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Eirwen's Dream: Inside Snow White's Sleeping Mind (Fairetellings) (Volume 2)

By Kristen Reed

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Few things bored Princess Eirwen to tears more than preparing for events. Having to do so while she was still mourning the death of her father, King Rhys, made listening to instructions about her coronation that Friday seem about as exciting as watching her newly painted portrait dry. However, a smile graced the princess’ rosy, Cupid’s bow lips when she shifted her azure gaze from the Prime Minister to her fiancé.
Prince Roderick was sitting in one of the pews near the back of the abbey keeping the chubby cheeked Ifan entertained by quietly playing toy soldiers with him. Though the auburn-haired prince was twenty years older than her half-brother, the two were as thick as thieves. Four-year-old Ifan had waddled after his future brother-in-law in awe ever since the foreign prince first arrived in Talfryn a year before to court Eirwen. Roderick’s bravery on the battlefield during a recent war with Aspasia had impressed the child and his mother, Nerys, but his kindness and romantic poetry had stolen Eirwen’s heart and earned the king’s approval.
The prince had hand delivered a beautifully written sonnet about her obsidian locks and twinkling blue eyes upon his departure, and he included a new poem with every letter he sent during the intervals between his visits. Though Roderick’s first verse had praised her beauty, it became increasingly obvious during their correspondence and interactions that he valued her mind, spirit, and faith more than her striking looks. However, his comfort, compassion, and heartfelt declaration of love after her father’s passing were what had truly won her over.
“Eirwen,” Nerys hissed.
The princess turned her attention to her stepmother and gave the beleaguered widow a sheepish grin. While the two women had never been close, their relationship had grown increasingly strained since Rhys’ death. Treating a woman only a decade older than she was as a mother had always been awkward for Eirwen, but submitting to a twenty-year-old young lady would be equally strange for Nerys after the coronation. Those differences aside, the two beauties were bound by the mutual tragedy of losing someone they loved dearly and having their lives turned upside down by his untimely death.
At least I have Roderick, Eirwen thought as she went through the motions of her crowning. Him coming into my life was truly a blessing from God.
The remainder of the rehearsal passed quickly, and the four royals swiftly boarded their coach for the short ride back to the palace. Roderick took Eirwen’s hand in his once they were seated and kissed her knuckles, making her cheeks flush and her heart flutter.
“You were wonderful today,” he praised, “and you’ll be spectacular when the time comes tomorrow.”
“Thank y—”
“She’ll only do well if you don’t distract her again,” Nerys scolded, turning her coffee-colored glare to Eirwen. “You need to be more focused tomorrow if you don’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of Parliament and the other noblemen.”
“Of course, Stepmother,” Eirwen replied in an even tone. “I truly appreciate all of your help in planning this. I know it hasn’t been easy for you.”
The widow’s chin quivered slightly as she blew air out of her aristocratic nose and broke eye contact to look at the passing countryside. Only five years before, Nerys had been crowned the queen of Talfryn. She’d had high hopes for her future despite forgoing the handsome young men who panted after her in favor of a significantly older husband. King Rhys had been a kind, fair, affectionate man, and his blonde bride had been convinced that he would one day change the line of succession to make their son the heir to the throne because of the love they shared. Unfortunately, the monarch died before she could persuade him to do so, which meant that she was little more than a guest who lived in the palace at Eirwen’s pleasure.
The idea of bowing and scraping to the nauseatingly sweet, high-spirited girl exasperated Nerys, but there was little she could do about it. The young woman, who spent more time with her nose stuck in a Bible than a priest, would rise in power and she would fall into obscurity. Her best shot at a good life would have been to marry well a second time, but there was no man in Talfryn whose power rivaled Rhys’ and her beauty was fading more rapidly than she expected.
