Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 52915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
“I am so confused.”
The king gives me a pitying, patient smile.
“You are seeing the world for what it truly is. Now, princess. Let me show you what you truly are.”
He crosses the room and picks up a gilt-edged hand mirror. He brings the same back to me. When he gives it to me, I do not recognize the woman in the reflection. She is very pretty. No. She is not pretty. Pretty actually feels like a slur when describing this ethereal creature. She is beautiful. She is gorgeous. She has the most even, smooth coffee-caramel skin, curling dark hair, and deep brown almond eyes. She looks like me in the same way Swiss chocolate looks like mud. Her makeup, if she is wearing any, is impeccable, elegantly contoured in such a way it seems entirely natural.
I turn the mirror over, confused. Then I turn it toward the king. He scoots out of the way, as if he doesn’t want to be reflected in it.
“That is for you,” he says, pushing it back toward me. “For you to see yourself.”
More has changed than just my face. When I look down, I am no longer wearing my leggings. A flowing, floral tulle skirt has taken their place. My feet are no longer clad in sneakers. Instead the most delicate silken slippers cover my feet, blush pink with rosy embroidery. My upper body is now clad in a boned bodice and a shawl, both more comfortable and warmer than I imagined such garments would be.
“What the…” I pinch and pull at my new clothing. It feels real. This all seems so strangely solid, almost more real than the previous night babysitting now feels. I remember I was very upset about something. What was it? Oh yes, a term paper. That seems laughable now.
I look over at the king who is smiling at me handsomely.
“What is your name?”
“King Charming,” he says. “At your service, Princess Emmaline.”
I feel a welling of something very romantic inside me, a sort of fairytale enchantment turned into physical pheromone response. My internal chemistry is as changed as the interior of the van. I find myself very charmed, absolutely enchanted. He may be green and perhaps even alien, but he is absolutely incredible to behold. I am overwhelmed by his masculinity to the extent I find myself unable to stop blushing.
“Alright. Very well. I see.” I am flustered and trying very hard to think. “And how, precisely… did any of this happen?”
“Princesses are incarnated in many places and worlds,” he explains. “Scattered throughout time and space due to a curse from an ancient wizard. Balthazar. When I came of age, he ensured that there would be no princesses for me to marry, using spells and incantations to ensure best as he could manage, that I would be forever alone.”
“Could you not just be with someone who wasn’t a princess, then?”
“Courtesans? Yes, of course. I have had my many entertainments over the years. But a king must marry a princess.”
“Where I come from, kings marry commoners all the time.”
“And how is that working out for them?”
“Fine, I think?”
“Oh, because by my reckoning, there’s not a functional monarchy left on your planet. They’ve bred their magic out so thin that it barely exists anymore.”
“Well, they tried inbreeding for a while, but it turns out that has drawbacks of its own.”
“Ah yes, my aunt-mother knew that very well,” he says without a trace of irony. “But fortunately, a true princess can be born anywhere. It is not a matter of blood, per se. Not since Balthazar’s spell cast the royal lines across the universe in a great and unpredictable web. He did great damage with that spell. He took from places he should not have taken, and he forever changed every realm his dark magic touched.” Charming looks at me with alluring intensity. “You must have noticed things are not as they once were, or how they should be. You must have noticed how uncomfortable your world feels, like a shoe that is too tight in the toes and yet rubs loose at the heel.”
As I listen, his words find fertile ground in my mind. “That’s an incredibly accurate way to describe what I have been feeling for a long time.”
“Of course. It is the fate of the sentient universe to be forced to contend with cold matter and the loss of magic.”
“Magic is real? Or was real?”
“Of course. How could there be a term for something that does not exist? Words are made to serve existence. They pave the path for thought, and they boundary possibility. Even in your mundane world, the concept of magic remains strong in the languages of the realm. We all feel its loss, even in the worlds where more of it remains, such as mine.”
He speaks in a deep voice, resonant with royal authority. I find myself starting to feel quite embarrassed at my initial reaction to him. I treated him like he was a dangerous druggie vagrant, and he could not be further from such a creature. He is clearly a creature of great intellect and breeding, a true royal. I blush now to think that he took me over his knee and thrashed me like a disobedient little peasant wench.