Darkness still draped her chamber when someone shook her awake. She groaned. It felt as if she had only just closed her eyes.

"Wake up." The Huntsman's voice broke through her grogginess, and she flew up. Panic clutched her chest as she braced for news of an attack. He shoved something into her arms. "Hurry up and get dressed."

"Where are we going?" she demanded as she scrambled off the bed and started to undress before her eyes had adjusted to the dark. She could see the outline of his form moving away and then crouching before the mantle. A scraping noise and rustling and the fire soon flared in the grate. She blinked against the sudden light.

"Your training starts today," he told her over his shoulders.

The trail of tiny buttons down her back slowed her progress. For a moment the Huntsman hesitated at the mantle, and then he grunted with impatience. "Turn around."

"You're not supposed to be in here," she protested but did as he said, pulling her hair over shoulder.

He snorted. "As if you have anything I haven't seen before."

Snow White blushed at the implication and was grateful that her hair hid her face. She wondered how many women he had seen without their clothes on and under what circumstances. However, she hastily chided herself. He was not the type of man to go about peeping at women.

His fingers were deft but gentle as they moved down her back unfastening her dress. "Impractical," he muttered as she shivered against the cold air on her exposed skin.

He did not linger when he was finished but strode to the door with one last warning to hurry up.

Quickly Snow White shimmied out of her gown and pulled on the shirt and breeches he had handed her. Where he had managed to find ones to fit her, she had no idea. As far as she was aware, she only had gowns to wear. In her dressing chamber, she pulled on a pair of riding boots that she had found among her mother's old clothing and braided her hair from her face.

Two guardsmen stood alongside the Huntsman when she emerged. They inclined their heads and murmured respectfully at her appearance. Although she did not dispute their necessity, especially given the presence of Ravenna's army in the castle's dungeons, they made her uncomfortable. Only a few weeks ago, similarly clad men had stood outside her cell. And for years they had watched her every move to ensure she could never escape.

She forced herself not to shrink from them as she walked past. The Huntsman handed her a slice of bread as they set off through the sleeping castle. "They won't follow," he promised when she glanced over her shoulder. She glanced up at him, surprised. Was her discomfort so clear?

He led her through various corridors and down numerous stairs. She realized that they were heading down toward the kitchens when they passed through a hall filled with tapestries depicting scenes of verdant hills filled with sheep and farmers at the plough. They descended the wide set of stairs to the basement. A whiff of baking bread had just reached her when he turned away, leading her down a corridor she could not remember. Another flight of stone stairs and then he held the door open to an empty storeroom.

Double layers of woven reed mats covered the floor so that it flexed beneath her feet as she followed him in. Burlap sacks of varying heights and widths lay lined against the far wall. Along one of the shorter walls stood five wooden posts hewn in the shape of a human head, neck, and torso.

"Your guard trains outside," he told her as he unslung his axe and set it in a corner. "For the moment, this is safer since the walls are under-manned."

"And no one will know what I'm up to," she added shrewdly. Their secrecy would give her the advantage of surprise in an attack.

The ends of the Huntsman's lips lifted in a rare smile. "Exactly."

Snow White rubbed her hands together to warm them. Away from the kitchens, the air was cold.

The Huntsman strode back to her. Pausing just beyond her reach, he began to circle her. Heat crept into her cheeks under his close scrutiny. Isolation and daily fear for her life during her imprisonment had diminished her concern for her appearance.

But now, she wondered what he saw as he paced around her. No doubt a scrawny excuse for a woman. Greta and the rest of her serving maids either teased or complained about her boyish figure and pale complexion. Tall and broad-shouldered and chested, he towered over her—her head barely crested his shoulder.

He stopped in front of her, rubbing his beard. "We'll start with the basics. What to do if someone gets too close. Today you'll do a couple of punches, a few kicks. Just to warm you up. Form is everything. Get it wrong, and you'll end up doing the work for whoever you're fighting. Now watch." Holding up his hand, he showed her how to form a fist so that she wouldn't break her fingers.

When he was satisfied that she had it right, he helped her position her feet and shift her weight. Crouching before her, he adjusted her stance, occasionally giving her a slight push to get her to find her centering for herself.

She was trying to focus on his instructions, but her body had different ideas. Each place he touched her tingled and her awareness of feel of his grip, the prodding touch of his fingertips, and his proximity dimmed her hearing and clouded her brain.

A mild shove knocked her off balance, and she realized that she had not heard the last few things he'd said to her.