Since Ifan’s birth, wrinkles seemed to sprout like weeds at the corners of Nerys’ eyes and the lines that appeared on her forehead and on either side of her mouth no longer vanished when she stopped laughing or smiling … not that she’d done much of either recently. Eirwen, on the other hand, had the glow of new love working in her favor and her ethereal beauty seemed to grow in time with her budding relationship. In less than twenty-four hours, the naïve twit would be not just the most beloved, benevolent, beautiful woman in the kingdom, but also the most powerful. And Nerys would be nothing.
It was positively infuriating.
Despite Nerys’ attempt to disengage from conversing with the two young lovers, she still held Eirwen’s rapt attention. The future queen of Talfryn could tell that her stepmother was hurting, but Eirwen was hesitant to disturb her. After all, everything she did or said seemed to frustrate Nerys, and she didn’t want to add to the grieving woman’s pain with her unwanted persistence.
Sensing his fiancée’s distress, Roderick gave Eirwen’s hand a quick squeeze, which she responded to by resting her head on his shoulder. The valiant prince fought the urge to pull his fiancée into his arms and console her since it was neither the time nor the place. Despite having known each other for a year, he had never done anything more than give her a peck on the lips after she accepted his proposal. Since their engagement, the two would hold hands or Roderick would place his arm around her when they were away from prying, critical eyes, but those precious, innocent moments were few. Greater displays of affection would have caused whispers of indecency and sullied her reputation.
With that in mind, the two parted ways when they arrived at the palace with only a bow and a kiss on her hand. Roderick promptly joined the Prime Minister, Lord Drystan, for a tour of a nearby village and Eirwen spent her afternoon doing what relaxing she could to conserve her energy for the next day’s coronation. After letting Ifan best her in three games of marbles and reading four chapters from Pride and Prejudice, which Roderick had bought for her on his latest outing, Eirwen sought out her stepmother.
Eirwen found the woebegone widow in the parlor drinking tea alone. The princess took her seat at the table and greeted Nerys with a smile.
“How has your afternoon been?” she chirped.
“Dull as always. I feel like I’ve been drowning in boredom since your father died.”
“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Nerys waved off her stepdaughter’s response as she sipped on her steaming beverage.
“Well, would you like to—”
“Have you and Prince Roderick been intimate at all?” Nerys asked abruptly.
Eirwen’s complexion went from snow white to beet red, and her blue gaze dropped to her hands. The young mother smirked behind her teacup and watched in amusement as her embarrassed companion struggled to form a response. Intentionally causing Eirwen even a little discomfort worked wonders for Nerys’ mood, but she couldn’t help noticing that her stepdaughter even looked stunning in her state of shock.
“O-Of course not,” she stammered. “We’ve only ever kissed once, and it was barely for more than a moment.”
“Has he ever been intimate with another woman?”
“No,” Eirwen gasped. “Why would you even ask that?”
“You were both terribly close on the carriage ride back from the abbey, and I didn’t know what to think of it,” Nerys lied smoothly. “Soldiers are notorious for taking more than riches and gold when they go to war. I wouldn’t be surprised if Roderick spent the night with a woman or two during one of his campaigns.”
Eirwen placed a scone on her plate and spread clotted cream on the pastry with quaking hands while she fought the images Nerys’ words inspired of Roderick with another woman. She knew that there was some truth to her stepmother’s claims, but she just couldn’t imagine her sweet beloved behaving as so many others had. He was different. Not just because he was hers but also because he was a gallant, caring man. As she reminded herself of Roderick’s true character and the countless times he’d proven to be a man of faith and principle, Eirwen’s racing heart slowed and she was able to meet Nerys’ dark eyes again.
“I don’t know what gave you the impression that Prince Roderick was anything other than a man of honor, but you’re quite mistaken about his character,” Eirwen replied. “While holding hands and sitting as we did in the carriage may not have been acceptable in your eyes, it in no way is a symptom of debauchery on his part. He has told me that he’s lever lain with anyone, and I trust his word completely.”
