it was indeed normal for her to be having those tears there.

I’m not crying, the six-year-old decided to say. She rubbed off the wetness on her long sleeves and quickly stood up—glad that she had long sleeves on this day instead of those tiny puffy excuses of sleeves she usually had on the shoulders of those girly dresses she usually wore. She picked herself up and gave the tiny girl a big grin in return. Do you want to see my secret treehouse? It’s just up ahead at the other end of the garden, hidden behind leaves. It’s a really fun climb up and I have catapults and other real cool toys in there as well.

The tiny girl shrugged again, then nodded, and out of the blue shoved her lollipop into the hands of the taller six-year-old.

Race you to the end of the garden?

Before the six-year-old could reply, the tiny girl sped off and was crossing the garden at a speed seldom seen in someone so small.

For the rest of the afternoon, they both had a wonderful time away from the rest of the kids, playing chase, climbing trees, shooting stones and playing house high up among the trees.

Because of this day, and for a good while afterwards, the six-year-old came to believe that happily ever afters were, as fairytales often said, entirely possible.

It never once occurred to her that those happy endings could be but temporary states, easily replaceable.

Chapter 1

High above the mountains in the Kingdom of the East, too high past the clouds to be visible from the nearest town, Katherine, former queen of the Kingdom of the North, emerged from her cave and scoured the vast, moon-lit, frost-covered land below with a frown on her face.

Around her, the wind whispered through the trees and howled next to her ears like gossipers. Branches creaked, piercing and clear in contrast to the silence and stillness around them.

Despite this, all other signs of life remained reluctant to show themselves, no matter how much Katherine willed it to happen. There was no sign whatsoever of any person making her way up the mountain on horseback. Or on foot.

Katherine turned to head back into her cave where it was warm but a white dove beat her to it. It broke through the grey, deserted landscape below and flew right into the cave, making cooing sounds as it passed.

She ran after the dove at once, knowing very well where it was headed. This was the third time this week that very dove had flown into her cave at this hour after all, and she was starting to think of its behaviour as some sort of a bad habit.

Indeed, with the help of the candle she picked up along the way, she found the dove in the very chamber she expected to find it in, safe from the draughty outdoors, eating out of a golden bowl full of seeds, fruit and worms.

Next to it was a water-filled golden chalice and also a tiny bedding of hay. And attached to one of its legs was a tiny roll of parchment, tied to its ankle by a tiny piece of string.

Katherine removed the tiny roll of parchment from the dove’s ankle and unravelled it at once.

It was a handwritten note. Just as she expected. With the words: ‘Test #3. On the way back. See you soon. Love, E’ printed in ink on it.

The frown Katherine had been carrying all this time only deepened on her face. She crushed the note with one fist and tossed it into the dark depths of the chamber as she made her way out.

She went back to her kitchen within the cave. A cosy space with vaulted ceilings, furnished with a warm fire on a hearth, shelves cut into the walls for storage and two wooden stools around a large flat rock that acted as a table.

On that table, two cuts of deer, crisp and slightly blackened from hours of being roasted on a spit were emitting steam and the delicious scents of the thyme and juniper berries that had been rubbed into them for flavour. Next to them in a bowl made of gold were mashed potatoes that had already lost the steam Katherine last saw coming out of them.

Katherine couldn’t help but throw a long sigh their way, knowing full well, from experience, those foods would be cold and much less flavourful than they were now by the time her dining companion got to them. And that her mind would, while waiting, spin around in those familiar circles of worry…. That her supposed dining companion might be in this very moment... eaten by wolves? Attacked by bandits? Or worse... falling in love with a co-worker? 

She sat herself down on a stool and took a deep breath to calm herself but the unenjoyable thumping of her heart and shaking of her flesh continued without respite. Damn that dove for telling her, she thought. Damn the lack of clocks in this place. Damn all this silence.

That horrid burn of familiar wanting started up in the pits of her stomach and travelled all the way down to her thighs. She felt the urge to retch and contemplated heading down the mountain to look for her dining companion but another familiar discomfort immediately threw itself over her and made her stay put.

Greater than her wanting of the presence of her dining companion was her fear of being seen—and recognised—by the townsfolk below.

With nothing else to do in this deathly silent candle-lit hollow, Katherine threw her forehead down onto the chilly table before her and spent the next few hours feeling every bit of the disturbance whirling uncontrollably within herself.

*****

The faint but distinct sound of a horse neighing in the distance pulled Katherine upright again. With her ears peeled, when she felt the faint totter of rapid hooves pounding underneath her feet, she quickly stood up from the stool she was still on and straightened out her hair and the dress she was wearing.

Under her furs, she was now sweating. So she removed them and set them neatly down on a corner bench, right as the most beautiful woman she had ever set her eyes on—with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood and hair as black as ebony—came riding into her kitchen on a black horse, with her long wavy hair cascading wildly down her shoulders and cheeks flushed red from exertion. 

Eirwen! Katherine said at once, unable to contain the annoyance in her voice despite knowing very well she should.

Sorry, Eirwen the beautiful said in return, jumping off her horse and darting forward to give Katherine a quick peck on the cheeks before grabbing an apple from the shelves in the wall to give to her horse. The Eastern King’s courtiers wouldn’t stop going on and on about what they wanted to see at the opening ceremony of their festival, down to the shades of how white our doves must be, the angle of their heads, must be upright all the time even when flying so that they look proud to be there, yada yada yada... and so forth.

Within the blink of an eye, Eirwen and her horse were gone from the kitchen again, having moved further within the winding cave towards the chamber they had long ago fashioned into a stable of sorts.

Katherine, alone again as she had been so many times before, found that same old frown sprouting over her forehead while her arms curled themselves across her chest. You promised no more excuses, she shouted towards the darkness, wishing vaguely that the tingling she felt on her cheek from having been kissed there could be happening on her lips instead. Didn’t you just say yesterday you were never going to be late for dinner ever again?

Them courtiers were late for the meeting, Eirwen the beautiful said as she re-entered the kitchen, now without the thick coat she previously had around her body. I couldn’t do a thing about it. She sat herself down in front of one of the golden plates and immediately helped herself to a large spoonful of mashed potatoes.

Delicious, as always, my darling, she added with her mouth full, as a large smile broke out across her face. A little cold, but still so good. She wolfed down more without another word.

And in your gratitude, you didn’t think to wait for me to start eating together? Katherine unravelled her arms and took the stool opposite Eirwen with the remnants of that horrid burn in her gut re-emerging in her chest. Even Ferdinand would do that.

That large smile fell from Eirwen’s fair face at once. Stop doing that.

I’m just saying.

Then stop ‘just saying’. It’s not nice of you to compare me to your ex-husband every chance you get. If you miss him so much, why don’t you find a way to get him to wake up from his deathly sleep instead of forcing me to be the person I’m not?

Katherine opened her mouth to say that that was not what she meant but before she could even get a word out, Eirwen was already throwing down the golden spoon she had in her hand and saying—

—I don’t want to fight you on our anniversary, Katherine. With her hand now free of spoon, Eirwen reached for the golden fork next to her and stabbed it into the cut of deer in front of her. Why can’t we just eat and have a good evening for once and not talk about things that make no sense?

Katherine felt her eyebrows rising despite all her attempts to keep them down. So you do remember our anniversary? Despite having spent all day at work, being late to return and showing no consideration for the person who spent all day cooking this wonderful anniversary meal for you?

Eirwen inhaled loudly and threw a look right into Katherine’s eyes. "Very. Important. Meeting. How many times must