Sleeping Beauty Is Just Not That Into You

by Aron Lewes

“Ooo. I hate painting.” Rose's teeth clenched. “I do. I really do. It's so messy. I always get paint on my fingers and I don't like it.”

  “I like to ride horses.”

  Though her opinion was unsolicited, Rose gave it anyway. “Hmm... I don't really like horses, but... I've gotten used to them.”

  “I imagine you spend a lot of time in the stables, my lady.” Elliot could feel his eyes narrowing as he spoke.

  “Maybe.” Rose indifferently shrugged a shoulder. “What else do you do? If we keep trying, I'm sure we'll find some common ground.”

  “Well, I like to read.” It was his primary hobby, but he saved it for the end.

  “God, I hate reading!” Rose declared. “It strains my eyes and hurts my head.”

  After listening to her deprecate his hobbies, Elliot's voice was tinged with frustration. “Then... what do you enjoy?”

  “I enjoy gardening. Flowers, not food.” Between sentences, the princess sipped her wine. “I also enjoy dancing.”

  “Ah! Then would you care to dance?”

  Elliot thought they found their common ground—but he was wrong. Princess Rose was shaking her head.

  “No. Sorry. I'd rather not,” the princess answered with a yawn. “My feet are sore and I'm tired.”

  “Oh no! Your feet are sore? Do you need a new pair of shoes, my lady? Perhaps you could change them and we could--”

  “I'd rather not,” Rose repeated. “Did you not hear me? I said I'm tired!”

  Elliot turned his attention to the dance floor, where several couples paired off for a waltz. Rose's rejection stung. This woman was supposed to be his wife? How on earth was he supposed to tolerate her? “Very well. If you don't mind, I think I'll excuse myself.”

  Apparently, Rose didn't mind, because she didn't protest. He headed in the direction of Terra, who was eating cheese and crackers on the opposite side of the room. “Hello again, Miss Silver,” he greeted her politely. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

  “Of course not. In fact, I welcome your company,” Terra said. “With a prince at my side, I'll look infinitely less like a wallflower.”

  Elliot could already feel his smile returning. “You're too pretty to be a wallflower,” he told her. “You should be surrounded by beaux.”

  Terra chuckled at his comment. “That's very kind of you, but you're being ridiculous!”

  “I'm not. I'm being entirely honest,” Elliot objected. “You're the most fascinating woman in this room.”

  “Really? But have you seen Cinderella yet?” Terra bowed her head in the direction of her stepsister. “She looks like an ethereal angel. Prince Sharman is slathering at the mouth for her, I'm sure.”

  “She's definitely lovely,” Elliot agreed, “However, I'm more drawn to you.”

  Terra's fingers fidgeted in her lap. It almost sounded like the prince was flirting with her—but why? She was hardly the sort of pretty that would attract a royal's attention. “S-so... how are you enjoying the princess' company, Your Highness?”

  “Well... she hates me,” Elliot shrugged. “I don't know why, but she does. Maybe she thinks I'm hideous.”

  Terra lightly jabbed him with her elbow, which she immediately regretted. It was probably improper to poke a prince. “Surely not! No one would think you were hideous. You're actually very handsome, Your Highness.”

  “Thank you. Your compliment will begin to repair the confidence I've lost... and I've lost quite a lot of it, I assure you.”

  There was a pause in their conversation, during which Terra studied the dancers. Merriment was plastered on countless couples' faces as they swirled around the room. “You know...” When she spoke, there was a hint of sadness in her voice. “Sometimes I wish I could dance.”

  “Hmm.” Elliot glanced down at Terra's crutches. They were never far from her side. “That's sad to hear, my lady. I'm sure I take my legs for granted.”

  “You do. Everyone does,” Terra said. “Everyone likes to complain about their lives, but as long as you have working legs, you have something to be grateful for.”

  “Indeed,” the prince agreed. “That is certainly true. But... I'm sure you have many things to be grateful for as well?”

  Terra started to answer his question, but she was distracted by Rank. He was standing near a buffet table, where he was simultaneously stuffing his face and waving to her.

  “That strange man is watching you again,” Elliot pointed out. “Rank. What sort of name is Rank, anyway?”

