Never had I known such pain in this heartache. My body literally hurt. Each breath I drew came with a sting. The sudden end to everything, coupled with the betrayal, rendered me bedridden the next day.

Try as I might, I could not rise.

With the royal ball fast approaching, I did not have the luxury of self-doubt.

I dwelled on that conversation two nights ago, wondering what I could have done differently.

Perhaps nothing.

Piglet brought me food in the morning, but I covered my head, too ashamed to allow her to see what had become of her once strong mother. Rendered useless, completely useless.

Each uneaten meal went back. When Cinderella risked coming in at suppertime, I stared through her.

Her food caught my eye, however, because for the first time in my life, I was losing my wits.

More than once, tears threatened to fall but I blinked them back.

Cinderella said nothing as she retreated.

By day three, exactly three days away from the ball, I forced myself to get up in the morning. There was much to do.

But food was a problem. I simply stared at the bowls before me, unable to muster up the strength needed to even lift a spoon.

Finally, I said to Cinderella, "You make me something."

She, having been perfectly on time, paused in her careful soup eating and stared at me.

Her gaze drifted from Piglet and Poppy's confused expression then back to me yet again. Cinderella looked ready to run.

Instead of fleeing, however, she bowed her head and stood. The way she folded her serviette and pushed her chair in surprised me.

Poppy's smile of approval meant she'd been teaching Cinderella in this final week.

What had happened to my smart, tenacious Poppy? She knew Cinderella had no chance of pulling this off and would only drag them all down in the end.

Ten minutes later, Cinderella returned with the promised meal. I forced myself to eat it.

That was foolish; it nearly came back up.

Piglet let her worry show. "Mother, are you all right?"

But I wasn't. Far from it.

I attempted to nod but wasn't sure if I'd managed it.

They ate properly, Cinderella nearly fooling even me in the way she daintily partook in her meal, dabbed her mouth, folded her serviette, and stood.

Once they were gone, I felt weak. I nearly cried.

No. No one was worth my tears. Especially not a man who would betray me so bitterly.

Time faded in a blur and on the day of the royal ball, each girl stood at attention as I inspected her dress.

It was Cinderella who stunned us all. She wore the pink dress Poppy'd made for her.

Chest pushed out in pride, Cinderella waited for my scrutiny. Her smile grew as I took her in. The dress looked good enough, and Cinderella, someone with barely any formal training, achieved something marvelous now.

There was much to boast about; the gown barely appeared damaged.

Poppy wouldn't look at us and I saw why once I inched close enough.

"I don't think this will work, Cinderella," I said.

Cinderella blinked herself back to reality. "What? But whatever do you mean? This was my dress and I've repaired it with my two hands, as we'd agreed." She searched my cold expression for any silver lining. "Are you not pleased with what I've done? I worked quite hard for it."

Her eager expression made disgust well up inside me. "To what end, darling?"

Though her smile wavered, it wasn't by much. "I know you are testing me," she declared. "You are the nicest person I've ever met. You're like a Godsend. I understand that I lack polish and refinement—"

"To what end!" I cried. "What do you think you can accomplish there?"

She shut up.

Eyes cast low, I hove a sigh and continued on to Piglet.

"Do you know what Father'd say?" a voice asked behind me.

I didn't turn to face Cinderella yet again.

"He's said the only way I'm getting into a palace is on my back."

I closed my eyes. What sort of father would say such a thing?

Respect fueled my rotation to turn around and see the defiance in her eyes.

"And I know what it means. And I do not care," Cinderella said. "I'll imagine you from before, the way you always offered me such kind words. I know I've made things hard. And I think you're doing all this to test me. Well, do not fret about it. I will rise to the occasion. I'm rising now."

She had risen, and I could admit that. Instead of making a fuss or a ruckus or even getting loud, she stood strong and bold. I was dashing her efforts aside and she intended to stand up for herself. When I'd first met her, she'd hidden from her father; she'd run; she'd cried. There was no crying now. And should he live, I felt certain she would even stand up to him despite his brutish nature.

I could not deny how far she'd come.

But there was a limit. And that had come as well.

The me of last week would have allowed her this delusion. The me of the moment before I'd known Edmond'd left would have allowed it, and perhaps even praise the boldness.

