12 | It Felt Great To Be Free

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I had made up my mind that Rosé was one of the best story tellers

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I had made up my mind that Rosé was one of the best story tellers. She'd make a good true crime YouTuber, keeping her audience at the edge of their seats without even raising her voice. I'd subscribe to her channel for sure.

She continued.

"My parents approved — that's putting it mildly. This was everything they'd dreamed of. And Royce seemed to be everything I'd dreamed of. The fairy tale prince, come to make me a princess. Everything I wanted, yet it was still no more than I expected. We were engaged before I'd known him for two months."

"We didn't spend a great deal of time alone with each other. Royce told me he had many responsibilities at work, and, when we were together, he liked people to look at us, to see me on his arm. I liked that, too. There were lots of parties, dancing, and pretty dresses. When you were a King, every door was open for you, every red carpet rolled out to greet you."

"It wasn't a long engagement. Plans went ahead for the most lavish wedding. It was going to be everything I'd ever wanted. I was completely happy. When I called at Vera's, I no longer felt jealous. I pictured my fair-haired children playing on the huge lawns of the Kings' estate, and I pitied her."

Rosé broke off suddenly, clenching her teeth together. It pulled me out of her story, and I realized that the horror was not far off. There would be no happy ending, as she'd promised. I wondered if this was why she had so much more bitterness in her than the rest of them — because she'd been within reach of
everything she'd wanted when her human life was cut short.

"I was at Vera's that night," Rosé whispered. Her face was smooth as marble, and as hard. "Her little Henry really was adorable, all smiles and dimples — he was just sitting up on his own. Vera walked me to the door as I was leaving, her baby in her arms and her husband at her side, his arm around her waist."

"He kissed her on the cheek when he thought I wasn't looking. That bothered me. When Royce kissed me, it wasn't quite the same — not so sweet somehow. . . . I shoved that thought aside. Royce was my prince. Someday, I would be queen."

It was hard to tell in the moonlight, but it looked like her bone white face got paler.

"It was dark in the streets, the lamps already on. I hadn't realized how late it was." She continued to whisper almost inaudibly. "It was cold, too. Very cold for late April. The wedding was only a week away, and I was worrying about the weather as I hurried home — I can remember that clearly. I remember every detail about that night. I clung to it so hard . . . in the beginning. I thought of nothing else. And so I remember this, when so many pleasant memories have faded away completely. . . ."

She sighed, and began whispering again. "Yes, I was worrying about the weather. . . . I didn't want to have to move the wedding indoors. . . ."

"I was a few streets from my house when I heard them. A cluster of men under a broken streetlamp, laughing too loud. Drunk. I wished I'd called my father to escort me home, but the way was so short, it seemed silly. And then he called my name."

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