When the diadem further burdens her, every gemstone to be found in this color counts for the corruption of her regent mother. Mother is most proud wearing a regal amaranthine. It is the flowing cape fashioned by her subjects' taxes.
She is engulfed by wine as it is sipped to survive this night of nobility. The sun mocks her in this shade as balls start at the hour of twilight. Royals adore this poisonous hue of fashion even as they fall breathless. The dye itself is the color of death.
Whenever she says "Marriage is not for me, mother," it is the blooming bruise on her cheek. It is the hiss of a venomous snake.
It is the cry for help when her husband nears her, the princess. Refuse and be hanged, he taunts her as she imagines her face flush in this color. She stays silent as the night continues on.
Amaranthine is the emblem of her kingdom upon which the queen wears the crest fiercely. Mother commands her to slip on a petticoat adorned with jewels glinting in this shade.
When she runs out the palace, it is the flag raised high. As she freezes in the harsh snow, it is the color of her lips. It is malevolent hue of her tale.
YOU ARE READING
The Hue of You
Short StoryA short story anthology spanning over time in 6 stories. Interconnected? So to seem. Red. In which an urban witch, who is ironically a redhead, studies volcanology in pursuit of magic. Orange. The sunset of our childhood days tan into metropolitan...