But no. Those were the words of dreamers and Cinderella's expectations were a dream. She'd ruin Poppy and Piglet's chances.

They were of the merchant class but would fool any nobleman. This would be their only opportunity. Especially now with Edmond gone, taking my best laid plans with him.

I settled my eyes on Poppy and instructed, "Show her why her dress is unacceptable."

Two gray eyes focused on me, Poppy hesitated. "Mother, I can—"

"Show her."

But Poppy didn't move. She stood defiant. As did I. This was as much a moment for Poppy as for Cinderella. Poppy was a widow's daughter and needed to remember to care for herself before putting others first.

The seriousness of my words sunk in, Poppy took the shaky steps needed to close the space between her and Cinderella.

She looked ready to compliment Cinderella's gallant attempt.

In the end, she lowered her gaze and whispered, "I 'm sorry," as she plucked one thread that stuck out in the collar.

The entire stitch unraveled.

Cinderella covered her chest, mortified.

"Continue," I instructed.

Poppy's sorrowful expression deepened when she plucked two more similar threads, one on each shoulder, and the same results came with it.

The thread slipped out, and the dress fell apart.

Though on the verge of tears, Poppy kept on until she'd rendered the dress useless once more, or at the very least, made a point.

Poppy finished and stepped back in line. To my surprise, Cinderella shed no tears. Instead, she still clutched her torn dress at the bosom and kept her eyes on the floor.

"Be realistic," I told her. "There are no fairies, no magic, and no big dreams to come true." Her heartbroken blue eyes met mine and I explained, "At this moment here, this is the very moment you are no longer a child. You have no education, no manners, and other than a pretty face, there is nothing more to you. The best we can hope for is to get you a job selling flowers or something of that sort."

A tear came but she didn't carry on as she usually did. For that, I was proud.

I was sure to step on some of the dress's cloth as I walked past, calling for my girls.

"Wait," Piglet cried, "she can still come. What about Sister's wedding dress—?"

"You want to put a vagabond in a dress meant for a princess?" I asked, spinning around to meet her. "Is that what you are saying?" I waited, praying she could say something to change my mind. I wanted a miracle. But there simply weren't any. Not even one. The two unmarked graves by a pear tree and a fancy bottle of arsenic told me as much. "And when people flock to her because of that dress and she cannot pull it off—"

"Then let me wear the dress," Poppy insisted. "She can have mine. It won't take long to change—"

"Enough!" I looked between them, fed up. "We leave now, or we do not leave. And before either of you foolishly sacrifices the chance of a lifetime for Cinderella's sake, think very long and hard if she'd do the same for any of you. Because, I assure you, she most certainly would not."

Cinderella gasped. "Stepmother, that is not true."

"Prove me wrong," I ordered. "We can know others by their actions. So, prove me wrong. Name one time when anything you did was for the benefit of someone else. Name one."

I waited until her gaze broke before I told my girls, "We will leave now. The new porter is not very skilled. It's best we depart early."

Piglet was the first to move. She looped her arm into her sister's and helped Poppy down the hall and out the door.

I lingered there for a moment more.

The sight of Cinderella's pained gaze brought only one satisfaction: I've brought her down to earth, right where she would forever remain.

Perhaps that would have saved Arabella as well.

There was no looking back for me after that. The new porter, mirroring Edmond's duties by working as a coachman, helped the girls into the carriage.

When it was my turn, I refused his touch and climbed in on my own.

The youth clambered up and set the horses in motion. As the carriage rounded the yard, I caught sight of Cinderella's languished saunter from the hall to the main door as she watched our departure.

Even the cook was gone for the day. She'd be all alone in that house.

We traveled in anguished silence, neither of us meeting eyes with the other. Poppy took it the hardest.

I understood. Cinderella had come a long way in a short amount of time. But that was as far as she'd get.

On her back? Her father actually said that to her? Oh, but if he still lived so that I could kill him with my bare hands.

During our journey, I struggled to find something to say. I lost that chance when Piglet, staring out the window, muttered, "I suppose he has sailed now, hasn't he?"

Poppy stared out the side. "Yes. Yesterday was his departure date."

