Snow
It would be easier to show you, she’d said. Did that have anything to do with ‘secrets hidden until they’re seen’? Were they on the right track at all?
She didn’t want to look at Hunter. She knew what he’d say. He’d say they shouldn’t be trusting this person, that maybe they had the wrong idea about the clue, that maybe they should look somewhere else.
But Snow wasn’t buying it. She had a feeling about this place. It just seemed right. This whole time, from the moment she’d met him until right now, Snow had questioned her judgment every step of the way. But not this time. Molly seemed like their best hope of figuring this out and she wasn’t going to turn her back on her just because there was a risk. There had always been risk. And there always would be if she didn’t tackle the problem of the Queen head-on now when she had the chance.
She’d never forgive herself if she didn’t.
Molly led the way without commentary, down to the first level, then through a pair of sliding doors which only opened after she scanned her palm on the lock.
They headed down long winding corridors, following the librarian without comment as she took them deeper into the library. Then, they were at another set of stairs leading down. Molly went ahead without looking back and Snow began to follow, but Hunter grabbed her by the wrist.
He arched a brow at her, a silent question, a wordless ‘are you sure?’ and she nodded, pulling free of his grip and continuing after her.
The stairs down seemed to go on forever. Leading to another hallway, then another set of stairs. They had to be fifty feet underground by the time they reached the bottom.
Down here, the library wasn’t bright and gleaming surfaces. It was dark and dank, unadorned concrete on all sides, bare bulbs, dimming and flickering, water dripping from exposed pipes that ran along the ceiling. Now Snow was less sure. What could possibly be of use to them in this long-forgotten basement?
“No one knows about this,” Molly said. After so long of none of them saying anything, her voice sounded too loud, reverberating on the hard walls, echoing down the hall. “No one but the librarians, anyway. I could get in a lot of trouble for showing you, but…” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it, looking from the plain door in front of them back to Hunter and Snow.
“But you’re… you,” she said, as if that were an obvious argument to anyone’s objections.
Still, she looked nervous as she reached for the door handle, her hand hovering over the knob. Molly took a deep breath and pushed the door open on exhale, stepping aside as she entered to let them pass through.
Snow gasped, stepping into a shower of sunlight that filtered down from far above. The ceiling, dozens of feet above their heads, was made of glass, and a wall of warm humid air greeted them on the other side of the door. When she looked back over her shoulder, Hunter seemed as in awe of the underground greenhouse garden as she was.
Here, in the privacy of a secret garden, Snow tugged the shawl off of her head and let nature envelop her.
“He was a smart man, your father,” Molly said softly. The air was fragrant with fresh foliage and vibrant blooms. Nothing quite as wild or overgrown as the planet they’d camped on, but charming in its subdued nature. “He asked for the public garden for the people of the city, but this private one… He liked to come here and pay his respects to your mother.”
“My… My mo—” Snow struggled to get the words out, but Molly nodded just the same.
“Did you not know where her final resting place was? I thought you of all people…” She looked down at her feet.
Snow still couldn’t process what she was saying. This whole hidden oasis felt like stepping into another world and to hear that her father had visited this place. That her mother was… here…
“We had a tomb at the palace,” she said. “The funeral was there… It seemed like the whole Empire showed up over the next three months.” She wandered off down a cobblestone path, through tropical shrubs with long stalks and big waxy leaves. She touched everything, lost in the memory.
“The Queen destroyed it the same week my father died,” her throat closed, her voice breaking. “I always thought…”
“It was always empty,” Molly said solemnly. “I think he knew she’d prefer the privacy.”
Snow smiled at that thought. If the cottage was any indication, Molly was right. Her mother had always liked her secret getaways.
“So… she’s here? Still?” Suddenly, her heart wouldn’t slow down.
Molly nodded. “Just down that path and through the archway.” She pointed.
Snow practically ran. She knew she shouldn’t. Princesses didn’t do undignified things like that. But all thoughts of anything else fled her mind at the promise of being by her mother’s side again. She heard Hunter’s footsteps following, and then she reached the archway and skidded to a stop. Hunter stopped too.
She didn’t know why she couldn’t step beyond the arch, but she was nervous. She didn’t want to think of her mother being disappointed of what she’d become. All the un-princess-like things she’d done.
Hunter’s hand settled heavily on her shoulder and squeezed slightly. “I’ll give you some time alone,” he said.
She nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat, feeling tears already pricking at her eyes.
Beyond the archway, a fountain babbled merrily, flowering vines growing all over it and reaching toward the glass ceiling. She trailed her fingers along the edge of the stone basin, dipping her fingers in the water. On the other side of the fountain, there was a bench facing a bare patch of soft grass with a simple etched glass marker.
