1 Dewitched

by E. L. Sarnoff

  My heart sinks as the Prince rises.

  “Father, I don’t want to rule the world; I want to paint it.”

  My heart bounces back up. A tremor of excitement ripples through me.

  “Son, what are you talking about?” shouts the shocked King.

  Only Marcella is more horrified. Her jaw hangs wide open, her mouth spilling over with mashed up bits of turnip pie.

  “I want to abdicate my right to the throne.” Gallant’s voice rings with confidence. “I want to be an artist, not a king.”

  I smile; Marcella gags.

  “I told you, dear, he took after my side of the family,” beams The Queen, eyeing her portrait and obviously pleased with her son’s decision. “He wants to use his God-given gift to make the world more beautiful. How marvelous!”

  The King rants on. “Son, you have spent your entire life preparing to take my place!”

  “No, Father,” responds The Prince, holding his own. “You have spent your entire life preparing me for a life I have never wanted.”

  Oh God. He’s more handsome and powerful than ever. I desperately want to fling my arms around him and tell him how proud I am of him. Calla, too, is glowing with pride; almost nothing he does can disappoint her.

  “Charming can rule the Kingdom. He’s perfectly capable,” continues The Prince.

  Midas fumes. “Charming is such a cow--”

  Marcella jumps up and cuts Midas off. She’s frothing at the mouth like she’s gone mad.

  “My love, you’re out of your mind!” she shrieks. “You think I’m going to let that ditz Cinderella become Queen? You are going to become King, and I am going to be crowned Queen and that’s that!”

  Suddenly, a guard charges into the room. My jaw drops. The Huntsman! The one person whose life I want to destroy more than Midas’s and Marcella’s combined. What is he doing here?

  I break into a cold sweat. What if he recognizes me? He’ll tell them everything! I quickly hide my face in my napkin. To my relief, he pays no attention to me. Something far more urgent is on his mind.

  “Your Majesty, the palace of Prince Charming and Cinderella has caught fire!”

  “Have the stable boys prep the carriage. We must go at once!” commands The King, showing himself to be a fast-thinking, in-control leader.

  “Have Calla stay behind with the help!” orders The Prince.

  “No, Papa,” cries Calla. “I want to go with you.”

  There’s no time for Gallant to argue with his little girl. I grasp her hand and follow the royal family out to their carriage.

  “Jane, how dare you leave me alone with all this food!” shrieks Marcella. With her mouth stuffed, she joins us.

  CHAPTER 30

  As the King’s carriage races through the countryside, we huddle next to each other in silence. Even Marcella doesn’t say a word. I manage to smother my loathing for Midas by keeping my gaze focused on Gallant. His anxious eyes never leave mine.

  Within minutes, the blaze is visible. Colossal puffs of orange smoke light up the night sky. As we get nearer, I see flames shooting out of the palace. Everywhere!

  Upon entering the palace gates, the flames and turmoil freak out the horses, and we are forced to come to a halt. The Prince, the first to jump out, whips each of us out of the carriage. The smoke is intense; embers are flying everywhere. My eyes sting, and I cannot stop coughing. Calla, too, is choking. I drape her head with my shawl to protect her.

  Chaos surrounds us. Servants and villagers run back and forth, armed with hoses and buckets of water to quell the flames. Some lead spooked animals away from the palace while others carry the royal couple’s salvaged treasures to safety.

  “Brother!” chokes a voice in the near distance. It must be Prince Charming.

  Gallant runs over to him. For a second, I think I’m seeing double. Except for his cropped hair, Charming is the spitting image of Gallant. They must be identical twins.

  “Where is Cinderella?” asks Gallant.

  “She’s still in the palace.” Charming winces as a villager wraps gauze around his raw, blistered hands. “I’m going back in to find her.” Coughing, he breaks away from his attendant.

  Gallant holds him back. “Brother, you can’t in your condition. Let me go.”

  “No!” roars The Queen. She blocks Gallant with her boulder-like body, but The King pulls her away.

  “Gallant must do what he needs to do,” says Midas solemnly. He places his large hands on The Prince’s shoulders. “May God be with you, my son.”

