Red as Blood || A Snow White Retelling

Chapter Ten - Most Good Kings

Another late chapter, I am so sorry guys. First, I had little to no inspiration, and then I got caught up with family matters. And then Hurricane Harvey came in and drowned my town. And now I have job. Needless to say, it's been an interesting summer. Nevertheless, I hope y'all enjoy!

"So . . ." Beck mused. "What is she, again?"

I sighed, watching my breath puff out in a pillow of white steam in front of me. The Hunstman and I had been on the move for most of the day, and I had spent that time telling him everything I knew about Snow and what she was. That didn't mean he understood it, however, and had asked that same question three times already. The most frustrating part was that I had no clear answer for him. I knew vaguely of what she was, and only what Thayer had told me. But I couldn't tell him anything of substance, such as how to kill her or how she became that way. Although I had a decent guess on the latter that I wasn't willing to share . . .

"I don't know, entirely." I told him, furrowing deeper into my cloak. "Krithanian legend doesn't give her kind a name."

"Everything has a name." Beck said, pushing aside an ice encrusted tree branch so it wasn't in his way.

I had no retort for him, so I kept my mouth shut. I knew very little of Krithane and her legends. I had always focused more on the present because that's where the issues a Queen had to fix were. I suppose I should have given those books Thayer had lent me all those months ago more than a glance after all.

"This must be difficult for you." He said suddenly.

I blinked, looking through the fur that lined my hood at him. "What?"

"Well . . . having to kill your daughter can't be easy."

I snorted a laugh. "Snow is my stepdaughter, Huntsman."

"Oh . . . That, um, makes more sense." He muttered. Was it my imagination, or was he embarrassed?

"I married her father when she was still young." I explained. "Twelve, I believe. Her own mother had died several years before from some illness that almost killed her as well, if I remember correctly."

"So her father, your husband," Beck spelled it out for himself. "He doesn't have any problems with you doing this?"

A dark chuckle threatened to bubble up from my chest, but I squashed it down. "The dead don't get much of a say in what the living do. But no, he doesn't mind. He asked me to kill her before he died."

A thick silence settled between our horses. Indeed, nothing could be heard in the frozen forest save the clopping of hooves and the slow creaking of icy, bare branches. I spared another look over at Beck, and was surprised to see what seemed like anger flicker over his face. Even as it passed, he gripped his reins tightly.