**This is an unedited preview of a new fantasy romance book. It's a retelling of Snow White, but chronicles what happens after she's woken up by the prince. I can guarantee there are changes to these two chapters, as they have been edited since this was posted. Enjoy this early preview and thank you for being a dedicated reader! I appreciate you! - Chrissy**
THE EVERLOVE CHRONICLES BOOK ONE
SPARE & HEIR by Chrissy Q Martin
A SNOW WHITE RETELLING
CHAPTER ONE
LEO
It always ends with a sword at the neck.
My neck.
My attacker swiftly knocks the sword out of my hand and then
holds his to my throat. The silver blade gleams in the sunshine of the
courtyard. One small movement and the edge will touch my skin. I’m afraid to
breathe for fear my attacker will press the sword to my neck, but it’s also
hard to catch a breath under his weight. Dust glints in the air and settles
back to the ground after being stirred up in the shortest battle ever. On my
back in the dirt, sweat trickles down my forehead and obscures my vision. I
close my eyes, grit my teeth, and wait for the inevitable.
“You lose!” Emeric huffs. His mint sweetened breath washes
over my face and my stomach lurches. Bile riles in my throat as Emeric slams my
chest with a hard palm. “Again.”
I open my eyes. My older brother removes the dull edged
practice sword from my neck and pushes himself up. Standing over me, he looks
every bit like a future king, regal and imposing. In contrast, I’m covered in
dirt and in a fetal position on the ground.
“That’s enough for today.” Emeric frowns and extends a hand
to me in a swift movement.
“Fine,” I reply with a surly downturn of my lips.
I grab Emeric’s hand and allow myself to be lifted to my
feet even though I’d rather stay in the dirt on my back. Nearly every muscle in
my body hurts from the short scrimmage with Emeric. It never takes him long to
disarm me and today it was exceptionally short. This time it took less than a
minute, and Emeric still looks as if he’s dressed for a royal ball. There’s not
a speck of sweat or dirt on him.
“Leo.” Emeric thrusts my training sword at me. “You need to
think what your opponent is going to do before he does it.”
Emeric snatches a cloth from an attendant and wipes invisible
sweat his forehead. His strands of black curly hair remain dry and fall into
place as if he hasn’t fought.
“How am I supposed to know what my opponent is going to do
if I don’t even know what I’m going to do?” I rotate my left shoulder in a
small circle. The joint clicks and pops, the result of an old injury. It wasn’t
a battle won injury, but rather the result of horsing around with my best
friend and falling out of a tree.
“You have to be quick to think.” Emeric tosses his used
cloth at me. It hits my chest and flutters to the ground as Emeric shakes his
head. “Use your senses, gauge your surroundings, read the face.”
“I’m trying.” I bend to pick up the cloth. My face is red
from exertion and my mortification only adds to it. I’m not quick to pick up on
things.
“You’re not trying hard enough,” Emeric reprimands.
“You could have gone a little easier on me today,” I say. An
attendant takes the training sword from my hand. “It is my birthday.”
Emeric hands his sword to the attendant. “Your birthday is
the reason you need to work harder.” His voice is gruff, and he avoids eye
contact with me. “There isn’t much time left.”
“Not much time left for what?” I demand. Rather than using
Emeric’s cloth, I use the back of my hand to wipe sweat from my forehead and
push my straight dark brown hair out of my face. It hangs limp and ragged like
my body. “I get my quest tonight. If you haven’t trained me by now, it’s not
going to happen.”
“It’ll be a miracle if you don’t fail.” Emeric spits out.
“Failure is one thing I excel at,” I mutter.
I’ve never been exactly successful at anything, especially
when compared to Emeric. And lately my older brother has been pushing me harder
than ever before. He often erupts in frustration at my inadequacies. I can’t
run fast enough in armor, jump my horse well enough, win a sword duel, shoot an
arrow precisely, or complete any assignment to the level Emeric requires.
“What if the whole kingdom was depending on you?” Emeric
shouted when I missed the target three times in a row during an archery lesson
the day before.
“It’s a good thing the kingdom has you,” I retorted back.
I’m tired of Emeric’s criticism. He’s the heir to the
throne, and I’m only the spare. It doesn’t matter if I can sway a foreign
kingdom to my side or whether I can hit an apple on a fence with an arrow. Emeric’s
actions are the ones which will count for something. And I’m glad of it.