  Gallant embraces his father and takes off. As he sprints toward the blazing palace, he becomes a silhouette in the clouds of smoke.

  “Papa, come back!” cries Calla, bursting into tears.

  I lift her in my arms and hold her close to me.

  “He’ll be okay, my sweet girl,” I say, smoothing her hair. The tongues of flames licking the sky tell me something else. The truth. The Prince may die! My heart almost stops as I squeeze back tears of my own.

  Marcella marches up to me, shielding her face with her forearm. To be honest, I forgot about her.

  “Where the hell is Gallant?” she hisses.

  “Inside the palace, searching for Cinderella.”

  “Stupid idiot!”

  Is she outraged because Gallant may die or because he may rescue the future Queen? It doesn’t matter. She makes me sick. I need to get away from her. Still carrying Calla, I make my way through the bedlam over to The King and Queen. Standing close to Charming, they hold hands in silence, awaiting Gallant’s return. Worry is etched deep into their faces.

  Suddenly, Midas bolts into action to help a villager fill up a bucket with water from the nearby well. Rolling up his sleeves, he immediately gets to work.

  The King looks our way as he fills up yet another bucket. With a sincerity that moves me, he says, “We must help these kind, brave people put out the fire.”

  “I want to help Grandpa,” says Calla, wriggling out of my arms. The Queen joins the courageous little girl, and putting my hatred of Midas on hold, so do I. Charming, too, pitches in despite his burnt hands. We’ve formed an assembly line. The King catches Marcella slinking by us and tosses her a bucket. “I can’t believe I’m doing a peasant’s job!” I hear her mutter.

  The laborious work gets my mind off the fate of Gallant and Cinderella. I don’t stop, not even to wipe the sweat and soot off my face. And then, an enormous explosion almost knocks me off my feet. A fireworks-like display of embers shoots into the sky. Oh no! The main tower of the castle has collapsed!

  “Cinderella’s private quarters!” cries Charming.

  “Papa’s dead!” sobs Calla. I cradle her in my arms, but nothing I do or say can comfort her. An unbearable sadness swells inside me.

  “We must call for a clergyman,” says The Queen, her eyes brimming with tears. The King, near tears himself, draws her in close. Grief, as mighty as love, has united them.

  Something moving slowly toward us catches my eye. A disoriented beast? Blinded by the dense smoke, I can’t make it out. It gets closer, and finally, I can tell it’s a person…a man…and he’s carrying something…or someone...in his arms. Oh God! Please! Can it be…?

  “Look!” I shout out, pointing in their direction.

  “Papa!” It’s Papa!” cries Calla. She scrambles out of my arms and races toward him. The King, hopeful yet skeptical, commands the rest of us to stay put.

  We wait anxiously in silence. The minutes pass like hours. At last, The Prince returns to us, carrying Cinderella in his arms and Calla piggyback style on his back. He’s weary and battered. Like a worn-out soldier returning from battle.

  Our smoke-filled eyes connect. I so badly want to run up to him, caress his ash-covered hair, and bathe his seared face.

  “Welcome back, son,” says The King, clearly proud of his heroic would-be heir. The relieved Queen gives Gallant a king-size hug.

  “I thought I’d never see you again, my darling!” chokes Prince Char
ming, taking Cinderella into his arms. Even covered in head-to-toe soot, she’s stunning. A pang of jealousy stabs me. Yet another beautiful princess rescued by a handsome prince.

  Marcella darts up to Gallant and dramatically throws her arms around him. “My love, you had me so worried. I simply couldn’t imagine my life without you!”

  Of course, you were worried, you two-faced cow! You could imagine your life without him. NO humongous castle! NO closet full of extravagant gowns and matching shoes! NO kingdom to bow down to you. And NO Jane to do all your crap!

  I’m burning up inside. The palace blaze meanwhile begins to subside. Miraculously, most of the castle has survived.

  “Cinderella and Charming can stay with us while they rebuild their palace,” Midas tells the Queen.

  I think about my palace. I want to hate this man for destroying it. Instead, I’m moved by his kindness and strength.