  “He spent several months on a prison ship. After he escaped, his friends thought he smelled awful, so they gave him an appropriate nickname.” As soon as she told the tale, Terra wished she hadn't. It made her sound far too knowledgeable of the mad mage's history.

  “That's... interesting.” When he saw Rank scowling at him, Elliot tried to match the mage's gaze.

  “Really? I would have chosen a word like disturbing.”

  Elliot accepted the description with a nod. “Is Rank a friend of yours. Are you... close?”

  “We...” For some reason, Terra hesitated. “I wouldn't call him a friend, exactly, but I certainly don't hate him.”

  While Terra was watching him, Rank gestured toward Prince Sharman. The mage was pointing so vigorously, she had to look.

  As soon as she saw it, Terra chortled into the palm of her hand. Apparently, Rank's magic had been making mischief.

  Prince Sharman had a curly pig's tail.

  “What would you like to drink, my dear?” Sharman asked his fiance. “Some wine, perhaps? Personally, I prefer red over white.”

  Cinda's answer surprised him. “I'll have a lemonade.”

  “A lemonade?” the prince laughed. “Aren't you adorable? Very well, I'll fetch you a lemonade. Is there anything else you want?”

  “No. Nothing I can think of.”

  “Alright. I will return in a moment.”

  When Sharman turned around, Cinderella's eyes dropped to his bottom. More specifically, they landed on the curly, coarse tail that wiggled when he walked. “What in the...?” It was clearly the work of a witch or mage, but when she glanced around the ballroom, she spotted no suspicious faces.

  Cinda barely had time to process the prince's new pig tail before Fenix appeared at her side. She didn't see him approach, so she assumed his sudden appearance was the result of a shapeshift.

  “Hello, Cinda.” As he greeted her, Fenix dipped into a bow. “You look... wow. You look gorgeous.”

  “I appreciate the compliment, but after three hours of primping, anyone would look gorgeous,” Cinda claimed.

  He rapidly shook his head. “No. You're always gorgeous, with or without the extra primping.”

  “Fenix?” Cinda's gaze went back to Sharman, who was scouring the room for Cinderella's requested drink. Apparently, lemonade was an uncommon request. “Why does the prince have a... tail?”

  “A what?”

  “A tail. The prince has a tail. And I'm sure I didn't imagine it.”

  “Maybe it was the work of Rank?” Fenix suggested. “It sounds like something he would do.”

  “Rank?” Cinda's eyes swelled at the name. “Is he still in the palace?”

  “To be honest, I have no idea.” Before she could ask any questions about Rank, Fenix quickly asked, “Would you dance with me?”

  “O-oh!” Cinderella's eyebrows sprang to her forehead. “Are you sure that's wise? What if Sharman returns before our dance is over?”

  Fenix answered with a wink, “Then he'll spend the rest of the night wondering who I am, and how I got so lucky.”

  Cinda checked on Sharman's location. She didn't see him, and Fenix's offer was too tempting to refuse “Alright. I'll dance.” She offered him her elbow. “Lead the way.”

  Fenix and Cinda joined the numerous couples who were already swirling around the room. When he stepped toward her and put his hand on her waist, Cinda could feel her pulse pounding in her neck. Suddenly, she swore the room was spinning, and they weren't even w
altzing yet.

  To her surprise, Fenix was a competent dancer. His feet gracefully glided across the gold marble floor as he led her in the waltz. Cinda's ankles were tickled by the hem of her gossamer dress as she whirled around the room with her handsome partner.

  “You look gorgeous as well, by the way,” she suddenly told him. “I forgot to return your compliment.”

  Fenix accepted her praise with reddening cheeks. “Oh, uh... thanks.”

  “I'm glad you're here.” Their fingers were entwined as they waltzed, so she gave his hand a squeeze. “If not for you and Terra, I think I'd be lonely here.”

  “Is the Winter Palace not living up to your expectations?”

  As they danced, Cinderella's golden ringlets bobbed and bounced. It was as if her hair was dancing too. “No, I like it here, but I don't know anyone else. Sharman is kind to me, but our conversation lacks depth. Princess Rose is cold. Every time I try to talk to her, she makes up a reason to excuse herself. Prince Elliot seems alright, but I barely know him. To be honest, I... I struggle to fit in with all these royals.”

  “Perhaps you need to give it more time?”

