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Two sisters find themselves on the opposite sides of a magical war, and in competition for the heart of the Dark Elf guardian of the forest in this trilogy retelling of Snow White & Rose Red from USA Today bestseller Anthea Sharp.

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White as Frost - CHAPTER TWO

The coach came to a halt before Castle Raine’s front steps, which were flanked by ivy-covered stone walls beneath the pewter sky. My skirt was still marked with green smears from the crushed ferns, and I hoped the king wouldn’t notice. Mama had said nothing for the remainder of the journey, only worried at her handkerchief and spent the time glancing between me and the endless forest outside.

As soon as the coachman opened the door, I jumped from my seat and down from the coach, which was overfull of my mother’s fretful, unsaid words.

Feet planted on the blue-gray cobblestones, I took a deep breath. The air smelled of horses and damp and wood smoke. My gaze went to the man and girl waiting at the top of the dozen hewn stone steps leading to an impressive arched entryway. The two of them seemed to tower above me, the castle rising steeply at their backs as if to say keep out.

The man—the king, judging by the gold circlet on his brow and his cloak of rich blue velvet—gave me a quick nod. His stern eyes were set in a face that seemed chiseled from stone, and I was glad his attention didn’t linger on me. After that brief glance, he focused on the door of the coach, where Mama had yet to emerge.

His daughter, however, looked right at me, her stare so dark and intense I felt it down to the soles of my feet.
We were too far away for me to determine if strange magic lurked in her eyes, but even without that knowledge, I had to admit she was a trifle alarming. Not just in the fierceness of her gaze, but in her entire demeanor. Her skin held a strange pallor, so white it looked as though she’d used a whole tin of rice powder on her cheeks—but her paleness was natural, not artificial.

In contrast, her lips were shockingly red, a deep scarlet as though smeared with fresh blood. For a moment I wondered if she’d been eating pomegranate seeds. But no, this color, too, was a natural part of her.

Her long hair, the deep black of a raven’s wing, was pulled back from her face. In addition to her strange coloring, she had high cheekbones and slightly tilted eyes. I could not tell if she was pretty, or hideous, or merely the strangest girl I had ever seen.

“Tobin!” my mother cried as she stepped out of the coach.
Lifting her skirts, she rushed up the steps in a froth of lace and lavender silk. I followed, far less gracefully.

“Welcome, my dear,” the king said.

He opened his arms and let Mama throw herself into his embrace. I glanced to one side. It was uncomfortable to see my mother being affectionate with a man. She kissed him upon the lips, then drew back, turning to the girl at the king’s side.

“And this is your daughter, Neeve?” Mama asked.

“Yes,” the king said.

“What a pretty thing you are,” my mother said, her voice ringing false to my ears. “I am so delighted to join your family. I’ve brought you a sister. Come, Rose.” She beckoned me to join her at the top of the stairs.

“I don’t want a pretend mother. Or a fake sister.” The girl’s voice was cold as ice, and I hesitated, one foot on the top flagstone.

This princess seemed free to voice the kinds of thoughts I’d always worked hard to keep to myself. I didn’t know if I admired or hated her for it.

“Neeve.” Her father’s voice was cold. “We have spoken of this.”

Resentment flashed across her face, but she bowed her head, as if in agreement. I could see the gleam of her eyes, though, and there was nothing dutiful in their expression.

“This is Rosaline,” my mother said, hauling me up to stand before her.

“Lord Raine.” I gave him my best court curtsey, only wobbling a tiny bit. “Miss Neeve.”

I curtseyed to her, too, but she seemed to take no notice, and certainly didn’t return the favor. Either we would become friends, or the bitterest of enemies.

I hoped it would be the former, and resolved to do what I could to win this strange princess over. Life trapped in this dreary castle was going to be hard enough as it was.

Lord Raine gave me a tight smile, then held his arm out to my mother. “Come. Your rooms are ready. I’ll have the servants bring your things and help you settle in.”

“That would be lovely. Let me tell you about our journey…” My mother launched into a stream of inconsequential chatter, and Neeve and I fell into step behind them.

The great iron-bound doors of the castle swung open, like a beast parting its jaws, and I couldn’t help but shiver as we passed over the threshold. It was no warmer inside the stone walls than it had been outside in the mist-laden air. Our footsteps echoed through the great hall.

Empty fireplaces stood on either side of the long room, and the walls were draped with dark tapestries full of figures clashing in scenes I couldn’t quite make out. Neeve walked like a shadow beside me. In the dimness of the room, her dark cloak and hair made it seem as though her face was floating in midair, a disembodied specter of a girl.

“We’ll need more candles in here,” my mother said. “Is it always so chilly in the summer?”