I don’t want to oversee a kingdom. Reluctant to make even
the smallest of decisions, I’m happy to leave the inheritance of the country
and kingdom to Emeric. I won’t be planning any murder attempts to take over the
throne. A solitary life is not out of the question, and I’d consider myself
lucky if I can find a lesser royal from another country to marry me. There are
no princesses knocking on my door offering their hand in marriage. Emeric is
the one they all want. Even the castle workers look through me to Emeric. I’m
invisible unless needed, and I have never been needed.
“What if I needed you to save my life?” Emeric asks quietly,
and for a brief moment I glimpse the soft side he used to show. But it’s a side
which rarely appears since he returned from his quest.
“You don’t need me,” I huff and roll my dark brown eyes. My
eyes are nearly as black as Emeric’s, but his have a harder edge. “You’ve never
needed me and are capable of saving yourself.”
“You’re eighteen today,” Emeric says as we enter a dark
interior hallway of the stone castle. The Swendale castle was built as a tall rectangular
keep for defense, though it’s been centuries since it was under attack. “You
need to be ready for your quest.”
“I’m ready,” I snap.
Eighteen years behind Swendale walls has made me more than
ready. I’m ready to get away from the castle and have an adventure with my best
friend, Jude. Royal protocol dictates a prince or princess of Swendale can’t
leave the country until they receive a quest on their eighteenth birthday. I
have only learned of the outside world through map, books, my tutors, and what
snippets of gossip I hear from others. My father grew up in another country,
but hasn’t left Swendale since he married my mother. Once a royal in Swendale,
you stay a royal in Swendale, but I can’t wait to leave.
“Your quest is not going to be what you think.” Emeric says.
We enter the kitchen busy with preparations for my birthday supper. Savory
smells dance in my nostrils and make my mouth water.
“Of course I don’t know,” I say. “That’s the point. I’m not
to find out until it’s delivered.”
“It’s not going to be as exciting as you think. You don’t
know what you’re getting into.” Emeric’s hands tighten into fists at his side
and then loosen.
“I only know I’ll be getting away from here.”
“You have no idea.” Emeric swipes a red apple from a basket
on a table as we pass. The kitchen workers smile at Emeric when he takes food. I
only get a displeased look when I do the same thing.
“You won’t give me an idea,” I say. “You won’t tell me about
your quest.”
“What do you not understand about the word forbidden?” Emeric
looks at the shiny red flesh of the apple and rubs it on the front of his
shirt. He didn’t get the shirt dirty while dueling with me.
“I’ll find out tonight,” I say and exhale as some tension
leaves my wiry body. “Finally.”
“You have no idea.” Emeric shakes his head and there’s a
crunching sound as he bites into the apple. He chews and observes the kitchen
workers as they make preparations for my birthday celebration. “The kingdom has
no idea.”
Emeric is twenty, nearly twenty-one, and completed his quest
over two years ago. We were close until his eighteenth birthday. As close as an
heir and a spare can be. After Emeric returned from his quest he became more aloof,
more cynical – and more harsh. He only pays attention to me when it comes to my
studies or training, and then he berates me.
“They’re not supposed to have an idea,” I say. “Like you
said, it’s forbidden to talk about a quest. The quest is mine alone.”
“That’s what you think,” Emeric says. “A solo quest is a fairy
tale.”
“Isn’t that what I’m getting tonight?” I demand. “A quest
from a fairy?”
Emeric scoffs and heads for the stairs to the royal living
quarters. He looks over his shoulder. “Don’t be late to the gate ceremony.”
I grit my teeth and push murderous thoughts out of my head.
Killing Emeric would only lead to me being the heir, and I don’t want that.
***
I glance at the sky. Is it too much
to hope a dragon will appear and put an end to the endless pageantry and pomp
of dedicating a new castle gate?
I can hope for one, but there have been no reports of a live
dragon in my lifetime. The last time a dragon was spotted in Swendale was nearly
two hundred years ago, around the time the Swen royal family was gifted with
fairy quests. It’s an unspoken family secret the first quest was to vanquish
dragons from our land. The Swen royal family has also had a long rule without
threat because it’s believed dragons will attack this land unless a Swen is on
the throne.
My lips quirk to the side and I shift my position as I gaze
at the crowd across the moat. My required royal attire is uncomfortable but
it’s even more unnerving to stand in front of the dozens of villagers and
castle workers have gathered on the dirt road and grassy plains to watch the dedication
of the new castle gate. The old wooden gate is being replaced with one of iron.
