PART III: Suitable Suitors

When the queen came back from her ride, it didn't surprise the people as much as you might think to see her bringing a lone wolf back to the castle. All knew that the queen liked to collect strays (animal and human alike, one just had to look at the Huntsman), and it was a sovereign's prerogative to do as they pleased. Besides, many rulers were said to have all manner of exotic pets. Many older people still remembered how King Lucas, the queen's grandfather, had been rather overly fond of ferrets. But perhaps the less said about that, the better. In any case, a great wolf was certainly very royal, and if the animal's big, sharp teeth were somewhat alarming, well surely it would be kept in a cage.

However, it soon became apparent that the queen had no intention of keeping the beast in a cage, or anywhere else suitable for a dangerous animal, but in her very own private chambers. In no time at all it was decided among the breathlessly chattering servants and the gleefully whispering courtiers that it really was quite unexpected and improper, even for Her Majesty, and somewhat horrifying and certainly insanitary. The queen's maids were quite rightly beside themselves, not to mention the esteemed counselors.

Had they known that the wolf was really the Huntsman, they would have certainly been even more horrified. But the queen had no intention of telling anyone what she had discovered, and if the Captain of the Queen's Guard suspected, he knew enough to keep his mouth shut and play dumb. Although many tried to loosen his tongue with wine or sweet cakes or kisses, the Captain only repeated the same tale: they had happened upon the wolf whilst riding and the queen had taken a liking to it, talking to it gently. (What she had said, the Captain had most assuredly not heard.) And when birds and horses and all animals seemed to love their fair queen, how could a wolf do anything but follow her home?

Most people grudgingly admitted that what little they had seen of the wolf before it was shut in the queen's chambers had shown the beast to be completely in the queen's thrall. It had obediently followed the queen close at her heels, its glittering eyes fixed on her, its jaws open in a sharp grin. Only once had it swiveled its head abruptly to glower at a group of noblemen, growling menacingly, but that was quite understandable, for even for the inferior human nose, Marquis Plumpethdor always smelled strongly of several day's old leftovers.

-o-

The moment that the doors to her private chambers were closed and Snow was alone again, she turned to face the wolf, not really knowing whether to be glad that the Huntsman had been found (or rather that he had found her), baffled about what had happened to him (did she really even want to know?) or vexed that Eric, in his usual manner, had made an already troublesome situation even more difficult. She settled on all three.

"What on earth happened to you? Have you any idea how worried – how inconvenient this is?"

The wolf gave her a short growl, looking annoyed. Snow tried to remind herself that it couldn't be easy to suddenly transform into an animal and very likely Eric was having a hard time adjusting – but the thing was, she was fairly certain that Eric had had no trouble settling into the skin of a wolf. It was practically already his second nature. All this past week he had probably had the time of his life, hunting in the forest, doing whatever wolfs did, while she had feared he had –

"So how did you manage to turn yourself into a wolf?" After a brief silence and an incredulous look from Eric, Snow blushed. "Right, you can't talk." She had somehow forgotten that part, for the Huntsman was always ready to meet her words with his own; deflecting, teasing, advising, consoling, musing, always answering, if only with one word.

Snow sat down on a settee, the weight of the situation suddenly pressing in on her. What if Eric would never transform back into himself? What would she do then, without him? She could imagine all too well the terrible future: she would have no one to talk to, when the counselors and courtiers tried to drive her mad with their stupidity; she would have no partner in crime, escaping the confines of the castle with her; no one who would look at her and see just her, not the queen.

Something warm and soft pressed against her hand. Snow raised her head, her smile watery. The wolf had come to sit by the settee, nudging her gently with his muzzle. She answered by stroking his forehead, the fur surprisingly silky beneath her fingers. They would be alright. He would turn back into himself; she would find a way.

"I think the best we can do at the moment is wait," she said carefully, conflicted. Snow wanted to find a solution that instant, to find whoever had done this to Eric. At the same time the realities of the situation were quite clear. She hadn't any clue on how to start solving the matter and Eric couldn't very well help her. "You remember Baron Beaver? He turned back without any help, after three months, and was himself – well, mostly himself – again."

The wolf stared at her beseechingly and gave a pitiful whine.