“I do not spend much time in the great hall,” Lord Raine replied. “But you may do as you see fit. You are now the lady of the castle.”

Neeve let out an annoyed huff, and I slanted a quick, sideways glance at her. Two spots of color stood on her cheeks, as bright as if they’d been painted there. I found this evidence of emotion reassuring. She was, indeed, made of flesh and blood and not a ghost girl.

Not that I’d really thought so, although according to Mama my imagination was ever my downfall. It seemed our mysterious new home would give me ample opportunity to exercise it. There are secrets here, the voice inside me whispered. You must discover everything you can.

Lord Raine led us up a wide, curving staircase. The treads were worn in the middle with shallow depressions, and I wondered how many pairs of feet had trodden up and down over the centuries. I had not thought the castle would be so old. In truth, I had not really thought about the castle at all, and Mama had been no help.

Two months ago, she’d swept into the airy parlor of our apartments in Parnese and announced that she’d just married a king. Despite my abundance of questions, she would say little about him, or the country we would be going to, or even her reasons for marrying him.

“Darling, isn’t it wonderful?” she’d said. “Now go and think about what gowns you want to bring with you. I’m told the weather in Raine is cooler than here, so plan accordingly.”

Always annoyingly vague, Mama had outdone herself this time. Though perhaps she’d known little more than I about the kingdom we were about to call home. After several evasions, I’d stopped questioning aloud, though the need for answers still gnawed at me.

Now that we were here, perhaps I’d finally learn why. My mother was impulsive and self-serving, but marrying a king and whisking us off to the far corner of the map was a bit extreme, even for her.

Lord Raine led us down a chilly hallway. Oil sconces lining the walls cast flickering shadows, and my heart beat fast, half with fear, half with excitement. I snuck another glance at Neeve pacing beside me, but her pale face was unreadable. The notion that we might be friends shriveled a little more, but I was determined to try.

“Here are your rooms, Arabelle,” the king said, halting before a wooden door carved with stags. “I hope you find them comfortable.”

“Of course I will.” Mama opened the door.

I peered around her to see a small parlor with a fire crackling on the hearth. The bedroom lay beyond, a huge four-poster bed hung with tapestries visible through the half-open door. A hulking wardrobe on the far wall was framed by windows that looked out upon gray skies and dark evergreens.

I wondered if there was anything but trees in the whole kingdom.

The king turned to his daughter.

“Take Rosaline to the east wing,” he said.

“I’m not to be near Mama?” I asked, suddenly bereft.

I’d not fully considered what it meant, now that my mother was married. I was no longer a priority in her life—not that she’d ever treated me as much of one, leaving me mostly to my own devices. But still, my rooms had always adjoined hers, and I was not yet so grown that I welcomed her absence. She had ever been there for me, in her own distant way.

This, though, I had not foreseen.

“Now, now.” Mama patted my shoulder. “It’s time for you to be more independent, Rose. Follow Neeve, and I’ll see you at dinner.”

More independent? I scowled at my mother. More abandoned, it felt like.

Seeing my face, Mama relented slightly. She bent and laid a perfumed kiss on my cheek. “I’ll come and visit your rooms this evening, shall I? You can show me everything.”

I gave her a short nod, then turned on my heel and trudged to where Neeve was waiting. Without a word, she led me around the corner. We traversed two more long corridors before she finally halted in front of a door carved with twining roses.

“Here,” she said, then turned away.

“Wait.” I caught her sleeve, not wanting to be alone. “Are your rooms nearby?”

Her dark gaze met mine, the nearby sconce pricking twin flames in her eyes.

“Two doors down,” she finally said, grudging me the information.

I let go of her and she stepped out of reach, still regarding me.

“Why don’t you come in?” I turned the wrought-iron handle.

“I’ve seen them,” she said, her voice cool. “I’m acquainted with every room in the castle.”

“Then you could be my guide.” I gave her a tentative smile, which was not returned. “At least show me a few things. Is there a water closet nearby, a bathing room? What do I need to know?”

She let out a wintry sigh. “Very well.”

I felt like I’d won a small victory. Befriending Neeve seemed a daunting task—and a worthy enough one to quiet my wicked voice. Besides, I hadn’t seen any other alternative to utter loneliness. But perhaps the castle servants had children—provided my new status allowed me to make their acquaintance.

I’d always had playmates and confidantes, met while running about in the park or splashing in the lazy bend of the river. It was a simple thing for me to make friends, and I loved my companions dearly, especially laughing Paulette and clever Marco. We’d wept bitter tears when we parted, and I promised to return as soon as I came of age and could direct my own future.

