A Bushel of Lies - A Snow White Saga

04 | FOUR

Rynia bolted upwards, wide awake and heart pounding out of her chest as unease filtered across her black eyes.

Something was wrong.

The youngest princess knew it the same way she knew she loathed her parents. There was trouble lingering in the air, wrapping around her bones and trying to drag her under. Her body was breathing heavily even as Rynia's brow furrowed - not finding what was so troubling at that moment. Odd. The smell of burnt sugar hung in the air; Raetta, her favorite dessert. Deliciously so.

Her pounding headache did nothing to soothe the delirious, giddy ballooning inside her. It was like she took too many sips of Sethia Red Wine, and Rynia's trembling fingers went to her temple, which she rubbed fiercely. The last thing she remembered was exploring her mother's powder room, finding the secret staircase, entering the circular room, and reaching out to grasp a silk cover, unveiling... What did she unveil? Hovering at the back of Rynia's mind, she vaguely recalled old polished, wavering, and rippling glass and an antique, jeweled, and carved frame, but the rest of the memory had seemed to have vanished from her brain.

Rynia pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ward off an oncoming headache. Why was she even in her mother's room? What was so important she'd risk the wrath of the Evil Queen?

She pressed her fingers into the back of her neck, trying to massage the tangled pain away, wincing as her neck cracked. She had never been hungover before but was willing to bet this - the pounding headache, aching bones, waves of pain, and the heartburn that nearly left Rynia retching - was exactly like it felt like.

Rynia's fingers, which were fluttering over her neck, stopped as something uncomfortable pressed against the base of her throat. She ran her hand against a soft, thin, metal-like texture and her arm froze. Leaping out of bed and ignoring her throbbing migraine, Rynia rushed to the large, gold-rimmed full-length mirror sitting on her chamber wall.

Usually, she didn't prefer to glance at her reflection, throwing up a cover to stop her from seeing her unseemly features, lanky figure, and bottomless black eyes - the same dark eyes she shared with her mother, and everyday wished she could get rid off. Never mind the fact that she didn't want anything to do with her biological mother - and staring vainly at a mirror was a favorite habit of the Evil Queen's - one Rynia made sure not to receive.

But this time, Rynia's gaze was not focused on her unsuitable appearance, nor yesterday's rumpled dress she had apparently slept in. Instead, Rynia's eyes traced the intricate choker-like silver necklace resting around her neck - one with a sapphire the size of a child's palm being the showstopper as it dangled from her neck. The princess's mouth dropped open.

Her hands hovered right over where her skin was overlapped by the metal, halfheartedly trying to tug it off. She was absolutely certain that she hadn't fallen asleep wearing the beautiful necklace. But then where did it come from?

Rynia's brow furrowed, but, as she rubbed her temples, started pushing back all thoughts of the necklace. It was beautiful, and she had the most intense instinct not to take it off. When trying to tug the pendant away from her skin, the necklace burned her fingertips and the skin under it harshly - Rynia wasn't interested in trying again. Also - and although the princess was embarrassed to admit it - Rynia wanted to keep it on; a comforting weight stealing her for the challenges the rising sun would bring. Although the last thing from frivolous, Rynia had never been granted beautiful jewelry; her parents only showering her with enough money to buy the most expensive, uncomfortable dresses of their choosing and then leaving their daughter to fend for herself.

Rynia - shaking her head so hard her hair tangled - pushed back all thoughts of the necklace as Miss Elboney skipped into the princess's room, skirts flurrying around her. She had enough to worry about without a simple necklace on top of the pile. For example; why couldn't she remember anything after unveiling the silk cover?