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“It has been so long since I’ve last seen you, Majesty. I have missed you these many long years.”
The Queen felt a flood of emotion—Verona. She quickly checked herself in a hall mirror to allay any fears that she looked ragged. The Queen’s poor shattered heart leaped, and then quickly sank. She did not know what to make of this visit.
Verona had fallen in love on her mission and been married to a lord.
The Queen felt that emotion which had now become familiar to her—a mix of joy and jealousy for her friend.
They had been so very close at one time, and now she wondered how she had gone so many years without Verona’s company and friendship. The thought of it confounded her, but she buried it deep within herself, resolute not to let her love weaken her sense of strength.
Despite her relief to have Verona out of the kingdom, she had missed her so much—especially during those first few months after her departure. She felt icy and horrid when she thought of it, sending her dearest friend away for the sake of vanity and selfishness. Seeing Verona in the castle reawakened something in the Queen—something human and warm. Yes, she was happy to have her friend back in her company.
The Queen arranged a splendid evening just for the two of them in the great hall. The room was glowing with candles, and the table filled with rich, savory foods that she knew were Verona’s favorites. The meal was wonderful, but the conversation was awkward. What does one talk about with an old friend after one has sufficiently reminisced?
After their meal the two ladies retired to the sitting room where they enjoyed fine spirits, which helped the conversation along.
“I regret sending you away, Verona,” the Queen said, though in truth only part of her regretted it. “Had I the opportunity to make the decision again, I do not believe I would send you from this court.”
“Oh, but then I never would have met my lord. I am grateful to you, Majesty. You have brought immense happiness into my life, and I thank you for that,” Verona said.
“You love him, then, this husband of yours?” asked the Queen.
“Yes, of course, why would you ask such a question?” Verona said.
“I am just looking after your heart, my dear friend, that is all. It would distress me to see you hurt by the loss of him. He is away on campaign, is he not? You should prepare yourself for his death.”
“I shall not! Why would you even say such a thing?” Verona said, standing up from her comfortable chair.
“Because this is life, my dear Verona. It is our lot to lose our loves and feel our hearts break in the wake of that loss. I would shield you from it if I could, my friend, but there was nothing anyone could have said to prepare me for the breaking of my soul when the King passed from my life.”
Verona’s eyes were filled with sadness. “I remember that day well, my Queen, and my heart goes out to you, it does; but I cannot live in fear of losing him, for fear of not living my life at all. May I speak frankly with you, Majesty?”
“Yes, please feel free to speak candidly as you always have, Verona. You are an old friend and that does have its privileges,” the Queen said coolly.
“You seem much changed to me, Majesty. You are more beautiful than ever, but something within you has shifted. I fear for your unhappiness and solitude.” Verona continued, “Snow White has written me several times, expressing her concern over you. She is worried that you are so closed off from her. She loves you so much, Majesty, and it breaks my heart to think of you both alone in your grief when you have each other for solace and strength.”
“Snow knows how dear she is to me, Verona. I would perish without her,” the Queen said.
“Why, then, do you never seek her company? Snow is a remarkable young lady, Majesty. Even now, after these many years of near-abandonment, she would still be a great friend to you, if only you extended your hand,” Verona pleaded.
“You dare imply that I have abandoned my daughter?” the Queen snapped.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, I thought I could speak honestly with you.”
“So I said, but it breaks my heart, Verona, to hear these words. You do not know what it is to feel your heart break in the wake of tragedy, and you should pray you never do!”
Verona shook her head. “Please, my Queen—and my friend. Please go to your daughter, she is not long for this court, as she is approaching the proper marrying age, and I would not see her go from this kingdom without knowing her mother’s love.”
Her mother’s love. The words resonated with the Queen. She had abandoned Snow White for magic mirrors and spell books from the strange sisters. Was she so mad, so deranged by the loss of her husband, that she should be too afraid to love her daughter for fear of losing her? This was madness, surely! And why did it take Verona’s words to make her see this clearly for the first time? She should have never sent her friend, this woman she once called a sister, from court—to go so long without her companionship, without her council and her love. Perhaps much could have been averted if Verona were here these many long years.
Then the Queen found something stir within her that she had not felt in a great while. Her shattered heart felt suddenly mended.
“I would be much pleased if you extended your stay, Verona. Please say you will remain here for the entirety of your husband’s campaign. I have been without your company for too long, and I do not wish to see you go from me again so quickly.”
“Yes, of course, Majesty, I would be happy to stay in court with you and Snow White.”
“Thank you, Verona. Shall we make a picnic in the woods tomorrow, like old times, the three of us?”
“That would be lovely, Your Majesty. I’m sure that will make Snow very happy, too.”
