The first night in Myrielle's inevitable royal life was a sleepless one. She tossed and turned for hours and it wasn't a surprise. How long would it be until her next good night's sleep? And how long would it take to erase the horrible thought of how she'd banished Fredrick to the dungeons? A month? A year? Forever?

She tiptoed out of bed and made her way to the lavatory, eager to splash cold water on her face in the hopes of waking up from this nightmare. When she made it inside she noticed a crouched figure in the candlelit glow. She also heard the sound of gentle weeping, and when she saw the blond hair cascading down the figure's shoulders she knew exactly who it was.

"Bella?" she whispered.

"Go away!" Bella snapped, her damaged face hidden from view.

Myrielle took a few steps back. "Maybe I'll come back later..."

"I know it was you," said Bella, her voice having taken on an eerie calm. "There's just no way it could've been anybody else."

Since Myrielle was all but certain to win the contest, it likely wouldn't harm her chances to finally admit to the 'face poison.'. Not when she'd already won. And yet...admitting the scope of her villainy would likely result in a dormitory beat-down. So she said nothing.

Bella rose from the ground and turned her pus-filled face towards the candlelight. "It doesn't matter if you admit it," she said. "I just hope you'll be able to live with it when I'm cast out into the streets."

Her words caught Myrielle off guard. "You won't be cast out into the streets," she said. "When the contest is over you can go back home."

Bella broke into a chorus of harsh laughs, and the rabies-like foam spraying out of her mouth didn't make it any better. "Home? Where father said 'don't come back unless you're wearing a crown'? He'll board up the doors and send me off to earn my keep." Her gaze went distant. "Most likely in the confines of a brothel...in a room in the back where it'll be dark enough to hide my garish face."

It was just the sort of sob story that should've made Myrielle regret her actions. "Hmm...." said Myrielle, seemingly considering this unfortunate predicament.

"What?" Bella muttered.

"It's just...I'm trying to figure out how often you hang out in brothels."

"What?" she snapped.

"You seem to know a lot about the layout, that's all." It was the worst thing she could've said and she knew it, a crass attempt to distract herself from the bully she knew she had become. The only problem was that the more she tried to avoid her actions, the more easily the guilt trickled its way into her veins. It didn't help that Bella's home life sounded far more difficult than her own. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that the only beast in the lavatory wasn't the one covered in boils.

As Myrielle was experiencing these many realizations, she didn't even notice she'd been staring at Bella's face.

"Stop looking!" cried Bella, shielding her disfigurement. "Haven't you hurt me enough?"

Myrielle backed away. "I wasn't staring I promise! I was just lost in thought."

"Then do it somewhere else!" she growled.

Myrielle rushed off without a second look, and as she crawled back into bed and huddled under the covers, her conscience became as foggy as ever...

***

Bright and early the next morning, a knock on the door stirred the sleeping girls awake.

"Are you decent?" said Gianni from the other side of the door.

Josselyn was the first one to hop out of bed. "Why yes! People tell me I'm nice all the time!"

"Good lord," he muttered as he opened the door. He was accompanied by two hefty members of the knight's guard, making the reason for his visit seem abundantly clear.

Gianni tapped a scroll against his palm in a steady rhythm, studying every girl with a stern expression. "As you recall, yesterday evening's dinner was interrupted by a...contestant's unfortunate illness...rendering it impossible to carry out the latest elimination."

Helena stepped forward like she was ready to fight, whether it be with Gianni or the oversized guards. "So you're here to tell us we'll have another chance at dinner? That better be why you're here."

Gianni smirked as he unfurled the scroll. "The prince has no time for do-overs. He also doesn't do early mornings, which is why I'll simply read his next two choices for elimination."

A symphony of gasps echoed throughout the tower, and amidst the soundtrack Bella stepped forward like a martyr, knowing her time had come.

"And the next two eliminated contests are..." Gianni squinted to read the prince's handwriting. "The one with a crooked ear...and the one whose wrists are as thick as her forearms." He glanced up at the girls. "The prince refuses to learn peasant names until he's forced to marry one, as you can imagine...so we'll just have to go by these colorful pet names." He waited a few seconds but none of the girls stepped forward. "Let's not make this more difficult than it has to be," he said frowning. "Now tuck your hair behind your ears and show your wrists." When a few of the girls hesitated he pointed at the guards. "Or they can do it for you."

Within seconds the crooked ear and column-like wrists were identified, and two sobbing girls were pulled out of their beds and sent away.

As the dramatic exit unfolded, Bella touched her scabby face in amazement.

