Chapter 1
There’s nothing quite like hiking up a freaking mountain after eating German pancakes for breakfast.
Yes, pancake s . Plural.
With lots of maple syrup, powdered sugar, and a heaping side of bacon for good measure.
Personally, I’d been expecting granola or eggs. Something light. Maybe even a vanilla protein shake and one of those tasteless protein bars. But mom, unsurprisingly, had other plans.
“This is the day you’ll meet him,” she beamed, her smile as radiant as the ray of sunlight beaming into my eye, making me wince and hiss as I stuck my hand in front of my face like a vampire.
I’d had a few too many congratulatory drinks last night. Damn, the Sisters of the Order of the Crystal sure could hold their liquor. Anyways, I’d plummeted into my seat at the breakfast table. This made my head pound even harder. “Right. Can’t wait…to meet him.
My mom slapped a plate down in front of me. And then another. And another. “I want you to be your best, so I made you your favorite for breakfast.”
She’d not only made it once, but at least six times. That should have been my first clue that she was planning on torturing me today.
And, oh boy, is she succeeding.
My generously curvy body is not made for carving my own path through the wilderness. A hike around a lake? Oh sure, I can do that. And I’ll take a dip in that lake, too. But please, please, please , do not make me conquer the freaking mountain . There’s a rock in my left shoe, but I’m too tired to bend over and fix it. There isn’t a cloud in the blue sky. Cheery sunlight beats down on me, making all those ringlets my mother had so painstakingly made with the curling iron at breakfast while I stuffed my face stick to my sweaty forehead.
In other words, I no longer look my best.
“Don’t make such a grump face, we’re almost there!” my mom sings.
I want to yell something at her, but I’m too tired, so I groan like a zombie.
She shakes her head. “Oh, come on Rainbow!”
I wish that was her pet name for me, but no, my name is actually Rainbow. Why? Because my mom was flyin’ high on pain meds when I came out, and said that I was like the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. So why hadn’t I been called Goldie? Because “life’s about the journey,” though this made even less sense to me because wasn’t childbirth about the baby and not the painful birthing part? Anyways, yeah, I’m Rainbow, which I thought was the coolest thing ever until I reached the age of eleven. Come to think of it, that was also the year I’d stopped thinking having an arranged marriage was the most romantic thing ever.
“Come on, Rainbow. The sisters are waiting for you.”
This does not surprise me. The sisters of the Order of the Crystal were like a small army of grandmothers. Very, very intense grandmothers. Waking up at 4am was not a big deal for them since it was the time they woke up every day. They then bathed in the ice melt river at the edge of the property, gathered fallen twigs, tended to the chickens and the goats and the garden, and caught up on some “light” reading (like Hildegard of Bingen’s Scivias) .
All this was completed before breakfast.
Speaking of breakfast, I have a killer side-ache. I clutch my stomach as my mother calls out, “Oh look, you can see the sisters!”
I glance up to see the dotted outline of the sisters around a big ass fire. My first thought is, Thank God. My second thought, Still too far. My third, Oh no, they’re cooking something! The Sisters of the Order of the Crystal are famous throughout the land for their cooking, and not in a good way. Many have wondered how I’ve reached the ripe old age of 25. I’ve wondered, too.
“So close, Rainbow! Are you excited?”
I make more zombie noises.
My mom takes this as a good thing. “Great! I’m so happy for you.”
At least one of us was happy.
“Do you have the ring?” my mom asks.
Oh, like I’d ever climb up this mountain without
There’s nothing quite like hiking up a freaking mountain after eating German pancakes for breakfast.
Yes, pancake s . Plural.
With lots of maple syrup, powdered sugar, and a heaping side of bacon for good measure.
Personally, I’d been expecting granola or eggs. Something light. Maybe even a vanilla protein shake and one of those tasteless protein bars. But mom, unsurprisingly, had other plans.
“This is the day you’ll meet him,” she beamed, her smile as radiant as the ray of sunlight beaming into my eye, making me wince and hiss as I stuck my hand in front of my face like a vampire.
I’d had a few too many congratulatory drinks last night. Damn, the Sisters of the Order of the Crystal sure could hold their liquor. Anyways, I’d plummeted into my seat at the breakfast table. This made my head pound even harder. “Right. Can’t wait…to meet him.
My mom slapped a plate down in front of me. And then another. And another. “I want you to be your best, so I made you your favorite for breakfast.”
She’d not only made it once, but at least six times. That should have been my first clue that she was planning on torturing me today.
And, oh boy, is she succeeding.
My generously curvy body is not made for carving my own path through the wilderness. A hike around a lake? Oh sure, I can do that. And I’ll take a dip in that lake, too. But please, please, please , do not make me conquer the freaking mountain . There’s a rock in my left shoe, but I’m too tired to bend over and fix it. There isn’t a cloud in the blue sky. Cheery sunlight beats down on me, making all those ringlets my mother had so painstakingly made with the curling iron at breakfast while I stuffed my face stick to my sweaty forehead.
In other words, I no longer look my best.
“Don’t make such a grump face, we’re almost there!” my mom sings.
I want to yell something at her, but I’m too tired, so I groan like a zombie.
She shakes her head. “Oh, come on Rainbow!”
I wish that was her pet name for me, but no, my name is actually Rainbow. Why? Because my mom was flyin’ high on pain meds when I came out, and said that I was like the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. So why hadn’t I been called Goldie? Because “life’s about the journey,” though this made even less sense to me because wasn’t childbirth about the baby and not the painful birthing part? Anyways, yeah, I’m Rainbow, which I thought was the coolest thing ever until I reached the age of eleven. Come to think of it, that was also the year I’d stopped thinking having an arranged marriage was the most romantic thing ever.
“Come on, Rainbow. The sisters are waiting for you.”
This does not surprise me. The sisters of the Order of the Crystal were like a small army of grandmothers. Very, very intense grandmothers. Waking up at 4am was not a big deal for them since it was the time they woke up every day. They then bathed in the ice melt river at the edge of the property, gathered fallen twigs, tended to the chickens and the goats and the garden, and caught up on some “light” reading (like Hildegard of Bingen’s Scivias) .
All this was completed before breakfast.
Speaking of breakfast, I have a killer side-ache. I clutch my stomach as my mother calls out, “Oh look, you can see the sisters!”
I glance up to see the dotted outline of the sisters around a big ass fire. My first thought is, Thank God. My second thought, Still too far. My third, Oh no, they’re cooking something! The Sisters of the Order of the Crystal are famous throughout the land for their cooking, and not in a good way. Many have wondered how I’ve reached the ripe old age of 25. I’ve wondered, too.
“So close, Rainbow! Are you excited?”
I make more zombie noises.
My mom takes this as a good thing. “Great! I’m so happy for you.”
At least one of us was happy.
“Do you have the ring?” my mom asks.
Oh, like I’d ever climb up this mountain without
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