Read Online The Snow Vampire by Michael G. Cornelius - Free Book Online Page A

it so important to be heard, I would have stomped around more loudly,” I said. It was a lame attempt at humor, but the small smile that parted Alona’s countenance showed that, if nothing else, the effort was appreciated. I moved to place a consoling hand on Alona’s back, but I could not quite come to complete the action. Biting my lip, I chose a different tactic. “What is wrong?” I asked, uncomfortable with the question but knowing it to be the only one to ask. I was more used to defending my sister outside, amongst the other children in the village. If someone were to insult her or hurt her in any way, there was her big brother, his own temper flared and his fists raised in threat, though seldom, if ever, in actual use. That was how I was used to dealing with Alona’s heartaches, with a sharp word for those who had caused it. And truth to be told, such instances were inconstant; Alona was pretty, and merry, and kind, and childhood scraps never held sway for long.
    Alona was still dabbing at her eyes. “Oh, it is nothing,” she said. “Really, it is a happiness. I do not know why I am carrying on so.”
    “Well, if it is a happiness,” I said, utterly confounded as to what Alona could be referring to, “then you should rejoice, and make cheer, and not cry.” The advice sounded as absurd as I felt in giving it, but it was the best I could do.
    Still, Alona smiled at me through her tears. “You are right, of course, only… only I didn’t really notice him when he was here. Not in that way. Of course, I saw him as one would see any boy—any man—but really, I didn’t quite notice him. Not as a wife should notice her husband, anyway.”
    At the word “wife” I felt every nerve ending in my body go instantly numb; my hands shook, my lower lip trembled, and my stomach raced to the bottomless pit now forming in my guts. I suddenly felt an urge to cry myself, though I would never do so in front of my sister. “Alona,” I said, quite deliberately, choosing each word carefully, “what are you referring to?”
    “Hendrik,” she said. “We are to be married, he and I.” She said this casually, as if it was a simple matter of fact, as if she and he were the only two people in the world, and their union was simply the logical outcome of such a deprived population. She said his name without passion, without ardor. “I know it is silly of me to go on like this,” she said, a small laugh now replacing her tears. “I only found out this morning. Mamma and Grandmamma told me, after you and Poppa had left for the mine, and after the dowry was received. I wonder what it was? I never thought to ask….” She trailed off. “I was so excited when they told me. Imagine, me, a bride. I’ve been picturing my dress all day. White, of course, and with Mamma’s veil. And flowers in my hair. Do you think it too decadent to have flowers in my hair?”
    “No,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
    “Just a few,” she said, not listening to anything I would have to say anyway. “White flowers to match my dress. And this is what I thought of all day, until, just suddenly, it occurred to me that I am to be married.” She stopped to gaze at me with a look that spoke of both amusement and dread. “It is odd, perhaps, but when they told me, I thought only of me, of what I would wear and how it would all be for me. I never thought of him.” She hugged the quilt close to her body now, and one of her slender fingers traced the blue stitching absently as she continued. “Of course, he is handsome. A bit short, perhaps, but nice to look at. And smart. He likes to read. And Mamma says he will be kind. Do you think he’ll be kind?” She did not pause for an answer. “He isn’t much like Poppa,” she mused. “Then, he isn’t like his own father either. Do you think he’ll become stout, like Uncle Sandor?” I could not imagine my Hendrik in any other way but the perfect picture I saw every time I closed my eyes, but I