2 Unhitched (8 page)

After a loud satisfied groan, he pulls away and rolls off me. My insides throbbing, I run upstairs, taking two steps at a time. I stagger into one of our guest chambers. There’s no way I’m sharing a bed with the adulterer tonight. And I’m too drained to confront him.

Without bothering to undress, I collapse onto the bed. My head spins, swarming with emotion. Cinderella’s baby… My infertility… My cheating husband… Henry the Frog… My lustful husband. Tears burn my eyes.

Damn it! I wanted him.

Chapter 6

“M
OMMY! MOMMY! WAKE UP!” I pry open my eyes. It’s Calla. She’s jumping up and down. “Come look at all the people outside. They’ve come to bless Baby Swan.”

She takes my hand and leads me to the window. Groggily, I pull open the velvet drapes, adjust my eyes to the jolt of sunlight, and gaze down on an endless stream of well-wishers. There are royals and non-royals alike, including your everyday Lalaland freaks like ogres, giants, gnomes, and dwarfs. Many have presents in their hands to bestow upon the royal newborn.

“Mommy, I love my new baby cousin! She’s so cute!” Calla presses her nose against the glass pane.

“And guess what! I found Henry! Right next to my pillow!” She gives me a hug. “I’m keeping him in his cage from now on.”

At least, she has
her
prince under control. Gallant’s lustful assault flashes into my head. The truth is, it kept me up almost all night. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And wanting him to come into my bed.

Calla looks up at me with her inquisitive brown eyes. “Why didn’t you and Papa sleep together last night?”

Her innocent question is a dagger to my gut. I want to crawl back into bed and never see Gallant’s face again. Calla skips out of the room, sparing me from answering.

When I get downstairs, utter chaos surrounds me. I barely recognize my own house. Big red heart-shaped balloons welcoming Swan are everywhere. An army of servants is frantically moving furniture and bringing out heaping platters of food from the kitchen. Except they’re not mine. They work for my in-laws, King Midas and The Queen of Hearts.

“Move it!” roars The Queen. “Or off with your head!”

She pounds a red, heart-tipped staff into the floor. Trust me, she hasn’t changed much. Even after attending Faraway for her anger management issue, she’s as hotheaded as they come.

The weary-looking workers scuttle about the room like mice. The Queen grins like a Cheshire cat.

An elegant cradle, probably a gift of the royal family, occupies the center of the room. King Midas, in his royal finest, crouches over it, goo-goo eyeing his new grandchild. Calla, Midas’s precious
bambina
, is beside him, shaking a silver rattle.

I make my way to the kitchen and can smell deliciousness wafting in the air. To my surprise, Winnie’s there. Zigzagging from corner to corner, she’s overseeing a team of cooks who are busily preparing breads, tarts, puddings, and other scrumptious baked goods. She orders several servants to bring more platters to the great room. She’s totally oblivious to me.

Weaving my way through the workers, I sidle up to her. “Winnie, what are you doing here?”

“Your mother-in-law’s people woke me up at some ungodly hour to organize a coming out party for Cinderella’s baby.” She adjusts some red roses in a vase on a counter. “You try blowing up three hundred balloons and baking a heart-shaped red velvet cake that will feed an entire kingdom before dawn.”

“Why didn’t you just tell her no?”

A smirk flickers on her lips. “Do the words—‘Off with your head’—mean anything to you?”

She’s right. Her Royal Bossiness has a no-tolerance policy for anyone who defies her. I’m glad, however, that Winnie’s here. A fountain of wisdom, she can help me sort my conflicted feelings toward Gallant.

“I desperately need to talk to you. Last night, Gallant—”

She cuts me off. “Later. I need to check on the cake.” She brushes her hair off her face and dashes over to the hearth.

Nice friend. I’ll remember this. Next time she wants to talk about something important to me, I’m going to tell her to take a hike. A long one to Neverland.