"You're right, we are not going to wait that long. But just a few weeks, to see if there is any change in…in your appearance." The wolf laid his head on her lap and Snow continued to stroke his forehead soothingly. "I think it's best if we kept this a secret for a while. This might be solved quickly, who knows, and there is already too much gossip and madness and excitement here with all the wedding nonsense –"

The wolf raised his head sharply, dislodging Snow's hand, and stared at her most accusingly. Despite herself, and quite without any apparent cause, Snow blushed. "Yes well…I might have agreed to find a consort in three months…" The wolf's expression changed into incredulity. Suddenly Snow felt very irritated. "You weren't here! The whole mess was quite impossible…" It was so easy for him: none expected him to marry. He could happily meet as many flirtatious wenches or simpering maids or scheming ladies as he wanted, and people would only gossip to their hearts content – no one was waiting for him to marry any of them. Snow just had to look at someone too long and people would be already planning a wedding. In the end, she hadn't even needed to look at someone at all, as the case with Marquis Plump had proven. After all, a marriage was what she had been made for; it was her duty and purpose, the highest security she could offer for her people.

A loud knock broke the uncomfortable atmosphere between the queen and the wolf; the former startled and the latter growled. "Come in," Snow said quickly, standing up. She didn't want to continue to explain the situation to Eric, afraid she might say something she would come to regret or had not intended to reveal. The topic was clearly too incendiary at the moment. Therefore she was glad of the interruption, even when the door opened and all her counselors crowded into the room, far too nervous and exited about their business to be anything but another cause for a major headache for Snow.

The wolf stalked towards the counselors, growling menacingly. The counselors huddled against the closed door and someone squealed in distress.

"Er – Ernie! Stop that!" Snow had remembered at the last moment that none was to know that the wolf was really Eric. Furthermore, it would seem all too odd if she had given her wolf the name of her Huntsman. The beast stopped and swiveled his head around to look at Snow. His expression was almost comical; he was clearly thinking, you called me what?

"Your Majesty…if we could have a moment of your precious time…" Count Tuppence started to say, but fell silent, when the wolf fixed his eyes on him.

"Well, now that you are here, you may as well," Snow sighed. Sometimes all the courteous, empty phrases and the needless, meaningless civility chafed her. It was quite ridiculous. And it reminded her that there would always be a barrier between her and other people, too high for anyone to cross.

"Perhaps…perhaps Your Majesty would speak to us without…" Lord Budgy swallowed, looking on the verge of anxious tears, "without the wolf. It's quite confidential."

"Nonsense! It's not as if Eri – Ervin could understand anything." Snow knew the counselors were afraid of the wolf; their nervousness and fear were visible on their countenance. However, she was too incensed to be accommodating. "After all, he is just a wolf." The wolf opened its jaws wide, as if to yawn. Lord Budgy whimpered.

"For the love of – Errol, come here!" The wolf trudged grudgingly to Snow's side. "Sit down," Snow commanded and to her astonishment Eric complied, although he wore an absolutely disgruntled expression. Snow knew he would get back at her later. "Now, what do you want to discuss about?" Although she could already guess. After all, there seemed to be only one topic on everyone's mind.

"The list!" Lord Budgy exclaimed excitedly, the menacing beast at the queen's feet suddenly forgotten. The other counselors turned to look at him, reproaching. Lord Budgy blushed crimson and hang his head, mortified at his breech of etiquette.

Snow could have cared less. "What list?" She asked suspiciously.

"We took a liberty of compiling a list for Your Highness…just a few names of reputable standing…just to speed things along," Lord Trombone said, trying to sound as soothing as possible. The counselors were all looking at her imploringly, with anxious smiles on their faces. They all looked a little disheveled and harried, as if they had not slept soundly for days. Were their jobs really so stressful and awful? Snow felt a little bad – just a little.

"A list." Snow was acutely aware she was starting to sound like a parrot.

"To help Your Majesty," Duke Hammond hurried to say, "after all, there are so many men clamoring for the honorable position of a royal consort – and I have to say, not all of them from very respectable backgrounds – that we felt it would help, if we were to make a list –"

"Just some suggestions, the persons that have the most desirable qualities…" Count Tuppence drew a sheaf of paper somewhere from the folds of the great black robe he always favored. He probably thought it made his small stature look imposing, when in truth it only made him look slightly ridiculous – as if he was wrapped in a too big sheet.