My family waits in the gatehouse, under the arched stone
entrance leading into the castle. Emeric stands front and center, outside the
castle walls, but separated from the people by the bridge over the moat.
Dressed in his royal uniform, Emeric looks the part of a
king, or a king in training. He has our father’s black hair and a handful of
his dark skin. Emeric wears his curly hair on the longer side and always has a
shade of facial hair which earns many comments from our mother. She doesn’t
approve of the rugged look, but the young women of the kingdom obviously admire
of the way the facial scruff shadows Emeric’s handsome features. They also
admire his muscular form and deep voice which often spews ridiculously flirty
lines I could never utter without a laugh.
I stare at the back of Emeric’s legs and hope to avoid any
stares from villagers or castle workers. But there isn’t a need to worry because
people’s eyes are always on Emeric. I pale in comparison. Literally and figurately.
I’m a blending of our parents with dark brown hair that refuses to obey and
skin the color of milky tea. Next to Emeric, I’m a scrawny looking kid. And even
if I’m eighteen, I’m still treated like a kid.
“This bridge marks a new era in the future of Swendale,” Emeric
says in a loud, booming voice.
Young village girls swoon where they stand. They can’t keep
their eyes off Emeric as I lift mine to the sky. The day is sunny and promising
as spring is now upon us. There are no clouds and only small sparrows dot the
sky with their flurry of motion. Where are dragons when you need them? They’re
stuck in the stories of the past. Much like our kingdom.
“While iron gates are meant for defense, we have no need of
them in Swendale,” Emeric continues.
“Why is the gate iron?” Adette leans in and whispers to me. Her
golden-brown wavy hair brushes against my shoulder. “Fairies hate iron. Is this
a good idea?”
I shrug my shoulders. I don’t know as much about fairies as
Adette does, but I do know a fairy will make an appearance at my birthday party
tonight and present me with a quest. I hope Emeric didn’t persuade our parents
to put in an iron gate to keep me from getting my quest. I wouldn’t put it past
him to do it.
“This strong iron gate will last generations,” Emeric
continues with his speech. “Closed, this gate is made to withstand the
strongest of armies, but we have no need for that.”
Emeric pauses, his throat seems to catch on the words, and I
notice. Emeric’s back is all I can see from where my vantage point, but I catch
the nervous hesitation no one else does.
“We leave our gate open to all our people, open to all the
possibilities of the future, and…”
Emeric is nervous. He’s been growing more and more nervous
lately, but I thought it was because of my failures as he trained me. Emeric is
a natural at giving speeches and persuading people to his side and the gate ceremony
should be an easy task for him. Father and Mother have put Emeric in charge of
a vast number of castle duties since he returned from his quest. Most of the
duties involve lording over me.
I lean forward and try to assess what would make Emeric
nervous. The new metal gate looks imposing where it’s lifted high. The previous
wooden gate was never lowered, and I don’t understand the reasoning behind the
metal gate. As Emeric said, there has been no need for defense in centuries. Besides
a castle gate, the entire country of Swendale is surrounded by a rock wall. In
some areas the rock wall is a low fence and in others it’s higher than a
person. In addition, our borders are defined by rivers on all sides.
“And…” Emeric’s voice cracks again. “Most of all open to the
present and those who will grace us with their presence.”
I roll my eyes at the speech. It sounds ridiculous, and I’m
sure Father had something to do with it. He has a way of sweet-talking people
which Emeric inherited, and I have a lack of. I prefer to keep quiet and
observe. And I observe something is not quite right with this ceremony, but I’m
not sure what. I shuffle my feet and kick at the dirt.
“Today we lift the gate for the first time,” Emeric continues.
“And leave it open.”
A small cloud of dust rises from my feet and my father aims
a quick frown my direction. He shouldn’t have chosen to have the gate
dedication ceremony on my birthday if he didn’t want me kicking dirt. Couldn’t
it have waited until tomorrow?
“And as it is his birthday, Prince Leopold will have the
honor of lowering the gate for the first time,” Emeric says.
I freeze on the other side of the castle entrance from
Emeric. No one told me about this. This isn’t part of the plan. Emeric is
supposed make the announcement and a guard will drop the gate and then lift it
again. Why wasn’t I informed of this? Is this another plot of Emeric’s to push
me into royal duty and embarrass me?
Emeric beckons for me to come forward, but I don’t want to
venture from my safe corner to be out in front of everyone and I hesitate.
“Go on, Leo,” Adette whispers. My sister turns and faces me,
a smile plastered on her fair face. She grabs my wrist and tries to pull me
forward. “You need to go up there. You can’t let Em do all the stuff.”
“Carmichael,” my mother turns a worried face to my father.
“Is this a wise idea?”
“Adelinde,” my father says in his deep voice. “He’ll be
leaving on his quest soon. He can do this.” Father turns to me. “Go on, son.”
Unsure, I walk the worn stone path in the gatehouse. I brave
a glance back at my parents. My mother, Queen Adelinde, grips Father’s arm
tight. Her face is taut and shows a trace of concern even though she gives me
an encouraging smile. Father wears a straight face. I set my sights forward and
head to my older brother. Emeric smiles, but it’s forced and unnatural, the
smile of a taskmaster waiting to punish.
I pass under the stone arch of the gatehouse and step
outside of the castle walls to stand next to Emeric. We smile at the crowd and
take in their cheers. We’re the heir and the spare, royal princes from a long
line of Swenish rulers, and beloved by the people of Swendale. At least, it’s a
lie I can tell myself to feel confident. The crowd cheers again when Emeric
announces I’ll drop the metal gate for the first time.
“Don’t mess this up,” Emeric hisses at me through the noise
of the onlookers.
Sweat trickles down the back of my neck and builds up under my
thick royal uniform. Trying to act confident, when I don’t feel it, I stride back
to the gatehouse where the mechanism is located. It would have been wise to pay
attention the day before when I accompanied Father and Emeric to confer with
the gate engineers. My attentions were elsewhere that day, and now, I regret
not listening to their instruction. I stare at the mechanism with no idea what
to do.
“Quickly!” Emeric’s harsh voice reaches me. He waves at the
crowd with a smile, but turns back to me with a frown. “Now!”
Now would be a good time for a dragon to show up, but even
then, Emeric would take care of the dragon and I would be left in the dust. I
reach out my hand, the new mechanism not yet worn by time or touch. Mustering
all my strength, I tug on the mechanism which unwinds the great coil of chain
to drop the gate.
“No! That’s not how it works!” Emeric’s warning comes too
late.
The gate drops, but not without leaving me hanging from the
ceiling of the alcove, a chain wrapped around my legs. I’m usually the cause of
a disaster, and an unfortunate blemish to my family’s royal image.
CHAPTER TWO
EIRA
The old woman holds an apple to me. Unblemished
by insects or bruises, the shiny red apple looks perfect. I haven’t had an
apple in a long time and my mouth immediately salivates. An image of an orchard
outside castle walls flits through my brain. How long has it been?
“No, I shouldn’t take it.” I shake my head politely. “Thank
you.”
The woman is bent over, her back hunched from years of hard
labor. Her long fingers are wrinkled, and the knuckles swollen with age. Those
curled fingers clasp the round apple and thrust it at me.
“Then share it with me,” the old woman intones in a slow
voice which crackles with each word.
Again, I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
The miners have repeatedly warned me about trusting
strangers, but this little old woman looks harmless. A dirty white crocheted
shawl falls over her stooped shoulders, a faded gray dress covers her contorted
body, and a colorful scarf drapes over her face. Glimpses of wrinkled skin peek
out from beneath the scarf. The scarf she wears gives me a moment of pause, but
it’s not the same one I’ve seen before when an attempt was made on my life.
“A beautiful young lady like you should eat an apple,” the
woman croaks.
It doesn’t feel right to take a perfect apple from this
woman when there are so many others need. Even in the vast reaches of the
kingdom, stories filter in about the hunger and hard times others are
encountering near the capital. It’s hard to believe Montagnia could have fallen
apart in the past few years. How can there be starving children? The king would
give his life before he let that happen.
A heavy cloth knapsack sits behind the door, shielded from
the old woman’s view. It’s packed with my few things. I arrived with very
little, and I will leave with very little. And I have to leave soon before my
resolve fails me. It’s time to be brave and return. Even if my return means my
death.
“Now, dearie,” the woman says.
A flash of metal brings my attention back to the old woman.
A gleaming silver knife is in her other hand.
I inhale sharply, and memories of previous attempts on my
life flood my mind. My heart starts to pound in my chest and my stomach falls.
