The Next Cinderella

Chapter 23--The Price of Beauty

If someone had told Myrielle that modern feuds were as tame as Taylor Swift and Katy Perry shading each other in chart-topping pop songs—over something as silly as back-up dancers—then perhaps she would've toned it down maybe one or two hundred notches, when it came to her nemesis Bella and her mission to take down her ego.

Instead she was living in the wild, wild post-medieval west, and in these times of uncertainty one could not simply 'casually reference' one's nemesis, oh no. This sort of vagueness was far too subtle in the era of plagues and questionable food safety, and death by random fevers and being trampled on by a horse. The sixteenth century was all about directness, and why not? The average life expectancy really only allowed a good forty or fifty years to get it done.

In these limited terms, Myrielle was now approaching her mid-life crisis, but instead of buying a Porsche she'd decided to destroy someone's face.

It had been twelve hours now since Bella's blood-curdling scream, but there wasn't a spare moment to show her any pity as the second rendezvous with the prince was just an hour away.

The girls surrounded their handmaid as she removed brand new gowns from a large leather trunk. They watched in amazement as each gown was revealed, grazing their fingers against the satin and lace their hands had never touched before that moment. Their excitement was in no way muted by the girl in the corner oozing with pus, and with the memory of her smugness so fresh in their minds, they seemed to take some pleasure in her awful predicament.

Gianni had decided which dress would go to whom based on skin tone and hair and body type, and Myrielle soon learned that she was allocated 'sunshine yellow.' In the modern world this may have been akin to an ugly bridesmaid look, but in this era of extravagance more was always more, and colors of the rainbow highly coveted.

As Myrielle took the dress from the handmaid into her arms, she felt an immediate jolt, a life force coming from her mother who had carefully made it. Her mind involuntarily swirled with memories, like the times when her mother had taught her to be kind and good. She glanced at Bella out of the corner of her eye, relieved that her mother wasn't here to bear witness to her crime.

Feeling the first inklings of guilt, she distracted herself by holding the dress against her body and spinning around.

As she twirled she allowed herself to feel some excitement for the evening ahead, even though she generally despised the prince and hadn't found a way to charm him. It was certainly a problem but at the moment she was too caught up in fashion porn to even care.

Bella was next in line for a gown, but it was a struggle just to approach the other girls and take it. She reached her arm out and snatched the pale blue gown; it was pretty and innocent and reminiscent of Cinderella, and she would've looked lovely wearing it if her face didn't resemble road kill. She wiped away a tear from her raw, beef-carpaccio cheeks, cringing from the pain before gathering up the strength to slip into the delicate gown.

The next important item in rendezvous preparation was volumized hair, but before the girls could slather their locks in Cinderella-branded honey-tar solution, the dormitory doors burst open and Fairy Godmother stumbled in. She was drunk as per usual and carrying a mysterious bottle. The crystal bottle she was holding may have been used for perfume at one time, but now it encased a liquid that was a murky brownish yellow, complete with crusted bits floating around at the surface.

"Evening girls!" she said grinning. "You almost look ready for a royal soirée!" She noticed Bella in the back and immediately gagged. "Oh dear; Gianni had mentioned that one of you had an allergy, but that is just...unfortunate."