Read Online Sneaky Snow White (Dark Fairy Tale Queen Series Book 2) by Anita Valle - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anita Valle
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My mother! I want to sob at the sight of her elegant face. I never thought I’d see it again.
She looks unhappy. The Mirror makes me understand she is grieving because she can’t have a child. The first two died within her. She sits on a bench of black ebony wood, next to a bush stripped by winter to nothing but branches. Something catches her eye. A single rose blooms on this bush, red as a cherry, and sprinkled with snow. I can feel my mother’s thoughts. She doesn’t want the rose to die in the cold and so she tries to pluck it from the bush. But in doing so, she pricks her finger. Three drops of blood fall into the snow. My mother gazes at the beautiful red spots on their frosty carpet of white. The drops of blood glitter, bright as rubies, and my mother realizes her blood contains magic.
Carefully, my mother scoops up the droplets. Shutting her eyes, she closes her other hand over the blood and snow. “I wish I had a daughter with skin as white as snow, hair as black as ebony, and lips as red as blood.” When she opens her hands, the droplets are gone. My mother smiles, knowing that somehow, her wish will come true.
So that’s how I got my name. She never told me. More importantly, I know now that my mother possessed magic. It lived inside her blood. I wonder if the scary lair was once hers and if she added her blood to the spells to make them work. It makes sense. I doubt there’s magic in my blood, though. I have never seen it sparkle like that. But The Mirror’s message is clear. There is magic within me. I simply have to discover where it lives.
~*~ 27 ~*~
Three weeks pass without a hint of rain. It doesn’t matter. That curse won’t work until I find the magic within me. If it exists at all. Meanwhile, I’m happy with The Mirror’s company.
It shows me wonderful things. Scenes from my days as a small child when my father would kiss the tip of my nose. My mother stroking my hair and singing while I slept in her lap. Climbing into the lap of my grandfather and laughing when he tickled my face with his beard. I remember what it’s like to have a family. To feel complete.
But not everything I see is enjoyable. The Mirror shows me savage arguments between my mother and father. He wanted another child, a boy to rule the kingdom. My mother, who nearly died bringing me into this world, did not. She insisted I could rule the kingdom just as well. My father wouldn’t listen. He even grabbed her collar and shouted in her face. She would have a son or she would go to the devil! The crown had always passed to the male heir.
I’m beginning to miss my father much less.
As for Cinderella, she’s well enough now to get out of bed. She wears a simple blue dress from the wardrobe of Hunter’s mother. It looks good on her. When the babies aren’t wailing, she tidies up the cottage, sweeping floors, even washing the dishes. And she looks happy. She begins to stitch tiny garments for the babies, and judging by the style, I think they’re both girls. I didn’t know Cinderella could sew.
She talks to Hunter an awful lot. Sometimes The Mirror lets me hear what they’re saying. Cinderella tells him about her wicked stepmother who treated her like a servant. Hunter speaks of his family and the shame he always felt in having brothers that were thieves. How he hopes one day they will follow his example and choose to work for a living.
He never told me that.
Then there’s one evening when Cinderella is sitting on her bed while the babies sleep beside her. Hunter comes in with a small cake of some kind. He rips it in two and gives half to Cinderella. A few crumbs drop onto his vest, so he brushes them off with his hand. As he does, the top button of his vest snaps off and bounces across the floor. Hunter laughs as he retrieves it, holds it up to show Cinderella, and slips the button onto a shelf.
Cinderella puts her cake aside. She gestures at the button and speaks with a sweet smile. Hunter stares at her,
She looks unhappy. The Mirror makes me understand she is grieving because she can’t have a child. The first two died within her. She sits on a bench of black ebony wood, next to a bush stripped by winter to nothing but branches. Something catches her eye. A single rose blooms on this bush, red as a cherry, and sprinkled with snow. I can feel my mother’s thoughts. She doesn’t want the rose to die in the cold and so she tries to pluck it from the bush. But in doing so, she pricks her finger. Three drops of blood fall into the snow. My mother gazes at the beautiful red spots on their frosty carpet of white. The drops of blood glitter, bright as rubies, and my mother realizes her blood contains magic.
Carefully, my mother scoops up the droplets. Shutting her eyes, she closes her other hand over the blood and snow. “I wish I had a daughter with skin as white as snow, hair as black as ebony, and lips as red as blood.” When she opens her hands, the droplets are gone. My mother smiles, knowing that somehow, her wish will come true.
So that’s how I got my name. She never told me. More importantly, I know now that my mother possessed magic. It lived inside her blood. I wonder if the scary lair was once hers and if she added her blood to the spells to make them work. It makes sense. I doubt there’s magic in my blood, though. I have never seen it sparkle like that. But The Mirror’s message is clear. There is magic within me. I simply have to discover where it lives.
~*~ 27 ~*~
Three weeks pass without a hint of rain. It doesn’t matter. That curse won’t work until I find the magic within me. If it exists at all. Meanwhile, I’m happy with The Mirror’s company.
It shows me wonderful things. Scenes from my days as a small child when my father would kiss the tip of my nose. My mother stroking my hair and singing while I slept in her lap. Climbing into the lap of my grandfather and laughing when he tickled my face with his beard. I remember what it’s like to have a family. To feel complete.
But not everything I see is enjoyable. The Mirror shows me savage arguments between my mother and father. He wanted another child, a boy to rule the kingdom. My mother, who nearly died bringing me into this world, did not. She insisted I could rule the kingdom just as well. My father wouldn’t listen. He even grabbed her collar and shouted in her face. She would have a son or she would go to the devil! The crown had always passed to the male heir.
I’m beginning to miss my father much less.
As for Cinderella, she’s well enough now to get out of bed. She wears a simple blue dress from the wardrobe of Hunter’s mother. It looks good on her. When the babies aren’t wailing, she tidies up the cottage, sweeping floors, even washing the dishes. And she looks happy. She begins to stitch tiny garments for the babies, and judging by the style, I think they’re both girls. I didn’t know Cinderella could sew.
She talks to Hunter an awful lot. Sometimes The Mirror lets me hear what they’re saying. Cinderella tells him about her wicked stepmother who treated her like a servant. Hunter speaks of his family and the shame he always felt in having brothers that were thieves. How he hopes one day they will follow his example and choose to work for a living.
He never told me that.
Then there’s one evening when Cinderella is sitting on her bed while the babies sleep beside her. Hunter comes in with a small cake of some kind. He rips it in two and gives half to Cinderella. A few crumbs drop onto his vest, so he brushes them off with his hand. As he does, the top button of his vest snaps off and bounces across the floor. Hunter laughs as he retrieves it, holds it up to show Cinderella, and slips the button onto a shelf.
Cinderella puts her cake aside. She gestures at the button and speaks with a sweet smile. Hunter stares at her,
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