Dark Snow White (Grimmoire Series)

Part VII

Virgil knew what hard work was, he’d worked almost everyday of his life for as long as he could remember. Working in the mine was tough, but getting clean was even tougher. During his time, he’d learned the value of washing behind his ears and had to get dirt out of places one should never have to reach. Down by the dimly lit river, Virgil was cleaning, but for a different reason. 

Mineral run off from the cave had a sterilising effect on the water in the river - another nice benefit of living in RedCrest. By day the water was so clear, you could see to the bottom easily. Tonight though, under the moonlight, the river was diluted. Red. Blood. Snow White’s blood.

Virgil had torn off some of his clothing to use as a make-shift wash cloth to wipe the end of the pickaxe. He scrubbed and scrubbed, but the blood wouldn’t come off.

He would have been able to work faster if he wasn’t so panicked. After he had peeled himself away from the wall of the cave, he managed to stop thinking about the events that had transpired. His mind had wandered and fear had set in. 

It wasn’t what happened that bothered him now, it was the thought of what would come next. The waiting. What would Snow do? What would she say? Would he be in serious strife?

* * *

“Oh, it was just a little accident,” cooed Snow.

Snow was sitting up in bed with her injured foot propped up by some pillows. She was quite calm about it, Floran was not.

“Accident?” he said in disbelief, “That runt could have killed you.” “Talbot looked over her very carefully, she’s fine,” insisted the Queen, “aren’t you dear?”

“Oh yes,” said Snow, “I feel awfully silly about all this trouble. Besides I have been generously compensated for being so put out.” Snow twirled her necklace, which housed the red jewel hung inside a small, cage-like enclosure. 

“Curious,” said the Queen, “I’ve never in all my years known the Dwarfs to freely give out the Kingdom’s jewels.” “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything,” replied Snow.

“She must rest now,” said Floran to Eleanor. “Of course,” said Eleanor, turning to Snow, “Many blessings to you, dear” Eleanor thought that was a convincing show of warmth. Snow smiled, Eleanor left, but remained outside. 

She overheard the two talking, unfortunately muffled by the door. After some exchanges Floran emerged from the room.

“Did you want something, mother?” he asked. Eleanor took Floran’s arm and lead him down the hall. “Once she’s better, I think its time we ask her to leave,” said Eleanor pensively. 

“What are you talking about?” asked Floran, yanking his arm from his mother’s grasp. “She fled here because her home town is in the midst of a war -”

“- So she says,” interrupted the Queen. “Why would she make that up?” asked Floran pointedly. “People have their reasons. Money, power, desperation,” shot back Eleanor.  

“Everyone likes her, including me, what’s the problem, exactly?” Floran demanded, becoming quite annoyed. “I just think its time for her to go before things get out of hand,” reasoned Eleanor. 

“I’m trying to make her feel more at home... and you want me to ask her to leave?” said Floran, dumbfounded. “You’ve changed so much ever since she arrived,” said Eleanor, with a tinge of sorrow in her voice. “I don’t remember who I was before she came here,” replied Floran.

Eleanor realised this was a losing battle. “Never mind,” said Eleanor, hand on Floran’s shoulder, “I suppose I’m just not used to having someone new around.”