Bride to the Cursed: a Snow White retelling

Chapter 26: Gossips and Poisons

In the weeks that followed, rumours and catty remarks followed her like a bad smell she couldn't get rid of.

Evidently, being the shameless divorcee who dared attend the king's ball was nothing compared to being the villainess who dared rob wealthy nobles of their riches to fund a war. This time, the Daily Gossip was so persistent and repetitive that she could just about recite it back to front.

"I heard she was the one who forced the council to rob us," one might whisper loudly behind a pink feathered fan.

"How do you think she did it?" another might ask in an overly sweet and innocent voice, as if they hadn't all heard and participated in the Daily Gossip every day for the last twenty days.

Then, invariably, there would be a man who thought he was being smarter than all the women around as he spouted the same conspiracy theories that'd been circulated by many before him: "I'd say she poisoned their wines and threatened them with the antidote", or "Remember how she dressed as a Serrasi? My contacts tell me they practise witchcraft up there."

Instead of letting their words prickle her skin and jab her heart, she imagined weaving them into a magnificent cloak she wrapped about herself, wearing their bitter resentment as she paraded through the halls of the palace. Their sourness and vitriol were proof that her plan caused the lot of them more pain than their words ever could.

The only thing that truly grated her nerves was that her own mother—Cassandra's mother—who she couldn't really ignore or demand to "fuck off", was also a party to the petty drama with her own flavour of rants and jibes.

Sometimes, it was rather vicious: "I never thought I'd miss the way you were as a dumb, useless maggot," Lady Rivera would grit through her teeth. "At least back then you wouldn't have thought to throw us under the cart."

Other times, it came with fake tears made of hopes that she could evoke some manner of sympathy in her daughter's heart: "My dearest Cassandra, I know you have suddenly found the brains we gave you and that you're very keen to use it after twenty-odd years." Lady Rivera would pause to sniffle and dab at her tears. "But must you use it to rob us of every penny and the last piece of jewellery we have?"

Cassie had learnt after the first few days that it was pointless to defend herself or explain why it was all necessary. That would only make Lady Rivera hysterical as she berated Cassie for being an ungrateful child and reminded her of how frugally they (allegedly) lived while they (allegedly) poured all their resources into her upbringing.

The Daily Gossip may not jab her internal organs, but the Viscountess of Melina could shred her patience, melt her brains that (allegedly) came from the Viscountess herself, and talk until her ears bled. Maybe Lady Rivera was the one who practised witchcraft.

No. It was better to simply stare pointedly at the outrageous headdresses her mother continued to wear, and let her gaze flicker downwards to the three jewelled rings the viscountess wore on each hand—six in total, down from ten.

At some point, Lady Rivera would fidget awkwardly at the expensive possessions that the council (allegedly) robbed her clean of, before huffing dramatically and taking her leave with a slight stomp of her feet.

All that was to say, Cassie considered it reasonable, legitimate, and even necessary for her to take up refuge and part-time residence in the king's chambers.

Who was there to stop her? Not the evening guards who witnessed King Dane carry her up to the stairs to his chambers. Not the morning guards who saw her leave those chambers on the day of Dane's departure—proof that his Royal Majesty was comfortable allowing her the free use of his rooms. And certainly not the steward of the palace who'd made a new habit of seeking her wise counsel.