I awoke long enough to perceive an old man snapping his satchel closed before leaving my bedroom. Whatever he muttered behind the closed door, Edmond gave no response.

For this past week, it was common for Edmond to enter after the doctor left and sit in a chair across from me, watching me without speaking.

The tips of his fingers touching, he sat in deep thought for a long length of time. Today, there was no sitting and steadfast contemplation. Instead, he brought overcooked soup, the only thing I could keep down, and mashed it even further.

His scowl worried me.

After pulling the chair close, he used the spoon to motion for me to sit up.

I thought to argue that I could feed myself, but I didn't dare cause trouble. Not with how awful I'd been to manage the day Cinderella departed. Something came over me then, a wild fury that brought me to a state of blind desperation and panic.

Once I finished the soup, he presented me with a small morsel of bread. That I took and ate without trouble.

It was when I drank the last of my tea that he spoke. He explained how I'd been in a fever for the past few days. I'd lost some weight, but he was confident I would gain it back. He apologized for not arriving home, but I concluded that wasn't his fault. Because despite his hurrying to inform the authorities about the stolen horse he'd spotted, they'd locked him up until they could look into it. Even at their sluggish pace, they caught the thief who immediately confessed. But they still had to make certain Edmond wasn't in 'cahoots' with him.

It was by luck that he made it home when he did. It was more of a miracle. I must have lost my mind resolving to hold a gun on royalty. But after I considered that awful prince's actions, I concluded I wasn't the only one crazed. Finally, he told me of the state of things and Prince Archibald's brother's obsession with this land—with me.

"Somehow, he's heaped all the blame onto you. He acts as if you were the one to punch him unconscious."

I listened in silence.

That couldn't possibly be all.

It wasn't.

The prince's mother echoed her son's complaints and added her own colorful version of events.

"All invitations that this house previously received...have been rescinded."

Of all this news, this one hit me hardest. Those two weren't just coming for me—they were after my children.

"When are you leaving?" I asked him. I needed to be back on my feet before then.

"Why don't we leave together?" he offered.

I fell back against the headrest. Was he asking for us to run away? We were in our thirties.

"Your daughters are getting older. They'll study or court. With such a bad reputation as yours, it'll hamper their chances of marriage. Going...silent for a time may do some good. And there are places in this world—places were couples such as you and I are not all that strange."

My cheeks heated. "I haven't the money," I complained.

"I'll sell Eze's estate. The title won't do me much good. People see what they see, but if I can get a good price, we could live quite comfortably." He touched his fingertips together yet again, making a steeple. His voice softened as he said, "We'll marry there and settle."

His method of proposing be forgiven, I was interested. More than interested.

I was transparent enough that he could read me. "I suppose the answer to when are you leaving is...whenever you want us to. But I'd like to do it quickly," he said.

Heat rose in my face, coursing through me until I felt warm from the offer alone.

After I gave a definitive nod, he gathered the plates, picked up the tray, and made his way to the door.

"Edmond," I called. When that kind gaze came my way, I willed myself to be brave. "Does the doctor know what is wrong with me?"

All joy receded from Edmond's face as he nodded.

I waited for more but had to ask, "And when will you tell me?"

He shook his head and confessed, "I'm not ready to tell you just yet. Please give me time. For now...just eat."

Was it really so bad that he couldn't bring himself to say it? And if so, then why waste the money to run away? But I trusted him. I trusted Edmond with my very life.

I felt reborn a week later. My energy returned and I could conduct my household business yet again.

The day we told Piglet and Poppy of the news, we did so in the family room, Edmond sitting on the settee beside me. Lately, he stayed close. Perhaps he was waiting for me to relapse, but I did not mind having him near.

Our possible marriage was not a part of the good news. The current estate had taken such a hit to its reputation and notoriety that marrying a servant became quite possible.

Edmond and I sat across from the girls. In the two weeks since Cinderella was here last, the house appeared haunted in its quiet.

"We have important announcements to relay," I said, no longer pretending to sit apart from Edmond.

As was Poppy's habit, she kept her gaze fixed on the floor.

Today, even Piglet barely had the energy to respond.