I puzzled about their meaning but all blood from my body drained out of me when I realized they meant Edmond.

"I hadn't even given him his shirt back," Piglet lamented. "I'd wanted to put his initials into the hem."

Poppy took a moment to say, "I'm sure he won't mind."

The cracking of her voice threw me.

Piglet sat up and told her, "But at least he's not...not gone, gone like Father. He's only far away. Perhaps if you do marry a prince, we could send for him? Or you could even visit him. Won't that be nice?"

"He's only a servant," I whispered. From where did those words come? And why now?

The disgust in my girls' eyes made me feel small.

He hadn't been just a servant to them. With his kindness and patience, of course he reminded them of their father. And although he was no father to them, he was one of the few male figures in their lives.

How worthless was I, how much had I failed them, that they'd seek solace from a servant?

But as soon as the thought popped into my head, another followed, You did, too.

I had. But that was over.

We arrived in good time and not too early. The gaudy way everyone carried themselves made me clutch my throat. I'd forgotten our jewels.

No matter. We hadn't many.

Poppy was sure to unwrap the pristine invitation before we exited the carriage.

The mere steps of the palace were grand. With the last of the sun fading, all that illuminated the night were thousands of candles both inside and out.

My knees shook. A glance at Poppy and Piglet showed their nervous shiver as well.

I wanted to command them to fear nothing, but instead, I tried a different approach.

"It hardly matters what happens tonight, ladies, for we've arrived here and that's far more than any of your friends back home could ever say. Correct?"

Within seconds, the radiance of Poppy's face returned. Today, too, a curtain of hair covered her right eye.

Moving in concert, we ascended the steps. Behind us and before us, a sea of eligible young bachelorettes started their own siege.

Once we arrived at the very top and immaculate image of the ballroom rushed to us, I realized my hubris.

My plan would never have worked.

This ball was paradise, Olympus, and every other Greek god was in attendance. We might have been one of the few commoners of conventional wealth. If the medals on the chest of the men and the gems on the throat of the women were to be believed, this dance was packed heavily with nobility.

Our announcement was so meager that I nearly hiked up my skirt, called to my children, and ran away.

Poppy's hand on my back calmed me.

She looked pleased. But why wouldn't she be? If I'd stayed at her father's home without remarrying, we wouldn't have had this chance.

Her satisfied smile said what I was sure Piglet was also thinking—we'd gotten this far, and that was enough.

"Don't lose heart," I whispered. "Our aim was never a prince. But it was someone with a title. There are plenty of men here with that same intent."

After our names were announced and we entered into the heavenly body of the room, all three of us stopped moving.

Three massive chandeliers illuminated the crystals hanging from the walls. Servants weaved in and out of the crowd with posh trays every young woman there was too terrified to be seen touching.

In this instance, I was glad we did not bring Cinderella. She would have just drawn all the eyes for the wrong reasons. And now I could admit that Edmond had been right. My plan was a fool's errand.

Instead of sending my daughters out to possibly land good prospects, I kept them close to me and walked near the wall. We could network. Find a few in our own class with some standing, who would be impressed enough with us entering this grand event to agree to courting between families.

Several women ushered their daughters away from the direction of one heavyset woman wringing her gloved hands.

I should have followed suit but tonight we had nothing to lose.

"What is happening?" Piglet whispered to me.

Because I could not answer, I left them safely at a good distance from the woman and instead went close to the largest crowd of mothers I could.

"But look at all of his medals! He's a prince to be sure," someone whispered.

"Well, of course he's a prince. He's the prince. That is what I'd meant."

A quiet gasp fell over them and they shared a worried glance before scattering.

Blast.

I required more information. With that in mind, I instead hurried out into the garden and around to the carriages. I needed gossip, and I needed it from a servant.

And that was where I saw him. On the steps coming from the garden, a dark-skinned figure came my way. He was far shorter than Edmond, but when he smiled, his white teeth stood prominent in the same manner.

The clothes confirmed my suspicions, he was a coachman.

"Good sir," I called.

My greeting made him slow in his ascension. He looked behind himself to confirm I was in fact addressing him before he straightened his coat and bowed. "Ma'am?"

