Queens POV:
I do not know what kind of matter of thing she is. None of us do. She killed her mother in the birthing, but that's never enough to account for it.
They call me wise , but I am far from wise, for all that i foresaw fragments of it, frozen moments caught in pools of water or in the cold glass of my mirror.
If I were wise I would not have tried to change what i saw. If i were wise I would have killed myself before ever I encountered her, before ever I caught him.
Wise, and a witch, or so they said, and I'd seen his face in my dreams and in reflections for all my life; sixteen years of dreaming of him before he reined his horse by the bridge that morning, and asked my name.
He helped me onto his high horse and we rode together to my little cottage, my face buried in the gold of his hair. He asked for the best of what i had ; a king's right , it was.
His beard was red- bronze in the morning light, and i knew him, not as a king, for i knew nothing of king then, but as my love.
He took all he wanted from me, the right of kings, but he returned to me on the following day, and on the night after that:
his beard so red, his hair so gold, his eyes the blue of a summer sky, his skin tanned the gentle brown of ripe wheat.
YOU ARE READING
Snow, Glass, Apples
Fantasy"She took the dried apple from me and began to chew it with her sharp yellow teeth. "Is it good?" She nodded. I had always been scared of the little princess, but at that moment I warmed to her and, with my fingers, gently, I stroked her cheek. She...