  “Perhaps.” Though she agreed, Cinderella's answer was followed by a sigh. “At times, though, I almost miss my provincial life. I don't miss my stepmother and Gaia, but I do miss feeling... comfortable. Here, I feel like I'm always putting on a performance, and I'm not quite myself.”

  “I'm sorry you feel that way.” Despite the somber topic, Fenix's smile was growing. He couldn't stop staring at Cinderella's bobbing ringlets. Under his breath, he whispered, “Adorable...”

  “I feel like myself around you, though,” Cinda went on. “I don't feel like you would ever judge me.”

  “No. Of course I wouldn't.”

  Cinderella could feel her chest tightening as she studied Fenix's face. It was a face of contradictions. His grin hinted at wickedness, but his eyes were gentle. He was undeniably boyish, but his faintly lined forehead suggested a life of trials. He looked tired but happy. He was simultaneously wise and innocent. And, of course, his partially parted lips were begging for a kiss.

  When Cinderella spoke again, her voice was soft. “Fenix?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I think I...” The words nearly died in her throat, but she forced them out. “I think I might have feelings for you.”

  Unbeknownst to both of them, they had a scowling observer. Across the room, Donnabella was glowering at their waltz. At the very second Cinderella confessed her feelings, the witch wiggled a finger, and Fenix fled. He let go of her, spun on his heel, and bolted from the ballroom. Smarmy chuckles rippled from Donnabella's throat as she watched him run.

  Cinderella was so stunned by Fenix's reaction, she couldn't move. Her glass slippers were frozen on the ballroom floor. “This must have been how Prince Sharman felt...” she whispered to herself, “when I dashed away at the stroke of midnight.”

  Heartbroken and crestfallen, Cinda returned to Prince Sharman. Her eyes were moist with unshed tears, but her fiance didn't seem to notice.

  “Ah, Cinderella! I was looking for you. I had to leave the ballroom, and I only just returned.”

  “You left?” She raised a blonde eyebrow. “Why?”

  “I had an... emergency.” His answer was momentarily interrupted by a nervous cough. “Believe it or not, I had, a... uh... tail.”

  Cinderella gasped, feigning surprise. “A tail?”

  The prince's handsome face was twisted by a grimace. “Yes.”

  “Do you still have it?”

  “No. I asked my court magician to remove it,” Sharman said. “To be honest, I despise magic... as well as its practitioners... but a court magician is necessary. You never know when you might need to lift a curse. Thank god he was able to remove my tail!”

  If she wasn't so crushed by Fenix, Cinda might have chuckled at his predicament. Fortunately, no chuckles required stifling.

  “Furthermore...” the prince went on, “I was unable to find any lemonade, so I told one of my servants to prepare some. Your drink of choice should be arriving shortly.” Sharman suddenly raised an elbow. “In the meantime, would you care to dance?”

  After her tragic dance with Fenix, Cinderella couldn't pretend to be happy. Her answer was preceded by a melancholic sigh. “Sure. We can dance.”

  “You sound a bit depressed, darling,” noted Sharman, who was oblivious to the fact that his fiance cringed at the word darling.

  “No. I'm fine.”

  “Let me guess... you're upset about the lemonade?” Sharman teased. When his attempt at a joke was met with a stony expression, he tried to soften her with a smile. “If there is something on your mind, dear, do share it. I would be happy to listen to your woes.”

  Sharman brought his body closer to hers as they prepared for the waltz. He was much taller than Fenix, and Fenix was taller than her, so Sharman towered over Cinda. The prince was so tall, she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze.

  When they joined the waltz, their conversation resumed. “Well, you might look glum now, but I have a surprise that will surely cheer you up.”

  “Oh?” Cinda hoped she didn't sound too bored.

  “Indeed. In fact, it's the most wonderful surprise in the world,” Sharman claimed, smiling down at her. “I only have to wait one more day to make you mine. Cinderella... our wedding is tomorrow.”

  The three-hour primping session before Cinderella's engagement party was nothing compared to the five-hour primping session before her wedding. The tailor fitted her for a gown, realized it wasn't quite perfect, measured her again, hemmed it, and measured her again. Her handmaidens trimmed her hair, washed it, combed it, curled it, and pinned it. With a delicate hand, rouge was applied to her lips and cheeks. Cinda was wearing so much eye makeup, her lids felt heavy. At the moment, one of her handmaidens was aggressively buffering her nails. Apparently, she couldn't get married until her fingernails and toenails were as close to perfection as they could possibly be.

