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But surely they were smiling condescendingly at her as she passed, some of them with little bundles of jasmine in their hands, the scent intoxicating and slightly overwhelming. Not only would they be jealous of her marriage, but they would also think, Why her? Of all the ladies in the kingdom, why this peasant girl? There would be whispers accusing her of enchantment and evil eyes cursing her.
She finally reached the King, who stood by the well, and he took her by the hand. Perhaps he sensed her dizziness and her buckling knees. But her heart finally slowed its pounding when she locked eyes with him. The ceremony began. Verona and Snow stood off to the side. The officiant stepped forward. The King and Queen exchanged words of love, promises, rings, and finally a kiss.
Bliss.
The crowd erupted into cheers, and had the King not caught her, the Queen would have collapsed. There was a flurry, then a shower of pink rose petals illuminated by shafts of light streaming through stained-glass windows, casting an unearthly charm over the entire castle. She was in love. Beautiful. The Queen.
Everyone she encountered remarked on her beauty. She tried not to let their compliments confound her. But when she thought of it, it made her already dizzied head swim. The day whirled by in a pink haze. Her hand must have been kissed a thousand times, and she never danced so much in her entire life, not even as a child with her Nanny.
Oh, Nanny. How she wished she were here to see her on this day. She remembered something Nanny had told her in her father’s kitchen one sun-drenched morning while eating strawberries and cream.
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“You are beautiful, my dear, truly. Do not ever forget that, even if I am not here to remind you.”
“Not here? But where would you go?”
“To dance with your mother in the heavens, dear. One day you will join us, but not for many years to come.”
“No, Nanny, stay here and dance with me now! I don’t want you to leave. Not ever!” And so they danced, spinning in circles, laughing and enjoying the sun streaming through the windows. That was one of the many ways Nanny would cheer her spirits—strawberries, cream, and dance.
She must do that with Snow soon. The thought of it made her feel light and protected. She would be happy with the King and his beautiful, delicate little flower of a girl. She would make the child her own daughter and love her. She would tell her how beautiful she was every day of her life, and they would dance together and laugh like mother and daughter. They would be mother and daughter.
She walked to the edge of the ballroom floor where Snow and Verona were standing as they watched all the lords and ladies dance in circles, like blossoms floating on a lovely summer’s breeze. The Queen scooped the child up, took her into her arms, and brought her into the colorful swirl of ladies’ dresses. She danced with the girl, pressing her tightly against her chest, feeling that surge of love again as they danced in what seemed to be a living garden of color and sound.
The King joined them, and the new family laughed until the early morning hours, long after the final guests had departed or retired to their rooms within the castle.
Exhausted and giddy after many hours of feasting and dance, the King and Queen took their sleeping girl to her bedchamber.
“Good night, little bird,” said the Queen as she kissed Snow.
The girl’s cheek felt as soft as silk on the Queen’s lips. She left the child to her dreams. She was sure they were filled with lovely ladies spinning in circles and colorful dresses and banners swirling all around her.
The King took his new wife by the hand and led her to their chamber. The sun, now coming through their curtains, was casting an otherworldly glow. They stood there for a moment looking at each other.
Bliss.
“I see you have opened my gift,” the King said looking at the mirror.
The mirror was oval-shaped and beautifully ornate, gilded, with serpentine designs around the perimeter, and crowned with an engraving of a headpiece fit for a Queen. It was nearly perfect. But something about it made her feel that same uneasiness that had shaken her before the ceremony. Her chest tightened and the room suddenly felt oppressively confining.
“What is the matter, my love?” the King asked.
The Queen moved to speak, but she could not.
“You don’t like it?” he asked, looking crestfallen.
“No, my love, it…I’m just…tired. So tired,” she finally muttered. But she couldn’t take her eyes off of the mirror.
The King took her by the shoulders and drew her close to him, kissing her.
“Of course you’re exhausted, my love. It’s been a terribly long day.”
She returned his kiss, attempting to banish all fear from her heart.
She was in love. Bliss. And she would allow nothing to ruin this day.
On the fourth night after the wedding, the Queen finally had her little family to herself. Lingering wedding guests and extended family had made their way back to their own kingdoms. The Queen had just said her good-bye to the King’s great-uncle Marcus that morning after breakfast. He was a funny man, as wide as he was tall. Stocky, sturdy, and well-built for a man his age. He was kind and clearly loved his nephew, so she couldn’t begrudge him the extra time at the castle. The King, along with his uncle and the castle’s Huntsman, had spent days in the forest hunting foul and game for the evening’s banquets.