Snow took the offered papers, ignoring the wolf's low snarl. There were ten papers, all of them full of names – noblemen, courtiers, magistrates, even a couple of horribly rich tradesmen – and all were accompanied by a list of their good and bad qualities. There had to be over fifty names in all.

"Well, thank you," Snow tried to sound appreciative. "I will certainly read this with great, ah, interest." Before, she thought uncharitably, I toss it out of the window.

"Well, we also thought…we felt it prudent to…" Lord Budgy hedged, clearly uncomfortable.

"As there is so little time left to Midwinter's day, we thought it necessary to compile a schedule." Lord Trombone said and glanced meaningfully at Count Tuppence, who started to reach inside his robes once again.

"What schedule?" Snow asked alarmed, fearing the worst. She was offered another sheaf of paper that, upon further inspection, was comprised of names and dates in a complex looking chart.

"We have scheduled a dinner with all the applicants on the list," Duke Hammond explained as if the matter was self-evident. "We admit that it could be little difficult for Your Highness to choose a consort without meeting any of the suitable suitors first, and as the time is of the essence, we made a schedule that allows Your Majesty to meet all of them before the end of the deadline."

"I'm…" Snow was quite speechless. The wolf whimpered with commiseration. The counselors beamed as if they had done something exceptionally clever and exceedingly helpful. Snow wondered if she would seem too much like Ravenna if she were to chop some heads off.

"The first one is not until tomorrow evening; we though Your Majesty would want to study the list tonight," Lord Budgy told, sounding very self-satisfied. He no doubt believed that they had done the queen a great service.

"How…thoughtful," Snow forced through gritted teeth, clenching the papers in her hand. She knew she couldn't refuse; she had after all, rather stupidly one might add, made the promise of finding someone to marry. And here was a list of many someones. Yippee.

"Then we'll leave Your Majesty to contemplate which of the suitors could be the prince of your generous heart," Lord Trombone gave a low bow and smiled his special sugary smile that told he too was rather pleased of himself.

One after the other, bowing and smiling, the counselors trickled out of the chamber. Duke Hammond was last, but before he went, he cast a conspiratorial look towards Snow. "Your Majesty, perhaps you would be relieved to know that the wedding preparations are going splendidly." He practically quivered with poorly suppressed glee. "I have laid several baits for the – well, Your Majesty surely knows who I mean – and they have taken them! The preliminary wedding program – all fictitious of course – especially proved too tempting for them to resist, they have already copied some of it into their own –"

"That's…" Snow hurried to interrupt, as the mad glint in the Duke's eyes was a clear sign he would not stop anytime soon. "That's certainly inspired. But I better take a closer look at this list now. As you all said, there is no time to waste. I have a lot of people to meet, lot of food to eat." Snow brandished the papers rather manically.

"Of course," Duke Hammond bowed again, reversed out of the room still bowing, and carefully closed the door after him.

Snow slumped to the settee. Bracing herself, she glanced at the list and winced. Some of the names definitely belonged to people she would rather not spend even a minute alone with let alone dine with them a whole evening. The wolf crowded against her legs, his blue eyes staring at the list as if he wanted to shred it apart into tiny, unreadable pieces and then piss on it for good measure.

"I know," Snow sighed, feeling defeated. "Do you think I should reinstate capital punishment?"

The wolf gave a low rumble that sounded suspiciously like a purr. It seemed his answer was most assuredly a loud yes!

-o-

The next two months were the most hellish Snow had ever experienced – and she had once been imprisoned in a dank cell by a murderous witch queen, having next to nothing, and suffering from chronic, but wholly understandable depression – and how she did not run away from it all in the dark of the night to became a pirate, she never could wholly explain. But god, she was tempted! (Anyhow, she would have made an awesome pirate.) The temptation grew after every horrible, embarrassing or just plain boring dinner she had to sit through, trying to act even remotely interested in the current suitor and what he had to say (it usually turned out not very much). At the same time as she tried very hard to either not fall asleep or storm out in a huff, she had to also keep a close eye on Eric, who insisted on accompanying her to all the dinners. He had developed a habit of trying to take a bite from the suitors, when no one was looking. It would have been amusing, if it didn't result in terrified shrieks and fainting courtiers. Snow feared that soon it would prove to be impossible even for a queen to keep such a clearly dangerous beast free in the castle.

