IT WAS ODD.
For as long as she had met the queen, Alice was sure that the scheming, vile woman had never liked a single hair on her body. The sort of malice that radiated off the queen's expression when she set her eyes upon the younger girl was the same kind that could cause goosebumps to rise and red flags to wave.
The only other person that could ever come close in comparison would be Lady Rose. She was another woman that Alice would hate to cross paths with.
Yet, now, Alice was seated in the red rose pavilion, a lavish spread of tea and cakes in front of her. Lady Rose Whitaker sat directly opposite her, pristine and perfect as ever, sipping on her chamomile tea. The queen, on the other hand, was at the head of the table, cutting into a slice of strawberry shortcake.
