It was time to share the true nature of the contest, he'd said.

But what on earth did that mean?

It was the question that permeated the royal hall, with immediate self-interests on everybody's mind.

As the king mulled over whether his BFF King Edward had been lying about erasing his kingdom's debt, the queen mulled over the new closet she'd had installed, to accommodate all the gowns that would be hers once the kingdom was back to swimming in coin. Had the closet been in vain? As she considered the possibility of premature closet construction, a single tear just above the freezing mark trickled down her seemingly bloodless cheek.

For the big-baby prince who was pimping himself out to gain popularity in the seven lands, any chance that he'd lose out on his narcissistic drug was sheer horror.

For Myrielle...she only hoped the truth would keep her safe from the chopping block. For Fredrick his wish was much the same; to continue to have a living head attached to his living body.

There was no center stage in the royal hall, so Gianni glided into the space between the royals and the accused, waving the scroll back and forth in the air as he reveled in their captivated stares.

"This competition began in the heart of the Enchanted Kingdom," he began. "In a place that was left with an entertainment void once Prince Charming found his princess Cinderella."

Fairy Godmother immediately made a vomiting sound, a reaction that was now a Cinderella-induced instinct.

"Alternative forms of entertainment were certainly pursued," he went on, "but they really only focused on the couple who had already made it." He sighed. "Let's just say that after eleven one-month anniversary parties...things got a little stale."

"Will my son get monthly anniversary parties too?" said the king. "With accompanying ten-tiered cakes?" He licked his lips in desperation.

Gianni gritted his teeth. "I am sure that can be arranged." The king nodded in relief. "As I was saying...the kingdom was starved for a show. They needed shock value, excitement...a spectacle! And so...the contest to find your next Cinderella was produced."

Myrielle scratched her head, leaving a greasy residue of honey-tar solution on her fingers. She absent-mindedly wiped them on her gown. "How is this a show if no one's watching?" She instinctively glanced around at the walls. "Or are they?" Next she shot a glance at Fairy Godmother. "Or is your magic actually real then?"

Fairy Godmother stumbled forward, her earlier jolt of sobriety as fleeting as a passing breeze. "When was the magic not real?" She waved her wand for added effect. Nothing happened. She shrugged.

Gianni pushed her aside to regain his share of the spotlight, a.k.a. one hundred percent of the spotlight. "To answer your question—you traitorous peasant girl—the audience was in place from the start, and they awaited every update with ravenous anticipation."

Gianni went on to describe the logistics of the sixteenth-century 'ABC's The Bachelor,' a show without the presence of the Internet or TV. He explained how all the notes he'd been taking weren't only for his inevitable book, but also for the re-caps and exclusive gossip, which would make their way on horseback for urgent publication in the kingdom's weekly chronicle. But it didn't end there. He also wrote scripts about every challenge, for detailed re-enactments that took place in the kingdom's outdoor theatre.

"The crowds took great delight in the peasants' desperate attempts to win each challenge," he said chuckling. "But eventually...observing the spectacle alone wasn't enough." He glanced around the hall dramatically. "Eventually there was a thirst to have a hand in the outcome too."

He then went on to describe a post-medieval 'American Idol' or 'The Voice,' which truly made this reality show the mash-up of the sixteenth century.

"So our kingdom is a spectacle for your kingdom's entertainment," the queen said coldly as her ego took a hit.

"It is as long as you want to be relieved of your debt," said Gianni.

The queen absorbed the fact that she would never be respected like her rival queen, but would get to go shopping as much as she liked. She nodded. "Fine then."

"But they don't even know who we really are," said Myrielle. "Not apart from whatever words you used to describe us." She considered what that might mean. "They must think I'm simply awful then...definitely not princess material."

"They don't only know you from my words," said Gianni. "Or maybe you've forgotten the portraits you sat for?"

Myrielle slowly understood; the angled faces influenced by Cinderella's feedback...the arching back to create the illusion of a bosom...she hadn't considered that her likeness would be used as a form of public scrutiny and entertainment. "Where are the portraits now?" she asked meekly.

Gianni grinned like a clown on the fast road to murder. "Well your portraits are on display! They're currently featured in Enchanted's town square, amidst exotic plants, flowing fountains, and beautiful domed buildings with a plethora of stained-glass windows." He glanced at the royals. "Our kingdom is architecturally miles ahead of yours."