She tread carefully to the marker, like she was walking on thin ice that could shatter beneath her at any moment. She felt like the whole world would crumble under her with any step.
And then she knelt in the grass, the velvety blades tickling her through her clothes, her fingers disappearing in the thickness of it.
Here lies Adriana. Remembered by many, loved by all.
Snow sucked in a breath, her eyes watery and nearly overflowing. She traced each letter with her fingertip and looked back to the bench, where her father must have spent hours in his grief.
“I hope you’re not disappointed in me,” she whispered. “I know I’ve done things you would have said were inappropriate for a princess… but you never told me what was appropriate for a ruler. I hope… I hope I don’t let you down,” she said, stroking the grass absently. “Things aren’t like they were. They haven’t been since you…” She shook her head. “But I’m trying to fix it. It’s what you’d both want, I think. It’s what I want. It’s what the people want. I just wish you were still here. You always knew just what to say, just how to fix everything and make it better.”
A tear fell and landed on the back of her hand before running down into the ground. “But I guess it’s my turn now to know what to say and what to do. I know you taught me the best you could, I just wish we’d had more time.”
For years and years Snow wished she had a place she could talk to her mother. She’d spend hours thinking of all the things she’d say, all the questions she’d ask even though there wouldn’t be any answers. But now that she was here, now that she had the opportunity, she didn’t want to say anything more. She just wanted to be there with her parents.
After some time, she wasn’t sure how much, Hunter’s footsteps crossed the clearing. She didn’t have to turn to know it was him over Molly. She knew by the way he walked, by the presence he brought with him, by the way her heart fluttered before she’d heard anything at all. Her body knew it was him before her mind did.
The wooden slats of the bench creaked under his weight as he sat down.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She wanted to say yes, she wanted to nod and tell him she was fine, but she didn’t say anything. Didn’t move.
“Did I ever tell you about my mother?” he asked, his voice soft. Snow’s hand stilled in the grass and she turned her head enough that she could see him out of the corner of her eye. She shook her head just barely.
He nodded. “Well, she took off. When I was just a baby. Left Dad to take care of me by himself. Which, you know, basically meant I was taking care of myself as soon as I could manage it. Wasn’t Dad’s fault. He had a job to do. But I always hoped she’d come back. That she’d realize she made a mistake leaving us all alone. I thought about what it would be like to have her there when I was sick, to have her read me bedtime stories and tell me things would be alright when Dad came home too late and I was worried.”
Snow frowned, already knowing where this was going.
He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “She never came back. Never wanted to, I guess. Dad always said family life didn’t agree with her, but he didn’t like to talk about it. I think he felt like he’d failed somehow. When the Queen forced me into the Guard, I looked her up. Found out she’d spent over a decade hopping from planet to planet, never really putting roots down anywhere… Then she got stuck in a quarantine. Asanin plague. Wiped out whole worlds, you know?”
She swallowed, nodding, stroking the grass again as tears filled her eyes. This time, they weren’t for her or her mother, but for Hunter. And the mother he should have had and the one he got instead.
He stood and joined her on the grass, lacing his fingers through hers. “The point is… Your mother loved you Snow. I know you didn’t get enough time with her, but she really loved you. And I know she’d be proud of you now. You should have no doubt of that.”
Her eyes drifted back to the glass marker, her tears receding. Somehow, hearing Hunter say it made it truer. Made it real.
“I know,” she finally said, her voice barely more than a squeak.
Hunter nodded his head back towards the bench. “They’d both be proud of you.”
She smiled, looking down at her lap. “Yeah…”
He lifted her chin then, gazing deep into her eyes with that golden gaze that seemed to see to the very center of who she was, and he smiled back. “I know I am.”
The weight lifted from her chest and she threw her arms around his neck, burying her head in his shoulder as she hugged him tight. For a moment, he was still, frozen in her arms, but then his arms circled around her and held her even tighter to him.
“Thank you,” she said. “And I’m sorry about your mom.”
His hold on her tightened even more. “Don’t be. She’s not worth it.”
But you are, she thought, her heart thudding against her ribcage with each beat.
The light from above began to fade, shadows creeping across the garden, growing longer and longer until whole portions of the place were bathed in darkness.
Snow cursed, pulling back from him. “How long have I been sitting here?”
“A few hours.”
She cursed again. “I shouldn’t have wasted so much time. We have to get to the palace before she…”
“Turns my heart into pulp? Yeah, that would be nice,” he teased.
She shoved his shoulder, rolling her eyes at his cavalier attitude.
“What happened to Molly?” she asked. He shrugged.
“Went back a while ago. Told me we could have as much time as we need,” he said, dragging her into him again, kissing the top of her head.
