Page 86 of Blood of the Fairest

For a moment, I quietly observe her utter focus as she pins more pieces. The dress she's designing is a soft blue, the simple fabric slowly turning into something elegant.

"Who's that for?" I finally ask.

"Gah—ouch! Fuck," she scowls, shaking the finger she just pricked in her surprise.

"Careful, Fairest."

"Careful, I'm just going to scare the living shit out of you while you're stabbing something with an itty bitty sword. Do you hear how crazy that is? That's what you sound like right now," Verena gripes.

Just as quickly, she deflates, sitting on the floor by the mannequin. She exhales, looking over at me.

"Wow. Clearly, someone is super crabby. Sorry about that."

"I did warn you about the irritability from not feeding enough," I shrug, watching as she lifts her lightly bleeding finger to her mouth.

Her own blood is useless to her, aside from its intensely magical properties. Whatever Reinhilde's origin, I've witnessed the wildly unpredictable ways her blood affects anyone who comes in contact with it.

Speaking of affecting…I need to stop staring at Verena sucking the tip of her finger, or I'll have to step away from the mirror again. I lick my own lips, imagining it's me sucking the sting away despite what her blood might do to me.

"The dress is for Snow White," Verena says, getting to her feet and beaming at her handiwork. "Don't you think it'll look gorgeous on her? She told me sky blue is her favorite color while we were hanging out yesterday."

She's been hanging out, as she puts it, with the princess and her two ladies' maids often, in between everything else. Although Verena is careful to act indifferent to Snow White in front of most people, and vice versa, the girl's existence is now a far happier one.

"She'll love the dress, just as she loves you. I'm afraid you'll break her heart when you leave," I add in a murmur.

If she leaves.

If I don't find a way to keep her here first.

Would my heart also break if she finds a way home? Do I even have a heart to break?

I've never questioned the limits of my watery existence as much as I have since this alluring soul fell into this world.

Verena stares thoughtfully out of the large windows now. "Shit, you're right. I really fucking adore that kid, but I probably shouldn't get too close to her or anyone else in the short time I'm here, huh? That might just make it difficult when I leave."

I want to suggest that she do get as close as possible to anyone she likes, since it might demotivate her from returning to her world. But her dark blue gaze sweeps back to me.

"I've been thinking. A dangerous pastime, I know," she adds in a melody I don't understand.

I fight a smile. "Verena."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You don't get my references. Anyway, I think—god, I can't believe I'm about to even say this." She takes a deep breath, squaring off with my mirror. "I think I want to get a message to that freaky faerie guy who tortured me."

Surprise makes me stare for a moment before I feel like I have to remind her, "The Faerie of Wrath almost killed you."

"Yep."

"You were terrified of him."

"Still am."

"Yet you want to send him a message, presumably through me?"

She throws her hands in the air, emphatic. "Look, I don't want anything to do with that creepy telepathic jackass ever again, but I want to dance to death in hot iron shoes even less!"

She's lost me again. It must be another reference to her world.

With a sigh, Verena waves off my confusion. She begins cleaning up the fabric scraps and other things littered around the mannequin.