"May I say something before you tell us of your good news?" Poppy asked.

The warm skin of Edmond's arm pressing against mine made me feel safe. Everything would be all right. Perhaps I was ill, but for now, for this moment, everything would be all right.

"Of course, you can, darling," I entreated.

"I respect you greatly, Mother. And I do believe that feeling is mutual."

Pleased, I gave a stern nod, urging Poppy to go on.

"But I do not think you love me."

My smile vanished.

She lowered her gaze yet again. "I was always studious. I never made a mistake, believing that if I had, you would lose interest in my studies, the one and only aspect of myself that motivated you." After she took a deep breath, she asked me, "But do you know that I enjoy writing? Or that I do enjoy sports? Or...that I abhor the piano?"

I wasn't sure when Edmond took hold of my wrist, but I focused on that touch rather than this panic welling up in my gut.

"No. Because you do not care for me. You have absolutely no love for me. How can you?"

"Darling, that is not—"

"I am not finished." Her soft tone held power somehow. "I'm not finished talking. Everything in this house rotated around a stranger's daughter for so long. May I please have a moment of your time to speak uninterrupted?"

Ashamed, I remained silent as she closed her eyes.

"I'd thought to earn your love, I need only be a perfect lady. Walk well, talk well, be knowledgeable. And I turned myself inside out praying for any acknowledgement, anything at all. But I understand that I'll never be worthy of it, because I came out wrong."

With a slip of her hand, she brushed the hair out of her face to reveal the birthmark.

"You'd known this was a blight, that I wasn't beautiful, and therefore I had to compensate in other ways."

My mouth dropped open. I wanted to stand in protest but wasn't sure if I was allowed to interrupt her.

"And that is why you chose a stranger over your own flesh and blood daughter."

In the battlefield of life, I sat wide eyed and dumb, staring down the barrel of a rifle aimed at my face. Why couldn't I move? I sat there, perfectly helpless. Each attempt I made to fill the ongoing silence, I felt ready to vomit. Considering my current condition, I wasn't certain that wouldn't be the case.

Despite all that, I thought to try but when I opened my mouth, the words weren't mine.

"You gave her my dress," Poppy declared.

Edmond sat up. "I gave her your dress, miss. But please calm."

Poppy focused on him next, a tear threatening to fall. She respected him, perhaps even received from him the attention that I had apparently neglected to give. So rather than her eyes casting him blame, they found me yet again.

"Under her orders."

"No." Edmond came to my defense. "I'd decided that on my own."

I wanted to quiet him, to explain that Poppy didn't deserve two enemies.

She asked Edmond, "But was the idea of your own conception?"

Edmond's posture wilted and Poppy didn't wait long.

"Because I'll tell you what I see, because that is what I'm trained to do, assess situations."

"Wait," I begged.

"She intended to use that dress to cause confusion. You're unique enough, Edmond, and you're clever. You were to perhaps secure a pact with someone with nobility, perhaps even the king himself. Bestow whoever wore that dress a marriage pact. The family of this noble, or the king, selected would not scrutinize the dress wearer right away. Only take her looks at face value. And should she simply stand still and keep her mouth shut, the hapless family would be confident they'd found someone of good breeding, someone favored by the monarchy. By the time they discovered the truth, Cinderella would be well on her way."

At the silence, Poppy looked between us.

"Please dispute my words."

We couldn't. She'd figured it out, all of it.

"Because everyone at that party had some prestige and only the truly wealthy would grow an ignorant child. So rather than put someone in the dress who would be challenged left and right and tested, you put an ignoramus who could fail in only one direction, up."

"Stop," I begged her.

"You gave her my dress," she said again. "The last thing I made for my father. My father who died before seeing me in it. The one and only thing I ever made for myself. The thing I intended to gift you upon your finding of love because my love for you is total, was total."

Eyes downcast, I explained, "She needed it more."

"I am your daughter."

"She simply needed it more."

"I am your daughter."

