Ugly: A Faerie Tale Retold

Chapter Eleven: The King

I made her walk in front of me all the way back to her room, and I helped her change into a clean dress and rub the stains out of her ball gown. She hadn't slept all night, so I tucked her in bed and stood guard outside her door until Ella found me.

"Goodness, Thisbe! What are you doing here?"

"Shh! You'll wake her."

"Who, Claudette?"

I nodded. "Poor thing."

Ella's laugh was sour. "You pity her?"

There was dirt under my fingernails from our scuffle outside. "I think I pity everyone now."

Ella shook her head and went to the kitchen. I waited until I heard Mother's door open to follow her.

Dark circles outlined Mother's eyes, and her face seemed hard like a statue's. Wrinkles framed her eyes and marched across her forehead, and for the first time, I noticed how much brown had faded from her hair. She looked old and lonely.

Her breakfast was too cold, of course, and then it was too hot, and then it was too salty, and everything was all wrong, and we were stupid, ugly wretches. But it was like I could really see her now. She, too, was human. Once-beautiful. Twice-widowed. Infinitely broken.

To think one night at a ball could change us all so much.

Nothing could put a damper on Ella's spirits. She was so buoyant all day, I almost feared she would give away our previous night's activities with her smile alone. I tried not to shatter her happiness, but for me, everything hurt now. Even the memory of last night was tainted with a feeling of guilt—and the knowledge that I would likely never see the prince again.

It took me hours to fall asleep that night.

In the days that followed, Mother and Claudette argued as I'd never seen them do before. Twice, Claudette came to me with tears in her eyes in the middle of the day, saying, "I just need to hear you say you'd never let me drown myself."

"You know I wouldn't," I replied. "If you ever think about it too hard, let me know so I can chase you down again."

A week passed after the ball, and things gradually restored to normal. Mother regained some of her vivacity, and Claudette regained some of her arrogance, and I regained some of my bitterness. But not all of it. And Claudette still smiled at me when we passed in the hall sometimes.

Life was just becoming utterly dull again when, eight days after the ball, someone knocked on our door.

We were all in the dining room, and Mother put down her fork. "Thisbe, answer it."

I handed the tray of food to Ella and went to the door.

I expected a traveling merchant, or maybe a suitor of Claudette's. So when I opened the door to Prince Jean-Francois and an entourage of about fifteen guards and noblemen, I shrieked and slammed the door in his face.

My heart hammered as I pressed my back against the door. Mother, Claudette, and Ella quickly appeared. "What is it? Who's there?"

The face that's been haunting my dreams for the past week. The smile I never thought I'd see again. The eyes that pierced through my veil. "Oh... no one."

"No one?" Ella's eyes brightened. "Then what if it's the fae—" She broke off, reddened, and cleared her throat. "The farmer."

"What farmer, Ella? Have you been seeing a man?" Mother's eyes narrowed.

"Open up!" came a voice from the other side of the door, accompanied by a fervent knock. "Open up in the name of King Jean-Francios II!"

"What have you done?" Mother gasped, both hands going to her heart. "Mercy! Run upstairs, now. Go, Thisbe! Ella, you too."

I desired nothing greater. I grabbed Ella's hand and dragged her toward the stairs.

"Wait! Have you lost your mind? Thisbe, he's probably here for you!" she hissed in my ear, pulling me to a stop as soon as we were around the corner. "Shh! Let's listen."

Heart pounding in my ears, I froze at the sound of his voice.

"Good day, Madame. Where is the young woman who opened the door the first time?"

"My liege!" Mother's voice dripped with syrup. "I apologize for her impudence. She is only our maid."

"You're her mother, aren't you? I know. She told me. Where is she? Thisbe!"

I trembled. Ella grabbed my hands.

"You—you know Thisbe?"

"I've been all over the kingdom looking for her! And Charles here has come with me all the way, looking for her sister."

Ella squealed and sprang out of hiding. I grabbed for her, but she was at the door before I could stop her.

"Charles! You found me!"

"Ella!" There was a loud kiss.

"Ella, where is Thisbe?" Jean-Francois asked.

"Oh, she's around the corner. She was so startled by your arrival, you know."

I couldn't move. I couldn't even breathe. His footsteps approached, and suddenly I found myself face to face with him. And this time, there was no veil to hide behind.

"At last!" He seized my hand and kissed it. "But why did you hide?"

I could barely stammer. "I—I was frightened, your highness, and I didn't expect it..."

He pulled me toward the door. "This is Thisbe, Father."

For the first time, I noticed a tall, stately man with Jean's eyes and smile, robed in purple. "It is only fair, Jean, for you to prove her identity by the same test you've been applying to every other woman in the kingdom." His eyes shone. "Put the veil on her."

My mind spun as one of Jean's servants handed him the veil from the faerie queen. He slipped it over my head.

"There! See? It sparkles on her! Look at it! I told you it would!" With a laugh, Jean caught my hands again.

"Then it looks as though our quest has reached its end." King Jean-Francois II stepped into the house and stretched out his hand to me. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Thisbe. Jean has told me so much about you."

I took his hand numbly. I could feel Mother's eyes burning into me, but I dared not glance at her. "Your Highness."

The king laughed. "Jean, you were right. You really can see straight through this veil on her."