  Thanking villagers and servants for their help, Midas leads the way back to our coach. We haven’t gotten far when a guard runs up to him. I don’t believe my eyes. The Huntsman. Again! I quickly lower my head, not trusting the thick smoke to mask my identity.

  “Your Majesty, we have apprehended a suspect.”

  “Bring him to me at once,” The King commands. “I want to know who he is.”

  The Huntsman rushes off and then returns with the suspect in chains. Except the suspect is not a he; it’s a she. Holy crap! It’s Sasperilla!

  “It’s you again!” says Prince Charming, his voice shaking. “I should have known. Why can’t you leave us alone?”

  “I’ll never leave you two alone until you’re MINE!” shrieks the stalker, scary-skinnier than ever.

  Foaming at the mouth, she lunges at Cinderella. The Huntsman, acting quickly, pulls her back. She lunges again. This time at me. Her wretched eyes clash with mine. She recognizes me! I stand frozen in time as she shoots me that same scathing smirk she’s sent my way so many times before.

  I’m doomed! She’s going to reveal my identity. In a matter of moments, everyone will know I’m The Evil Queen! Just as the sicko’s parched lips part, The Queen of Hearts roars.

  “Off with her head!”

  Off with her head! Oh my God! I know how I know this woman. Of course! She’s the hotheaded judge who sentenced me to one hundred years in that dark, dreary dungeon! One hundred years! How could I forget? Her hair’s white now and she’s two chins thinner, but still. Maybe, I didn’t want to remember. But it’s no wonder she hasn’t recognized me. I am so different now.

  A sudden chill in the air sends a shiver through me. Is this all meant to be? That The Prince’s father is the man who took away my castle….and his mother, the woman who took away my life. Seven years of it! I should destroy them for what they did to me. But strangely, I feel no hate. I feel no anger. All I feel is emptiness.

  Midas wraps his ample arm around his wife. “Dear, let’s not go that far! You don’t want to go back to anger management classes.” The Queen inhales deeply and calms herself down as The King orders The Huntsman to take Sasperilla away. “Lock her up once and for all. No more second chances!”

  Poor Elz! How will she feel when she finds out about her sister? At least, Midas spared the skinny bitch her life--and The Queen mine, once again, in a way. I breathe a deep sigh of relief. Safe for now. But how long will it be before my past is revealed? I can’t hide it forever.

  The near-tragic night comes to an end. The King and The Queen walk toward the carriage, arm in arm. Prince Charming helps Cinderella mount his stallion and follows them. Gallant swoops up Calla in his arms and falls hopelessly under Marcella’s spell yet again.

  I’m left standing all by myself. Once more, I’m that little girl. Alone in the dark. Afraid of evil.

  CHAPTER 31

  The day of the ball comes fast and furious. Though exhausted from all of Marcella’s demands, I wake up earlier than usual. Gallant’s already downstairs in the kitchen when I get there. He’s forgone his usual cup of tea yet he’s especially upbeat and energized. Of course. Tonight, he and Marcella will at last officially announce their engagement to the kingdom. A heart wrenching pain hits me deep in my gut.

  “Jane, there is something I need to show you,” Gallant says eagerly.

  I try to beg off. The ball’s only hours away, and the last minute details are overwhelming. First on my list: Picking up Marcella’s gown from Emperor Armando. Okay. The truth. I can’t bear to be with him.

  Gallant won’t take no for an answer. I bet it’s yet another last-minute thing Marcella wants done for the ball. I’m surprised when he instead leads me outside. His white stallion awaits us, ready to ride. He lifts me up onto the saddle, then mounts the majestic horse. This time I’m sitting in front of him, his brawny arms wrapped tightly around me. My heart is galloping. Where’s he taking me?

  As the sun rises, we trot down a familiar path. I know--the path that leads to his studio. Great! I’d love to see his paintings again. Maybe he’s painted something new.