"She's an empty vessel compared to you. You can conquer the world; she could barely conquer a meal! She needed it more. Her father was gone—"

"My father was gone." Poppy waited for me to meet her gaze before she said, "My very human father died. And he was a good man, not a drunk. Not a womanizer, and not a brute. He was a man. And he was a man who elevated you from nothing. You shed not a tear for him. And at the funeral, I couldn't shed a tear either. Do you remember the words you said to me? Because I remember them. Act your status. Do not make a scene." Her body trembled when she said through gritted teeth, "I couldn't cry for him. You didn't allow it. Yet we watched this imbecile bawl for a rat. A rat. My father took less priority to a rat."

Edmond shifted his hand to my back. I needed it to remind me I had some defense because I felt bare.

"That was wrong of me," I admitted.

But what more could I say?

"Day in day out, I had to see that none of my studying amounted to anything. You never held me, not even once."

"That is not true." I sat up to chronicle all the instances of my obvious affection, but I drew a blank in my effort to find a reliable memory.

"Do not think about it too deeply, Mother. You haven't."

I leaned into Edmond, but I was weak for reasons other than my illness.

"You needed no comforts. You needed no praise. Who praises the sun when it's already shining—?"

"Plenty of civilizations who wish to acknowledge its brilliance. From the sun god Ra, and all thereafter." Her posture sagged and I was thankful when Piglet rubbed her back. "But you never thought to give me that prince. Because you did not love me enough to."

With this, I felt confident about my stance. "You saw what a prince looked like. Arrogant, entitled, cruel. He'd break in here and steal a woman away. I did not want that for you—"

"He's a prince! What do I care of his disposition!" Poppy rose to her feet. "It's the status I wanted. The title. The very same things you've taught me had value. What do I care about his temperament? I'd simply do as I was told and find my own private cellar with a coachman, too!"

I flinched but this insult hit far harder than a physical one. When I looked up at her, my soul nearly left me from the shock.

"You are not all that stealth." Poppy clenched her fists, furious. "And I was happy for you. I was ecstatic to see that love could reach even you. Even someone as tepid and paper-thin emotionally as you. That you would spend the entire day cleaning such a filthy place. And that you'd go through the trouble of feigning sleep in your room and tip toe down that hallway like a young bandit. I was happy for you. Who wouldn't be?" She challenged, "So what does it matter what I do with the status if love was always a possibility elsewhere?"

Though she towered over me, I saw her fragility. I did not believe her.

"Because you're a coward," I confessed, and she shed a tear. "I don't think you'd ever risk your neck or betray a vow. You'd be like me, careful and stiff. And you'd die in an empty marriage to a man you barely knew. I did not want that for you. The best Cinderella could get was that. I knew it. But you.... Oh, darling, I knew you deserved, could achieve far more."

"No, Mother," she drawled, "because I think logically, as did you. All this convoluted planning for my sake? Is that what you think I'd conclude? Because you've always said, the easiest conclusion is the correct one. Cinderella sabotaged my bucket for sport. I hadn't realized that. You had. Those were your words. So rather than this grand scheme on my behalf, I should think simply. You knew I was too ugly to marry off, so you trained me to at least land on my feet when I am left behind."

Ugly?

I blinked up at her. Whoever said she was ugly...?

A gasp left me, and a name came immediately. Cinderella.

When I rose to my feet, I did so with a fire in my gut. "I need never compliment your beauty. It is a given. The same way I need never compliment your skill at tailoring, music, studies—"

"Mother," she said, cutting me off, "I only excelled at those things in my desperate effort to hear you sing those praises. Something you've never done."

Tears stung my eyes, but it was too late.

"I should like to leave here," Poppy said. "Immediately. I will study, and I will do so under Father's name and status. I know there is no money here. And my expectations on your fulfillment of any promises are low. But know this, you gave a stranger's child a prince. I shall judge your lack of love for me on whatever measly institute you manage to scrounge up the pittance to secure for me."

With a heft of her frock, she turned and walked out.

The door slam left the room humming.

For a long while, Piglet never moved. When she stood, I tried to approach her, but she glared at me.

"It was the only thing she wanted," Piglet said. "And she didn't even really want it for herself." Her eyes settled on Edmond who she told, "She doesn't blame you, Edmond. And I do not blame you either."

After she was gone, I staggered back, and Edmond caught me.