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The woman sighed as if it was her own hair that had been cut. “I said no such thing. I asked what you have to trade for food and complimented your hair. I needed a strong man to pull up a rock that had fallen into my well. Your man just did that, so now you can have food, Princess. Apples and bread. And an egg from a chicken I’ve been hiding.”
I felt every bit of moisture wicked away inside my mouth. Henrike and Alrick exchanged troubled looks. Slamming the scissors onto the table beside my pile of hair, I walked straight past the three and out the door. I needed to be out of this hut. Away. Somewhere where I could breathe again.
“Mina!” Henrike yelled after me. “Wait!”
But I didn’t care. I didn’t care. I didn’t care.
I just wanted to be as far away as possible from Alrick’s pitiful look and Henrike’s snide comments. My feet kept moving until I ended up beside the small river I’d heard running behind the old woman’s house. As I sank to the grassy floor, I didn’t even care about my hunger. All I could think about was how Alrick had looked at me. How he had called me beautiful. How my only redeeming quality had been my beauty. The Night Queen was as cold as the night was dark, but at least she had her beauty. Leaning over to look at my reflection in the water, I realized for the first time that, without my looks, I had nothing, and there was nobody but myself to blame for that. My mother had beauty just like me, but she also had kindness and was loved by her people. Had she lost her hair, not a soul would have looked at her differently.
But not me.
Disgusted at myself, I threw a rock into the stream, watching as the ripples marred my reflection. How foolish I was. Had I just listened to my father and married one of the Northern suitors, none of this would have happened. I would still be at the castle, maybe my father would have been kinder to me, and I would still have my beauty and a full belly. I could have tried to learn politics in order to rule my kingdom wisely someday. Maybe my father would never love me, but he might have at least been proud of me.
“Not the Night Queen,” I said to myself. “The Fool Queen.”
