The Next Cinderella

Chapter 6--The Next Cinderella

The crowd of peasants had been waiting by the stage for what seemed like ages, with the food stalls cleaned out of every last crumb and the afternoon heat in full force. They digested the day's meal under the blinding sun, distracting themselves by picking food crumbs out of their fingernails for an extra little treat.

The scavenger hunt for food crumbs came to a halt when a carriage pulled up to the stage.

Myrielle's gaze focused in on the carriage door, watching as a young man emerged from inside. He was dressed in the royal colors and appeared to be a servant, as he quickly set to work arranging portable thrones and polishing them to perfection. Myrielle wondered what it felt like for him to serve such a corrupt royal family; or perhaps he was happy to engage in corruption for the promise of a few extra coins. She shrugged and shielded her face from the sun, more impatient for the announcement than ever.

Fredrick finished polishing the prince's throne and compared it to the others in the clarity of the afternoon sun. He noticed two more spots and scrubbed them down with precision. When he was finally satisfied, he turned back towards the carriage to fetch the flowerpots, but slowed as his gaze began to float across the crowd. He wondered what it would be like to command the full kingdom's attention, and have them hang on his every crucial word. He also wondered why a young woman in the audience was wearing an enormous dress. He squinted to get a closer look and while the skirt was indeed enormous, it was incredibly disproportionate to the rest of her frame. But maybe it was simply the latest fashion? He glanced around at the rest of the crowd and it clearly wasn't. He shrugged and returned to the carriage, realizing he'd been a servant for far too long to have any understanding of women.

Myrielle spun around and retreated towards the back, hoping the servant's stare hadn't seen through her fabric façade...

***

Thirty minutes after Fredrick finished prepping the stage, the royals' golden caravan rolled into view, accompanied by a marching band that played a steady beat. The band tried and failed to raise the crowd's energy, and as the king, queen and prince settled into their thrones, the peasants observed them with minimal affection.

The king's pudgy legs dangled off his throne as he nervously stared back at the crowd. "Why don't they look happy?" he whispered through a smile.

The queen shielded her eyes from the sunlight and shrugged. "What else would you expect from low-class citizens?"

As the prince heard his mother speak of the wretched peasants, he could barely believe they were actually going through with this plan. He searched left and right for an emergency escape route, but none of the options would allow him to one day be king.

The king cleared his throat and grinned at the dispassionate crowd. "Greetings, loyal citizens of Enraptured!"

The applause was slow and sporadic, and sensing the peasants' level of detachment he knew he had to keep things moving. "As you know, this past year has been rife with challenges."

The king was now facing some challenges himself, with the sweat pouring down his rounded cheeks in the heat of the afternoon sun. "Fredrick!"

Fredrick rushed over to dab the king's face, adding another item in the list of servant tasks that would make for a humiliating LinkedIn page.

Once the sweat had been carefully contained, the king waved Fredrick away and continued with his uninspiring speech. "Despite our many struggles, a return to former glory is just around the corner!"

Skeptical murmurs could be heard amongst the crowd.

"Right now you must all be wondering: but how your majesty?"