For a moment, I couldn't speak. They looked nothing alike, and yet it was difficult to see him.

My strange behavior worried him enough that he stood at attention.

"May I ask you something strange?"

His deliberate nod spoke of caution. "Of course."

"Are there really two princes in there?"

Lips parted, he leaned away. "Ah, Prince Archibald? Is that who you mean, ma'am?"

I smiled wide. It must have come off twisted and lined with pain because his expression spoke of worry.

"Do not listen to what others say, ma'am. He's harmless. People merely like to whisper."

A voice came from behind me, and I looked back to find a man in a decorative sash, barking orders for the coachman to hurry.

While I puzzled about why a coachman would be allowed into the dance, I also wondered how he knew the prince more intimately than just by rumors.

It took ages, but I had no other choice but to get my information slowly and bit-by-bit as I skulked around the room, eavesdropping on gossip.

There were in fact two princes. The eligible one was who everyone was after. But he had a brother...a simple brother who'd served in the army and was taken for ransom.

At the time, his uncle, the king, refused to pay. A message with a box, arriving three weeks later, convinced him to reconsider.

"Since then," I whispered to my daughters, "he hasn't spoken a word. Everyone says he was tortured and is now addled. And his mother, desperate to help him smile again, tries to invite girls from all over to...entertain him."

Piglet clutched her chest.

Her reaction surprised me but I clarified. "I do not think it is meant in that way." In truth, I couldn't be sure. From how crazed the woman looked, going from mother to mother to hold a young woman's hand and lead her to a figure slumped over in a chair, left hand supporting his face, I honestly couldn't be sure.

"What should we do?" Poppy asked.

It came as no surprise when the next young victim smiled awkwardly and excused herself once she'd reached halfway to the broken prince.

"What we do, is talk to him." I explained, "No mother wants her child shunned. We are in the open and surrounded. Look at him; he reacts to no one. Even if he doesn't react to Poppy, all the better, but it'll look favorable to the king's sister. And that is what matters."

I shooed Poppy forward and we made our way to the infamous corner maidens fled for their lives.

"Why, good evening, Your Highness—" I began.

"Whatever it is," the mother said, turning to face me like a wild animal protecting her young, "you do not approach unless I come for you."

Hands outstretched, I held my girls back, cursing my failings. Of course, I should have waited.

Poppy, as steadfast as ever, tried to meet the despondent young Prince's gaze.

He stared through her at first, then focused his left eye. And then he blinked and blinked again. His body unfolded and he sat up, revealing the eyepatch on his right side.

In that instance, my chest felt heavy. Now we knew why the man's ransom was finally paid.

This situation also became very clear to me—we were out of our league. These weren't mere parties with new money pretending to have prestige; these were kings and queens and we had no business meddling in their affairs.

Poppy looked to me for guidance, but I had none.

The prince's mother watched her son, however, then she focused on Poppy. "Amazing. You've caught his attention."

But while the woman was thrilled, I was alarmed. I gripped Poppy's hand and she hurried around to Piglet.

"Sister, are you all right?"

Per protocol, Piglet drooped, holding her brow. "It's so hot."

"Here. Let's get you some fresh air."

They sought escape but I wasn't as fortunate. As was our practice, I stayed behind to save face.

The prince stared after Poppy then focused on the floor. Once he went back into his previous posture, his mother huffed and puffed in both alarm and excitement.

She whispered to her maid, "See to it that those girls are well. Then return them here. He's taken a liking to one."

I swallowed hard. But my protest fell to the bottom of my gut with it.

In that instance, I decided it best if we steered clear of the higher echelon and instead focused on those closer to our own social station.

The music started and everyone in attendance retrieved masks from their inner jacket pockets or bags and affixed them to their faces. I, having no mask, scanned the room for Poppy and Piglet.

We were the only ones in attendance without face coverings.

By the time I reached them, they squabbled.

"Well, hadn't you read it!" Piglet demanded.

"It was an invitation from the palace. I didn't dare get it sullied."

"A lot of good that did. We haven't masks!"

A tap came to my shoulder and I spun around to see the prince's mother smiling boldly.

"Oh, there you are. And without a mask I see. I have several extra. Would you like one?"

