Chapter 18--Private Sessions With the Prince

The tailor shop was abuzz with late-night overtime and underage labor, as Rose measured a work-in-progress emerald gown on Thomas. He stood on a stool to mimic Queen Enevere's height, and though he seemed to be cross-dressing against his will, the green really brought out his eyes. "You're making a fool of me," he muttered, fidgeting underneath the sea of cloth.

She struggled to pin some fabric behind his back. "If you don't hold still you'll get stabbed with these pins." She smiled lovingly. "You wouldn't want that now would you?"

Thomas's eyes widened as she flirted with the edge of sanity. On the subject of stabbing, Emilia outdid them all, after accidentally stabbing her thumb with the needle she'd been using on some complicated embroidery.

"Ow!" she cried. "Mummy I see blood!"

Rose snapped out of her workaholic mania and rushed over to her. "Let me see! Oh...it's not so bad." She wrapped her thumb in a tiny piece of excess fabric. "All better?"

Emilia nodded. "Yes mummy."

Now that her life was no longer at risk, Rose looked at her sternly and shook her head. "If you'd paid more attention during the demonstration this accident could've been prevented."

The stairs creaked with the sound of Peter's hobbling steps. "What's this I hear about a sewing demonstration gone wrong?"

Rose was suddenly eager to cover up the child-labor workload. She snatched the dress from Emilia and smiled. "That's not what I said! You must've misheard me because you haven't been getting your sleep; now go back to bed!"

Peter may have been slow when it came to a foot race, but in matters of deception he was usually ahead of the pack. "You thought it would be appropriate for a six-year-old to handle a sharp implement? Why not just have her roast a pig over hot coals?"

Before Rose could defend her use of child slavery—and the fact that pork was a luxury they hadn't enjoyed all year—she was forced to attend to Thomas who had somehow gotten buried under the gown.

"It's so dark in here!" he cried, flailing around from underneath the fabric. Before anyone could help him he tumbled to the floor.

Watching her son crumple into a ball of fabric was the final straw; she leaned against the wall and burst into tears. "I'll never finish these dresses in time for tomorrow's deadline!"

Peter studied the chaos of half-finished dresses in the shop. "Then you'll just have to tell Gianni you need assistants to meet these timelines."

Rose blew her nose into a scrap of fabric. "Assistants? I'm not in any position to make demands!"

Peter eased his aching body into a chair. "They need you as much as we need them, so you must make your requirements known before they give you your next assignment."

"And what about these?" She gestured to the unfinished work. "If I don't complete these on time they'll punish Myrielle, I just know it!"

Peter considered her conundrum. "Maybe for these dresses it's best if you keep it simple."

For Rose the word 'simple' had no place in the fashion-making canvas of her brain. She massaged her temples to work out the stress. "So you mean...no beaded embroidery at all?"

Peter shook his head. "I'm afraid it's a trade-off you'll just have to make."

She pulled the emerald gown off of Thomas and shook her head. "Not for the queen's gown though," she said. "Hers must be immaculate."

Peter laughed. "Of course not! We wouldn't dare risk offending a royal; but those other ones?" He gestured to the half-finished works. "It's time to go for the low-budget option."

Rose must've felt like every designer whose CEO insisted on a budget line for K-Mart; dazed and disturbed and at risk of projectile vomit. Despite her discomfort Peter was right, so she stripped down her plans and crossed her fingers that her work would be reviewed as a minimalist triumph...

***

At night by a fountain adorned with chubby cherub sculptures, the ten contestants stood waiting for the prince. They each wore simple solid-colored dresses, with no embellishments or embroidery to speak of.

Myrielle tugged at her purple dress and wondered if her mother had fallen ill. She had no other explanation for why these simpleton dresses had come from her mother's tailor shop, and she crossed her fingers that it wouldn't reflect poorly on the business.

Fairy Godmother and Gianni appeared from around the corner, and based on their initial reactions, the business was already in jeopardy. "I thought she was the greatest talent in the kingdom," murmured Gianni.

"Maybe she was drunk," Fairy Godmother suggested, before taking a secret swig from her flask.

Myrielle noticed their whispers and rushed over. "On behalf of my mother, this is not reflective of her talent so there must be a problem at the shop. Will you visit her soon to allow her to explain herself?"

Fairy Godmother smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "Of course dear, we'll see her first thing in the morning."

Myrielle seemed relieved and returned to her spot.

"You told her about her mother?" said Gianni.

Fairy Godmother shrugged. "Just for some extra motivation."

Gianni shook his head. "You can't win the bonus coin if you meddle."

"Meddling's not the same as cheating," she said confidently.

Before they could debate the topic any further, Fredrick approached the fountain with the prince trailing behind.

When the girls came into the prince's view his reaction was more sullen than usual. "Why do they look so basic?" He nudged Fredrick. "You made me waste my red velvet outfit on this?"

"A prince must appear as princely as possible," said Fredrick. "Especially in these times when you're always being watched." He gestured to Gianni who was already scribbling down his initial thoughts.

The prince stood a little straighter. "Fine," he muttered. "But only for the sake of my image." He stepped forward to acknowledge the girls. "Good evening...ladies." His dead-inside vibe was palpable. "Tonight is part two of the challenge in this round, and what you're tasked with on this evening will be a privilege to you all."

"But this contest is such a privilege already," Bella cooed, sucking up so hard she stole the oxygen out of the sky.

