“At The Ballgown Emporium. It’s an Emperor Armando original.”
“No, that!” He points to the long red velvet cloak that she’s added to her ensemble. I recognize it immediately and shudder.
“Oh, I borrowed it from your closet. It goes so well with my outfit. Don’t you agree, my love?”
“Take that off. NOW!” Each word is a sharp staccato. “That cloak belonged to Snow White!”
“Whatever,” says Marcella, not the least bit miffed. She unhooks the fastening and lets the cloak slide off her.
The Prince catches it before it falls to the floor. Cradling it in his arms, he lowers his lips to it. My body goes numb. This time his kiss will not magically bring back Snow White from the dead.
Gallant turns to me. Guilt and shame consume me. I can’t look at him.
“Jane, please put this cloak back where it belongs after we leave,” he says stiffly.
“Yes, My Lord.” I cannot tell him how much I dread touching it.
As he hands me the cloak, our fingers interlock over the blood-red velvet. His heat courses through my veins, searing every part of me. I try to pull my hand away, but he won’t let it go.
“Jane, please come to the ball,” begs Calla again, this time clasping her little hands in prayer. “Pretty please with a cherry on top?”
“Get over it child,” snaps Marcella before shooting a wicked smile my way. “Servants do not attend wed--I mean, balls.”
Her words slice me like razors. I turn my head so neither Gallant nor Calla can see the tears forming in my eyes.
“We’re late!” shrieks Marcella. She yanks The Prince away from me and shoves Calla to the front door where their coach awaits them. Calla glances back at me, unable to mask her disappointment.
I long for Gallant to turn his head.
He doesn’t. He doesn’t. He does!
I hold his gaze in mine as if I’ll never see him again. Then he’s gone.
“These shoes are killing me,” I hear Marcella moan outside. So much for “Satisfaction Guaranteed.” I hope you suffer all night!
Clickety clack. Clickety clack. The sound of the coach fades into the distance. I bury my head in Snow White’s lifeless cloak and cry.
CHAPTER 34
The cooks have the night off. Technically, I have the night off, too, since Marcella’s not here. I should enjoy my freedom, but instead, the great swimmer is drowning in a sea of sorrow. The thought of Gallant marrying that woman is suffocating me, pulling me under. But what does it really matter? Even if he doesn’t really love her. A colossal wave of hopelessness washes over me. The truth is, I can’t hide from my past forever. Eventually, Gallant will find out. The minute he learns that I’m The Evil Queen, the witch who tried to kill his beloved late wife, I will no longer be Jane. My life, as I know it now, will be over. I’ll be as dead to him as Snow White.
Tears pour down my face. I don’t know if it’s heartache or shame. There’s only one thing I can do. I cannot wait until Marcella fires me. Or until my past is revealed. I must leave this house at once. Before Gallant returns from the ball. Before I ever have to face him again.
With my eyes watering, I pack my bag. It doesn’t take long as I have few belongings. Where will I go from here? With my castle a forgotten dream, I’m not sure. All I know is that by morning, I will be far away, moving on to another chapter of my life. Putting this all behind me.
Just one last thing I have to do--write The Prince a note. He deserves to understand my actions. And maybe, just maybe, it will give me a sense of closure.
Slowly, I make my way to his desk, every step an effort. The sketch he was working on faces me. It’s a portrait of Calla. My beautiful, sweet girl. Carefully, I tear it out from his pad and place it in my bag next to my treasured “Best Friends Forever” card from Elz. I’ll cherish my memories of Calla forever.
Lowering myself to his desk chair, I gently tear out a clean sheet of parchment from the sketchpad and put a quill to it.
“Dear Gallant,” I begin. This is not easy. Tears flood my eyes and fall onto the words I’ve written. I watch as they dissolve into an illegible black blur, a fitting reminder of my miserable life.
I rip out another sheet and start over. Brushing my tears away, I write my farewell letter.
Dearest Gallant~
By the time you read this letter, I will be gone. I can no longer bring myself to stay in this house and be of service to you and your family.
