Snow White (Enchanted Fairytales) (8 page)

“This is amazing,” she exclaimed.
“I thought I’d seen amazing, hanging around here, you know? But this . . . this is unbelievable. So gorgeous.”

“Is it?”
Philip
murmured. “I can’t see it. But the sound, can you hear it?”

“It sounds like water,” she said.

Philip
smiled. “Close your eyes and listen.”

Snow didn’t want to close her eyes against the beauty, but did so anyway. It sounded like water, just like she’d said. “I don’t hear anything,” she said. She jumped when
Philip
’s hands took her upper arms. Her eyes shot open in surprise.

“Then you’re not listening right,” he said. “
Keep your eyes closed
and open your mind. Just listen.”

Snow shru
gged and slid her eyes closed—s
till
water. She waited,
Philip
’s hands
warm
on her arms, the shadow of his body behind hers. She turned her mind back to the task of listening.

Somewhere in the distance she heard an occasional tinkling, like rain dropping on a crystal glass. She f
ocused on the sound. W
here
did it come from?
As soon as she gave
it
her attention,
the sound increased. The tinkling
multiplied, growing louder, sounding nearer. And then the sounds rearranged themselves into a rhythmic order until it
was
a song.

Snow gasped and
Philip
squeezed her arms. “You hear it, don’t you?”

Snow slowly opened her eyes
. Sight didn’t
make
the
music
disappear.
She watched the sparkling water fall as it sang to her. It was almost overwhelming, the sight and sound combined. On impulse, she spun and threw her arms around
Philip
’s waist.

“Thank you,” she cried. “Thank you for showing me this. It’s . . . unbelievable.”

When she’d thrown her arms about him, his hands had lifted from her and now hung in the air. Realizing what she’d done, Snow felt embarrassment climb her cheeks. She mov
ed to pull away
but
his hands came down on her shoulders, hesitant at first, then slowly sliding across the middle of her back until
t
he
y met in the middle of
her back.
There he stopped, holding her loosely, tentatively.

Snow felt the nervous tenseness in him, and it occurred to her that it might have been several years—or centuries even—since he’d been hugged. She remained still, waiting for him to be the first to break away. Instead of doing so, his arms tightened
, crossing tightly over he back,
and his head dropped until his cheek was resting on the top of her head.

They stood that way for long minutes, or it could have been hours since time meant little here, before he loosened his grip. The
y
moved apart and Snow looked up at him. The look on his face nearly broke her heart. He looked fragile, emotional, almost as if she
were to touch
him
,
he’d shatter.
Then he smiled and his face changed, becoming exultant.

“This is my favorite place to come,” he said, “Even more so now.”

Snow was glad he couldn’t see her red cheeks.

*****

“Prince
Philip
is having a ball!”

Snow turned at
the excited voice. When she saw
it was Coy who had burst into the house, shouting the news, she was surprised. He rarely spoke above a whisper. As he looked at her, he seemed to realize what he’d done and immediately shrunk back, cheeks flaming, eyes downcast. He probably would have retreated from the cottage if
he hadn’t been forced in by th
e other enthusiastic men.

They all talked excitedly—well, all but Grouchy. He mostly grumbled about it, arms folded tightly. Snow finished wiping the counter and
hung the tow
el up. She’d been cleaning for The Seven
—that was something she knew how to do well from living with Katarina. And they needed the help. Seven men living together . . . it was a full time job cleaning up after them. Plus, it freed them up to
work longer at their own job cultivating the fruit trees.

“Is it unusual for him to throw a ball?” she asked when there was a break in their chattering.

“Unusual?” Grouchy repeated sarcastically. “He’s never held one before.”

“Really? I wonder why he’s having one now.”

Grouchy raised a brow at her. “I think I can guess why.”

Six additional pairs of eyes from six now quiet men turned to her.

“Ah-ha,” Blithe said, as if it hadn’t occurred to him.

“What?” Snow asked, spreading her arms wide. “It has nothing to do with me.”

“You spent a lot of time with him yesterday,” Grouchy said.

“That’s true,” Medic agreed.

“Is she the one?” Sneezer asked before letting of three powerful sneezes.

Their eyes all jumped to Sneezer before returning to her. “
The
one
what
?” Snow asked.

Glances between them before Medic finally said, “The one to finally cause Prince
Philip
to throw a ball. We’ve been waiting a long time.”

Snow just stared at
him. Something wasn’t right. She didn’t think he
spoke
the truth. Maybe they’d been hoping for someone to come along to what? Be his princess? She shook her head. She didn’t want to stay if she could avoid it.

Still, the idea brought back the memory of standing in his arms, the waterfall singing behind them.

*****

The S
even
all
took Snow to see Stitcher, who, not at all oddly, was the seamstress in Fableton.

“I’ve been very, very busy,” said the frazzled woman
who led them into the back where she kept all her bolts of fabric. Snow looked at them, wondering where in the world they got all of it from. “The excitement of the ball, and all. Everyone needs new outfits. I suppose that’s why you’re here.”

Snow felt bad for adding more work on the harried Stitcher, until Stitcher glanced at her. Snow saw the gleam of excitement in her eyes, the grin that turned up the corners of her mouth.

“What else would we be here for?” Grouchy grumbled.

Blithe shot a hushing look at Grouchy. “Whatever help you can give us would be very much appreciated,” he told her cheerfully.

