White As Snow

By Lisa Driscoll

I trudged down the aisle, eyes on the ground. I could not face the countrymen who stood on either side of me, judging. Instead, I counted their shoes. Twenty-nine people to witness my fate.

I slowed when my father’s calfskin-covered feet came into view. Beside him, the monstrous boots of my betrothed rested in the snow. He was a stranger, but I placed my shaky fingers in his hand. Instead of observing the ceremony, I examined a piece of the snowy hair that trailed over my shoulder.

A stab in my ankle interrupted my thoughts. I twisted to find Mother ruffling my dress.

“Pay attention!” she whispered.

I nodded; she relented.

“We gather today…” The priest murmured.

“Are you well?” my betrothed whispered.

I stole a glance and gasped. A man did not stand before me, but a beast; one impossibly taller than my father. His crooked nose snaked above a thick, heavy beard. A pair of surprisingly kind eyes that resembled truffles soothed my worries.

The ceremony finished in a blur. My father raised his glass. “Salutations, kind folk! After the sorcery that turned my Eira’s hair white as snow, no one thought she would marry. It is fortunate that Meurig selected our daughter. Hear ye!”

The villagers cheered. “Hear ye!”

The night ended in a flash. Arm in arm, Meurig escorted me to a carriage on the road.

I stole a glance back as we departed. Thankfully, Meurig sat on the opposite bench. I avoided his watchful eye and gazed at the stars, burning the image to memory.

The carriage halted. I frowned—Meurig’s village was days away. “Why are we stopping?”

“We are here.”

Here?

I exited the carriage and landed in a blanket of snow. The wind whipped through my skirts, and I fell, but Meurig caught me with a gentle arm.

I followed him as we plowed toward a cave in the side of a travertine wall. It was drafty, but warmer than the wind outside. Meurig lit a torch and gestured forward.

We traveled in silence down a narrow tunnel. Soon, a golden light appeared around the edges of an opening.

Meurig paused in front of it and turned, grabbing my shoulders. “Eira, I’ve not been honest with you.”

I tried to lean away, releasing a whimper.

Concern swept over his face. “Forgive me. I mean no harm.”

“Then what do you mean?” I stammered.

He pointed. “You see the light? That is the way to our home.”

I eyed him with suspicion.

“Place your hand in the light. Then you will understand.”

I shook my head, uncertainty clouding my thoughts.

“Eira, I know you cannot remember, but I am your king. Once, we ruled a mighty kingdom that has now fallen to our enemies. Many moons ago, those enemies snatched you from our home, placed you here as a peasant’s daughter, and erased your memories. I came to bring you home to save our people. They need you… They need their queen.”

A laugh escaped me. I’d expected a barbarian, not a lunatic.

“Eira, please.”

His brow furrowed with such earnestness that I swallowed my laughter. To appease him, I reached one finger into the light.

An explosion of warmth radiated through my body. Flashes of another life filtered my vision: jewels, castles, villagers who loved me.

I recoiled. The visions vanished into the cave’s shadows, but the warmth and love lingered in my soul.

“Eira, we need you…” Meurig murmured.

“What of my family here if I go?”

“They will have no memory of you. They are not even your true family…”

I thought of the coachman. I could return to him, claim my new husband had sent me away. Would he believe me? Would he take me back home to the familiar life I knew?

“Eira, I can see you struggle to remember. Your hair is proof. They say it turned white, but your hair was always this way. A girl from the village here ran off with the farmer’s son that night—she fell in the lake, not you. Her soul did not survive, but our enemies brought you here and put you in her place, marring the villagers’ perceptions so they believed you to be the dark-haired girl they knew.” Meurig’s eyes softened. “I know you have doubts; you have her memories instead of your own. The enemy hid yours, lest you remember and come save us.”

I was confused. How could I prove Meurig’s truth unless I followed him? And if I believed him, I would lose my family, my home, my life. Forever. But perhaps it was all a lie.

Suddenly, a memory sprouted from my subconscious.

It was dark the night I fell into the lake. I crawled to shore, my fingers raking through frozen mud. As I lay dying, a deer wandered into view, so soft and peaceful in the moonlight, before loud footsteps scared it away.

I could not see the man who found me. He remained silent as he dragged me by my feet through the woods. Sharp branches scored my face, hair ripped as it caught on ice. I shrieked and kicked until exhaustion overtook me. I was hauled to a clearing and left with the stars. Cassiopeia dazzled the brightest. It was too beautiful a night for pain, but my body stung from head to toe.

A swish awoke me when he returned. As he neared, I recognized the calfskin boots. Before I could speak, my father dragged me home by my snow-white hair.

I sank to the cave floor and stared into the light. Perhaps… perhaps truth really was waiting on the other side.

“Eira?”

At last, I met Meurig’s eyes. “Let’s go home.”

He helped me upright, his arm supporting mine gently. Yet it felt right—like we belonged in this position, side by side.

I did not look back as we stepped into the light.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lisa Driscoll believes that every human possesses a share a gift with the world. At age twelve, discovered her gift for telling stories. Although she loved books and the library, the world told her to be somebody else. So she worked in advertising, while writing in her spare time. One day, she remembered her gift and shared it with the world. She was published in Harness Magazine and is currently working on her debut novel. She plans to continue spinning magic with her stories for many years to come.