"If you don't brace yourself, your opponent will knock you over on the first hit. And keep your stomach tight. In case your block is too slow."

Snow White nodded, trying to focus on what he was saying, and tightened the muscles in her middle. She needed to get a hold of herself. Ever since he had found her standing over Ravenna's shell and grabbed her up into an embrace that squeezed the breath from her lungs, even in her armor, she found herself far too aware of him.

"Watch me." The Huntsman straightened and demonstrated the punch—once, twice, three times. "Now you."

The queen followed. She thought she did it correctly, but he made several adjustments to her feet and arms before he allowed her to try again.

She wasn't sure how long they worked in the basement room, but by the time the Huntsman called an end to their lesson, her hair was matted with sweat and her arms felt as if their bones had melted. She tried to sink to the floor, but the Huntsman caught her arm.

"Trust me, it will hurt worse if you sit down."

Not long after, she would have argued that nothing could make her hurt worse than she did at the moment. Everything felt stiff and the muscles in her thighs twitched at every step.

"You've won. I am regretting your appointment." She bit her lip to hold back a groan.

The Huntsman chuckled and took her elbow to help her along. "Hopefully you'll be able to thank me one day when this saves your life. It will get easier. Perhaps not tomorrow or the day after, but your body will adjust. Just give it time."

"Hardly helpful," she grumbled.

To his credit, he did not complain of their slow progress up the flight of steps leading to her castle wing. They paused on the landing so that she could rest. Through the bay window, she could see dawn spreading along the horizon. She had hardly slept the night before then. A sigh rose and fell silently from her lips. All she wanted to do was sink into her inviting bed and sleep as long as she wished.

They watched as coral petals of light unfurled around the sun, arching slowly across the sky and prodding away the night's shadow. Gradually its beauty eased the aching in her body and lifted some of the weariness from her shoulders. Peace had rarely been a companion in her life but now it draped itself around her. Nothing existed beyond the safe square of the landing.

Her voice was soft when she spoke. "I don't remember a sunrise as vivid as this when I was in the tower."

"There was little to give it life under Ravenna's reign. But the trees are budding now and the fields grow golden and the hills green. It has reason to shine again."

She turned to look at him, her eyebrows raised in surprise. Such an interesting notion that the sun shone for the life beneath it instead of for its own stake. Snow White would never have suspected the Huntsman of such philosophical musings. He was always so pragmatic when he spoke. She had wondered before and now wondered again what thoughts flowed behind his taciturn exterior.

Sadness lingered in the lines on either side of his nose and the creases in his brow. There was pain too, in the hardness his gaze and the rigidity of his cheeks. And vulnerability, faint, but present, tucked into the corners of his mouth.

Snow White returned her gaze to the lattice windows and the spreading sunrise. What horrors and beauty had this one man seen?

Rapidly approaching footsteps broke the pensive moment. The Huntsman had already turned his attention toward the stop of the stairs and shifted slightly so that he stood between her and whoever was running toward them.

She didn't sense any danger, but the Huntsman would not let her outside of the radius of his arm.

William jerked to a halt above them and stopped so suddenly that his grab for the banister was the only thing that kept him from tumbling to their feet. "Snow!"

The queen pushed past the Huntsman. "What's happened?" she cried. A hundred scenarios flashed before her. The escape of Ravenna's remaining army, an army charging toward their borders, fire. A fire that broke out shortly after her sixth birthday had destroyed nearly twenty villages and a year's worth of grain.

She was taken aback when his startled expression ignited into anger. "Where have you been?" He directed the question at her but his eyes were on the Huntsman. "Why is she hurt?"

"There is nothing wrong with me," she protested.

William brushed past her. He did not want to hear anything she had to say. Behind her, the Huntsman returned her friend's glare. "She appointed me to her guard. I was performing my duties, my lord."

That was enough for the young lord to pause. Snow White laid a hand on his shoulder. "He kept me alive in the forest. I trust him to do so now."

"You were paying him," William snapped as if she were stupid for missing what was clear.

Anger of her own flared at the way he was treating her and the Huntsman. "He has my trust, and I stand by my decision, William. He's saved your life too."

His lips tightened before he turned away to face her guardsman. "You are no fool, Huntsman. Think what rumors will spread when you are caught disappearing, just the two of you. There are different rules now that she is queen. Her safety is not their only priority." William descended a few more steps toward the huntsman. His movements were no longer hostile and the other man eased his own posture. "Things were different in the forest. No one was watching her. Or us."