I have a confession to make. Several years ago, I caused your late wife Snow White great harm. It’s too painful for me to go into the details, but rest assured, I am profoundly sorry for the grave damage I caused. I can only pray that you’ll find the strength in your heart to forgive me.
I will never forget my stay here and the kindness you have shown me. Most of all, I will miss Calla. She’s a very special little girl. Please give her my love and take good care of her. I hope you and Marcella live happily ever after.
Forever~Jane
I put down the quill and read over my letter. Tears blur my vision, but I’m careful not to let them spill onto my words. They’re perfect, but what made me write “Forever~Jane”? I could have signed it, “Sincerely,” or “Best Wishes,” or even “Good-bye.” Instead, I chose “Forever.” Whatever. It’s written. I fold the letter, seal it in an envelope with my tears, and place it in the top desk drawer. Some day, My Prince will find it.
My tears subside. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. The ball. I can picture it in my head. All eyes are on Marcella in her gorgeous scarlet gown. On the outside, she’s all smiles, but inside she’s dying in her three sizes too small shoes. Suddenly, her feet give out. She’s going down! Yes! And then, no! Just in time, Gallant comes to her rescue, scooping her up in his arms. He carries her up to the altar where The King pronounces them husband and….
I snap open my eyes, and the dam holding back my tears crumbles. An endless river rages down my face. I wish I were at the ball! I wish I could stop Gallant from marrying Marcella! I wish! I wish! Damn it, Jane. Just admit it. I wish it were me!
I can’t stop the tears. Searching for something to wipe them away, I find one of Gallant’s handkerchiefs tucked inside a drawer. I dab my face. Its heavenly scent reminds me of the time he tenderly bandaged my burnt hand and brings on more tears. Other memories swirl around in my head. Our first encounter…My “sea monster” adventure with Calla…That outrageous night of drunken folly…And then, that one unforgettable kiss.
Oh, God. How I ache to peer into his jewel-blue eyes, to feel the ripple of his muscles beneath his shirt, to caress his saffron hair. Most of all, I want to kiss him. One more time before I leave. One last time. I no longer need to fool myself. I know why I signed the letter “Forever~Jane.” Because simply, I will always love him. Forever, as in as long as I live.
My tears puddle on the floor. Heaving, I tell myself I must leave. I must. I take a deep breath, and finally, I head toward the front door for the very last time. Good-bye, My Prince. Good-bye!
“Dahling, do you need another hankie?”
Startled to hear a familiar voice behind me, I spin around before I have a foot out the door. Standing before me is Emperor Armando, in a long white sparkly robe and a matching cone-shaped hat. A hankie is one hand and a shopping bag in the other.
My teary eyes are as round as marbles. “What are you doing here?” I sniffle.
He gives me his signature double cheek kiss. “Fashion guru by day; Fairy godmother by night!”
He’s a fairy godmother? Okay. Whatever. So happy to see him, I throw my arms around his bear of a body and bury my face in his cushy chest.
“Careful, dahling, don’t ruin my new outfit with your tears. It took weeks to make!”
I take his hankie and blow my nose. After one giant honk, my tears subside.
The Emperor looks me over. “My little muse, we’re going to have to work quickly to get you to the ball on time!”
The ball? I’m going to
the ball? Huh!?
“Dahling, I hope you like it.” Like what? What is he talking about?
I’m even more mystified when The Emperor pulls out a shiny sewing needle from a pocket. “Say hello to my magic wand.”
He must be kidding.
He waves the needle over me. Just as I expected, nothing happens.
“I don’t get it.” He frowns. “I can work magic with a sewing needle at my emporium.”
“Maybe you have to say an incantation. Or it’s not big enough,” I murmur, skeptical of his powers.
“Good thinking, dahling.” He squeezes his eyes closed. “Ippity-bippity-boppity-boo. Make this needle as big as can be.”
“I thought incantations had to rhyme.”
The Emperor opens his eyes. “Cut me some slack, dahling. This is the first time I’ve come out as a fairy godmother. I haven’t gotten the rhyming part down.”
It doesn’t matter. The two-inch needle morphs into a two-foot glow stick! I gasp.
“Dahling, let’s try this again.” The Emperor waves the sparkling wand over me.
Nothing happens. I shrug my shoulders. Suddenly, a shower of fairy dust pours over me.
It is a magic wand! Before my eyes, my plain black dress transforms into a ball gown. An incredible ball gown!
“Whoever said ‘it’s not the size of the wand but the power of the magician that counts’ should have his head examined,” says The Emperor.
I gaze down at the gown. Two little spaghetti straps hold up a form-fitting bodice that gives way to cascading layers of silky black satin and tulle. Sparkles coat the top layer of tulle as if it’s been dipped in fairy dust. It’s the most magnificent dress I’ve ever seen.
“I call it my LBD--my Luscious Black Dress,” the Emperor gushes. “I designed it especially for you.”
“Can I really wear black to the ball?”
“Trust me, dahling,” says the Emperor. “Black is the new pink. When all those frou-frou princesses see you in it, it’ll be all the rage. I can’t bear to think of how busy I’ll be tomorrow!”
Tears of joy trickle down my cheeks. I expect the Emperor to brush them away, but instead he waves his magic wand over me one more time. I gasp again. My tears have turned into a magnificent pair of diamond teardrop earrings! They’re floating before my eyes.
“FAAAbulous!” Armando clips them onto my earlobes. “They go perfectly with your bling.”
I almost forgot about Shrink’s locket. Still around my neck, it grazes my beautiful gown.
The Emperor glances down at my feet. “Sugarplum fairies! I almost forgot…these are from Elzmerelda. She says you’ve got to have them!” He reaches into the shopping bag.
Oh my God! It’s the killer stilettos with the pointy toes and little bows. The wickedly beautiful, shiny black shoes I coveted! The Emperor places them by my feet. Holding onto his shoulder, I step into them. Instantly, I’m six inches taller.
“How do I look?” I ask.
“Let’s face it, dahling. Everyone looks better with six more inches. Everywhere.”
I would kill to see myself in a full-length mirror.
“Dahling, you don’t need a mirror-shmirror on the wall to tell you that you’ll be the chicest at the ball!”
How did he read my mind? And know what I used to imagine my “magic” mirror to say? Well, not exactly, but more or less. I suppose it’s just another one of his magical powers. What’s next?
“Now, let me see you walk,” says The Emperor.
I’ve never walked in such high heels--or in such an extravagant dress. I teeter; I totter. My ankles wobble.
“There’s no way I can do this!” Seriously, how does he expect me to walk in these shoes when I can barely balance in them?
“Dahling, come on now. Get in the moment. You can do it.”
I try again and almost topple over. Forget it! I can’t walk in them.
“Dahling, don’t give up.”
I force myself to take another step and then another. Yes! I’m doing it! I’m strutting in my killer heels and my LBD! In no time, I’m prancing like a cat.
The Emperor claps his hands with childlike glee. “I think I’m having a Cinderella moment.”
I’m not quite sure what he means, but who cares. I’m ready to go the ball!
But wait! There’s one little problem: how am I going to get there? The coach that took The Prince, Marcella, and Calla is long gone. I wish I had a pumpkin and a couple of mice handy so The Emperor could do some more Cinderella magic. My heart sinks. I guess I won’t be going to the ball after all.
“Dahling, stop worrying. They don’t call me a clothes horse for nothing.”
With one little jab of his magic wand, he magically transforms into a white stallion. My mouth drops. This is no ordinary horse. It’s a sparkling unicorn with wings. And it can talk!
Straight from the horse’s mouth come the words, “Dahling, time to PAR-tay!”
The equine emperor lies down, allowing me to mount him easily. Spreading his wings, Armando leaps to all fours and charges through an open window. I cling to his silky mane.
Holy crap! We’re flying!
So much for my not-so-fairy-tale life. I’m going to The Prince’s ball! As we eclipse the grinning moon, King Midas’s palace, the crown jewel of Lalaland, comes into view. That’s when reality throws a spear my way. I’m not going to your everyday fairy-tale ball. It’s going to be the wedding of all times. Generations will read about it. Forever and forever.
My sky-high joy takes a nosedive. The Prince is marrying Marcella!
So much for my fairy-tale life
CHAPTER 35
“I can’t do this!” I tell Armando. The Emperor has transformed back to himself, and we’re about to make our grand entrance into Midas’s palace.
“I’m not even invited,” I add, my blood pounding in my veins.
“Dahling, stop worrying. I’m on the A-list. And you’re my guest.”
***
The ball is in full swing. It’s a glittering spectacle with everyone who’s anyone in Lalaland. I marvel at how it’s all come together, thanks in large part to me. Searching the crowd, I spot the Queen of Hearts mingling with King Midas; Cinderella sharing champagne with Prince Charming; and Calla frolicking with Lady Jane. Missing in action are Marcella and The Prince.
“Seriously, I can’t do this,” I whisper to Armando as we step onto the red carpet.
“Dahling, relax. Just stay in the zone. Head high and tummy in.”
The Emperor interlocks his arm with mine. In my six-inch heels, I tower over him. I nervously play with my mirrored locket with my other hand.
A chorus of trumpets blows announcing our arrival. My stomach muscles clench.
“Royal Ladies and Gentlemen, the distinguished fashion designer Emperor Armando and his guest…”
“The faaabulous Jane Yvel,” bellows The Emperor.
The crowd gasps. I smile halfway. My confidence soars when I see Calla jumping up and down and waving at me. She blows me a magical kiss. A big smile spreads across my face. I can do this!
All eyes are on me as we do the walk. The Emperor, loving every minute of this spectacle, blows kisses to his adoring fans. He was right. They’re all buzzing about my dress.
Without warning, my heart skips a beat, and I almost trip. Straight ahead of me is a vision in red. Marcella! And beside her, The Prince.
Gallant’s eyes connect instantly with mine. He jerks his arm free from Marcella’s grip and steps away. “Where do you think you’re going?” shrieks the PIW.
Ignoring her, Gallant strides up to me. My heart flutters; my body trembles; my legs wobble. Thank goodness, The Emperor is holding me up.
The Prince clasps my hands and gently draws me close to him. In my six-inch heels, we’re face to face. He gazes at me with his blue eyes, more vibrant than ever, and breaks into that dazzling smile.
“Jane, you look beautiful.”
I’m tingling all over. For the f
irst time in my life, I feel beautiful.
“Thank you, My Lord.” I curtsey before him, one hand still in his.
He lifts my hand to his lips and tenderly kisses the back of it. My heart leaps to my throat.
And then it sinks to my stomach as Marcella lurches toward us in her three sizes too small shoes. Her twenty-foot train trails behind her, collecting dust along the way.
“What the hell is she doing here?” she asks Gallant.
“Language, language,” scolds The Emperor. He inspects Marcella’s ill-fitting gown and shakes his head side to side. “Dahling, you should have gotten the Size 12.”
Marcella’s jaw drops to her cleavage and doesn’t move as The King makes an announcement.
“I want to thank all you all for being here tonight for this very special evening. Instead of gifts, my son, Prince Gallant, has requested you make a donation to a special cause that is close to my wife’s heart and mine…”
Aghast, Marcella elbows The Prince. “But I registered for a palace full of stuff! You know how much I wanted that monogrammed silver chalice for my Liquid Diet….”
“Faraway!” The King says proudly.
Faraway?
Midas continues. “By supporting this venerable institution, you will make a difference in someone’s life.”
Actually, I do remember Midas mentioning something about Faraway and a fundraiser at that disastrous dinner last week. And so did Urma, my masseuse. I don’t get it, but this is hardly the time for a little Q&A session.
The crowd applauds wildly and breaks into “Go, Faraway” cheers.
The King takes a humble bow. “Thank you all, my friends. Now let’s get this party started!”
The orchestra begins to play. Marcella yanks Gallant onto the dance floor. My heart tanks.
“Dahling, shall we dance?” asks The Emperor. Not waiting for my response, he whisks me onto the dance floor and swirls me around to the flow of the music. I follow him with ease though I’ve never danced like this before. My eyes all the while stay glued on Gallant.
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