When Yirrie and Elator found her at the foot of Faradill, she had told them she’d run away from home. That she was no longer wanted by her family. She had never told them she came from the castle and was, in fact, the princess and heir to the Mystic Vale throne. Yirrie often worried her family would eventually come looking for her and force her to return with them.
But Snow knew differently. Seraphina wasn’t interested in her return since she was ruling the kingdom now. She wouldn’t send anyone to come looking for her, so she felt safe deep within the forest. And Snow had no interest in returning to dethrone her stepmother.
Perhaps her need to visit the forest last night stemmed from the knowledge it was the anniversary of her father’s death. She found solace in the night sounds around her.
“It’s perfectly safe,” she answered at last.
Yirrie’s pinched expression, though, said she still worried about her.
“Besides,” Snow continued, “I have all the forest to protect me.” She gave her a reassuring smile. “Faradill and Annilen and all the others.”
Yirrie finished kneading the bread and put it in a bowl next to the others to rise. Then she turned to the oven and pulled out her tray of a dozen mini pies. The delectable smell of vegetable pie permeated the small kitchen making Snow’s stomach grumble. Her mother placed the tray of pies on the counter and then turned to her, taking her by the shoulders and looking deep into her eyes.
“I do worry,” she said.
“I know, but there’s nothing to worry about.” Even as she said it, that niggling sensation shifted through her. She shoved it away almost as quickly as it appeared. “I promise.”
Her surrogate mother patted her cheek and gave her a small smile. “If you’re certain.”
A quick knock sounded on the door. Yirrie used the same kitchen towel to wipe her hands.
“That must be Zaliya with our gowns.”
She bustled to the door, Snow right behind her. When she pulled it open, there was the dressmaker on the other side holding the two gowns draped across her arms.
“All finished!” the woman announced, her face beaming. She handed the gowns to Yirrie. “It’s some of my best work, if I do say so myself.” Then she gave a chuckle.
“The gowns are perfect,” Yirrie said. She handed them off to Snow.
“Snow will be one of the loveliest maidens at the festival.” Then she waved and was off.
Snow flushed hot. The last thing she wanted was to be one of the loveliest maidens at the festival. The other elven girls were not so impressed with her elemental magic or the fact she was actually human. She hadn’t many friends. And it was why she chose to spend her time among the forest sprites and creatures rather than forge friendships with them. Perhaps that was another reason why her nerves were suddenly on edge. The first night of the festival was when elven girls would seek out the attentions of the eligible boys.
“Oh, goodness. It’s getting late. I best get the rest of the bread in the oven.” Yirrie hurried back into the kitchen. “Snow, will you take care of the gowns?”
“Yes, of course.”
With slow steps, she headed first to her mother’s bedroom and laid out the gown on the bed. Then she went to her own. She draped the gown over the back of her dressing table chair and stared at it, her gut churning. As dread swept through her, she pressed a hand against her stomach.
The front door opened and closed with a bang, then Elator’s boisterous voice called out to his wife. He said something that made Yirrie laugh and then chastised him for sneaking one of her pies. His booted footsteps headed toward the bedroom but he paused to stand in her doorway.
Elator was tall and elegant like Yirrie. And like Yirrie, he wore his long brown hair with two plaits on either side of his head. Sometimes, they were pulled back away from his face. His blue luminescent eyes sparkled with life and mirth. He had a big, booming laugh and a voice to match which was sometimes strange coming from him.
“Are you ready for the festival?” he asked.
She dropped a hand and forced a smile, watching him take another bite of the small pie. Crumbs trickled down from his hand to the floor. When Yirrie saw, she would fuss at him as she grabbed the broom.
“I am,” she said, though she wasn’t sure she believed it.
“You look worried,” he said.
Elator was always able to read her emotions, even though she tried her best to keep them off her face and bury them deep down.
“I’m not,” she replied.
One dark brow raised in question. Snow puffed out a heated breath.
“All right. I am a little.”
