The Poisoned Princess

Prologue

There is a legend that tells of a beautiful queen who had everything she wanted, except a child. As she sat by the window sewing one snowy night, she pricked her finger and a drop of blood pooled on her finger and fell to the snow banked on the sill. She wished then for a daughter with skin as fair as snow, lips red as blood, and hair dark as night.

Nine months later, I was born.

Now, first of all, who sews by the open window in the middle of the night in winter? And seriously? Skin as fair as snow and lips as red as blood? What am I? A vampire?

Yes, I have white skin and dark hair, but that is thanks to genetics. Both my parents have dark hair and fair skin. As for my lips being as red as blood? No. Just…no.

The exact circumstances of my birth are not something I’ve been privy to and, by the by, ew, gross. I don’t know anyone who wants to hear a detailed account of how they were conceived. I am no different. But apparently nothing is sacred when it comes to spreading misinformation, rumours, and gossip.

I had a happy childhood and didn’t know just how blessed I was until everything went awry. I grew up as a princess. I led a privileged life. There was a time when I could have been thought to be arrogant or conceited, or simply naive. I admit it. But I didn’t know better. I do now, though. I know that not everyone gets to spend their days in idle pursuits surrounded by lush furnishings, unlimited access to food and water, and a safe place to sleep.

And love.

I was loved.

I now know what a luxury that was.

My parents loved me and I them. I idolised my father. He was the world to me and my mother was my hiding place and my sanctuary. That’s not to say we didn’t have our moments. We fought, of course. Don’t all parents and children fight?

I would do anything to have those moments back…even the not-so-happy ones.