Snow
Like Moses walking into the red sea, the whole crowd parts the moment Moira steps out of the limo. With her long hair slicked back, her high-cheekbones making her eyes hollowed out, I can’t tell if she looks beautiful or just plain scary.
During my time in the palace (which seems like a lifetime ago right now), I learned how to be around here, but I never became accustomed to it. There was always an oppressive aura around her, as if her wickedness somehow sucked the light in. And now, wearing a long black dress that trails after her, I can almost understand why grey clouds have gathered in the sky to block out the sun.
As she looks straight at me, contempt written all over her face, I feel my blood freezing inside my veins. The whole crowd has gone silent as well, and even Gladrell seems to be scared of the Queen. She’s the kind of woman that’s as beautiful as she’s terrifying — the kind that would make you believe in magic. The evil kind of magic, that is.
Flanked by two lines of military men, all of them wearing black uniforms that scream out private military, she starts walking toward the stage. Even though everyone was screaming out bloody murder just a few seconds ago, her sole presence has been enough to whip out the courage of anyone in the crowd.
Even I can’t help but feel shaken up. I don’t know what it is, but the woman walking toward me is no longer just a woman — she has become something more. Something as twisted as it’s evil. Fairy tales might not be real, but evil witches sure seem like a thing.
“Hello, Princess,” she greets me casually the moment she walks up the stairs. Looking at me with an half-smile, you’d say there’s no bad blood between the two of us.
“Moira,” I reply, my heart tightening up into a fist.
“I see you’ve been busy,” she then says, her eyes wandering to where Richard and William stand. Even though she’s surrounded by thousands of people that would rather see her dead than with a crown on top of her head, she looks more than relaxed than me at a day spa.
“Do the right thing, Moira,” I force myself to say, balling both my hands into fists. “Renounce. Renounce and leave with whatever honor you still have left.”
“Oh, you’re one to talk about honor, Snow,” she chuckles, covering her mouth with the palm of her hand. Without taking her eyes off mine, she simply reaches out with her right arm, and someone places the mic right into the open palm of her hand. Finally turning to face the crowd, she opens up into a smile.
“Is this the woman you’re hailing as your savior?” She starts, casually waving her free hand at me. “Princess Snow,” she chuckles, and she does it in such a way that I can’t help but feel embarrassed. “Such a lovely name for a whore, wouldn’t you say?” The whole crowd starts buzzing at that, a few people exchanging confused looks.
“That’s right — your lovely Princess, paragon of justice and all that’s right, is a whore. But not everything’s bad,” she continues with a laugh, one that makes me feel as if I’ve shrunk to half my size. “At least she’s a prolific one. I mean, sleeping with seven men...? I’ve gotta hand it to you, Princess. You sure don’t like to waste any time. But, really, who would listen to a strumpet like you?”
I stand there, just looking at her completely stunned. Then, glancing at the crown, I feel relief washing over me — everyone’s still looking at Moira, a kind of righteous wrath in everyone’s faces. People don’t seem to care about my sex life, as crazy as it is.
“Well, Snow, it’s all over for you,” Moira tells me, opening her hand and simply throwing the mic onto the floor. Walking toward me and completely ignoring both Richard and William, she simply snaps her fingers and her small army of hired muscle locks in on us, their rifles all pointed at me. “Come with me, Princess.” She offers me her hand, almost as if she’s inviting me for a walk, and I feel pure unbridled rage start to take over me. Who the hell does she think she is? “It’s time for you to spend some time in a cell, don’t you think? I’ll give you enough time to think about what you’ve done and regret it. And then, it’s the noose for you. Or perhaps something slower. Yes, I like that. But don’t worry, I’ll tell your father all about the painful death you had.”
“I’d shut my fucking mouth if I were you,” William tells her, stepping between me and her. With his jaw clenched, he looks ready to break Moira in half; and if it weren’t for the dozens of rifles pointed at us, I’m pretty sure he’d really do it.
“Oh, is this one of your boyfriends, Snow?” Moira laughs, her eyes running up and down William. I feel my fingers twitching, and I have no idea how I restrain myself from slapping the living daylights out of her.
“Yes, he is,” I hiss through my gritted teeth, allowing all that rage out. Taking one step toward her, my eyes locked on hers, I let it all flow through me. “You’ll never get away with this. Did you think you could simply stroll into the throne room and place the crown on your head? You’re nothing, Moira. Just a wannabe dictator, playing a game you can never win.”
In the distance, a low rumbling sound starts making itself heard; no one turns their heads to look, as the sound of thunder has been echoing steadily now, but I find a smile lighting up my face as I see a tiny black spot in the horizon, slowly moving in our direction.
“And who says so? You?” Moira laughs.
“No, my friends will be the ones explaining everything to you,” I smile, pointing over her shoulder at the black US Apache helicopter flying overhead. “The US military would like to have a word with you, Moira.”