The prince approached her and smiled, a little less dead inside now. "Why don't we begin with you then...." He looked to the others dismissively. "Tonight's challenge...is a private conversation with yours truly." He made a gesture to Gianni. "And private means you won't be coming along with your book."

Fredrick nudged the prince. "But your image..."

The prince glanced at Gianni. "He has enough to go on for tonight." He licked his lips as he took in the sight of Bella one more time. "And every prince needs a little private time..."

As the news settled in, all but one of the contestants seemed excited. The outlier of course was Myrielle, whose earlier confidence from winning a challenge was now replaced with nervous apprehension.

Talking to the prince? Charming the prince? Possibly kissing the prince?

She was screwed...

***

A few of the girls paced nervously around the fountain, wondering why the prince's chat with Bella wasn't over. The longer she was gone, the more their connection was growing, they presumed, and what if it was more than a conversation?

After what seemed like half the night, Bella came down the path escorted by Fredrick. Everything about her made it clear that she'd been having quite the 'chat;' her hair was a mess, her cheeks were flush, and her dress was hanging off of one shoulder.

A few of the other girls were already sobbing, knowing that their chances were doomed. Myrielle's eyes were dry but she prayed she wouldn't be the one who had to see him next.

"Myrielle," said Fredrick. "You're next."

Myrielle silently cursed before joining Fredrick on the winding path, and as soon as they were alone she dove in. "So what happened? Does he like her? Did they kiss? Is she a lady in the carriage and a freak before marriage?"

Fredrick started blushing. "You know I cannot disclose that."

She snorted. "And yet you didn't have a problem throwing her in the mud."

She had him in a hypocritical trap so he said nothing.

Shutting him up had not been her plan so she quickly shifted gears. "Do you have any advice?" she asked, trying not to react when she spotted Gianni in the bushes.

I do," said Fredrick, suddenly confident now. "Just be yourself, and if it doesn't work...he's a fool."

They exchanged a quick smile before Myrielle went off, and it gave her a warm feeling that was just the boost she would need to deal with the charmless prince.

She approached him timidly by the balcony where he waited. "Your highness..." she said, bowing her head to the prince.

He approached with reluctance. "It's nice to see that your turkey stench is gone."

She grimaced. "I'm pleased that you noticed."

He leaned over the edge of the balcony. She followed his gaze and they stared down at the manicured hedges below.

"How far do you reckon that jump is?" he said.

She shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Perhaps you should give it a try and report back."

Myrielle stared up at the heavens, looking for answers or any kind of help. Why was he so terrible? And would anything besides revealing a boob set this right?

As she stared into the starry sky, she remembered Fredrick's advice about being herself. She turned to the prince and smiled. "It's incredible isn't it?"

"What is?" he said, sounding deathly bored.

"To look into the sky," she marveled, "and finally know we aren't the center of it all."

He smirked. "That's a stupid thing to say; of course we're at the center."

She beamed because she knew that was exactly what he'd say. And now it was time to school him and seduce him with her smarts.

"But we're not at the center," she argued. "In fact, Galileo's recent paper all but proves that the sun is at the center and orbited by the earth!" She sighed. "Isn't it fascinating?"

The prince smacked his fist on the balcony then winced at the pain. "It's absurd is what it is!" he cried while rubbing his hand. "Who is this Gali-traitor anyway? He should be hanged!"

This was not at all going how Myrielle had planned, and she needed a change of topic fast. "So listen..." she said smiling, "what's your favorite game meat?" She twirled her hair sexily as if that would help.

He gave her a long look and it was all so clear. "I have never been less attracted to anyone in my life," he stated coldly.

As Myrielle's quest to be a princess crumbled away, she made a last ditch attempt to set things right. "This contest could really boost your image," she said.

"Hmm?" He was mildly intrigued by her use of the word 'image.'

"I'm just saying that once you pick a princess and celebrate the marriage, you'll get so much added attention from the seven lands." He was listening intently now. "That attention will allow you to establish your legacy, by doing great things that the people remember, things like...re-opening the academy."

He rolled his eyes. "Learning is for stupid people."

It was the second time she'd heard that and it was just as annoying as the first, but she forced herself to let it go. "Did you know that ninety-nine percent of the citizens in the Enchanted Kingdom can read and do mathematics?"

He scoffed. "Bollocks! They're not that smart!"

"It's true! And once your kingdom is back in the black, it will constantly get compared to 'Enchanted.'"

He nodded. "I suppose that's inevitable."

"And when people compare the levels of education..."

He seemed concerned. "We'll be terribly behind."

"Not if you put in the work to re-open the academy."

He snorted. "I don't do work."

She nodded slowly, anticipating his every response. "Well in that case it would be awfully convenient to have a wife who had already worked at the academy." She crossed her fingers at her best attempt at 'wifey' relevance; would it work?

The prince seemed genuinely intrigued. Until a moment later when he burst into laughter. "A woman being in charge of something dealing with intelligence?" He was practically out of breath from laughing. "That's good; that's very good!" He clapped his hands as Fredrick appeared. "Thank you peasant, because even though it's all but certain that my choice will hinge on physical appearance, you've vaguely given me something to think about!"

She bowed her head. "Thank you for your time."

She heard the echo of his laughter as she hurried down the path, certain now that she'd never win the battle fair and square...

[WRITER'S COMMENTARY: Myrielle's desperate now, and desperate people do crazy things, so...stay tuned for that ;-). Thanks for reading and feel free to share your thoughts!]