A Fair Account of the Traitors Snow White and Rose Red

Historical Excerpts: Confessions of the Huntsman

From the Confessions of Micah Lune, Chief Huntsman of Albemar's Court

—Dated 1107 ASf

The first time I met Snow White she nearly maimed me for training my arrow on a deer. The poor doe was caught in a bog and was slowly drowning to death. The least mercy was to put the creature out of its misery. No one could save it from the treacherous quagmire. But before I could let loose a single shaft, a glittering sheen froze my arrow to the bow. I cast them aside as the wood exploded into splintered icicles. Marvel filled me—where each shard fell into the swamp waters, a frosted beam spread outwards that ended at the deer. The doe scrambled onto the makeshift ice bridge and disappeared into the underbrush. Only Snow remained behind on her crystal arch, hand outstretched. I think, perhaps, she wished to touch the deer.

But all warm-blooded creatures shun her. All except for one, a great fool . . . .

—Dated 1116 ASf

"Cut her heart out and bring it back to me."

Those were Queen Estelle's orders, a fair sentence for one charged with the crime of king-killing. I didn't want to believe my Snow had brought down this sorrow on her family. I had to be the one to find her. But my lady found me first.

As I lay wounded by the Orune's fangs in the Wildershade, she came to me. Snow killed the great golden bear and wrapped me in its hide to keep me safe from her frost. She came to me willingly—a doe for the slaughter. I took her moon-cold hand into my own and knew that my doom was tied to her shadow's hem. Only I could protect her from becoming another sacrifice to King Markham's hidden assassin now. I bid her wait in Verage where the heat of the waters could mask her frost from other hunters fool enough to track her in the Wildershade.

Returning to the palace, my first intent was to plead Snow's innocence and seek the Queen's mercy, but she desired only warm scarlet.

"And, where is the nasty thing?" she'd demanded.

I'd held out my empty hand. "There was none, Your Majesty. When my knife cut into her chest, her heart split into blood-stained crystals."

The Queen's fury shattered ten stained-glass windows with a single lavender burst of her aura. But it was this fit of temper that betrayed her.

A wolf may wear a sheep's skin, but it cannot hide bared fangs.

Queen Estelle's gloriphagy was always too weak to be visible to the naked eye. I alone witnessed the only time her spirit had ever unsealed from her flesh with enough force to make her aura glow. A falling candelabra would've hit her daughter Rose if she hadn't knocked the metal aside with a thrust of gloriphagy that bloomed pale pink as a peony. The cost of that single action had kept her in bed for a week—

This creature edged in lilac flames was a boundless monster.

Warily, I said, "Estelle." But she did not answer me. More loudly, "Estelle." Louder still. "Fairest Queen!" I drew my hunting knife as the Queen turned at last. "Even gutter dogs answer to their name, Your Majesty. How is it that Estelle has forgotten hers?" I demanded.

She made no answer but to flick her wrist. The knife clattered from my hand as a second burst of her lavender gloriphagy flung me against the wall with the force of a gale. Blood poured from my mouth as I gasped for breath, unable to move as this changeling kneeled beside me and stroked the golden hem of my bear cloak.

"I never expected you to obey me, but I knew you would always find Snow first." The false Estelle sent a lavender ribbon of gloriphagy twisting through the bear hide that lifted a few stray specks of shining turquoise. "This mineral dust is only found in the hot springs of Verage—that's where you hid her, yes? Clever boy."

"I'll never betray Snow," I growled.

"You already did." The white woman smiled and I was lost.

—Dated 1126 ASf

For nine moons I wandered in the stupor cast on me by the counterfeit queen, eating the raw flesh of wild beasts and evading the call of hunting horns. A thunderous roar followed me no matter how far I fled until one ghastly moment I realized it was my own cry. I slashed and tore at the golden pelt trapping me in a bear's skin until my blood ran in rivulets.

But I knew there was only one real hope for a common mortal like myself to break a gloriphage seal. The rumor of the Fire Hornet's honey was just an idle tale whispered at the easternmost edge of Albemar. The fabled honey was said to cure any malady, undo the hex of even the strongest aura. No one had ever won the hive because the hornet's sting held a lethal toxin.

This is where the Queen's curse worked against her, for the Orune's hide shielded me from the brunt of the hornet's poison. For three years I searched for the hive and for seven more I built my resistance against the bees' venom. Many hundred stings scarred my limbs before I finally won my prize! But the hive held only enough honey to fully cure one—and I knew from the whisperings of Albemarians that a lady slept in a diamond casket deep in the broiling waters of Verage.

My lady. Snow White.