As I was the new queen she was expected to wait upon me with the rest of the ladies at court, and I picked her—always her, to help me undress, get dressed. I revelled in the heat I saw rising in her when she saw my naked body. Her gaze was always drawn, as by an invincible force, to the coppery hair at my crotch, the swell of my breasts—nipples puckered and hardened before her eyes.

I had Snow White watch while the maids oiled my skin, spoke to her about everyday things: dinners, hunting parties, weather, cakes, and smiled inwardly each time she lost the thread, licked her lips, shifted on the floor beside me. Then I let her lace my dress.

“How beautiful you are,” she said in her sing-song voice. “You hair is so red, your eyes are so green … like emeralds, almost.” She smiled her lovely smile.