Page 37 of Blood of the Fairest

I try the porridge next. Then the fish. The berries, the cheese, the mulled wine that smells like it should be bursting with flavor⁠—

It's useless.

Finally, I set down the fork and slump onto the bed as tears rise into my eyes. Maybe it's dumb to get this emotional just because I'm so hungry, but I can't help it.

Everything is so fucking bland. Hollow. Nothing about it is satisfying.

Is it because I'm not from this world?

Or is it…

Against my will, my attention slides back to the stained axe hanging from the Huntsman's belt.

My mouth waters, making the tears of frustration a lot harder to fight back.

"Something wrong, Fairest?" Eris checks.

He's still watching me, pastels gleaming in his hair as he leans against the edge of the mirror.

I blink the moisture away quickly, shaking my head. "Nope. Best food ever. Loved it. The castle's chef should be a Michelin—hang on. Fairest? Aren't you supposed to say Snow White is the fairest woman in all the land?"

He pulls a face of disgust. "No child of seventeen should be called the fairest woman. What an odd thing for you to expect of me when you've never laid eyes on the princess."

I'm not sure this is the time to mention they're part of a story in the world I'm trying to get back to.

This subject has pulled the Huntsman's attention back from the glorious sprawl of country to the north of the castle, and now he's examining me curiously, too.

"Where is Snow White, exactly?" I ask him.

"Safe in the Loomdark."

Eris tuts at Wulf. "An oxymoron if I've ever heard one."

"She was in far more danger here. Had I not agreed to Reinhilde's plot, she would have found some knave willing to kill an innocent."

"You seemed plenty willing yesterday," I grumble, still spiteful as I pick apart a hard-boiled egg I have no intention of forcing down my throat.

It's Wulf's turn to flinch.

But again, he doesn't ask for forgiveness. I guess he's smart enough to know it's way too soon.

"Anyway, since I'm Queen Rhinestone until further notice, I don't want Snow White in any more danger," I declare. "That poor girl has probably put up with a lot from her bitchy stepmother, so I'm sure she'll be wary about returning home, but could you find a way to bring her back? The last thing I want is for her to end up in a glass coffin with some mouth-breathing, horny creep of a prince licking the glass."

It's clear Wulf has no idea what I'm talking about. Luckily, he seems like a man who knows how to roll with crazy talk.

"I will retrieve her at once."

"Fantastic," I grin before dissecting another inedible egg.

I can't believe I'll get to meet Snow White. As awful as my introduction to this world has been, it's still pretty surreal to think that it could be full of the fairy tales I grew up reading.

Maybe twisted, grimmer versions, but still. I'll get to meet a titular character for the first time.

When I realize Wulf is lingering, I gesture at the table.

"Still hungry? You should eat the rest of this before you go. I'm super full."

I'm just lying out the wazoo today, because my stomach is actually so hollow it aches.