𝔗𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔰

It was winter, and the snow fell in soft, swirling flakes around me as I rode my horse through the silent forest. I had fled the village at dawn, longing for a moment of stillness, far from the restless bustle that had taken hold of everyone—especially my stepmother and my stepsister. Ever since the royal announcement that the prince was searching for a bride and would host a grand ball, they had done nothing but argue over invitations, fabrics, and shoes, desperate to be noticed. My own mother had died many years ago, and though my stepmother had stepped into her place, her heart had never warmed to me. When my father passed away last year, she became the unquestioned mistress of our house, and I found myself shrinking further into the quiet corners of my own life. At the edge of the forest, I dismounted, hoping not to startle the young deer standing only a few steps away between the trees. I watched as snow drifted around its delicate form, the world holding its breath for that fleeting, magical moment. But then a branch snapped, snow crunched, and the deer’s ears twitched in alarm. Three men emerged from the shadows. The first sprinted across the clearing toward me—dark-haired, dressed in a deep blue coat, a feathered hat tilted over his brow. In his hands he carried a crossbow, raised and aimed directly at the deer. Without thinking, I bent down, scooped up a handful of snow, and hurled it at him. The snowball struck cleanly, knocking his hat from his head. The deer bolted into the woods, vanishing like a sigh on the wind. But now the men’s attention was no longer on their quarry—it was entirely on me. My heart jumped. I spun around, gathered my skirt, and ran, the snow swallowing the sound of my footsteps as I fled deeper into the forest.