Tears
brimmed in her eyes as she descended, moving so smoothly that the candles along
the stair did not so much as flicker with the whisper of movement. Her footing
found the plush carpet, and she forgot why she was there. Deep sadness filled
her chest, reopening the stitches in her heart. The smell was too much. It smelled the same that day too, when she laid her father to rest beside her mother, the only glass coffins in the entire chamber. It had been her mother's idea. She loved the sky and sunlight, and loathed the thought of being locked away forever in a tomb. "If I must be buried in a casket, then make it one of glass," she said. "That way I won't feel so trapped."
Natalia
knew exactly where they were buried, and she planned to stay as far away from
there as possible. Picking the first tomb by the stair, she set her equipment
down and dipped her rag in the brackish water, forsaking the brush in an effort
to preserve the enamel on the artwork. With loving strokes, she gently polished
the tombs, listening to the soft bubbling of the fountain. Though her work was
careful, it was quick. The Catacombs was her only assignment. It was hefty, but
doable within a few hours time. She could clean, leave, and forget again.
Her
focus turned to her work, shutting out all thoughts of the days before. No
ghosts nor dead girls, no whip or threat of violence, plagued her.
The
stillness was so soothing that the sound of twine stretching – like an arrow
being notched – broke her attention.
She
whirled toward the staircase.
After
a moment of silence and searching shadows, she spoke.
“Who’s
there?”
A
flicker of movement within the shadow of the stair.
Natalia
froze, leaning forward slightly.
“Via?”
The
shadow stepped forward, a soft orange glow lighting up a handsomely chiseled
face with hard eyes.
Natalia’s
brow steepened as she gazed upon the huntsman. “What are you doing here?”
His
eyes were hungry. And very black.
“You
are beautiful, even in rags,” he said, taking a step forward and eyeing her up
and down. “What a waste.”
Natalia
crossed an arm over her chest, rubbing her hand up and down the other arm. “If
you mean the dress, I assure you sir I wasted nothing in making it. I would
otherwise have no clothes.”
“She
cleans and sews,” he mused. “You would make a good wife.”
“Shame
I have no interest in being one.”
The
huntsman looked around. “This room is impressive, worth a king’s ransom, I’d
wager.” His gazed shifted back to her. “And it’s quiet.”
The
half smile on his face had a vicious quality to it. Natalia suddenly wished
they weren’t alone, that the Queen cared enough about the Catacombs to position
guards this far in the palace. Natalia had never seen nor heard of the Queen
setting foot in this room since her late husband’s burial.
“I’m
sorry, my lady,” the huntsman said suddenly. “Where ever are my manners?” He
bowed. “Call me Ace.”
“That’s
an odd name.”
He
laughed, but there was no warmth to it, no change in his eyes. They remained
cold, calculating. “It’s a nickname. But I don’t suppose you would have heard
of me, being a scullery maid and all.”
Natalia
didn’t give him the satisfaction of appearing affronted. She waited, calmly,
for him to elaborate.
“I
am the best archer in seven realms,” he said.
“My
father was better.”
“I
hear he was good, at swordplay, especially. But I doubt he had my eye for
precision with a bow. It’s no mere quirk of fate I’ve earned the reputation as
an ‘Ace of Arrows.’”
“Is
there a reason why you’re here, Ace?” she asked sharply.
Something
long and narrow poked from behind the huntsman. A bow. An arrow shafted with a
raven feather dangled from his hands.
“I
was about to go hunting,” he said.
“Well,
I’m afraid you’ll find no sport here.”
“Oh,
I beg to differ, lady.”
He
raised the bow, notching the arrow and aiming it straight for her.
Natalia
couldn’t move. Her body was paralyzed, round eyes frozen on the arrow head.
“Please
know this isn’t personal,” he said soothingly. “Business is business.”
Her
eyes flashed to his. “She sent you, didn’t she?”
“Who?”
“You
know who. The Queen.”
He
smirked. “First rule of business: Never give away a client’s name.”
“You
didn’t. Your arrow did. I’ve never seen anyone wear so many raven feathers as
she does.”
Silence.