Then I remind myself it’s only a memory. Memories have no power over me. I
survived before, and I will survive again.
“Please,” I beg with a furtive glance at my packed bag. I can’t
die yet. I need to get home first. “I…”
Wide eyed, I watch the knife in the old woman’s hand pierce
the red skin of the apple. It’s foolish of me to think this old woman intends to
harm me. She looks so frail and I don’t know how she cuts through the apple’s
skin. My mouth waters as the wrinkled hand cuts off a slice of the juicy apple.
“Here, take it,” the old woman croaks. She holds the apple
slice out to me.
I know I shouldn’t take the apple, but I’m cognizant of
hurting the old woman’s feelings. The miners will never let me hear the end of
it if something happens. But what harm can come from an old woman and an apple?
“Is it poisoned?” I ask, mostly in jest.
I have never heard of
a poisoned apple. Worms in apples are common, but never poison. Meals can be
poisoned as they’re prepared, but it would be difficult to poison an apple.
“I’ll take a bite from the other end,” the old woman says.
“To ease your troubled mind.” She bites into the side of the apple with the
flesh intact.
I gaze at the slice in front of me. The woman continues to hold
it out on the tip of the knife. It looks perfect with juicy firm flesh and a
shiny red peel. The woman chews her piece and nods expectantly at me.
“Go on,” she encourages. “It’s good.”
I reach my hand out, slow as if I’m touching the needle of a
spinning wheel to see how sharp it is, but I jerk my hand back before it touches
the apple.
“I shouldn’t,” I say. “I’m not supposed to take things from
strangers.”
“But I’m not a stranger.” The old woman smiles. A piece of
apple flesh sticks to a tooth tilted at an angle in the front of her mouth. It
looks like a red cape covering the darkened tooth.
“You’re not?” I don’t recognize the woman from the mines or
the nearby village of Balsam Creek.
The miners live on the outskirts of the kingdom, in the far
foothills of the Knoller mountains, which divide this kingdom from its northern
neighbors. The distance from the capital and bustling cities of Montagnia keep
most visitors away from Balsam Creek. It’s only miners and their families who
live here. Occasionally traveling peddlers pass through, but they’re never as
old as this woman.
“I’ve known you since you were a wee babe,” the old woman says.
“You know me?” My round eyes widen. Only one hunter knows I’m
still alive. The rest of the kingdom is in the dark and thinks I’m dead. Even
my father believes his only child is dead. And I don’t even know if he’s still
alive, which is one reason I need to risk my life and return.
“Ahh.” The old woman nods slowly. She keeps the knife with
the apple extended out. “I was there eighteen years ago when your mother gave
birth, Snow.”
My hands fly to my chest. This woman knows me. She knows the
name I was called before I ran and let go of my past. But a past is hard to let
go of, which is why my bag is packed.
“You knew my mother?” I ask.
“Ahh, yes.” The woman again gestures for me to take the
apple. “Such a fair woman.”
At the news this woman knew my mother, I eagerly grab the
slice from the point of the knife. It’s been so long since I tasted an apple.
So long since I heard of my mother. So long since I heard my real name.
“Happy birthday, fair Snow,” the old woman says, her eyes on
the apple in my fingers.
Snow. Snow White Mascen.
The woman’s face changes from expectation to excitement as I
bring the apple to my lips. It warms my heart to know I can bring happiness to
this woman, if only by eating a slice of apple. It assures me everything is
going to be alright. I’m making the right decision to return.
I bite into the apple. It’s sweet and tangy on my tongue
with a slight almost undetectable bitter taste.
The scarf falls from the old woman’s head. Her face erupts
into a satisfied smile, but why does it look evil? My eyes flit to hers. The
old woman’s eyes! They’re surrounded by wrinkles and hooded lids, but I know
those eyes.
Startled, I swallow hard, even before I have a chance to
chew the slice. Those eyes have haunted me in other forms. They’re the eyes of
a killer. My hands clutch my throat and fear swamps my body at the thought she’ll
succeed this time. I reach out to grab the woman as the apple chunk lodges in
my throat. She steps back with an evil cackle as I stumble to the floor. I
grasp my throat again, desperate for help, but I can’t even call out. On my
knees, I look up to the old woman, startled by her changing appearance. Her
wrinkled skin sheds away while the evil eyes remain the same. I try to grasp
the hem of my stepmother’s dress, but then everything goes black.
COMING WINTER 2024
