Page 36 of A Cake of Cherries and Charm

The rest of the fitting suddenly felt less joyous than when they had begun. Memories of the day before floated to the surface of Rosie’s mind, and her heart grew heavy.

“Rosie,” their mother said as soon as the seamstress had finished, and she and her girls had gone. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh,” Rosie replied, forcing a smile. “I was just deep in thought. About the troll and all.”

Her mother accepted this excuse without question. Unfortunately, Rosie’s twin was not deceived. When Rosie returned to her own room to freshen up, Snow followed.

“Tell me what’s wrong, or I’m going to ask Jonathan,” Snow said without preamble as soon as the door was shut.

“Snow!” Rosie whirled around. “What–”

“You think you’ve been so secretive, but you’re a bad liar, Rosie. What happened yesterday? Besides the troll?”

Rosie huffed. “Fine. But you can’t tell Mother. She’ll suffer an apoplexy.”

Snow’s blue eyes grew wide, and she sat on Rosie’s bed. “Was it really that bad?” Then her gaze narrowed. “And don’t try to lie to me. Like I said, I will talk to Jonathan, and he’ll tell me the truth if you don’t.”

Rosie drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “When the troll appeared yesterday, Jonathan was with me, but so was Marianne.”

Snow scowled. “Does she ever leave him alone?”

“Very rarely,” Rosie said wryly. “Anyhow, the troll and I began to argue, as we usually do, and–”

“Wait, how many times have you argued with the troll?” Snow interrupted.

“More than I wish. Now listen! Anyway, we were arguing, and Marianne, she… she…” Rosie closed her eyes, her throat suddenly growing thick. “She offered my life as a sacrifice to appease the troll.”

Snow’s face drained of blood.

“And I think that bothers me more than the troll, to be honest,” Rosie said, tracing a line of stitching on the bedcover with her fingers. “Knowing that another person was willing to send me to my death–” Rosie squeezed her eyes shut as all the thoughts that had haunted her the night before came to light again. And the decision she had finally made.

“That… That–” Snow stammered, her white face turning nearly cherry red.

“It’s not so much the insult I’m concerned about,” Rosie hurried on. “It’s the understanding that the woman who apparently wants me dead may very likely be our next queen.”

Snow opened her mouth, very likely to abuse the woman to the full extent of her vocabulary, when a knock sounded at the door.

“What?” she barked.

“I’m–I’m sorry, My Lady!” a muffled feminine voice called through the door. “But you’re needed in the library. The king has requested your presence to discuss the final marriage contract.”

Snow looked like she might explode, so Rosie hurried to reply before her sister could. “She’s coming now,” she called. Then she looked back at Snow, unable to stop herself from smiling. “Go, love. I have some cherry picking to do anyway. I’ll talk to you tonight before supper.”

“Very well! But we’re not finished with this conversation!” Snow snapped as she stood.

Rosie gently guided her sister to the door, afraid that if she didn’t, Snow would decide then and there that she wasn’t going. But annoying the king was the last thing either sister needed to do, now more than ever.

As soon as Snow was gone, Rosie picked up the basket she had borrowed from the kitchens. She was about to leave when an idea struck her.

It was reckless. And even if it didn’t offend the king, it would probably do so to the queen. But Rosie had very little time left to offend the queen, so she decided to scribble out a rash message on a small piece of parchment, taking the gamble anyway.

Once she was in the hall, she waved down a servant. “Please take this to Prince Jonathan,” she said, holding out the note. As soon as the servant was gone, Rosie went down to the gardens. A few minutes later, she was in the orchards, plucking red, juicy fruits from the cherry trees.

The sun was soothing in its tender warmth. The summer was coming to an end, and soon, autumn would begin its gentle creep. The fruits and grains would all be ripe and fat, and the harvest would begin. The blue sky would move from a pale blue to a blue that was crisp and vivid. The trees would change colors, and the animals would be searching for places to nest in the winter.

“I wish I could be here to see you then,” she said to the tree as she searched its fruits for the cherries that had ripened early. “It won’t be long, I know. Only a few weeks. But I won’t be here long, either.”

“What’s that?” a deep voice called.