almost blended into it with her pale skin, hair, and long, white silk robe. She looked effortlessly beautiful despite the hour. “To what do I owe the extremely early honor, Scion?”
Tessa looked away from her and took in the view again. “I need your help,” Tessa said, crossing her arms.
“I’m unsurprised,” Snow said, bored. “With what exactly .”
“I need to get something out of the school, and I need you to take it from me and keep it here for a little while.”
Snow raised one eyebrow suspiciously, “Sounds deceptively simple. Is that all?”
Tessa nodded. “Yes, but we need to go now.”
“Yes, yes, of course it’s now. Everything is always now with you, Scion,” Snow said, walking to the back bedroom. Tessa sat down on the white angled couch. She figured someone like Snow would take just this side of forever to get ready, but nearly as soon as Tessa sat down, Snow breezed out of the room again. Her hair was piled elegantly on her head, and she was clad in a plunging, bright white sweater dress that belted at her waist and hugged her slender curves dramatically. She wore a pair of amazing grey boots that came up above her knee, artfully covered with straps and buckles. She looked like a freaking supermodel. Again. A jerk, but still a supermodel. Damn.
“Um…okay,” Tessa said, looking her up and down then self-consciously running a hand through her own hair which she had barely even bothered to comb. Snow grabbed some keys, sunglasses, and a soft grey bag (that must have cost at least a thousand dollars) off a table by the front door and nodded at Tessa impatiently.
“Coming, Scion?” she called. Tessa scrambled to her feet, grabbing her giant empty duffle in the process, and followed Snow out into the hall and down into the underground garage. Snow turned the key and the engine roared to life.
“How do you manage it? You’ve been here barely two days and you have a car, a completely outfitted penthouse, a slew of gorgeous clothes, who knows what else?”
Snow rolled her eyes. “You know the part of my name you keep leaving out?”
“Huh?”
“QUEEN. I’m The Snow QUEEN, Scion. You think I got that way by not knowing how to get things done? Please,” she said, peeling out of the garage at a bracing clip.
“Someone was in my house last night.”
“Mortal or Story?” Snow asked, as she took a tight turn going at least forty.
“Definitely Story,” Tessa said, grimacing at the speed.
“Who was it?”
“I’m not sure. I didn’t get a name…didn’t even ask, come to think of it. Although, that’s hardly my fault since it was three am. I figure I’m lucky I was conscious and wearing clothes.”
“Well, describe them, perhaps we can narrow it down. Male or female, or something else perhaps?”
“Male, definitely male. Devastatingly handsomely male.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down much.”
“Yeah, are you all like that?”
“Like what?”
“In a word? HOT.”
“I suppose. You’re unlikely to find a lot of wallflowers. Very few plain janes. Most are written as ‘the most beautiful’ or, of course, the reverse. Extremes are popular in Fiction. Some of your more modern tales are deliberately not that way perhaps, but you’re less likely to run into them.”
“Why’s that?”
“New Fiction tends to play itself out for a hundred years or so before it gets bored and starts pushing on its boundaries, discovers what it truly is, how it can cross into other worlds. Since they each live in their own perfectly constructed worlds, some Stories can go centuries before they even realize they can step outside those—pages—for lack of a better word.”
“Interesting,” Tessa said, and then flinched as they careened past a busload of elementary school children while going a cool seventy.
“I suppose. So what else? I’ll need more details than ‘devastatingly handsome’.”
“Oh, right. Um, tall, at least six foot three, maybe four. Dark hair very
Tessa looked away from her and took in the view again. “I need your help,” Tessa said, crossing her arms.
“I’m unsurprised,” Snow said, bored. “With what exactly .”
“I need to get something out of the school, and I need you to take it from me and keep it here for a little while.”
Snow raised one eyebrow suspiciously, “Sounds deceptively simple. Is that all?”
Tessa nodded. “Yes, but we need to go now.”
“Yes, yes, of course it’s now. Everything is always now with you, Scion,” Snow said, walking to the back bedroom. Tessa sat down on the white angled couch. She figured someone like Snow would take just this side of forever to get ready, but nearly as soon as Tessa sat down, Snow breezed out of the room again. Her hair was piled elegantly on her head, and she was clad in a plunging, bright white sweater dress that belted at her waist and hugged her slender curves dramatically. She wore a pair of amazing grey boots that came up above her knee, artfully covered with straps and buckles. She looked like a freaking supermodel. Again. A jerk, but still a supermodel. Damn.
“Um…okay,” Tessa said, looking her up and down then self-consciously running a hand through her own hair which she had barely even bothered to comb. Snow grabbed some keys, sunglasses, and a soft grey bag (that must have cost at least a thousand dollars) off a table by the front door and nodded at Tessa impatiently.
“Coming, Scion?” she called. Tessa scrambled to her feet, grabbing her giant empty duffle in the process, and followed Snow out into the hall and down into the underground garage. Snow turned the key and the engine roared to life.
“How do you manage it? You’ve been here barely two days and you have a car, a completely outfitted penthouse, a slew of gorgeous clothes, who knows what else?”
Snow rolled her eyes. “You know the part of my name you keep leaving out?”
“Huh?”
“QUEEN. I’m The Snow QUEEN, Scion. You think I got that way by not knowing how to get things done? Please,” she said, peeling out of the garage at a bracing clip.
“Someone was in my house last night.”
“Mortal or Story?” Snow asked, as she took a tight turn going at least forty.
“Definitely Story,” Tessa said, grimacing at the speed.
“Who was it?”
“I’m not sure. I didn’t get a name…didn’t even ask, come to think of it. Although, that’s hardly my fault since it was three am. I figure I’m lucky I was conscious and wearing clothes.”
“Well, describe them, perhaps we can narrow it down. Male or female, or something else perhaps?”
“Male, definitely male. Devastatingly handsomely male.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down much.”
“Yeah, are you all like that?”
“Like what?”
“In a word? HOT.”
“I suppose. You’re unlikely to find a lot of wallflowers. Very few plain janes. Most are written as ‘the most beautiful’ or, of course, the reverse. Extremes are popular in Fiction. Some of your more modern tales are deliberately not that way perhaps, but you’re less likely to run into them.”
“Why’s that?”
“New Fiction tends to play itself out for a hundred years or so before it gets bored and starts pushing on its boundaries, discovers what it truly is, how it can cross into other worlds. Since they each live in their own perfectly constructed worlds, some Stories can go centuries before they even realize they can step outside those—pages—for lack of a better word.”
“Interesting,” Tessa said, and then flinched as they careened past a busload of elementary school children while going a cool seventy.
“I suppose. So what else? I’ll need more details than ‘devastatingly handsome’.”
“Oh, right. Um, tall, at least six foot three, maybe four. Dark hair very
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