A Cinderella Story (Part 1)

Chapter 6: Ladies, Lace, and Lies (Sofinne's perspective)

There was only one day left until the ball. And I could not wait.

First order of business was to be lady-like. And Mother made it clear that that was not one of my strengths. It turns out that knowing how to walk with heels and apply lipstick is more important than anyone ever let on. And that's how I wasted my morning. Learning how to walk, eat, stand, talk, behave, and look "properly." When I could be outside. Learning real things, like how to pull pranks on mean ogres or cook magic beans. But I had to admit, me and Merellda looked splendid with fancy hair and makeup. And also, it is pretty funny to use princess words and accents. Like, this tea consuming congregation is serendipitously tumultuous, as opposed to monotonous. That's Abigail-speak for "this tea party is surprisingly fun and not boring." See? Now try it with an accent.

It took a whole three hours, no breaks, for me and Merellda (mostly me) to "repress our primal instincts" and become ladies, but, at last, our morning of torture was over.

Next was dresses. I used to love dress-up, so I had no problem with this. But it turned out that before you actually get to dress-up, you have to get measured, stared at, and answer a bunch of dumb questions. For an hour. What do I care if the dress is silk, cotton or linen? Who would give a double-take if the dress is the colour 30R5L instead of 30R5M? Why does it matter if the dress has a semi-sweetheart neckline or a halter strap one? All I asked for was a periwinkle-purple dress with white lace at the edge!

Despite that, when I saw the dress, it was all I imagined—but a trillion times better. It was a dreamy purple and covered with soft, sweet-smelling, purple flower petals. The edge was lined with sparkling amethyst, which was ground to pieces, like sugar. The off-the-shoulder sleeves were soft and rippled like water.

But best of all were the earrings. The paper-thin sheet of stained-glass was shaped like a butterfly wing, smoothly transitioning from blue at the top to purple at the bottom. And it looked like a really real butterfly wing. Oh, and did I mention it moved? Yes, they fluttered, like a real butterfly, and made a little twinkly sound with every movement. It was awesome.

So I guess it wasn't all bad. And now I'm skipping toward those infamous double doors, pleasantly surprised by this turn of events and prepared for another awful-to-amazing couple of hours. I jogged to catch up with Merellda.

"Wasn't that great?" I asked her.

Merellda turned to face me and shrugged.

"What do you think is next?" She asked.

I thought about it. But I didn't get much time to think, because that's when we reached the doors. Mother was waiting for us on the other side.

"Today, you two have come a long way. There is no going back."

I felt a chill of excitement rush through me.

"After this final lesson, I will determine who would serve as the best Abigail."

Me, me, me!

"But first, you must become Abigail." Mother's gaze swept over us.

"Here is a biography about you." She handed us each a piece of paper.

Suddenly, she turned to Merellda and furrowed her brow. I could feel the gears in her brain turning, a lightbulb flashing above her head.

She cleared her throat.

I almost gasped; I could see the letters on Merellda's biography rearranging themselves.

Mother raised an eyebrow.

"What are you waiting for? Start studying." She snapped.

That was the Mother I knew and loved.

Me and Merellda hurried away. I followed Merellda as she walked through the hall, undoubtedly heading for the library. Soon she was sitting in a plush chair, enraptured by her biography. I read mine too, except I was only skimming over mine:

Princess Abigail Floriver of Bryxton Cove

Princess Abigail is a true lady, with a charming wit and wonderful laugh. She has a unique love for animals and nature in general. She often pays visits to the horse stables, where she doesn't ride, but feeds, brushes, and talks to the horses. I believe that due to her many visits and shared interest and/or love of horses, the stable groom is quite smitten with her. I could say the same for myself. She also feeds the guard dogs under the table, something no other lady would dare do, and has insisted on not killing the rodents of the castle but giving them a more suitable home nearby. I must admit that her creative and caring thinking has solved our rodent problem, among many others. Another peculiar aspect of the girl is her care to treat everyone with the utmost respect and kindness. She goes out of her way to assist the servants, manages to remember everyone's birthdays and find perfect personalised gifts for them, and has warmed the hearts of the most despicable people I have met. If you've met her, you'd know what I mean. It I hadn't, I'd find the contents of this letter ridiculous. Liking an unladylike lady! I know that her mother is deceased, and her father is married into the royal family, but I'm not marrying for riches. Yes, she comes from a small village, but she has a big heart. And that is why I am writing this small profession of love, which you will hopefully find amongst the many others.

Sincerely,

Prince Demetrius Lucas the third of Caelfall

If I had been drinking something, the moment my eyes fell upon the last seven words of that letter would have been the moment I spat out my drink. Abigail was a real person?! Was I supposed to pretend to be Abigail while Abigail was there or locked in a closet or something? And how was I supposed to convince the prince that I was the same person he had fell in love with, what, years ago? I knew that our mission wasn't all magical fairies and perfect princesses in perfect kingdoms, but this this was starting to sound like it was beyond my abilities. Would I mess up the charade within an hour? For the first time since I heard about our mission, I had a looming feeling of impending failure.

I got up. So did Merellda. She had an urgent look in her eyes.

"Did you read that Abigail is—" Merellda nodded before I could finish.

"We have to go ask Mother if it was a mistake."

For once, I was in agreement with Merellda.

"Let's go," I said.

Merellda and I strode through the hall briskly. There was no time for skipping. Just kidding. There's always time for skipping. I skipped through the hall alongside Merellda. She looked at me in a funny way. But before I could explain that skipping is faster than fast-walking anyways, we were approaching the doors. We burst into the room to find Mother waiting expectantly.

"Yes, to both of you," she said.

"Yes, there is indeed a real Abigail Floriver, and, yes, she has a twin sister, Princess Audrey Floriver."