“It won’t be elaborate, but it’ll be serviceable,” she mumbled, stacking bolts of fabric in each man’s arms. Three bolts each for, “Trousers, shirtsleeves, and jacket,” she said.

Snow didn’t know anything about fashion or sewing, and yet even her unpracticed eye could recognize that the bolts Stitcher handed them fit them perfectly. The colors and patterns of the materials matched the man’s personality and coloring impeccably.

Snow wandered around, fingering some of the fabrics. She came across a bright, shimmering gold and stopped.
It looked like spun gold but with the texture of fine silk.
She pulled the end piece up and held it against the front of herself
.

“No, no, no, that’s all wrong for you.” Stitcher snatched the fabric from her and Snow’s heart dropped. “I have just the thing . . . now, where did
I put it . . .” Stitcher
search
ed
through the bolts of fabric as Snow followed her.

“Where does it all come from?” she asked.

Stitcher didn’t even hesitate in her search. “Where does what come from?”

Snow swept her arms around the room. “All of this fabric. I mean, after so much time, you’d have to be running out.” Stitcher threw her a questioning glance and Snow realized she might not have been here as long as
Philip
. “I mean, if you clothe all the people of Fableton, sooner or later it’ll run out, right?”

Stitcher continued in her search, shaking her head. “No, it’ll never run out. It never does. Every morning when I come in, any fabric I used the day before has been replenished. Sometimes new ones appear when I haven’t even used any.”

Snow didn’t think anything else about Fableton could surprise her, but this did. She was about to comment on it when Stitcher threw her hand triumphantly into the air. “Ah-ha!” Snow jumped at her loud exclamation. “There it is.”

She pushed her rolling ladder over to a hig
h stack of material and
climb
ed up
. Snow wasn’t sure how she could see
anything up on the stack
. She pulled something from the top of the stack and climbed quickly back down.

“This is for you,” she said, thrusting
two
bolt
s
at Snow. Snow
looked down, awed. One of the materials was sapphire blue, the same color as the waterfall. The second was ice blue and as the light caught it, it threw off sparks of li
ght that looked like prisms of
diamonds.

“It’s perfect,” she breathed.

“Of course it is,” Stitcher said as if she were offended that Snow questioned her. “Now go away and come back tomorrow for your fittings.”

“Tomorrow?” Snow asked.

“I’m very busy,” Stitcher reiterated. “I can’t have them done today. Now
go, shoo, shoo,” she said,
practically push
ing
them out the door. Snow shook her head. She hadn’t been asking Stitcher to finish them today, she’d only been surprised that Stitcher could have all eight outfits finished by tomorrow. Then again, Stitcher’s tomorrow could be different than Snow’s tomorrow.

*****

Snow and The S
even walked
the short distance to the castle—or at least it seemed much shorter now that she’d taken the trip a few times. The castle, normally brilliant on its own, was even more glorious lit up for the ball. Candles were placed across the expanse of lawn, giving the impression the stars had fallen from the sky and landed on the Earth. Lanterns lined the walkway to the doorway that spilled yellow light out into the night.

Snow’s stomach tightened as they neared the door. She’d never been to a school dance, let alone anything titled a
ball
. She could only hope no one expected her to dance and reveal her two left feet.
Not that she was in danger of being asked. Other than The Seven who seemed to look upon her as a sister, none of the guys who lived in Fableton had taken an interest in her—maybe because they were almost all taken. She got along well enough with the women, but the men seemed to avoid her.

As she stepped into the castle with her arm linked through Dim’s, she gasped. Almost everything within the castle was blue and silver, lighting up in an ethereal glow in the thousands of candles that lit the interior. The flickering of the candles made it appear that everything was sparkling.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“Awesome, huh?” D
im asked, and Snow smiled
. Dim loved everyone and everything—except the berries—and was never tiring to hang around. Not like Grouchy who could get on her nerves with his gloomy disposition or Medic who constantly analyzed everything. After living her life with the constant harsh judgments of Katarina, Dim was a nice break.

They were announced by a man at the door who Snow hadn’t met before, as if anyone needed to be announced. Didn’t everyone know everyone? They moved down the wide, curving stairway. Many people turned to stare and Snow felt self-conscious. She supposed it was natural since she was the newest citizen of Fableton
—in a very long time, no less.

As they got to the bottom of the stairs, Dim tugged on her arm to get her attention. “Lookie,” he said, turning her to the right. There, Snow found herself faced with a large mirror that started somewhere above her head and ended at the floor. It was the first time she’d seen herself in
full in
the amazingly lovely creation Stitcher had made.

When Snow had picked up the dress,
she’d been astounded
. It was far more beautiful than any of the prom dresses she’d ever seen back home. It also had a cut that reminded her of a fairytale p
rincess.
But now, looking at it in the mirror, she realized she hadn’t given it enough credit.

The ice blue fabric was just sheer enough to give a hint of the sapphire blue beneath. But even better, it caught the light being thrown by the candles and glinting off the colors of the room, turning it into a prism. Dim lifted her hand and spun her in a circle. The dress threw off sparks of light that gave it the appearance of being covered in diamonds. It reminded her strongly
of the waterfall, minus the music of course.
She laughed, unable to help herself. Luckily it was Dim standing next to her, so he joined in her gleeful laughter without comment or question as to why she laughed.