"You can't believe that stuff--," he immediately protested, bristling at the implication that he and his family were living out stories. He shoved back the memories of his hand becoming a hook, of his brother flying, his sister a waif-ish orphan, and distracted himself by refilling Deidre's glass.
"So what story were you? Queen of snow..." His voice dropped and he went still, staring at Deidre. "Snow Queen?" Dimly, he knew the story, but he couldn't recall the details, and he wondered what dark plot line she had to play out.