Page 64 of Blood of the Fairest

Not that I mind his Houdini act. A terrifying, hot bodyguard is great in theory—but after the blind terror of getting tackled by someone in my room last night brought back some memories…

Yeah, I'm kind of hoping Wulf stays out of sight for a little while.

Adjusting the crown atop my veil, I glance around at the northern solar. This is where the guards brought me first thing in the morning when I told them I wanted to see the princess in private.

It's something between a family room and a sunroom. It sits high in its own tower with a big stone fireplace, its tall windows overlooking Isenhold in the distance. Woven tapestries and ornate mirrors hang on the walls. Most of the room is taken up by a big wooden table surrounded by surprisingly comfy cushioned chairs.

It seems like the perfect place to lounge during a rainstorm, reading by a crackling fire.

If only I knew how to fucking read in this world.

About to bring up my reading lessons with Eris, I glance at the closest mirror. Then I sigh.

He was here a minute ago, but it seems he's pulling a Wulf on me now.

Someone knocks on the door so quietly that at first I'm not sure if I just imagined it.

When nothing else happens for a long second, I prompt, "Hello? Someone out there? It's unlocked."

Ever so slowly, the door creaks open until a girl peeks into the room.

Holy crap. It's Snow White.

Her face is still half-hidden by the door like she's using it as a shield—but abruptly, I recall the exact description of this princess from the old book of Grimm fairy tales that I read obsessively as a little girl.

White as snow, lips red as blood, hair as black as ebony wood.

That description was spot-on.

This teen is the palest person I've ever seen, her long black hair in a tangled braid over one shoulder. It looks like she was just eating a bunch of cherries that stained her lips, but I'm guessing they're always this color. Her face is round, her features soft as she peers into the room with downturned blue eyes. Her body language screams self-conscious wariness.

"Wanna come in and take a seat? I promise I won't bite," I reassure her.

Snow White looks surprised that I've spoken to her at all. She slips into the room, shutting the door, but she doesn't take a seat yet.

Instead, she stands by the wall and chews her lower lip, keeping her eyes cast down.

Aww, my heart.

As completely gorgeous as this titular princess is, it's so obvious that she's just a girl. Just an awkward teen like any other—only this one is terrified of the jealous, cruel, bloodthirsty stepmother who tried to kill her.

Snow White still hasn't said anything, but something about her pulls fiercely on my heartstrings. Some maternal streak I've never noticed before. Maybe it's because I remember being her age, but I want to wrap her up in a cozy blanket and force her to say affirmations to herself in the mirror until she stops looking like she wants the ground to swallow her whole.

I need something significant to break the ice between us and shatter Snow White's obvious fear of the real queen.

You know what?

Fuck it. I'd rather she never associate me with that bitch at all.

Sliding off the crown and veil, I grin across the room at Snow White.

"Welcome home. You've been through a lot. To take your mind off things, want to hear a wild but very true story?"

I can't tell if Snow White is more shell-shocked to see the queen without her veil or confused to see me smiling at her.

Her eyes are wide, but after a moment, she nods again.

"Once upon a time, four days ago, I woke up in the body of your evil stepmother," I begin.