
Blood, Milk, and Chocolate - Part One (The Grimm Diaries #3) by Cameron Jace
Age Group: Young Adult
Genre: Fairy Tale
Release Date: January 19, 2015
Buy Links:
Amazon
Book Description:
After the last Dreamory, Fable, Axel and Shew want to learn more about the Lost Seven, and how the Huntsman fell in love with Snow White; an exploration that will lead to dire consequences. Meanwhile, Carmilla Karnstein's diary falls into the hands of Lucy Rumpelstein, who is desperate to learn about the Queen's mystery and how she came to be who she is now; a truth the should have better been left untold.
Who is the Queen of Sorrow, and how did she turn into a cold-blooded monster longing for her own daughter's heart? When and how did the Huntsman fall in love with Snow White? Is there such a thing as True Love?
I have been accused of being malicious and evil.
I, the Snow White Queen, have a story to tell.
The true story and what has really happened. How it all happened. Why the Brothers Grimm altered the truth, letting you think it was a fairy tale. When and how the tale took place. And above all, why I did what I did. Why you haven’t been told the truth for centuries. The truth about me and the truth about the not-so-innocent Snow White.
Here is my side of the story. You will never look at Snow White the same way again.
The day I was born, a single red apple grew on a juniper tree in our castle's garden.
A Blood Apple.
It was a rare fruit; the most sought after in Europe at the time. An apple of unmatched sweetness and unearthly ripeness. Some claimed it could cure the sick and enrich the poor, grant children to the sterile, and keep the soul guarded from demonic possessions. Its rarity and taste made it comparable with gold and diamonds, if they were edible. There was a well-known saying: "A Blood Apple a day keeps all Sorrow away." Few people knew why the word "sorrow" had always been capitalized in this sentence. I learned why many years later.
The single, delicious Blood Apple that grew on my birthday was even rarer. This one was the first to grow in my homeland, Styria, in seven years. A nameless witch—we did not speak her name—had cursed my homeland in Western Europe many years before. Every time a tree gave birth to an apple, it came out grey, rotten, and infested with worms. No amount of magic or prayers managed to lift up the curse. They said the witch was the mother of all witches, that she was darker than the darkest shades of night. For reasons beyond me, she had cursed us with no intention to relieve us from her wicked omen, ever.