Snow White scowled. What did he mean that no one was watching her? Hadn't Ravenna's men been tracking her every movement? Twice she had only just escaped Finn. And why was the Huntsman caving to William's demands? She could see the surrender in his face.

She had had one night, and a short one at that, of restful sleep, knowing that he kept watch over her again. And her supposed friend was snatching that away.

"It is the queen's decision," replied the Huntsman after a long silence during which she sensed a tacit exchange between the two of them.

"Clearly no one's explained the consequences to her." Both of them glanced up at her. William's blush was bewildering. "Her mother died when she was eight and her father the year after."

The Huntsman frowned though she caught a hint of amusement in the creases at the corner of his eyes. "I'll take care of it."

Though William grabbed his arm, there was an odd look of relief on his features. "You can't just—."

"Why not?"

"Because," the duke's son's face was deep red, "you're not. She's." He choked on his words and fell silent with a shake of his head.

The other man shook him off. "I'll not do it myself."

William did not seem reassured, but he had won his point and was willing to let the rest lay. He was more composed when he looked back at her. She could see the companion of her childhood in his face. She recognized the haughty lift of his chin, which he had used to remind her that he was older and therefore smarter.

"Where'd you get those clothes? You look like a boy in them," he told her.

It was unfortunate she was too old to swat him for it. Instead she summoned the most disdainful look she could manage. "I have a council meeting to prepare for." She pivoted to stalk off, but her muscles were too sore and her dignity was somewhat ruined by having to use the banister to pull herself up the stairs.

However, they must have thought she was moving faster for she heard what William could not have meant for her ears. "It is not the way you look at her. It's the way she looks at you." The pain in his voice almost made her turn, but she forced herself forward as if she had not heard. The Huntsman rumbled something and followed her.

He was not fully at her side when she asked, "What did he mean about explaining the consequences?"

"Some have it explained to them, as I'm sure he did. Others just figure it out on their own."

"And you figured it out on your own?"

"For the most part."

"And I'll have to have it explained to me?" She couldn't help but sound a little disgruntled.

The Huntsman chuckled. "That's not your fault, Your Majesty. Anyone who'd been locked in a tower as young as you were wouldn't know how ships come into a harbor."

"A ship hasn't landed here in years."

Something about what she said made him laugh outright. She felt foolish for her ignorance, but his laughter also sent a thrill of pleasure through her. His laugh was barely more than a chuckle, but it had a warmth and richness that she wished she could wind her arms through and wrap around herself.


Her serving maids had her bath ready when she returned to her chambers, but she barely had time to sit down in it before they had her scrubbed and out. It seemed as if she would only be receiving glimpses of comfort today.

Few tailors and seamstresses besides those who had outfitted the former queen could afford the cloth, pearls, and jewels they believed necessary for their new monarch. Instead, they sent what they could, and though only their craftsmanship could speak for the garments' quality, she found that she preferred the simplicity of this new attire. She absolutely refused to wear any of Ravenna's outlandish gowns and had only consented to having some of her mother's dresses taken in because there had not been enough time to assemble a wardrobe of her own.

Her outfit for the day was one of the simple affairs sent from a town in the north. Only the neck and sleeves of the cotton cerulean gown were embroidered with silver thread, but the work was exquisite. Tiny swallows peeped from among vines that looked as if they were still growing right out of the fabric. As usual, she wore her midnight hair loose.

The final touch was her silver circlet, a coronation gift from the dwarves.

As soon as she emerged from her chambers, her guards fell in around her. She was relieved to see that the Huntsman remained among them, at least for the time being. Despite the burn in her muscles, she set a quick pace for them. The council had much to accomplish for the day, and she did not want to waste a moment on tardiness.

The sun had just cleared the horizon when she strode into the council room.

Immediately she knew something was amiss. Instead of the buzz of politics she was still getting accustomed to, the room was dead silent.

Duke Hammond stood already, his face white beneath his salt and pepper beard. His hands were clasped firmly at his back.

"Your Majesty, we were about to send someone to summon you." He yanked apart his linked fingers to rest a hand on the shoulder of a boy who occupied his seat. The child before her was so starved that his eyes bulged like orbs in his wasted face. He could not be more than nine, and yet his expression was as haggard as a man who had lived an entire lifetime. "This boy brings news from the North. Altira is gathering troops at the Hecklen Gap."

The Hecklen Gap was one of two mountain passes between Tabor and its northern neighbor, Altira. It was the fastest way between the two countries and connected to one of Tabor's main trade routes, or what was left of it.

"How long before they strike?"

"Any day."