“It
won’t work, you know,” she said. “I cannot die.” At least she sounded surer
than she felt.
This
did not seem to deter the huntsman. “I know of the spell. What I bet that you
don’t know is that all spells have loopholes, and eventually they all come to
an end. I’m a Barren, and even I know that.”
She
frowned. “Loopholes?”
He
smiled.
“What
do you say we test my theory?”
She
stared at him, not comprehending. “But I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“The
object in your bucket speaks otherwise.”
“What?”
She
glanced down. The bucket was little more than half empty. Something shined up
from the bottom, through the water, though it was too murky to tell what it
was.
“Go
ahead.”
She
looked up. The huntsman gestured with his head. “See for yourself.”
Slowly,
she knelt and ducked her hand into the slimy, cool water. A cold metal chain brushed
her fingertips. A jolt ran through her. It couldn’t be.
She
lifted the necklace from the bucket. Drops of water dripped off the red
crystal.
“Mother’s
necklace? But how – when – I didn’t –”
“None
of that is important,” he said quietly.
Natalia
looked at him, sharply, eyes rounding as her mind worked quickly. “This is a
setup. To make it look like you’re executing me for thievery.”
The
blank expression on his face was all the confirmation she needed.
“The
day Rose found this in the hall… it was meant for me.” Her chest hurt, like
someone had punched her.
“Lucky
for us she found it instead,” he said, sounding bored. “Execution was on the
menu, since the age of accountability is thirteen, and the Queen doesn’t
tolerate thieves. Then we found out your birthday was the next day. I suppose a
hammer is as good a punishment as any. You got off easy, if you ask me.”
The
chain dug into her palm as she fisted her fingers around the necklace.
“Got
off easy? Breaking my hand to bits because you couldn’t kill me for a crime I
didn’t commit is getting off easy?”
“Oh,
don’t get so worked up about it, sweetheart. It’s justice.”
“It’s
tyranny! Rose is eleven. A child. Your Queen’s idea of justice is breaking an
innocent child’s hand, without even giving her fair trial?”
“Be
thankful she wasn’t thirteen, or her head would have rolled on the spot.”
She
contemplated charging him, but thought better of it. He would have an arrow
through her heart before she could get close. Even then, the spell would
protect her from death.
All spells have
loopholes, and eventually they all come to an end
She
chewed on her lip, and took a step backward. The back of her knees bumped the
rim of the fountain, nearly toppling her backward into the pool.
“My
client will wonder why I’m taking so long.” He shut one eye, focusing down the
length of the arrow, narrowing his sight on her. “Fair well, Madame.”
She
sucked in half a breath before the arrow was released, whistling through the
air in slow motion. She bent her knees, ducking as it sailed through the space
her heart had been in precious seconds before. The arrow embedded itself in the
fountain with a twang. The huntsman
was already notching another arrow when she looked up, regaining enough of her
sense to fling herself to the side as a second arrow struck the ground in front
of the fountain, narrowly missing her right calf. Light footsteps sauntered
forward as she scrambled behind a tomb, peering around the corner as the tip of
a black boot came into view.
“You
cannot hide, little mouse. I will find you.”
He
stepped forward, and she scuttled to the other side, out of view completely.
“Why
make this any more difficult than it already is? As I said, it’s nothing
personal. I’m just a businessman.”
Her
breath was making too much noise. Hastily lifting the necklace over her head
and around her neck, she tucked the pendant into her bodice before clamping a
hand over her nose and mouth. Her heart was pounding so hard now it hurt. The
end of something long and brown poked out behind the tomb, a few feet away.
The
broom.
She
crawled forward on her elbows and knees, shuffling her weight around like a
snake. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she held her breath, reaching for
the broom.
“There
you are.”
She
didn’t turn around because she knew if she paused that long she would be dead.
The bowstring twanged, propelling another arrow forward, and she sprang out of
the way, grasping the broom in her hands and rolling upright along her
shoulders. She whirled, bringing the broom up parallel to the ground and using
it to catch the arrow meant for her heart.
The
huntsman cursed, firing again.
She
knocked the arrow to the side with the broom.
