![]() She would never have stood up for herself against her brother. Her fairy godmother, on the other hand, saw the way he was looking at her, the way his hands were beginning to wander, and did what she must to protect her charge. The princess is a sweet child, not yet fourteen, timid and gentle. Still, the king says, the princess cannot do better than a lady-in-waiting so truly loyal to the throne, now that she is his only heir. I am praised for my loyalty, all that my stepmother and stepsisters took from me is restored, and I am appointed lady-in-waiting to the princess, though even with my status restored I am not of quite high enough rank for that. Though I was not in time to save the prince, my bloodied feet show how hard I tried to be, and my testimony as to where the gold was hidden (instead of trying to keep it for myself) is even greater proof of my virtue in the king’s eyes. I, on the other hand, am well rewarded for my ‘loyalty’. I don’t feel guilty for that either - I’ve wanted them dead for years, and it’s richly deserved. The blood on Paula’s gown, the chest of gold hidden in my stepmother’s room, and the fact that the prince is dead is more than enough to send my stepmother and sisters to the scaffold, desperately pleading their innocence all the way. Then, suddenly, I am a far more interesting object. My frantic attempts to convince the guard that my mother and stepsisters are planning to murder the prince for a fortune in gold are met with scepticism until the clamour inside the palace begins. When I stagger up the steps, leaving smudges of blood on the marble, it’s very convincing. A little more magic leaves even my hardened feet cut and raw, as if I’ve walked all the way from my home barefoot. The bloodstains that marred my ugly puce gown are transferred to Paula’s, and I am dressed again in my rags and tatters. The godmother, as promised, meets me when I get outside to the balcony. Perhaps Paula couldn’t do it, her arms are as limp as wet dough, but I’ve spent years labouring for those vipers and I could drive this dagger through a wooden plank, let alone a prince’s soft neck. ![]() Once his hands are both busy rummaging around in my layers and layers of skirts and petticoats, his eyes glued to my heaving bosom, it’s really childishly simple to draw the dagger out of the hidden pocket and drive it into his throat. I flirt clumsily, and it’s not ten minutes before I let him draw me through a door to a small, private room all too clearly meant for seduction. By giggling and stumbling and seeming tipsy - and almost falling right out of my gown - I get the prince’s attention. She has a good figure, though sneering and pouting are already putting ugly lines on her face. Instead I am the image of Paula, the most unpleasant of the two stepsisters. The blue gown and glass slippers are gone. I can scarcely believe that my stepsisters - willfully stupid and fixated on status as they are - want to marry the toad. The ball is no delight for any lady who catches his eye - he sneers, he poses, he condescends, and his hands wander in a way that would never be permitted in anyone else. It helps, though perhaps it shouldn’t, that the prince is truly a repellent person. Indeed.” She smiles grimly. “All right, my dear. If a murder would truly free me from this misery… I’d certainly be willing to consider it. The only reason I don’t do it is that I’d surely be the first and only suspect. I shrug. “I’ve contemplated murdering my stepmother and her daughters often enough. The old woman rubs her chin thoughtfully. “Aye, that’s fair. ![]() Though it would only be regicide if I asked you to kill the king.” The old woman hesitates, and her eyes narrow. “Well. Only a fool would commit regicide for so low a price.” “Not for a silk dress and a night at a party.
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