![]() ![]() The gleaming bond of their love, and the boy’s innocence, are too powerful to endure. The heart of stone buried deep within me threatens to shatter. The wind rises to a shriek, and icy shards sting my skin. I just want Mama to be safe.”Ī seismic shift shocks my core. The boy twists free and scurries to his mother’s side. Is it not a father’s calling to do the same?” “You’d sacrifice your own life for the boy. “That would be too easy.” I touch the long bruise along her forearm, and for the first time, she flinches. “You’d have me trade my life for his? It’s yours.” “Poison.” Her gaze never flinches from my own. I pluck a nightshade berry and hold it in my cupped palm. She approaches me with her chin held high. She looks down at the boy, and determination slides over her face like a knight’s visor. “You would challenge the Faerie Queen for him?” I try neither to see the bruises on her outstretched arms nor the phantom bruises that stretch across my own memory, trapped in amber. “He understands exactly who I am,” I reply. The woman comes closer, reaching toward her child. “The boy came to me of his own accord.” I rest one hand atop his head. But the air betrays me, turning chill and still as a frozen stream. I intensify my shell of glamour, making myself appear taller. When her sunken eyes rest on the boy, she stops dead and lifts her gaze to meet mine. She staggers past the sentinel trees, bare feet red in the new-drifted snow. His eyes widen and he struggles in my grasp. I grab his arm and pull him close, wrapping him inside the sable cloak. We are interrupted by the sound of cracking twigs. Snow settles in his hair and melts into the cambric nightshirt. ![]() “Do you think she won’t know the difference? That it won’t cause her pain?” Not even your mama.” It is cruel to use his mother in such a way, but I’m not known for kindness. Wind whips around us, whitening his already pale skin. “When he hurts her,” he whispers, “it hurts me too.” These are the things that make you human.” His heart of flesh thumps wildly under my palm. I rise and conjure a sable cloak around my shoulders. My subjects huddle together in the lee of the silver-leafed trees. The gale returns, laced now with stinging flecks of frost. “Then please, Majesty, will you give me a heart of stone?” The boy’s shoulders slump, and he bunches the tails of his nightshirt in a fist, then takes a fortifying breath, and straightens. “Eyes of wood don’t stop the memory of what’s already been seen.” My throne’s woven vines embrace me, and the wind recedes. It’s been long since anything beyond a mild zephyr touched the glen. The weather in my court reflects my moods. Mama. My chest constricts around an unwelcome ache.Īn icy wind blows, ringing through the silver leaves. I see freckles now, standing out beneath purple-shadowed eyes. My bodyguard moves to intercept him, but I motion him back with a flick of my hand. ![]() “You’ve found me out.” I slip a nightshade berry between my lips. Wide brown eyes beneath a mop of straw-blond hair ignore the wonders of my court, staring only at me. This is the Valentine wreath that hung on our cabin two years ago.The human child, wearing nothing but his nightshirt, can’t have seen more than six summers. Just because it’s getting close to that romantic holiday… A little sanding and adding antiquing stain helped bring out the details.īelow are a few more items I made using scrap wood. Or leaving it as is with different colors and tones of the wood scraps.īut now I’m glad I did. I’ve found wood trim on Amazon! Here’s a link to a collection to browse. This is by far my favorite wood glue!!! I’ve made boxes WITHOUT nails using this wood glue! And here! I glued them to a wood heart I cut out with the jigsaw. I swept out the workshop and gathered the bits of trim outta the dust pan. Click here to read my full disclosure policy. Think of it as a friend letting you know where I found a product I use, love or want. I will make a commission for your purchase at no extra cost to you. If you follow me you know one of my sayings is, “broken pieces mend stronger.” So be still my beating heart, a scrap wood heart is born. This leaves a box or two or three or more of scraps. I adore making things and always attempt to make most of our furniture. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |