Confession

Stop looking at me like that. You think you know everything about me. Things are never that simple. So much is lost in translation. For a start, my stepmother is an absolute sweetheart. Not a mean bone in her body. I know, I know, you’ve heard she was a monster, keeping me trapped in the kitchen, dressed in rags, ordering me around. No wonder you think I hate her, but really, I don’t. She was always looking out for me. Lilly and Rose as well. It was all for show. Sure, it looked bad from the outside, but that’s the point. It was essential for everyone to buy the act. You know the rules as well as I do. You’ve got to be pure of heart to get anywhere, be anyone, make a difference. Admitting that you feel anger and a desire for revenge? Instant death sentence. You may as well have a target painted on your back in this best of all possible worlds.

Do you remember hearing about that day? The day Bruce came to tell us that my father was gone? That’s when it all started. He was so puffed up in his frog-coat with all of that lavish gold braid, puny chest adorned with unearned medals. The Royal Captain, on an important mission. Bruce said father’s ship was lost at sea, and we had to pretend we believed him, even though we had real friends in the palace guard. We knew father’s body had been ditched with the dungeon waste. He refused to use his trade network to spy, even under torture. I don’t need to tell you the kind of chaos that could have caused. We were so proud of him, you know? So freaking proud that he wouldn’t turn to the dark side to save himself. What they didn’t realise was that he was the one holding the rest of us in check.

Bruce gave us the royal blood money. A pension for each of us. All we needed to do was sit quietly, swallow our sorrow and let life flow on by. You’d better believe we started looking for loopholes. Don’t get me wrong. We were subtle. You never suspected, did you? We did our research well. You would be surprised how often people refuse to look beneath the tropes and stereotypes they expect. The wicked stepmother and hateful stepsisters victimising the poor little orphan. It was the perfect cover.

To be honest, it was kind of a fun part to play. Liberating, you know? Mom and my sisters were stuck doing all the work to keep up appearances, while I got to laze around on the hearth, reading and relaxing. Good times, if it wasn’t for the father-shaped hole in my heart. We’d never had servants anyway, preferring to keep ourselves to ourselves, so it was no great hardship. Helping each other was what we did best. Mom, Lilly and Rose were amazing. Once we got over grieving, we’d sit around at night with all the doors and shutters locked up tight, roaring with laughter as we replayed the insults they tossed around all day. You can’t imagine how much we enjoyed it, thinking up new layers of the deception, playing with the perception. It would have been so much harder if everyone didn’t already think the worst. We just played to your expectations.

Oh, don’t look all innocent and offended. I can tell you were no better than the rest. So much easier to accept things at face value, never looking for the underlying motivation, never wanting to know. You never questioned that there might be complex undercurrents seething below the surface, did you? None of your business. You were content to be comfortable with the simple answer. You didn’t want to question the magic, never thought to doubt I was inherently good under all that dirt. I guess it must be quite a shock, finding out you’ve been taken in like this, realising that the illusion wasn’t real. Kind of sorry I have to bust your bubble of perfection, but truth will out, as they say. It’s better that you hear it from me.

I mean, there was magic involved, I’ll give you that. Esmerelda was thrilled when we keyed her in on the plan. “Ella,” she said, “this is brilliant. I’ve been waiting for centuries for someone with your spunk to turn the tables on those hyped up royal hypocrites.” Who knew ancient fairies hold grudges too? She gave Mom the shopping list: pumpkin, white mice, lizards and so forth, took my measurements and flashed off, promising to be back for the big day. It was Rose who wrangled the invites from Bruce. She really went above and beyond, letting that smarmy bastard think she cared. She is totally my hero, you know? Talk about self-sacrifice for the greater good.

We timed it perfectly. Mom, Lilly and Rose went first, while Esmerelda got me ready. The glass slippers were sheer genius. So fragile, so vulnerable, so uncomfortable. Just like you thought I was, right? I guess you know better now. I’m betting you think I sound twisted and bitter, that I’m overreacting, that I should never have taken it this far. Can you seriously tell me you see nothing wrong with dear little Prince Charming, whoring himself out to the highest bidder while my father’s bones rotted on the dung heap?