The queen stroked her gown's shimmering sleeve therapeutically, her face as green with envy as its bright emerald hues.

Myrielle wondered how to escape this odd predicament. For a long time she'd secretly fantasized about being more glamorous and beautiful, and now that she'd had herself 'portrait-shopped' she was finally somewhat enhanced. But what if that meant she had a popular standing in the contest? "My face is on display in an entire town square?" She shuddered. "Oh dear...I hope they have plenty of vomiting buckets nearby."

The prince nodded. "I definitely wished I'd had one on the first day I met you."

She waved to the prince. "Exactly! Thank you!" She was internally wounded by the prince's disgust, but in a world where the ultimate standard of beauty was a sultry milkmaid, it was time to exploit her flaws as it was her only chance of escape. She turned to Gianni. "Would your kingdom actually risk sending its citizens to the vomiting buckets because of my face?"

"Stop putting yourself down," Fredrick whispered. "You're lovely."

Myrielle was touched by Fredrick's sweetness, but at the same time she wanted to knock his teeth out for interfering with her plan. "So what I'm saying is..." she went on, trying hard to mask her irritation, "it's probably best to bow out now before I cause a widespread illness."

She ever so slightly turned towards the exit but Gianni was already in her way. "Not so fast." He gripped her shoulder and pushed her towards the royals. "In the town square there is a wooden box installed in front of every portrait, and each week the citizens deposit coins to cast a vote for their favorite contestant." Gianni opened the scroll he'd been holding this whole time. "The previous week's coin totals are added to the next, and so on and so forth." He focused his eyes on the scroll. "And what I'm seeing now is that even though it hasn't been that long..." He glared at Fairy Godmother before continuing, "Myrielle has accumulated so many more coins than her competitors, that it would take a true catastrophe to change public opinion and prevent her from winning the title."

Fairy Godmother jumped up in excitement. "The bonus coin!" Everyone looked at her strangely. "I mean...what a bonus to use coin for the voting!" She smiled innocently. "It's my favorite method of counting."

Myrielle hadn't processed the gravity of Gianni's words, but Fredrick had, and every ounce of hope drained right out of his scrumptious face.

"Change it then," the queen said coldly. "Change it because that girl won't be wearing a crown for as long as I inhabit this castle."

The prince jumped up from his throne. "Yes! Change it! And then we can behead them as early as tomorrow morning!" He made the throat-slitting gesture at Fredrick, but given that Fredrick's heart was now crushed he didn't really seem to care.

Gianni had expected this sort of resistance, so he crossed his arms and resorted to the back-up plan of name-dropping. "While I understand your feelings after the incidents of tonight, King Edward insists that we uphold the integrity of the contest. Otherwise...the pardon of your debt to the Enchanted Kingdom will be null and void."

The queen's previous resolve immediately evaporated. "Welcome to the family dear girl!" she said smiling.

The prince couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Mother!"

The queen dug her sharpened nails into the prince's arm. "We'll discuss this later," she calmly said as he winced.

Gianni was relieved by the queen's sudden acceptance of the rules. Everything needed to be done in accordance with the rules, and if the citizens of his kingdom wanted to crown this wretched underdog, that's exactly what they would get. What Gianni hoped to get in return was the bestselling book of all time.

With things back in order Gianni was eager to keep things moving along, but he couldn't ignore the prince's expression when he squirmed out of his mother's grip. His face was contorted in a cocktail of betrayal and disgust, because in less than an hour he'd lost his most trusted servant and gained a future wife he couldn't stand. He stepped in-between Myrielle and Fredrick. "I will never marry a girl who falls in love with a servant. Never." He snapped his head towards Gianni. "So you had better come up with a better solution fast."

Gianni nodded in apparent understanding. "I would never ask you to marry someone whose heart had gone rogue, but before we even make such a rash determination...we must first ask the only question that matters." Gianni gestured to Myrielle. "Tell us the truth; do you love him?"

[WRITER COMMENTARY: Everything's out in the open now, but will Myrielle tell the truth when there's so much at stake? Eeek! Thanks for reading and stay tuned!]