"What's next then?" Gianni said. "Get dressed? Eat your grey porridge?" He shrugged. "I suppose Fredrick would know this better than I..." Gianni had never liked Fredrick and his know-it-all servant ways, but now that he had been banished, he found himself missing the go-to person who was there for him to boss around. The worst part of all was that he didn't even have a back-up, as all the other servants were too overwhelmed trying to assist the king and prince with their special needs and whiny commands that only Fredrick truly understood.

While the servant shortage persisted, Gianni would need to take a more active role in arranging things. He shuddered at the thought.

"It's definitely time for porridge!" said Josselyn, rushing to change out of her nightgown.

Gianni shielded his eyes in horror as she shamelessly disrobed. He had never looked upon a peasant's body and he wasn't about to now. He also hadn't taken much time to look at women's bodies at all, but he wasn't about to analyze what that meant at this early hour. "Right then...you girls eat the sludge and then meet me outside."

***

With the late morning sun shining down across the field outside the tower, Gianni sat alone making notes on a fresh set of scrolls. He was writing out the script for the scene that had unfolded upstairs, and as he detailed the moment when the thick-wristed girl was sent away, he laughed to himself when he thought of how his kingdom would enjoy it. The Enchanted Kingdom didn't put up with things like female wrists as wide as the forearms they were linked to, and even if such a problem existed, medical experts would shave down the bone to create the desired contour for a noblewoman in need. He really did miss his idyllic home...

The tower doors burst open and the contestants poured out, dressed in their ugly beige dresses and rearing to go. He sneered as he slowly rose to his feet, hoping this was the last he'd have to see of them today.

As he counted up the girls, he noticed one was missing and frowned. "Where is Myrielle?"

The girls glanced around but didn't see her, and it instantly put him on alert. What if she was sabotaging the contest to make herself lose? Would she be that bold when she knew what was at stake? Or what if she was depressed? So depressed that she pulled a 'Romeo and Juliet' by jumping from the top of the tower? The color drained from his face as he imagined having to explain a contest suicide to King Edward.

As he started to practice his suicide speech, the tower door swung open and Myrielle emerged into the sunlight. "Apologies for being late," she said cheerfully. "Bowel movement!"

Gianni cringed as he processed the fact that someone so crass would eventually become a princess.

"Right then," he said, as he shook off the bowel-movement imagery. "Jog around in a circle until further notice."

"That's it?" said Bella, trying not to cringe as her sensitive skin absorbed the sunlight.

"That's it and it's important," he explained. "This is your only chance at sunlight and movement for the day, and we need to keep you in tip top shape for the prince!"

As he watched them jog in circles he was reminded of a herd of cattle, and given their level of refinement it was a reasonable comparison.

When Myrielle had completed her second rotation she broke from the circle and approached Gianni. "Will it really happen?" she asked, continuing to jog on the spot.

"Yes," he said vaguely, "you will really become chubby if you refuse to finish your jog."

She rolled her eyes but kept running on the spot. "Not that! I'm talking about the contest; it will end...there will be a royal marriage...your book will be a hit...and suddenly our kingdom will be a top destination?"

The only part of that sentence Gianni heard was that his book would be a hit, and since that prophecy was all but a certainty, it was easy enough to believe that the rest would follow. "It will happen," he said firmly.

Myrielle smiled and rejoined the jogging circle; she wasn't actually happy or anywhere close, but if the contest was this kingdom's only second chance, it was certainly in line with her original plan. She was here to transform the kingdom and help her family too, and that goal had never included a requirement to fall in love with the prince. Did it really even matter then if she despised him so completely?

Her logic was sound but it ignored the fact that she'd fallen in love with Fredrick along the way. If only she could cut out the part of her heart that remembered every detail and memory; if she could somehow accomplish that and not die in the process, she would never know he'd existed and all her misery would be gone. She knew such a feat wasn't possible in her lifetime, so she hoped that somewhere farther down the line, advancements in society would allow for that to happen. It didn't of course, but hopefully she'd be proud to know that photos can now be stored in a cloud.

After fifteen minutes of low-intensity cardio the girls returned to their dorm, where all was as they'd left it except for a mysterious jar that was resting on Bella's pillow.

The girls watched in silence as Bella studied it, sneered at it, and eventually grabbed it off the pillow. She not-so-casually rushed to the lavatory armed with her hope in a jar, as Myrielle watched from a distance with a knowing look...

[WRITER COMMENTARY: Has Myrielle reached her turning point? And does that mean giving up on her heart and diving into plan B instead? (which was originally supposed to be plan A?). Matters of the heart, always so complicated eh? Stay tuned to see how it all turns out!]