Collectively, my daughters and I took a step back. This woman was a viper.

An imaginary snake coiled around my throat as I debated what to say. Finally, I did all I could do...I bowed. "We'd be much obliged."

"Of course. Of course. Come back and meet my Archie and I'll send the maid to retrieve your masks."

Piglet and Poppy shared a glance, as did I. We marched after the woman with little choice.

"Mother, what do I do?" Poppy screamed in a whisper.

"Act your status," I reminded her. They couldn't just steal my daughter away to be this addled prince's plaything. She was safe. This was mere nerves.

The once slummed prince stood to his full height once we reached back. He wore no discernible expression beyond curiosity.

His mother presented Poppy to him like treats on a platter.

One green eye examined her.

And then he did something unthinkable, he reached out and brushed the hair from Poppy's face.

Even his mother gasped. "He likes her." She spun around to me and asked, "What were your plans? Did you have any offers for courting?"

My eyes widened. Tiny canons went off in my head as my brain scrambled for a lie, an excuse.

But then a chair screeched, and the prince fell down into it. Taking on his previous non-caring posture once more, he ignored Poppy.

The disinterest disappointed his mother nearly to tears. "Archibald, she's very lovely. It is a good choice. Isn't it? And look, they haven't any jewelry, so they'll certainly agree."

He ignored her words.

Finally, frustrated and vexed, the woman said to us, without looking back in our direction, "If you'd give us a moment."

I got behind my girls and shoved them on, but Poppy didn't move as fast as I'd expected. In fact, she looked hurt.

She was sure to cover her birthmark yet again and although I wanted to assure her, I wanted to be away from that strange woman and her strange son even more.

"You look lovely," Piglet insisted. "He's only muddled."

"You don't have to say anything," Poppy muttered. "Please stop mentioning it."

"But he hasn't reacted to anyone in three years. That's what everyone was whispering. He reacted to you, isn't that—?"

"I said shut up."

Poppy's voice broke through the gentle music.

Several eyes came our way but faded once we stopped making spectacles of ourselves.

When I tried to hold Poppy's shoulder, she shrugged off my hand.

I could not understand why she was taking this so hard. If anything, she should have been relieved.

Regardless of the reason, we stayed out of trouble for a bit longer. But then the music picked up, and everyone made room for the dancers.

Finding the prince proved difficult with everyone wearing masks. That is to say, it was difficult until that familiar sash passed by, dancing from woman to woman.

All eyes stayed fixed on that, but I glanced at my daughters on my right often, wondering if being here was even worth it. With every passing moment, this appeared to be a bad idea.

"It's a coachman," someone whispered.

Another gasp came and then another.

Behind us, men laughed. One man shushed his friends, going so far as to thump them on the chest to quiet them.

The arrogance in his posture was why I took in his clothes. He was the same man from before, yelling at the coachman. Only, his sash was gone.

When I turned to face the dance floor once more, I saw why several girls started to dance with the man with the sash for only a moment before their mother caught their eye and ushered them to let him go and find safety.

The coachman.

From the front, one would never know, due to the size of the face mask. He wore gloves, too. But from the back, the short curls of his hair gave him away, perhaps even the black around the eyes of the mask would as well, should a smitten young woman be bold enough to think she should meet eyes with a prince.

Some women, warned by their mother, shied away when he tried to offer them a dance. A few accepted, nearly swooning, only to run for safety.

Those times, the men behind us laughed the hardest.

Poppy glanced from them to me then back again, saying, "So this is what princes are like?"

She wasn't the only one disappointed.

"That poor man," Piglet commiserated. Her eyes stayed on the coachman, disguised as the prince, who ran out of willing victims. A normal person would stop with the prank but more than likely, he was instructed to keep on with this foolishness until the prince gave permission for him to stop.

As such, the man turned around and approached some women who practically tripped over one another in an effort to escape.

Finally, he simply stood there.

Even I was tempted to dance with him to save him from this humiliation.

Someone thrust out a hand and leapt from the crowd.

No mask guarded her face but even if it had, I would have recognized her—because I recognized that dress. Poppy's wedding dress.

Piglet gasped. "Is that...is that Cinderella?"

Poppy looked ready to weep. "Is that my dress?"