Snow White and the Seven Souls

There in the courtyard stood Ambrose, holding Snow firmly in his arms. The pinch of his fangs, which had felt sharp to Snow at first, now moved into the background of her awareness. A hazy numbness began to fill her body as the blood was emptied from it.

If left to his own devices, Ambrose could have finished the princess off and abandoned her corpse, much as her own mother’s body had been cast aside that desolate November night. The Princess, however, had been missed at the ball. According to the King’s command, every available servant and loyal subject was at that very moment discreetly searching the palace for her.

Dalor, the palace librarian, was the one who found Snow prostrate in the courtyard. He did not see that anyone was with the Princess when she collapsed. Ambrose had heard the approaching footsteps of the aged scholar, and had disappeared before Dalor could see him.

The poor man’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of the young lady, lying there forlornly as she was with her neck bleeding. It was an all too familiar sight for him, as he had helped the physician to deal with Queen Yori’s body. He counted it as good fortune that unlike the events of three years ago, Snow was conscious. She was barely aware, but she was able to speak enough to stop Dalor from sounding the alarm.

“Bring me my necklace,” she said. “I do not want anyone to see me like this.”

He did as she bade him to, for the item remained close-at-hand on top of the well. Even in the darkness it shone and glimmered. Dalor knelt beside the princess. Helping her to rise to a sitting position, he watched as she tried to fasten the jeweled collar herself. “Let me help you,” he said, seeing her struggle. Once the collar was fastened it hid the recent damage to her neck, save for the rivulets of blood that had trickled down her skin.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

Snow nodded painfully. “Somewhere quiet, please. Out of the way. Where my father will not hear of it.” Dalor was troubled by the latter request, but he obeyed his princess nonetheless. He surmised that she did not want to trouble the King on his wedding day.

Dalor had the Princess take his arm and led her to his own chambers, which were about as far from the activity of the ball as possible. He took a washbasin and a soft sponge, and carefully cleaned her wound and the surrounding areas. He worked silently until there was no sign of injury that could not be concealed by the grand necklace.

“Are you... quite alright, Your Highness? Would you like me to fetch the Captain of the Guard?” Dalor inquired, clearly concerned about her wellbeing and the security of the palace.

“No, calling the Guard will not be necessary. I would swear you to secrecy, in fact. I shall be well again once I have rested. I fear that it was my own mistake that led me to this injury. Any fool would have taken better precautions than I... As such, I do not believe that this is a matter for the Guard. Or the King. Am I making myself clear?” Snow did not really believe that this was her fault. She was not feeling well at all, and was thinking only of what to say to keep this man from spreading the word about what had happened.

“Y-yes, Your Highness,” Dalor agreed, despite desperately wanting to beg her to reconsider. To think of what happened to her mother. But he did not. It was not his place to question Snow’s decisions.

Dalor was not an unsophisticated man, though his life was orderly and predictable. He cherished books and intellectual discoveries. He had, in years past, even spent some time as a tutor for young Snow and the other palace children. While never having had a family of his own, he enjoyed helping others to grow through the information that was found in Elkendor’s vast library. He had faithfully served Snow’s family all his life, and he was not about to stop now.

At her request, Dalor inconspicuously escorted Snow back to the wedding party. The guests were bidding her father and stepmother farewell as they streamed out of the ballroom to return to their homes. The Princess joined the King and Queen in sending them off, taking care to stand straight and not to let her exhaustion show.

The librarian, for his part, returned to his chambers where he dug out the book that he had kept hidden there for three years. Under a pile of less sinister items, he found the Book of the Undead.

--

A knock at the door woke Dalor, and he found that the book was resting open on his chest. He had fallen asleep reading, and his dreams had been filled with images of ghouls, ghosts, and vampires. Hurriedly he closed the leather-bound volume and covered it with a blanket.

“Coming!” he called, moving towards the door and opening it. “Your Highness,” he said, bowing when he saw the Princess standing in the doorway. “I did not expect to see you again--I mean, please do come in.” Dalor moved aside to allow Snow entrance.

“Indeed, I did not know that I was going to see you, either. I was out walking and my feet led me here. It must be fate.” She did not sound like herself at all. Though her words were innocent ones, they sounded sepulchral. A death-knell that only the librarian could hear.

Snow looked around the old man’s chambers. She took in the dusty draperies, the well-worn reading chair by the empty fireplace, the disorderly desk strewn with papers. There was a musty smell about the place, and it seemed that the rumpled bedclothes had not been washed in ages. “Something is missing,” she said cryptically.

“Um, what do you mean, Your Highness? Is there something I can get you?”

“I wonder if there is...” The slight curving upwards of one corner of Snow’s lips spoke volumes to Dalor. In his long life he had seen much the same smile on other faces. It appeared just before people gave in to some dark temptation or other. Before they scratched an itch that they knew they really should not even touch. It was a smile that said, “Perhaps Ineedthis, after all...”

“What are you thinking of, if I may ask?” Dalor tried to bring Snow’s thoughts into the open, to make her say what she was contemplating doing. Perhaps then he could talk her out of it.

“It is not something that I can put into words. Not yet... Just a feeling. I think something is wrong with me, Dalor.” The little smile had vanished, and the Princess was as serious as a tax collector. She moved closer to him, and he backed away instinctively.

“I command you to stay where you are,” Snow said, keeping eye contact with her prey. Good subject that he was, and under the power of her newfound sway, Dalor stopped his retreat.

“But, Your Highness... surely...” Fear coloured his words with hesitation and pleading. It seeped out of every pore.

There was a distasteful gurgling sound as Snow took an unpracticed bite out of the librarian’s throat. He said no more.