Not My Fairytale

Chapter 1

A Welcome Distraction

"The queen is with child."

The whispered news echoed behind me as I walked the halls. I kept my face forced into the neutral mask that I had mastered before I could even walk, feeling dozens of eyes scrutinizing my every move as I passed.

The queen was pregnant. Rosalie DiLuna was pregnant. My mother was pregnant. And the entire kingdom had turned their attention to me– to watch my reaction. What they expected, I had no idea. Perhaps they wanted a tantrum, for me to cause a scene and break something. For me to cry. But I wouldn't give them that satisfaction, even as I felt my entire world slipping out from beneath my feet. I would stand tall through this.

"The queen is with child"

The whispers followed me, ricocheting off the walls in the otherwise silent corridor. I am going to go crazy, I thought to myself.

At last, my hand closed around a cool, brass door knob, and the crisp early December air met my flushed skin. A frigid gust of wind whipped my dark hair into my face, but I welcomed the feel of it. Free of the castle, I could no longer hear the whispers of the servants behind me, but I could still feel their eyes tracing the path I stalked to my grandmother's garden.

Only safely tucked within the rows of perfectly manicured flower bushes, did I finally feel alone. 

I released the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding, no longer feeling the piercing stares on my back as I passed through arches of perfect, blooming roses. I let my stiff posture relax, taking a moment to admire the unnatural beauty around me, hoping in vain that it would help to calm my racing thoughts. The chrysanthemums and other warm weather blooms were vibrantly fanned open, even nestled in the soft bed of snow. As a child, I had obsessed over coming to the enchanted garden, fascinated by the pulsating current of energy I could just barely feel brushing against my consciousness. There, but not there, like the softest of caresses. The thrumming remnants of the spell cast years ago, a gift to my paternal grandmother from the Witch Queen at the end of the Great War, though she didn't live to enjoy it for long. Now, as an adult, I had other uses for the garden.

With one last lingering look at the proud, unwilted buds, I passed through the back of the garden and entered the woods behind it. The winding path snaked through the trees, and I was suddenly aware of the tightening in my chest, a sure sign of impending tears. I choked them back, forcing myself to think of my route and only my route as I left the path behind, frosty leaves now crunching beneath my boots. Right at the ash, left at the sacred oak, right again at the cedar. When the stone wall rose up in front of me, I halted my steps.

I squinted my eyes against the bright, morning sun as I scanned the curtain wall for guards. They appeared to be running right on schedule, with both of their backs to me as they marched by on the wall walk, the taping of their boots against the stone nearly drowned out by the wind. Silent as a mouse, I bolted from the tree cover to the little hole in the thick wall, barely large enough for an average person to squeeze through. With my small frame and years of experience, I slid through easily.

Once safely outside the castle grounds, I sprinted for the surrounding forest and wove my way through the trees, picking through the underbrush with practiced ease. The wind changed directions, blowing cool air against my face from ahead.

Finally, a familiar willow tree came into view. Behind it, stretched a large, picturesque lake framed by a mountain range. I ended my trek at the base of the willow, ducking beneath the long, hanging limbs. It was only there, hidden within the dangling branches of my willow tree, that I gave in to my emotions and allowed the mask to slip from my face. My breathing turned ragged as I finally acknowledged the gaping hole I felt in my chest. I slowly undressed, weighed down by my grief and uncertainty.