Page 6 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
“Don’t I even get a cup of tea before I’m forced to take up my daily duties?” I chime indignantly.
“You’ll be taking tea with the queen. Apparently, she’s ’ad all yer favorites made.” Melly shoots me a look out of the corner of her eye. She knows as well as I that my mother only treats me to these elaborate breakfasts when she’s trying to soften bad news.
I blow out a breath of defeat, disturbing a piece of white hair that’s already slipped loose from its bindings. “Very well. I’ll snag you something yummy.”
“Don’t come back without something dripping in honey!” she calls after me. “And one’a those wee pink flowery cakes!”
“Of course, I always do.”
“Aye, ye do.” Melly smiles, and I do my best to return it, though it falls flat as I head toward what feels like doom.
My stomach tightens at the uncertainty of what my mother will have to say. But I’m in no place to argue with whatever she asks of me. It’s my duty to adhere to the rules of our court. Payment for the years of this lavish, royal life I’ve led. Not that the reminder quells my anxiety any. We shall see what Mother says. It’s off to my destiny, and something tells me I’ll need the extra sweets to help swallow whatever is in store for me.
Snow batters the glass roof of the greenhouse, trying and failing to steal breath from the warm air that maintains this room’s year-round summer feeling. Frost creeps along the edges of the panels, each newly formed crystal clinging to the last, building on itself until an intricate design has taken shape along the firm glossy surface. I’ve always found such beauty in ice. I stop at the nearest wall, placing a palm against the glass. The chill of the smooth surface spreads across my palm. I do worry for my animal friends when the weather turns cold.
“There’s my beautiful daughter.” My mother rounds a large mimosa tree, looking as elegant as ever in her ivory gown. Every auburn hair is neatly in place, plaited to perfection beneath her ruby and pearl crown. Such warmth radiates from her smile. Shehas the ability to make you feel so whole, so seen. “You look tired, my dear.”
The table is laden with so many different dishes that there is hardly enough room for our cups and saucers. The news must be even worse than I thought.
“Alas, I have recently become a vampire,” I hiss dramatically, shielding my eyes. “Which means whatever bad news you’re about to deliver would be better given to someone still among the living.”
Her delicate, diamond-covered hand reaches toward me in invitation. I take it, allowing her to pull me to the small tea nook nestled beneath a topiary of lush, purple Browallia blossoms. “And do vampires still favor lavender tea?”
I sigh, sitting. “Indeed. Lavender tea is a favorite of the living and the undead alike.”
She smiles. I’m lucky to have a mother who finds my strangeness endearing instead of off-putting. My mother pours our tea, adding two sugar cubes and a splash of cream to mine. Breathing deeply, I inhale the fragrant lavender scent. This is my favorite tea. It’s made from lavender grown here in our gardens.
“Thank you.” I toy with the small teacup handle. I’ve always thought this was an unusual place for her to ponder her daily contemplations. This particular greenhouse panel is far larger than the others, with a perfectly framed view of the one place the entire kingdom is banned from entering.The dark forest. Its unusual, foreboding energy can be felt even from this great distance.
As children, we’re all taught about the tragedy of the dark forest and the day of its making. I still remember when my mother shared the story with me. I was told the tale while sitting in this very spot.
“Legend says there was a young maiden, a servant girl who worked here in the castle. Blinded by greed and a desire to riseabove her station, she made a deal with a demon. He granted her more power and beauty than she had dreamed possible. She became queen, and was said to be so beautiful that the townspeople turned their eyes to the ground so as to avoid heaven’s wrath for looking upon an angel.
“But as it is with all magic, the spell had a price. A dark, malevolent energy spread within her, twisting her powers and bringing death to everything she touched. In a moment of fear and regret, the new queen ran to the lively green forest at the edge of the castle grounds.
“There, she attempted to rid herself of the darkness raging within by channeling it into the earth. But what happened that day planted an evil so unspeakably horrific that it changed the landscape of Roseheart forever. Trees turned black. Animals vanished overnight. The dark forest was born and remains standing to this day.”
“And what of the queen?”As a child, I’d been more interested in the terrifying tales of the forest itself. As an adult, I find myself thinking more about the woman who created it all.
“She was never seen again. Some say she perished. Consumed by the very darkness she tried so hard to break free from. All that’s left from her short reign in Roseheart is the forest.”Her gaze turned to the window that perfectly frames the shadowy tree line.
I sip my tea, staring out into the scarred land.
“Would you like a cinnamon scone?” my mother offers. Her smile is light but worry creases her brow. “Or perhaps an apple tart? The chef took great care this morning to?—”
“Just get it over with, Mother.” I set my cup down, folding my arms in anticipation of the anvil. She frowns at my interruption. I can hear my etiquette instructor now. “A princess never interrupts. She waits with grace and bated breath until it is her turn to speak.” Lessons with that old ninny are true torment.
“Very well, dearest.” She sets her own cup down and folds her hands across her lap, fidgeting with her pale, beaded skirts. “As you know, I am unable to bear more children.”
That comment punches me right in the gut. There were complications with my birth. Doctors told my father that another pregnancy would bring with it an elevated risk of death for my mother. While the King of Roseheart may rule with an iron fist, he loves his queen. He vowed to never force a second child upon her, for her loss would be too great to suffer. Still, my mother desired another child. The pressures put upon a queen to bear a male heir are high. My birth must have damaged her far more than was originally thought. She never conceived again. They accepted their fate and have spent all these years spoiling me, their only, beloved daughter.
I nod.
“Your father and I… It is, well, it always has been and always will be the duty of the king and queen.” She pauses, breathing deeply. A lump the size of a pinecone swells in my throat. “As you know, there is no male heir to take the throne upon your father’s passing.”
“And heaven forbid a woman sit the throne in his stead,” I grumble. Why are we even having this conversation? Father is alive and well.
My mother ignores the comment. “This means other arrangements must be made to secure the throne of Roseheart. The duty has now fallen on the shoulders of another.” The next sassy comment sitting ripe on the tip of my tongue shrivels back. My heart beats faster than the storm of sleet that patters the glassy dome above. I know where this is going.
