Page 65 of Blood of the Fairest

For the next ten minutes, I give her a highly sanitized version of my experiences in this world so far. Instead of murdering the Favored in the cemetery with my weird-ass blood before going full vampire, I tell her I just slipped away. I tell her about running to stop the execution and feeling so awful for the boy who survived.

I don't mention Eris, the queen's agonizing need for blood, her magic, Wulf abducting me, the excruciating pain the Faerie of Wrath put me through—none of that. I just say that the Huntsman also knows I'm not the real queen.

By the time I explain firing Schultz, searching for a new chamberlain, and punching some jerk in the face for harassing a dagger-wielding tavern maid and her friend, Snow White is sitting across from me at the table. She's so absorbed in my animated storytelling that I may as well be a TV.

"…and they're supposed to get here this afternoon," I wrap up. "The new chamberlain is, at least. I would love it if Anika and Ingrid accept the invitation to work in the castle, but who knows? After all, they have no idea who I am, and Rhinestone was such a bitch to everyone."

"But they must come!" Snow White blurts. "And surely you must reveal that you were the one who helped them, disguised in that cloak! They should know the truth, that you're not my stepmother and⁠—"

She abruptly goes quiet, like it's really sinking in now. Her blue gaze darts all over my face for a long moment.

"You're…really not my stepmother," she repeats.

"Nope," I say, popping the p. I smile brightly at her, relieved that she no longer looks like the palest puppy that ever waited to be kicked. "My real name is Verena. I have absolutely no idea why I was dragged out of my world to replace your stepmother in this one, but it's very nice to meet you, Snow White."

Tears fill her eyes.

"Oh, no," she whispers, distressed enough to cover her face.

Shit. Did I misread things? Is she actually sad that bloodguzzling, maneating bitch is gone?

"Snow? What's wrong?" I check, standing and fussing over her with no clue how to help.

The princess sniffles, wringing her hands as she stands. She's on the petite side, so she has to look up a bit to meet my eye again.

"Verena, I…I am so sorry. You being here—I think it's all my fault," she admits in a tearful whisper. "I did something terribly evil."

As someone who has now killed in self-defense on multiple occasions, I seriously doubt that this fairytale princess and I have the same ballpark for what terribly evil means.

"What did you do?" I ask anyway.

"I was angry at my stepmother for keeping me locked in my rooms for so long, so I prayed to the Thirteen Faeries. I pleaded for them to send me a real mother or a kind, beautiful magic godmother who would make my life better." She sniffles again, wiping away tears. "It is clear they sent you to me, but they stole you from your world to do it, which means it's all my fault and⁠—"

"Whoa, hey. Shh, it's okay," I assure Snow White, wrapping her in a hug.

She tenses at first, like she's not at all used to being embraced. Then she hugs me back tightly.

After a second, I release her and use the sleeve of my plain dress to dab away her tears.

"Listen, kiddo. I really don't think this is your fault."

"But I prayed to the Thirteen, and now you're here. They must have listened."

Do magical, powerful faerie beings actually exist in this world? Obviously, the answer is yes, because I met one.

But it's exactly because I've met one that I have serious doubts that this girl's prayer is the reason I woke up here, with a shattered soul and no idea how to escape the evil queen's bleak fairytale fate.

"The thing is, I left out a tiny detail in my story. I've already met one of the faeries."

The princess blinks away the last of her tears, awestruck. "You did? Which one?"

"Um…it sounded kind of like the name of the hot dragon lady in Sleeping Beauty. Moriarty? No, Methuselah. I don't know—something with an M."

Snow White lowers her voice to a whisper.

"You mean Wrath? No one says his true name aloud. They say the Thirteenth Faerie is always listening for it far more closely than the other faeries do with their names."

"Yeah, that turd. Whatever his name is, he had no idea who I was at first. Wouldn't he know about me if I was the faeries' answer to your prayer?" I point out.