White as Frost

Chapter 1 When I was thirteen years old, I came to live in the castle beside the Darkwood. “What a lucky girl you are,” my mother said as the velvet-lined coach jolted down the road. “Not everyone gets to live in a castle and call themselves a princess.” I wanted neither of those things, and considered myself most unlucky to be torn away from my friends in the bright city of Parnese. They were the closest thing I had to family. Except for Mama—but I knew better than to expect warmth and sympathy from her. She had always been my mother, of course, yet she’d never seemed terribly interested in fulfilling that role. Despite hazy memories of her affection when I was younger, it had taken me a long while to realize that most other mothers behaved very differently toward their children. Because there’s something wrong with you. I slammed the door shut on that insidious voice. For as long as I could remember, it had whispered in my ear—part of me, and yet separate. It encouraged me to disobey, it confirmed my deepest fears, and sometimes it seemed the truest thing in my world. Most of the time I could ignore it, shove it back into the deepest part of my mind and pretend there was not a wicked little voice living inside me, pushing me to say and do reckless things. The journey made it harder, without my books and companions to divert me. But I did not want to disappoint Mama when I was presented to her new husband. With a sigh, I twined my fingers together. The inexpertly sewn seam on my left glove caught against my skirts, and I glanced down at it with a grimace. All my left-handed gloves had to be modified to fit my disfigured pinky finger, which was missing the top two joints from a long-ago accident. We hadn’t the money to hire a seamstress, and so I adapted my gloves myself. Most of the time the clumsy work didn’t bother me overmuch, but now, on the way to meet a king, I felt suddenly self-conscious about my flaw. Stubby pinky or no, there was little I could do about my maimed finger. I pulled my gaze from my imperfect hand and stared out the window. I hoped we would arrive soon. Or never… The encroaching branches of the evergreens lining the narrow road made the air thick and shadowed, the trees a dark wall unbroken except for the high-banked road cutting through. Every time I looked at the forest, the branches seemed to be moving—beckoning to me with their restless limbs. “Stop squinting at the scenery, Rosaline, and pay attention,” Mama said, for the hundredth time. “When we arrive at Castle Raine, make sure to stand up straight and greet your new father properly.” “I won’t call him Papa,” I said stubbornly. I’d never had a father, and had no interest in acquiring one at this late stage. And even if I did, there was no use in it. If Mama did not love me enough, what hope was there that some strange king would be any different? “Why must you be so difficult?” Mama brought a perfectly manicured hand up to her cheek and let out a sigh. “Very well. You may call him Lord Raine.” I gave her a grudging nod. Growing up on the outskirts of the court in Parnese, I understood that protocol must be followed. Even though Mama was the old queen’s distant cousin, she was only allowed to address the dowager as “Your Highness,” which I thought rather stuffy. Then again, the rules of the adult world often seemed foolish to me. The closer we came to the castle, the more Mama chattered on, her voice full of nervous faux-cheer. “You must be kind to his daughter, as well. You’re of an age, so I expect you to become fast friends. Despite the tales…” She trailed off, but now my attention was caught. “What tales?” This was the first I’d heard that anything in our new life might be out of the ordinary. Despite myself, my interest was piqued. From the moment Mama had announced that she’d wed the King of Raine and we would be following him across the Outer Strait to dwell with him in his castle, I’d resolved to enjoy no part of it. The sea crossing had not been so bad, though, especially when a trio of dolphins leaped and played in the sailing ship’s wake. Unlike Mama, I was not confined to the cabin by seasickness. I explored the ship, managing not to fall overboard or become tangled in the ropes scattered about the deck. On the second day, the coast of Raine appeared, black against the horizon. I hung on the rails and watched, unwillingly eager for a first glimpse of my new home. What I saw did not look promising. We were headed for a tiny harbor flanked by stark cliffs streaked with white. Lonely seabirds cried and wheeled in the gray, misty air. The only spot of color was a yellow coach awaiting our arrival. After debarking from the ship, we were whisked into the vehicle so quickly I only caught a glimpse of the surroundings: stone buildings, wet thatch, and dour-faced people garbed in homespun cloth. The Kingdom of Raine was altogether unpromising—except for this new bit of information Mama had just let slip. Was there a child as wayward as myself living in the castle? I leaned forward on the plush seat and asked again. “What tales of his daughter, Mama? Please tell me.” My mother bit her lip, a shadow of worry crossing her face. “Promise me you won’t be afraid of her. The two of you are to be sisters, after all.” Behind my stubborn resolve to dislike Raine and everyone in it, I could not help a glimmer of hope that the king’s daughter and I would become friends. If I must leave my companions behind, perhaps a new one waited for