Another
arrow flew.
The
broom’s weight was skewed by the shock of bristles on one end, and she overshot
her block, skimming the arrow but not deflecting it completely. The tip of the
arrow head scraped her left shoulder, and she hissed.
Damnable
broom. Her father hadn’t passed on much knowledge of fighting with a staff.
What she needed was –
“A
sword,” she breathed.
In
front of her, about twenty feet away, was a tomb with a statue depicting the
person within. In its marble hands was a sword.
The
huntsman stepped in front of it, blocking her view, anger building on his face.
It
was her only hope.
She
charged, running straight for the huntsman. He shot at her, and she
sidestepped, bringing the broom up and above her head, and swinging it around
with a cry. It struck the huntsman in the temple, and he staggered forward from
the momentum of the blow. Natalia took her chance, dropping the broom and
yanking the sword from the statue’s grasp. The hilt felt at home in her hands,
all the nights of sword lessons with her father kicking in. She ran forward,
slashing at the huntsman’s ribcage while his arms were flailed, but he whipped
a dagger from his belt and knocked her sword away. Instantly, she came back,
slashing on the other side. He cursed, pitching the bow to the side, and
blocked her again, following up with a gouge, straight for her chest. She
knocked his hand upward and kicked, her foot landing square in his chest. He
bent forward with a choked gasp. She made a fist, pummeling it straight into
his face, which he managed to turn at the last second but not before she firmly
clipped his lip.
He
swiped at his mouth, blood smearing his fingers, and rolled his neck. “To hell
with making it a clean kill. You’ll regret that, bitch.”
He
came at her, gouging swiftly, one attack immediately following the last. She
kept the blade in front of her, vertical, knocking his blows to the side as he
drove her backward. His attacks were a flurry. She saw his knee coming up from
the bottom of her vision, but her eyes were too focused on the upper body
attack that she reacted too late. Pain blossomed through her abdomen, buckling
her over. Something caught her behind the knees and she went down, backward.
Cool
water rushed in, completely burying her beneath the surface of the pool, arms
outstretched to either side. The cold shocked her. The sword was wrested from
her grasp, right before two hands wrapped around her throat, both choking her
and holding her under. She kicked, and his grip loosened for a few seconds
until he shoved hard, forcing the rest of her body underwater. He stepped into
the pool, straddling her and pushing her head against the bottom. She bucked,
but he didn’t budge.
Stars
fired before her eyes, the huntsman’s white, teethy grin the only feature she
could make out on the blurry shape above the water’s surface.
She
felt it slithering in, a cold mist wrapping around her. When she slit her
wrist, she had not felt this.
Death.
It was coming for her.
All spells end
eventually.
She opened her mouth. “Rose!” she gurgled. Water
filled her throat, and she gagged, trying to spit it back up but it was already
filling her lungs. The stars in her eyes were fading to black, her strength
being siphoned away by the cold prickling in her skin.
Take back what is yours.
Seventeen-year-old
Snow’s life changed forever the night her stepmother, the Queen, sent
her huntsman to cut out her heart. Fleeing for her life, Snow runs to
the Silver Forest, a place as dangerous as it is enchanting, and begins
an adventure she could never have dreamed.
With no one at her
side but a rowdy band of carnivorous dwarves and an arrogant, rogue
prince who’s too handsome for his own good, Snow must confront the
challenge that’s been laid before her: Kill the Queen, and take back the
kingdom that should have been hers.
But if she is to succeed,
Snow will have to tap into a powerful, ancient form of magic, one that
may have been sleeping inside her all along.
A White So Red is a dark, sexy retelling of the classic fairy tale Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.
Violet McKenna is back for her
senior year at Winterhaven and thrilled to be with Aidan after a long
summer apart. But while their love for each other is as strong as ever,
their troubles are far from over.
Half-vampire, Brooke
Keller, rid the world of her worst enemy, only to find out the world's
most powerful vampire wants her dead. And this time, she's not only
fighting vampires, but a deadly disease that threatens to take her best
friend's life. 
The first two Blood Coven Vampire novels-now in one volume. 
