Read Online The Snow Vampire by Michael G. Cornelius - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael G. Cornelius
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knew that Alona’s words were more monologue than conversation, and since my own heart was shattering into a million infinitesimal pieces as she spoke, I felt it best to just keep quiet. “I could not abide a stout husband. Poppa isn’t stout. He isn’t quite thin, either, but he certainly isn’t stout.” Her brow wrinkled in thought. “I am not sure how to describe him.” She reached underneath her pillow and pulled out a stiff piece of paper. A letter, inscribed in an all-too-familiar hand. “He wrote me, though, with the dowry Uncle Sandor sent. Isn’t that sweet?” She was not holding out the letter for me to take, but I reached for it anyway. “Ferenc!” she gasped, pulling her hand back. “You cannot read this! It is private!”
“Of course,” I murmured, marveling at the fact that she and I hid Hendrik’s letters in the same space. I cleared my throat. “Many happinesses to you both, my sister,” I croaked, using the honored language all village brides were accustomed to hearing upon the revelation of such happy news. “I hope that your union brings you much joy.”
“Thank you, big brother,” she said. She could not hear the pain tripping off every blessing I uttered on her, nor could she read the rage in my heart or my hands. “I know it is silly of me to cry like this at such happy news,” she added, “but I suddenly realized that I could not remember the color of Hendrik’s eyes. And then I had a difficult time remembering the exact shape of his nose. Is his face round, or oval?” She was smiling brightly now, now that she was over her childish fears of marrying a man she did not know. “Silly, isn’t it? He was here for many weeks. But I simply cannot remember what he looks like. Not well, anyway.” With an impish sigh she wrapped her arms around my neck and firmly squeezed. I held her as tightly as she held me. Now that my face was clear from her gaze, my tears could flow freely, and they did, down my cheeks and dripping onto the sleeve of my shirt. She moved to break our embrace but I refused to let her go, wiping my eyes in desperation so that she could not see the anguish in there. Laughing, she tapped the side of my head with her open palm, thinking my grip was nothing more than a silly extension of one of our childish games. Finally, when my face was clear, when it was safe, I let her go.
“Thank you, Ferenc,” she said as she leapt off her bed and began to fold her quilt neatly. “Truly, I do not know what came over me.” She stopped, looking at me as if suddenly realizing I was in the room. “Why is it you came home from the mine so early?” she asked me. “Is there something you need?”
I shook my head, still choking back one last sob, and stood to go. “Green,” I said as I turned to leave her small, cramped room.
“What was that?” she asked. “What did you say, big brother?”
I turned to look at her. “Green,” I repeated. “Hendrik’s eyes are green.”
T HAT night, I poured all my feelings into a letter to Hendrik, pages and pages of hurt and betrayal and rage. And my love, yes, always my undying love. I did not need wait for his reply to know what he would say. Dearest , he would write, I ache to learn I have caused you such pain. But we both knew of this inevitability. This day was coming. It will come for you too, sooner than you imagine. It is safer this way. Two men, alone, might arouse suspicion. And besides, the empire is gripped with the fervor of war. You and I would be swept up, separated, and perhaps killed. I could not bear to imagine you in harm’s way. This way is safer. Please, my dear beautiful boy, it must be this way with men like us . I knew what he would write because he wrote variations on these same words with every letter he sent.
Still, I spilled my heart into what I wrote. I spoke of us, our glorious past, our unbearable present, and what, perhaps, could still be between us. When I was done, I read my letter over
“Of course,” I murmured, marveling at the fact that she and I hid Hendrik’s letters in the same space. I cleared my throat. “Many happinesses to you both, my sister,” I croaked, using the honored language all village brides were accustomed to hearing upon the revelation of such happy news. “I hope that your union brings you much joy.”
“Thank you, big brother,” she said. She could not hear the pain tripping off every blessing I uttered on her, nor could she read the rage in my heart or my hands. “I know it is silly of me to cry like this at such happy news,” she added, “but I suddenly realized that I could not remember the color of Hendrik’s eyes. And then I had a difficult time remembering the exact shape of his nose. Is his face round, or oval?” She was smiling brightly now, now that she was over her childish fears of marrying a man she did not know. “Silly, isn’t it? He was here for many weeks. But I simply cannot remember what he looks like. Not well, anyway.” With an impish sigh she wrapped her arms around my neck and firmly squeezed. I held her as tightly as she held me. Now that my face was clear from her gaze, my tears could flow freely, and they did, down my cheeks and dripping onto the sleeve of my shirt. She moved to break our embrace but I refused to let her go, wiping my eyes in desperation so that she could not see the anguish in there. Laughing, she tapped the side of my head with her open palm, thinking my grip was nothing more than a silly extension of one of our childish games. Finally, when my face was clear, when it was safe, I let her go.
“Thank you, Ferenc,” she said as she leapt off her bed and began to fold her quilt neatly. “Truly, I do not know what came over me.” She stopped, looking at me as if suddenly realizing I was in the room. “Why is it you came home from the mine so early?” she asked me. “Is there something you need?”
I shook my head, still choking back one last sob, and stood to go. “Green,” I said as I turned to leave her small, cramped room.
“What was that?” she asked. “What did you say, big brother?”
I turned to look at her. “Green,” I repeated. “Hendrik’s eyes are green.”
T HAT night, I poured all my feelings into a letter to Hendrik, pages and pages of hurt and betrayal and rage. And my love, yes, always my undying love. I did not need wait for his reply to know what he would say. Dearest , he would write, I ache to learn I have caused you such pain. But we both knew of this inevitability. This day was coming. It will come for you too, sooner than you imagine. It is safer this way. Two men, alone, might arouse suspicion. And besides, the empire is gripped with the fervor of war. You and I would be swept up, separated, and perhaps killed. I could not bear to imagine you in harm’s way. This way is safer. Please, my dear beautiful boy, it must be this way with men like us . I knew what he would write because he wrote variations on these same words with every letter he sent.
Still, I spilled my heart into what I wrote. I spoke of us, our glorious past, our unbearable present, and what, perhaps, could still be between us. When I was done, I read my letter over
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