“Well, let me give you a little advice. No man makes a habit of showing his bad side when he’s courting a woman he wants to marry. Your father was a tragically flawed man, but I didn’t realize the depths of his weaknesses as a king and as a man until after we were husband and wife. You’d do well to go into your marriage with your eyes wide open, so you can avoid making the same mistakes that I did.”
“My father was not weak,” Eirwen shot back, her voice trembling as her blue eyes darkened with fury. “He had his faults just like anyone else, but I won’t have you speaking ill of him when he is still fresh in his grave.”
“My, my, my … you’re certainly quick to exercise your new authority,” Nerys taunted. “I didn’t realize you had such a fierce bark, Snow White.”
Eirwen winced at the way her stepmother practically snarled her childhood nickname. Having been born on the day of the first snowfall of the winter with a fair complexion that was striking rather than sickly, the late Queen Gwenyth and King Rhys had affectionately nicknamed her Snow White. Even as she grew older, they joked that she could disappear into the snow if not for her dark locks and rosebud pink lips. That endearing moniker always brought a smile to her face, especially when Roderick learned of the name and took to using it on occasion, but having it sneered as a curse by Nerys’ venomous tongue cut her to the bone. Fighting back unshed tears, Eirwen placed her napkin back on the table and took a deep breath as she rose to her feet.
“I’m going to lie down until Roderick and Drystan return for supper. I hope you enjoy your tea, Stepmother,” she whispered.
“Sleep well, Snow White,” Nerys grinned victoriously.
The princess balled her hands into fists as she glided out of the parlor, hoping the pain of her fingernails digging into her palms would keep the tears at bay long enough for her to escape to the privacy of her room. Once Eirwen was gone, Nerys relished in her solitude. Whenever the naïve princess had been away since Rhys’ passing, Nerys had been able to rest peacefully and exert more influence in the palace, but power always reverted to the late king’s pasty heir upon her return.
If the young princess were permanently absent—or rather dead—all of Nerys’ problems would disappear. She would remain in power as queen regent until Ifan came of age to take on the role of king and her position would be secure. All she would have to do is make sure the little twit died of seemingly natural causes. Considering her husband’s recent passing, Nerys had no doubt that she could put on a convincing show to mourn Eirwen before the kingdom. She would earn the people’s pity and allegiance, which would turn into love and respect in time as she proved worthy of her crown.
But could she actually go through with it?
Even as Nerys contemplated the dark plan that swirled in her mind, she realized that it wasn’t a matter of ability but one of will. The widow had the steely determination necessary to do the deed and could easily procure the means of her salvation, but one question still remained. Was she willing to take an innocent young woman’s life to ensure that she and Ifan had the life they deserved?
Nerys vacated her chair with a sigh and inspected her reflection in the gilded mirror on the wall. As she counted the offensive silver hairs that had invaded her blonde mane and lamented the ever-present dark circles under her weary brown eyes, Nerys remembered her youth.
Ten years ago, as a young, vivacious woman, she had been the object of countless men’s affections and every woman’s awe or envy. No one had come close to her in beauty, wit, or even accomplishment. Men of all ranks had written songs about her mysterious dark eyes and poems about her flaxen locks. Rhys himself even said on multiple occasions that she had the most enchanting voice in the kingdom. No one had compared to her.
Then her saccharine stepdaughter came of age.
“Mirror, mirror, upon the wall,” she sighed, “why bring me so high then let me fall?”
Of course, the looking glass didn’t respond to her silly rhyme, but Nerys caught a glimpse of Eirwen’s new portrait hanging on the wall behind her as she eyed the mirror. While she glared at the depiction of the regal, radiant royal, the widow’s blood boiled with bitterness. When the king of Talfryn had claimed her as his wife, she’d found rest in knowing that her future was secure thanks to her powerful husband and eventually a beautiful son. Then, Rhys’ heart shuddered to a stop one day, and everything was ripped from her hands because he left everything to his more beloved first wife’s daughter.
Just as her animosity reached its zenith, a seductive voice softer than an ermine surcoat whispered in her ear, and all of the tension fled her body.
Do it.

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