Run away, my little voice had suggested. Stay in Parnese and let your mother go to Raine without you.

Had I been few years older, I might have done that very thing—but she was still my family, and I’d seen what had happened to orphans on the street. It was not a good life.
With Neeve at my shoulder, I pushed the door open to see my new accommodations.

Like my mother’s rooms, my suite consisted of a sitting area and a bedroom beyond. A coal fire smoldered in the hearth in the front room, which also held two chairs, a small table, a writing desk, and an empty set of shelves, presumably waiting for me to put my things upon them.

True to the carvings on the door, the rooms inside were decorated with a rose theme. Someone had no doubt thought it amusing to put me in this suite, but I didn’t mind—especially as the flower motif wasn’t overly fussy. Indeed, I doubted anything in Castle Raine could be frivolous. The weight of the stones would smother anything too gaudy, and the cool, musty air would do the rest.

“This is pleasant,” I said, filling the silence. It was plain that Neeve wasn’t going to say much of anything. “I like the green carpet, especially. Let’s go see the bedroom.”

I pushed open the connecting door, glad to find several large windows along the far wall. The lack of light in the corridors made me uncomfortable.

A four-poster bed, smaller than the one in Mama’s rooms, dominated one side of the bedroom. Dusky pink curtains were drawn back, revealing snowy linens and a duvet covered with a pattern of embroidered leaves. At the foot of the bed stood a large wooden chest, and to the side was a table holding a washbasin and pitcher. Across the room, a wardrobe took up most of the far wall. The mirror in the door gave back a wavery reflection of two girls—one pale-faced and inky-haired with a red slash of a mouth, the other with sun-bronzed skin and kinky red-gold hair whose lips seemed the palest rose in comparison.

“We’re the same height,” I observed, pleased at the notion.

Neeve’s eye’s narrowed. “We have nothing in common. Don’t make the mistake of thinking so, etrannach.”

“Don’t call me names.” I swung about to face her, hands fisted on my hips. “Take it back, whatever you said.”

She blinked at me, a flash of surprise crossing her face. Likely she was unused to being challenged—but I refused to simply stand there and let her call me something filthy.

“It only means foreigner.” Her tone was less sharp, and I guessed it was as close to an apology as I would get.

“Still.” I unclenched my hands and smoothed my skirts. “I’m to live here now.”

“Yes.” She did not sound glad of the fact.

Her gaze went to my left hand, and I belatedly realized I’d just revealed my flaw.

“What’s wrong with your finger?” she asked. Yet another demonstration that she wasn’t overly concerned with politeness.

In a way, her candor was refreshing. If she didn’t want to pretend to ignore my too-short finger, then I wouldn’t have to try to conceal it. I stripped off my gloves and held out my left hand for her inspection.

“I’m missing parts of it.” I wiggled my pinky at her.

She looked at the stub, her expression as still as glass. “Were you born that way?”

“No. When I was seven, there was an accident.”

“What happened?”

I pressed my lips together. “I don’t remember, and Mama won’t talk about it. But it doesn’t matter. I can still use my hand without any problems.”

The arrival of two servants carrying my trunks interrupted our conversation. As I directed them to set the luggage beside the wardrobe, Neeve took the opportunity to sidle to the door.

“I’ll show you to the dining room when it’s time for dinner,” she said.

Without waiting for a reply, she was gone. I tried not to let her abrupt departure bother me.

“Sorche will be up soon to help you unpack,” one of the servants said.

“I don’t know who that is,” I said forlornly.

The man straightened and gave me a look of rough sympathy. “She’s to be your maid. Don’t fret, youngling. She’s a kind girl, if a bit untried.”

I’d never had a maid. Even if this one wasn’t very skilled, at least she would be someone to talk to.

“Thank you.” I nodded at the servant.

With a quick bow, he and the other man left. They gently shut the door behind them, and I was alone. How I yearned for my friends. Instead I was stuck in a set of rooms far away from Mama, my only prospect for a companion a strange, sharp-edged girl who didn’t seem to like me at all.
With a heavy heart, I went to the window and perched on the window seat, cushioned in green velvet. At least I had a view of the sky and forest. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass and sighed. My breath made a mist, blurring the scene outside.

Something moved in the deep shadows, and I sat up, scrubbing the glass clear with my sleeve. Had that been the outline of an animal skulking through the woods, or a cloaked figure?

Heart thumping in my chest, I scanned the evergreens and ferny underbrush. Small white flowers starred the mosses, and I noticed that the forest stopped several yards from the castle walls, as if something invisible kept it at bay.

For several long minutes I stared at the Darkwood, but nothing else stirred except the restless wind in the branches.