My parents approved

     Rosalie sighed, and when she spoke again her voice was different, the wistfulness gone.
     “In Rochester, there was one royal family — the Kings, ironically enough. Royce King owned the bank
my father worked at, and nearly every other really profitable business in town. That’s how his son, Royce
King the Second” — her mouth twisted around the name, it came out through her teeth — “saw me the first
time. He was going to take over at the bank, and so he began overseeing the different positions. Two days
later, my mother conveniently forgot to send my father’s lunch to work with him. I remember being confused
when she insisted that I wear my white organza and roll my hair up just to run over to the bank.” Rosalie
laughed without humor.
     “I didn’t notice Royce watching me particularly. Everyone watched me. But that night the first of the roses
came. Every night of our courtship, he sent a bouquet of roses to me. My room was always overflowing with
them. It got to the point that I would smell like roses when I left the house.
     “Royce was handsome, too. He had lighter hair than I did, and pale blue eyes. He said my eyes were like
violets, and then those started showing up alongside the roses.
     “My parents approved — that’s putting it mildly. This was everything they’d dreamed of. And Royce
seemed to be everything I’d dreamed of. The fairy tale prince, come to make me a princess. Everything I
wanted, yet it was still no more than I expected. We were engaged before I’d known him for two months.
     “We didn’t spend a great deal of time alone with each other. Royce told me he had many responsibilities
at work, and, when we were together, he liked people to look at us, to see me on his arm. I liked that, too.
There were lots of parties, dancing, and pretty dresses. When you were a King, every door was open for you,
every red carpet rolled out to greet you.
     “It wasn’t a long engagement. Plans went ahead for the most lavish wedding. It was going to be everything
I’d ever wanted. I was completely happy. When I called at Vera’s, I no longer felt jealous. I pictured my fair-
haired children playing on the huge lawns of the Kings’ estate, and I pitied her.”
     Rosalie broke off suddenly, clenching her teeth together. It pulled me out of her story, and I realized that
the horror was not far off. There would be no happy ending, as she’d promised. I wondered if this was why
she had so much more bitterness in her than the rest of them — because she’d been within reach of everything
she’d wanted when her human life was cut short.
     “I was at Vera’s that night,” Rosalie whispered. Her face was smooth as marble, and as hard. “Her little
Henry really was adorable, all smiles and dimples — he was just sitting up on his own. Vera walked me to the
door as I was leaving, her baby in her arms and her husband at her side, his arm around her waist. He kissed
her on the cheek when he thought I wasn’t looking. That bothered me. When Royce kissed me, it wasn’t quite

the same — not so sweet somehow. . . . I shoved that thought aside. Royce was my prince. Someday, I
would be queen.”