Things had been… tense since they left the planet covered in flowers. Even that seemed like an understatement. But in that moment, in his arms, Snow wanted time to stop. She wanted to forget about everything going on around them. The danger they were both in. The uncertainty about the future. She just wanted to be with him and enjoy the moment.
If things didn’t go well… They might never get this chance again. It pained her to think about it, but it wasn’t something she could ever forget. A lead weight on her heart, dragging her down with every step.
She knew all too well how fleeting these moments could be. She remembered how someone you loved could be there one minute and gone the next. And she hugged him tighter, pressure gathering behind her tear ducts.
But it wasn’t over yet, she told herself. He wasn’t gone yet. There was still a chance — however slim — that this could all work out in their favor. She just needed to trust.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. She was sure he was going to tell her to stop worrying, to not be sad, to keep her chin up. All those Hunter things that she loved so much. He had so much faith in her, even when it meant risking everything.
He brushed her hair behind her ear and bent to whisper into it, “Snow, look.”
The way he said that, slightly breathless, she couldn’t deny him. She lifted her head from where it was buried in his shoulder and gasped.
In the waning light of the day, the flowers came alive in another way. Not like those on their last planet, with clouds of sleep-inducing pollen. These flowers were glowing.
“They’re bioluminescent,” she said, awed, extracting herself from Hunter’s arms to caress the petals between her fingertips. “Hunter! They’re bioluminescent!” she cried, not sure whether to laugh, cry, dance, or collapse.
Hunter gave a nervous chuckle. “Uh huh. I heard you the first time. So?”
“So it all makes sense now! It’s here! It wasn’t in the other garden she tore up. It’s been here all along!”
He cocked a skeptical brow at her his head tilted to the side. “Snow, I—”
But she was too excited to explain or listen to his questions. “The flowers of the past bloom when it’s darkest; don’t you see?” she asked, waving her arms around at the garden surrounding them. “Flowers of the past…”
Realization dawned on him finally and they both stood there grinning at each other like fools.
“But how will we know where it is? Only some of the flowers are glowing, but there’s a lot of them,” he said. “Which one?”
She raked her teeth over her bottom lip, staring at the flowers that glowed in bright blues, greens, and purples. It almost seemed like magic.
“Wait…” she said, going from one flower to the next, then the next after that. “They’re lighting a path!” She laughed again, turning her eyes up to the glass ceiling. “You really were smarter than the rest of us,” she said, shaking her head with a smile. Then she took Hunter by the hand and dragged him behind her, following the path of the lighted flowers.
It ended at a patch of flowers that looked entirely ordinary and unimpressive in the light of day. They’d passed right by it earlier without sparing it a glance. But in the cover of night, the entire patch glowed enough to cast them both in a bluish underwater kind of light.
“It’s gotta be here,” she said.
Hunter nodded and dropped to his knees, digging into the earth with his bare hands.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Snow asked, slightly horrified as the glowing blooms were torn from the ground and cast aside, their light fading.
“How else do you expect to get it out?”
She wavered a moment more before she dropped to her knees and helped him.
After a few minutes of digging, her nails scraped against something hard and she worked frantically to free it.
“Here!” she said, pulling the box from the ground and sweeping the dirt off of it.
The metal box didn’t look like anything special, plain on all sides, its color impossible to discern in the dark, covered in dirt. The hinges were rusted enough that she couldn’t manage to pry the lid free and wound up holding the base of the box while Hunter forced it open.
Inside, there was a glass vial with a rolled-up piece of paper and a flattened disc the size of her palm. The disc — or rather, the device — had only one button in the center, the rest of it unadorned. No lights, no instructions. Snow passed it to Hunter and he slipped it into his pocket as she tipped the contents of the vial into her hand.
The paper slid free, and with it, two small pieces of metal clinked to the ground. It was almost too dark to read it now that they’d ripped up so many of the flowers, but by leaning in close to their glow, Snow could make out the smooth even writing that had belonged to her father.
I wish I could have done more for you. Use this well. We will always be with you.
He hadn’t addressed it to her and he hadn’t signed it, but Snow had no doubt who the letter was from and whom it was meant for.
“I guess that’s it,” she said. What had she expected? Some detailed plan for how to take down the Queen? She hadn’t even really been in power yet when the King left this note. He’d only had a suspicion that things might not be going well. Only an inkling his bride wasn’t what she appeared to be. And before he was able to stop her himself, he’d died.
No one believed it was a coincidence.
“Not quite,” Hunter said, fishing the bits of metal that had fallen from the vial out of the soil. “Here,” he added, dropping the pair of rings in her palm.
Snow’s hand closed into a fist, squeezing her parents’ wedding rings until the edges bit into her skin and hurt. We will always be with you.
“We should go,” she said, standing and brushing the dirt from her knees. “We’re running out of time.”