That’s the official story, as far as the royalty were concerned, anyway. They never knew we rescued him, even if it was too late. We gave my father a decent burial, swore oaths of blood on his grave. My father, the king’s closest advisor, and Charming, my childhood friend. All those good times we had, playing hide and seek together. All those promises he made to be true forever. You heard him. How much were they worth once he’d seized my father’s assets, making us dependent on those handouts Bruce so brazenly delivered? Do you still think I’m in the wrong?

We’d been inseparable for years, but that bastard didn’t even recognise me when I arrived, fashionably late, of course. We waited until after all the other bids were in to ensure I made an entrance. Golden coach, dress dripping with diamonds. He was too busy calculating my net worth to care who I was or how I got there. They told you I captivated him with my dazzling conversation, didn’t they? I never said two words to him, and he never looked above my jewelled cleavage to see what was actually glittering in my eyes. I’d say he brought it on himself, wouldn’t you?

Do you want to know a secret? Deep down inside, I was hoping they lied. I was hoping that there was actually a chance for true love to win happily ever after. I’ve never told anyone that before, but now he’s gone there’s no point in hiding anything from you. No-one would believe you anyway. There’s too much invested in the romance for the truth to ever get a foothold. Even I struggle to believe that I was sappy enough to think he would see through the deception, that he would care enough to pierce the illusion, that he would finally see me. Accepting that I had only ever been a companion of convenience? Ugh. That was painful. Almost hurt more than father dying to feed their insatiable greed. Walk a mile in those glass slippers, if you dare. Not so keen to judge me now, hey?

You know the rest. I don’t need to rehash it. The whole manipulation played out perfectly, from dropping the slipper to Bruce desperately trying to squeeze it onto Rose’s foot while envisioning himself as Charming’s cuckold. Charming didn’t even flinch when he found out that the mystery woman was me. He was absolutely convinced father had been protecting a secret hoard that they’d missed, so full of himself for having discovered the kind of treasure father would rather die than disclose. I could see it in the way he measured the wainscoting with his eyes and stomped around seeking loose flagstones on the patio.

We played him like a prize trout and reeled him in, hook, line and sinker. Ironic, seeing as how his dear old kingly dad choked on a fishbone and died at our wedding feast. There was some muttering that it was an omen, but you know what it’s like. Everyone was so focused on that fairytale ending they were all too eager to brush it off as being for the best. After all, Charming and I were pretty and popular. We had to be better for the kingdom than that grumpy old geezer. The King is dead. Long live the King.

Except he didn’t. I gave him a whole year to prove he could do better. I don’t want you to think I wasn’t fair. I even delivered on the dowry. Well, Esmerelda did, even if it was a load of old rubbish. Better keep that just between you and me. I finally lost patience when he started mobilising the military. When I objected, he said he was a bear surrounded by beehives, able to plunder their honey at will, immune to getting stung. Interesting choice of imagery, given his allergies. At least Bruce learned better when Charming sent him to the frontlines. A six-year-old could have seen we were woefully unprepared and ripe for slaughter. Possibly that same clever child who laughed at Charming for parading naked down the Kings Way, adamant he was wearing the latest in royal fashion.

Don’t look at me. I tried to tell him, but he accused me of being jealous. Reverse psychology can be so delightful. I stayed home, weeding the palace garden. I was nowhere near him when that bee got tangled in his tackle. Just one of those unfortunate accidents, I guess. Bound to happen if you go strutting your stuff through the streets without a stitch on. Total coincidence he was walking past Lilly’s flower shop at the time.

You have to admit, everything has been remarkably peaceful since then. Everyone says I am good for the realm. Seems a bit of meritocracy goes a long way with the common folk. They’ve still been pushing me to remarry for the past five years, insisting that I secure the line of succession by popping out a few babies. It’s been educational, interviewing all the candidates, but the last thing I want is to start playing those games all over again. It gets boring pretty quickly, pretending to be prey.

I get that it’s completely ridiculous, given the circumstances, but I just can’t ditch that dream of a happy ever after. I want my kids to have a father they can adore, just like I did, although preferably one with a much longer lifespan. There is only one prince who seems to have his act together, who cares about meeting my eyes and making me smile. The only one I could imagine falling in love with. Even got the Esmerelda seal of approval. She did suggest it would be safer to stick with the story, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life living a lie. Integrity is important to me. That’s why I’ve laid it all out on the line. So, what do you say, now that you know the truth behind the tale? Still want to marry me?