had named it _cottage_ and because they loved her, he could abide the change of terms.

"Good day today, brother?" the one with the red beard said as he passed.

"So far," Leader said. "Enough gold to justify another day of digging."

"That's not what I mean."

"Oh?"

"You'll turn gray from the worry I see on your face. You've got wrinkles on your wrinkles this morning."

He laughed, a coughing sound laden with rock dust. "I'm thinking about Snow."

"We all do. She's quite a beauty."

He shook his head. "Not like that. Something's wrong. There's a darkness growing in her and I fear we can't stop it. It's an ill wind, brother, and I fear for her safety."

"She's fine. The Queen thinks she's dead."

"The Queen is not a fool. She knows more than wethe mirror. "I've witnessed all my own mistakes, all the secrets that my father tried to hide from me."

"He hid them for a reason."

"Not a good enough one." She turned in her seat, the curves of her lithe body accented by the draping of her garment. I saw the hate in her face then. It had been tamped down and hidden for a long time, but now it seeped to the surface and darkened and deepened every line. "You feel like a fool, don't you?"

"Yes. I should've started off looking closer to home for the enemy."

"That's what I had to do," she said.

"Your father wasn't your enemy. Neither was Portman. Or me."

"You all were," she said. Her voice was tight and bitter. "You just didn't fully understand it.