me in Raine. And I had no fear that Mama would come to love that other girl better than me. My mother always loved herself best of all. “What’s so bad about the princess?” I asked. “Does she set things on fire, or misbehave, or torment the servants?” “There are stories.” Mama looked out the window, as if she did not want to see my face as she spoke. “Some say an ancient, terrible magic lurks in her eyes.” Magic. The one thing in the world that could transform an ordinary girl into someone special. Someone worthy of being loved. I shivered, my left pinky throbbing slightly. The trees leaned over the road, listening. “What magic?” I asked softly. “Is there actual, true sorcery in Raine?” The question stretched out, a thin silver strand looping around and around me until I felt encased in its web. Then it began to squeeze, and I gasped as the air left my lungs. “Mama!” I cried, though it came out more as a wheeze. “I can’t breathe.” Her eyes wide with alarm, my mother shrieked at the driver to stop the coach. Dizzily, I slid off the seat and crumpled to the floor. From this vantage point, my cheek resting on the rough carpet, I absently noticed its pattern: an interlocking design of green and black ferns. “Help her,” Mama commanded when the coachman opened the door. “My daughter has fainted.” I wanted to argue that this was far more than a simple faint, but I couldn’t find the breath to form words. “Yes, mistress,” the man said. “We must bring her outside, where there’s more air.” He hoisted me up like a sack of onions and deposited me on the embankment beside the road. Which was also carpeted with ferns, though these ones danced faintly in the breeze. It occurred to me, in a distant, drowning way, that I was dying. I was sorry that I’d never see my friends again. And I was sorry that I would never meet the mysterious girl who lived in Castle Raine. My eyelids fluttered shut. Between one heartbeat and the next, there was a great roaring and rustle of leaves. I managed to open my eyes in time to see a huge, hairy beast leap over me. Its muzzle was flecked with spittle, and its long claws dug into the earth right beside my head. Dirt sprayed, stinging my cheek and landing on my lips. The bear—for that was what the huge animal was—turned its head and regarded me from its dark, amber-flecked eye. The musky smell of earth and blood whispered in the air. My heart thundered, either with its last beating, or its first. The soft fur of the creature’s underbelly brushed my outstretched arm. Strangely unafraid, I waited for it to open its jaws and devour me. I was dimly aware of my mother wailing in terror, of the coachman’s shouts. The bear’s face came closer to mine, and closer, until its wet nose touched my cheek. I was too amazed to be scared—or maybe my mind was already numb, falling into the shadows. Then the bear gathered itself. As quickly as it had appeared, it leaped away, back into the dark forest. For a long moment, everything was utterly still. Even the branches stopped their ceaseless gesturing. The world ticked into motion once more. I drew in a deep, ragged breath, inhaling the rank smell of the bear still hanging in the air. The air burned my lungs, which had nearly forgotten how to breathe. With the back of one shaky hand, I wiped the trace of dampness from my cheek. Above me, the trees seemed to whisper among themselves. “Heavens.” Mama sank down into the crushed bracken at my side, her face pale beneath her powder. “How very dreadful. First you faint, and then that creature nearly mauls you. I am thankful beyond words that he was frightened off.” She drew a violet-scented fan from her reticule and began to wave it, alternating between wafting air at my face and her own. The vigorousness of her movement was the only outward sign of her agitation. The last trace of bear was overwhelmed with the cloying smell of violets. So quickly was our sudden adventure erased. As usual, my own perception of events was quite different from my mother’s. In retrospect, it seemed clear that the bear had broken the strange spell intent on suffocating me. How or why it had known to do such a thing was a mystery—but I was quickly coming to suspect that Raine was full of such mysteries. The bear, I was quite certain, had saved my life. I was not comfortable owing such a debt to a wild creature of the woods, as it did not seem like a thing I could ever repay. But perhaps such things didn’t matter to bears. Even magical ones. “We’d best keep moving,” the coachman said, casting a nervous look at the shadows beneath the trees. “Of course.” Mama waited for him to offer his hand, then took it and stepped daintily up into the coach. I stood and brushed crushed ferns from my skirt, then climbed awkwardly into the vehicle. My breath still came a bit short as I settled onto the seat. Right before the door closed, I leaned forward, searching the forest for a large, dark shape. Nothing moved in the maze of evergreens, but I could not dispel the sensation that I was being watched. Had I truly almost died? Already the sharp, panicked memory was receding, blunting, until it seemed that perhaps I’d only grown short of breath, after all. My left hand ached. I was still trying to sort out what had happened an hour later, when the coach wheels clattered over cobblestones. The shadow of an iron-spiked portcullis fell over the road. We drove beneath it, past thick stone walls reaching high to either side, and at last arrived in the courtyard entry of Castle Raine.