  “You don't have to do this, you know,” Terra whispered to her stepsister, whose face wore a permanent pained grimace. The handmaiden filed Cinda's nails so aggressively, it was painful. “You don't have to get married to Sharman.”

  “Really? Isn't it a bit late to back out now?” Cinda asked. “Besides... why would I even want to back out? I would have to be a fool. I'll be a princess at the day's end.”

  “If being a princess is such a wonderful thing, why are your eyes so sad?” Terra asked.

  “They're not!” Cinderella forced a smile and hoped it reached her eyes. “I think I'm just nervous. This is a new chapter of my life.”

  “You do realize you'll have to share Sharman's bed... right?”

  Terra's remark brought a fresh rush of color to Cinda's painted cheeks. “Terra!”

  “Well, it's true. You'll be a princess by the day's end... and you'll be naked in the prince's bed.”

  A handful of handmaidens giggled at Terra's blunt observation. Cinderella, however, didn't look too pleased.

  “Of course, I have thought of that,” Cinda replied as stoically as possible. “And I'm p-prepared for it.” Her stutter challenged the truth of her words.

  When one handmaiden finished buffering her nails, two more handmaidens descended on her. One crouched at her feet and painted her toenails, while the second one seized her hand and varnished her fingernails.

  “How do you feel about all of this personal attention?” Terra asked. “Do you like it?”

  Cinderella hated it—but she didn't want to offend her attendants, so she answered with a lie. “It's... alright.”

  “How do you feel about--”

  Cinderella's bedroom door flew open, interrupting Terra's question. When Mellanor and Gaia flitted into the room, Terra collapsed into Cinda's bed with a roll of her eyes.

  “Cindaaaaaa!” her stepmother shrilled in a singsong voice. “Oh Cindereeeellaaa! Look who's here! It's me and Gaia! Aren't you happy to see us?” The robust
, red-haired woman obnoxiously swung her reticule as she sashayed into the room. “Oh my goodness! Goodness, goodness, goodness... look at you! You're beyond stunning!”

  As Mellanor trilled about Cinda's beauty, there was an exchange of puzzled glances between all three stepsisters. Her warm reception of Cinda was highly unusual.

  “Honestly!” Mellanor continued with a gasp. With her meaty hip, she knocked Cinderella's handmaidens aside and stood in front of her stepdaughter. “You are so, so beautiful! So, sooooo beautiful! I understand why the prince was so taken with you.” As she spoke, her gloved hands cupped her stepdaughter's cheeks.

  Behind her, Gaia croaked, “She's not that beautiful.”

  “Whaaat? Are you serious! Don't be ridiculous, Gaia! Cinda looks lovely!” Mellanor dismissed her daughter's insult with a nervous chuckle. “Nay... she's the very definition of loveliness! Are you excited about your wedding, dear?”

  “Umm...” When Cinderella chewed her lip, she saw one of the handmaidens rolling her eyes. The rouge on her lips had been carefully applied, and it was ruined by Cinda's thoughtless lip bite. “I, um... I suppose.”

  “Oh, darling, why do you not sound more excited?” Mellanor unfurled a fan and used the instrument to rap her stepdaughter's arm. “This is going to be the most wonderful day of your life! You should be dripping with joy at the thought of it!”

  Terra slid from bed, claimed her crutches, and moved to Cinda's side. Leaning toward her stepsister's ear, she whispered, “Don't fall for it. Mama is only being nice because she wants something from you!”

  Cinderella nodded. She suspected the same thing.

  Suddenly, Gaia whined, “I don't want to go to the wedding! It isn't fair! Why does she get to marry a prince and I don't?”

  “Shush, dear,” Mellanor croaked. “We discussed this in the carriage... remember? You must rein in your jealousy!”

  “I'm not jealous! I'm baffled!” Gaia squawked. “Cinderella isn't that special!”

  Terra, tired of listening to her mother and sister, went to the door and motioned for them to follow. “Come with me, Mother. We should head to the Chapel. From what I understand, it's rather small, so we'll want to arrive early to snag decent seats.”