A Daughter of Fair Verona (DAUGHTER OF MONTAGUE #1) by Christina Dodd EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Christina Dodd
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene
My name is Rosie, Rosaline if I’m in trouble, and I’m the daughter of
Romeo and Juliet.
Yes, that Romeo and Juliet.
No, they didn’t die in the tomb. Brace yourself for a recap, and don’t
worry, it’s interesting in a My God, are you kidding me? sort of way.
My mom was a Capulet. My dad is a Montague. For some reason lost in
the mists of time, their families were deadly enemies. Yet my folks met at a
party, instantly fell in love—nothing bad ever came of love at first sight,
right?—and secretly got married.
That very afternoon, Dad killed Mom’s
cousin in a sword fight, then Mom hated Dad for about five really loud,
lamenting moments, then she equally loudly forgave him. They fell into bed
and as I heard it, spent the night doing the horizontal bassa danza. PapÃ
went into exile because of the killing (in the next town a few hours’ gallop
away), and Mamma went into a decline. To cheer her up, my grandparents
decided she needed to get married. Because in my world, all a woman needs
is a husband to be happy.
Has anybody in Verona ever once looked around at the state of the
marriages in this town?
With typical Juliet melodrama, Mom decided she had to kill herself. The
family confessor convinced her to take a drug that put her into a sleep that
presented itself as death.
I know, you’re thinking—C’mon! There’s no such drug!
I promise there is. I work with Friar Laurence, the Franciscan monk and
apothecary who mixed it for her. More about that later.
Mom took the sleeping draught, fell into a death-like state, had a terrific
funeral with all the weeping and wailing her family is capable of—and let
me tell you, that’s some impressive weeping and wailing—and was placed
in the Capulet family tomb.
She was thirteen years old and to all accounts a great-looking corpse.
While in exile, Dad got the news his new wife had suddenly and
inexplicably taken the long dirt nap. Being of equally dramatic stock, he
obtained real poison, raced back to fair Verona, broke into the tomb, killed
Mom’s fiancé—my father’s an impressive swordsman, which is a good
thing considering how many people he can insult in a day—flung himself
on Mom’s body, and took the real poison because his life wasn’t worth
living without her.
He was all of sixteen years old and in my observations, sixteen-year-old
boys are idiots or worse. But again, what do I know?
So Dad is draped all over Mom’s supposed corpse, to all appearances
dead, and she wakes up and sees him. Can you imagine the theatrical
potential here?
I can’t. Unless there’s someone watching, there’s no point in getting all
worked up.
But I stray from the story, which I’ve heard countless times in my life in
breathless breakfast table recountings.
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