  Gallant’s been a different person since breaking the news to his father about his true ambition. He smiles often and laughs. I’ve even heard him sing. What a voice! Best of all, to Marcella’s chagrin, he’s been spending a lot more time with Calla--playing with her, telling her stories, and helping her with her French. He even took her shopping at The Trove. Ha! You should have seen the expression on the PIW’s face when her future stepdaughter came back with a coach full of new clothes--including a gown for the ball. So much for Calla not going and me having to babysit her.

  I was right. Gallant has taken me to his studio. He unlocks the door and lets the early morning sunshine slip in. The streak of light makes the paintings more radiant than I remember. My eyes bounce from one canvas to the next. Each, be it a portrait, landscape, or still life, moves me more deeply than before.

  The studio smells different this time. I can’t identify the scent. Then I see an easel. Tubes of paint and various size brushes are scattered on it. Ah-ha. Gallant has begun to paint again.

  In the back corner, the unfinished portrait of his late wife is still mounted on an easel and covered. Has he worked on it? Before I can ask, The Prince takes my hand and pulls me over to it. In a single swoop, he sweeps off the damask and reveals the canvas. Oh my God! I’m going to pass out!

  Gallant has completed the portrait of his late wife. It’s a masterpiece. A woman, whose beauty is beyond all others, smiles at me as she picks a bouquet of lilies and roses. Her wavy dark hair is held back by a big red bow while her matching red cloak floats in the summer breeze. What’s most outstanding is her milky-white skin. It’s fairer than the blooms she’s holding.

  The Prince beholds the painting with pride. “Jane, you inspired me to follow my dream, my passion. And to complete the painting that means the most to me.”

  I’m paralyzed. I can’t get my mouth to move or my brain to think.

  Gallant turns to me. “Jane, you look as if you have just seen a ghost. Are you okay?”

  Am I okay? Is he kidding? I have seen a ghost. And not just any ghost.

  “I’m a little overwhelmed by the painting,” I stammer. A little overwhelmed? That’s got to be the understatement of all times. I’m in a state of shock!

  “Be honest, what do you think?”

  I think I’m going to die! I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can’t even feel my heart beating.

  “Jane,” he continues, “I want to hear your thoughts. You have such a keen mind when it comes to art.”

  “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” I manage to say.

  “Yes, she was,” says Gallant with growing excitement. “Tell me more. What about the colors?”

  “Th-they’re perfect,” I splutter. “Her skin’s as white as snow; her hair as black as ebony, and her lips as red as blood.”

  “Amazing!” Gallant’s blue eyes sparkle. “That is exactly what I wanted to convey.”

  The Prince pauses to smile at the portrait. “Jane,
I am beholden to you. Completing this painting has made me feel whole again.”

  I, on the other hand, feel like a million little pieces. Like a jigsaw puzzle that can’t be put together. Or a shattered mirror.

  “I have even started to work on another painting,” he adds, his face beaming.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse another large canvas across the room--the beginnings of another portrait. I’m too shaken to focus on it.

  “I’ve got to go.” I hurry toward the door.

  “Jane, wait!”

  Gallant dashes after me. Hooking his arm around my waist, he stops me in my tracks. He spins me around and draws me to him. Our bodies meet. We’re so close I can’t tell whose heartbeat is whose. Cradling my face in one hand and holding me tightly against him with the other, he lowers his head and presses his lips on mine. Our tongues dance. A fire rips through my body, awakening every part of my being. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. No matter how much I will it, our lips will not separate. To be truthful, I don’t want it to end.

  Suddenly, The Prince pulls away. I feel like I’ve been catapulted out of a dream. My head is spinning, my body throbbing.

  Gallant lowers his eyes and steps back. “I could not help myself. Please forgive me, Jane, if I have offended your honor or dignity.”

  Offended me? I’ve just kissed the husband of the woman I tried to murder! My stepdaughter. Gallant’s wife. SNOW WHITE!

  ***

  I spend the rest of the morning pacing the castle in a state of total panic. My lungs are burning; my stomach’s churning, and my head is whirling. I should be working on last minute ball preparations, but I’m too distraught from my shocking discovery. It’s all I can think about.

  Why didn’t I figure it out? I should have known that The Prince’s late wife was Snow White. I mean, the clues were in my face. Right there in front of me!