The crunchy bitterness of the riptalion leaf takes a slight edge off my craving. Grasping my swollen stomach, shoulders hunched, I glance back toward the castle, pushing strands of golden hair out of my face. Here in our private garden, my husband and I grow the dark green, large-leafed lettuce
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Jack tore into the roasted chicken thigh, the heat of his anger suffusing with the warm tingling of his mother’s herb blend. The flavors of rosemary and thyme soothed him, their homey familiarity pushing against the sting of resentment.
He crunched down on a bone and spat it onto the ground.
Mia fluttered through the tower window, her fairy wings leaving a trail of sparkling lights as she circled the room. A spinning wheel stood in the center, surrounded by dirt and straw. Shaking her head, she snapped her fingers. In a flash of light, she became the size of a human.
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The garden party was the event of the year as Rainbow City’s elite celebrated the christening of Henry and Cinderella Charming’s newborn daughter. Princess Ashlyn slept peacefully in a gilded bassinet as guests dined on delicacies and spoke of meaningless things.
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“And with one mighty swing of his ax, the woodsman split the wolf in two, and Red Riding Hood and her grandmother came tumbling out!”
I stood and began clearing away the dishes, warmed by the familiar tale. Happy endings were always my favorite. “The last time you told me that one,
The beam from my uncle’s flashlight slid like a ghostly finger over the towering piles of antiques, and I shivered. Evidently, the small museum he’d worked at for years didn’t heat their storage room. A collection of Victorian dolls stared balefully at me, so I snatched up an old, canvas tarp
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I trudged down the aisle, eyes on the ground. I could not face the countrymen who stood on either side of me, judging. Instead, I counted their shoes. Twenty-nine people to witness my fate.
I slowed when my father’s calfskin-covered feet came into view. Beside him, the monstrous boots of my betrothed rested in the snow.
King Falton stared at his empty banqueting hall. This would be his third midwinter feast since taking the throne. The first had been subdued in honor of his beloved father’s death. The second had been a debacle. Falton’s parents had him late in life, therefore, at the time of his father’s passing,
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The Queen lay awake long past midnight, tracing the lines on her face with her fingers. They were deeper than they had been yesterday. They turned to wrinkles and then to crevasses, stealing her youth and beauty.
The man sleeping beside her would say she was even more beautiful than the day he’d first seen her
I was nearly done raking the lawn when someone plump, perky, and purple-clad appeared in a gust right there, scattering leaves.
“Who are you?” I wielded the rake.
She shook a leaf from her skirts. “Your fairy godmother, dear.”
“Fairy godmother—? But I didn’t know fairies were real.”
“That explains your rude surprise.
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