After the initial shock, the list hadn't even seemed that bad at first. Snow had thought that she could easily eat a short, two course meal with each of the suitors, converse using some meaningless small talk or maybe even find some topic that interested them both. Who knew, maybe she could find someone…tolerable. Someone she could marry, if not with love, then at least with some mutual respect and understanding. But it soon became apparent that the dinners were all to be five course meals (Snow suspected conspiracy from the counselors; not only were they trying to get her to spend as much time with the suitors as possible, they were also clearly trying to fatten her up as it was believed that chubby women had healthier babies) and although Snow tried to shovel the offered food to her mouth speedily and without any queenly dignity, no one, not even Marquis Plump, could get through five dishes in anything less than an hour – an hour that soon seemed to be endless.

The first dinner with Master Peevor (the list gave him three plus': very rich, good head for business, well organized, and one minus: businessman) had went rather well, if one didn't count the awkward silence that had lasted through the second course to the very end, only to be broken by Master Peevor's high scream when Eric had tried to take a bite out of his ankle. But the Master had had some intelligent ideas about trade routes that Snow hadn't minded to listening, although it had been a little discouraging to realize the man couldn't talk about anything other than his business. Snow was fairly certain Master Peevor only wanted to be her consort so he could sign his business letters with his new title and advance his business.

The second dinner had been slightly mortifying for both Snow and the suitor, as he was already engaged to someone else and organizing his own wedding with all haste. But Duke Gherkin (plus': eminent background, good eye for color, minus: Lady Sonia) had proved to be a good sport, joking about the hellishness of wedding preparations and offering his insight about harmonious color schemes. At the end of the evening they had parted on good terms, although later Snow came to think that maybe Duke Gherkin had been a little too interested to know how Duke Hammond's plans for the royal wedding were coming along…

The third dinner was scheduled with Count Perfidant (plus': strong bone structure, vigorous, minus': missing brother, drowned mother, father killed in a riding accident), who was better known as Count Perfidious. Snow was aware of the many unfortunate accidents (not limited to the three listed above) that had befallen Count Perfidant's family and had made him unexpectedly the head of the family. Not even the undoubtedly strong bone structure could have made Snow comfortable under the Count's cold, deliberating gaze. She had been glad of the wolf's strong presence by her side, almost choking on her food in her haste to finish the last course.

The dinners went steadily downhill after that. There was stammering Lord Cabot (plus': unobtrusive, rich, minus: Mother) who spent half the dinner blushing silently and the other half enthusiastically praising his mother, Lady Blanche, whom Snow had had the good fortune to never meet. She intended to keep it that way, for the various horror stories that circulated among the nobility and common folk all agreed on one thing: Lady Blanche could have given even Ravenna a run for her money in how to raise an unhappy, unstable, disturbed family. Then there was Master Collinson (plus': stylish, likes pudding, minus: sleeps in a stable), who was altogether a little too interested in horses, and Lord Turbid (plus: chairman of the Noble families-special interest group, minus: flat feet) who couldn't have cared less about any living thing but himself and the ever-important, noble nobility. The absolute low point was the dinner with Earl Whitesnake (plus': prolific, in favor with ladies, minus': prolific, out of favor with lords), who spent the whole time making suggestive jokes and staring fixedly at Snow's bosom. Snow hadn't felt that murderous in ages, and only half-heartedly scolded the wolf, when he decided to sank his teeth into Earl Whitesnake's crotch halfway through dinner. The Earl's high squeal only just managed to brighten the queen's day.

After each disastrous dinner Snow quickly withdrew to her chambers, dodging terminally curious counselors, who were ready to ambush her with hopeful queries about the suitor and the dinner and the state of her queenly heart. Hadn't the suitor been most suitable? Had the evening went well? Had the queen felt the flutters of budding love, or at least had she managed to tolerate the man? How was the spinach-broccoli pie with meat loaf?

The harried queen shut herself in her chambers, banishing even her most loyal maids from her company. Only the wolf was permitted to stay and curl around the leader of the kingdom as she lay on her bed and shed tears of frustration. Time was running out, but still there was no consort in sight, and an uncomfortable thought had begun to take root in Snow's mind. Surely not all the suitors she had met could be so terrible? What if there was something wrong with her? Maybe she couldn't love anyone – not with the way a wife should love her husband.

Snow hid her face in the wolf's soft fur and closed her eyes, trying not to think of anything but Eric's heart beating against her own; hoping that when she would next awake, she would be encircled by strong, familiar human arms.

-o-