The Queen spent the following months further acquainting herself with her new home. With the King away, Snow occupied much of the Queen’s time. The two picnicked in the woods, and the Queen taught the child delicate needlepoint. She told her tales of dragons while they snuggled by the warm fire in the Queen’s chamber, where Snow slept while the King was deployed.
The two also spent many sunny afternoons visiting Snow’s mother’s grave site. The mausoleum was surrounded by a lovely overgrown garden filled with creeping roses, wisteria, jasmine, honeysuckle and gardenia—all favorites of the King’s first wife.
The scent was almost intoxicating. The Queen would sit with Snow for hours, telling her the stories of her mother that she had learned from the letters the King had brought her, and reading some aloud.
“Was my first mother very pretty?” Snow asked.
“I believe she was, my dearest. I shall ask your father if there are any portraits I may show you. I’m sure she was very beautiful.”
Snow looked distressed.
“What is it darling?”
Snow cocked her head like a little rabbit might at hearing a noise. It warmed the Queen’s heart.
“Well, Momma, how can you be sure she was beautiful?”
The Queen smiled at the precocious child.
“Well, my little bird, you are the most beautiful creature I have even seen, and so it only stands to reason…”
Snow seemed contented with this deduction. “Tell me more about her, please, Momma. What was her favorite color? What was her favorite dessert?”
“I’m not sure, Snow, she may speak of these things in her missives. But I do know she was a very capable horsewoman. She adored horses and hoped to teach you how to ride when you were old enough. Shall I teach you to ride, little bird?”
“Oh yes, Momma! I love horses!”
“Do you? I hadn’t known.”
“What’s your favorite color, Momma? Is it red? I think it must be red, you wear it so often.”
“Yes, you’re right, little bird.”
“And mine, Momma? Do you know?”
“I think…blue.”
“Yes, Momma!”
“Shall we pick some flowers to take back to the castle? It looks as if it may rain soon. We should venture home before we get soaked through.”
“Yes, Momma. Let’s pick flowers. Red and blue flowers!”
They gathered flowers as it began to rain. They arrived at the castle steps soaked indeed, little sprigs of flowers in the folds of their skirts. But they were happy, and their soaked clothes did little to dampen their moods.
Verona was waiting for them when they arrived back at the castle, both laughing with the giddiness of the day.
“My gods! Look at you both! You’re wet to the bone. You had best get out of these wet things. I have hot baths ready. Hurry along,” Verona said, taking the flowers from the rain-drenched beauties.
“Will you float the flowers in bowls of water and distribute them around the castle, Verona?” the Queen requested. The Queen thought having the castle filled with Snow’s mother’s favorite fragrances might make it feel as if her mother were near her. How the Queen wished she knew where her own mother was laid to rest.
“Of course, my Queen,” Verona answered. Then she ushered her into the Queen’s chamber where her bath had been prepared.
The Queen spent most of her time in one remote part of the room where she could settle into what she was sure was the most comfortable seat in the kingdom—a thronelike padded armchair upholstered with velvet cushions and plush trimmings. The chair was set near the fireplace, beside an alcove shelving her best-loved illuminated manuscripts. With her husband gone, she’d been ending most of her days there, and would do so again this evening. But first, a bath.
Verona exited, and the Queen stepped into the soothing tub. The steaming water melted a frost that seemed to cover the Queen’s every bone. Despite the rain and the resulting shivers, she’d had a pleasant day with Snow.
Still, she missed the King terribly.