Free Poison by Sarah Pinborough

hers, soft and sweet and so far from the taste of the forest, before she could stop him. His tongue pushed against her protesting one for a long moment and then she broke free. She stared at him, panting slightly, and for the first time she looked like a young woman rather than a queen.
    ‘I can taste it on you,’ he said.
    ‘Bullshit.’
    ‘Not exactly royal language.’ He laughed aloud, unable to stop himself. ‘Dragged up in the streets, were you, before the king found you?’
    ‘You know nothing about me,’ she spat at him. ‘Nothing.’
    ‘Except that you are filled with sadness.’ He grabbed her arms and she struggled against him, but he held her firmly as he pulled her close. She wasn’t really fighting him, he knew that. She was fighting herself. She had magic. If she wanted to stop him, she could no doubt kill him where he stood. He’d be helpless against her. That excited him further. Danger had always been his Achilles’ heel. He leaned forward to kiss her again.
    ‘You revolt me,’ she said.
    ‘You prefer your fat, old king?’ he whispered. He kissed her again, tenderly this time, and the tension eased in her arms. Her hard shell was cracking. Her hot mouth tasted of fresh orchard apples. This was not love, he knew, not even a hint of it in the meeting of their lips, but it was a release they both needed. His body ached. He was tired. And he wasn’t out of the woods yet. This woman, this strange queen would strike him dead if she wanted to.
    He broke away to breathe, blood pumping loud in his ears. She was not trustworthy, but she was beautiful and sensuous and aloof. She was different to him in many ways, that was true, but they were both predators. He watched her for a moment, her head tilted slightly backwards, her pale breasts rising and falling fast within the constraints of her dress. Her eyes were shut, and he was surprised to see a tear squeeze out and run like a winter stream down her pale face. He wiped it away with his rough fingers.
    ‘Just make her go away,’ the queen whispered, as his hands reached for her corset laces and freed her hot skin. ‘Just make her go away. I have no choice anymore.’ With her eyes firmly shut, she kissed him back and pulled him to the ground. For a while, the stag and his past adventures, and the killing to come, were entirely forgotten.
    * * *
    It didn’t take him long to track Snow White. People were creatures of habit and her horse’s hooves had scored their mark in the paths leading into the thickest part of the forest at the base of the mountain. Even without them to guide him he’d have searched that way. The dwarves were her friends and the dwarves lived at the base of the mountain within whose guts they toiled for such long hours. She came this way each morning and left each night to head back to the castle. Animal tracks never lied.
    The sun was hot as it cut through the canopy and he glanced up occasionally to scour the branches for ravens, but he hadn’t seen a single one since he’d left the city walls behind, hidden on the back of a merchant’s cart. Perhaps the queen’s control over the birds had a physical limit. Still, he didn’t relax. There would be soldiers behind him before long and there was no doubt she’d have doubled the patrols on the borders of the kingdom. Whatever moment they’d shared – and she’d been so cold about it when they were done that he’d almost thought it was a dream – no trust had come with it.
    There had been no affection in what they’d done. The strange beauty had kept her eyes closed from start to finish, murmuring words he couldn’t quite make out as he explored her body and took his satisfaction from it. It was the huntsman’s way until true love found them, but this time he was the one who came away feeling awkward afterwards. They had used each other – there was no denying that – but he knew that she had used him more. If she’d had any respect for him beforehand, there was