Stealing a scone, I stalk back to the great room. Charming is perched under the arched entrance, brightly greeting well-wishers that stream into the castle. Cinderella, standing beside him, is in the same gown she wore at dinner last night. Except now it’s two sizes too big on her thinner than ever frame. Her blue eyes are sunken, her shoulders hunched, and her hair a mess. She acknowledges each visitor with a faint nod. The expression on her face reads: I don’t want to be here. This is clearly not the chirpy perfect princess that everyone in the kingdom worships. Except me.

The well-wishers deposit their gifts for Swan on a large table, then circle around the cradle where Midas shakes their hands. Many peek their head inside, hastily covering their gaping mouths upon setting their eyes on the homely infant.

My eyes roam around the room. Many of my fellow Faraway inmates are here as well as the Seven Dwarfs. So is that crass egghead reporter for the
Fairytale Tattler.
He’s snooping around and taking notes. I worry about tomorrow’s headline:
“Cinderella Gives Birth to Ugly Duckling!”

My wandering eyes land on the sweeping staircase. My stomach muscles tense up. Gallant! His bloodshot eyes meet mine briefly, and then avert them. He strides right past me and heads over to his brother and Cinderella.

Not even a good-morning kiss. Or even a hello! A horrifying thought crosses my mind. Of course! He’s on the lookout for Aurora, the Sleeping Slut. I bet she’s here under the guise of showering the newborn princess with a trousseau of trashy lingerie. What a perfect opportunity to see each other! They can sneak away. Maybe even have a quickie in his painting studio while no one’s looking. Bile rises to the back of my throat.

A thunderous announcement from The Queen voice brings my ruminations to an abrupt halt. Just in time before I throw up.

“Bring me the baby! It’s time for the pee test.”

Why does she have to test the baby’s pee? Is there something seriously wrong with Baby Swan other than her unfortunate homeliness? A look of horror spreads across Cinderella’s face as Charming lifts the tiny, blanketed infant out of the cradle and strides across the room to his mother. The imperfect princess trails lethargically behind him.

A tall white-gloved butler steps forward, holding a silver tray with an elegant porcelain plate. In the middle of the plate, there’s a single green
pea
. I’m confused when he removes the pea and places it on the floor. I’m even more confused when an army of elves marches in—each, carrying a tiny, thick mattress and a plush feather bed. I count them—twenty little men in all. One by one, the elves stack the mattresses and feather beds, one upon another, on top of the pea. When the heap gets too high and out of reach, two more elves file in, each holding the end of a wooden ladder. They lean the ladder against the stack of mattresses and feather beds, allowing the remaining elves to climb up and add to the pile. When all is done, the stack of mattresses and featherbeds almost reaches the ceiling.

I steal a glance at Gallant. The impassive expression on his face makes my stomach churn. Is Aurora among the onlookers? Has he made eye contact with her? Damn! I wish I knew what she looked like.

I refocus my attention on the white-gloved pea-bearer, who carefully takes Baby Swan from Charming. Cuddling her in the crook of one arm, he ascends the ladder and places her on top of the twenty-foot high pile of mattresses. The baby wails on the top of her lungs. Everyone’s eyes are pointed up at her.

“A baby’s skin is very delicate,” says The Queen in her booming voice. “We’ll have the results of the test in five minutes.”

Swan continues to wail. Louder and louder. Her scrunched up face turns beet-red. She clenches her little fists as if she wants to fight back. The poor little thing! I hope she doesn’t fall off. Cinderella looks dazed and confused. I have no idea what’s going inside her head. She seems so detached from the baby. As if she’s in another world.

The Queen lumbers over to me. “Well, dear, how does it feel to be an aunt?”

“Great,” I lie. I won’t be one for long. My blood is curdling with the knowledge of Gallant’s affair. My eyes survey the room. So many beautiful princesses. Which one is she?

The Queen glances at Cinderella and huffs. “That girl has no consideration of anyone’s time but her own. She could have at least given me some advance notice that the baby was coming early.” She continues to rant. “You cannot believe what I’ve had to go through. Do you think it’s easy to find a fairy godmother spur of the moment? They were all booked. Every one of them! It’s a good thing I was able to pull a favor. I had to beg Fairweather, Flossie, and Fanta to come out of retirement and get their big butts over here. It’s the least they could do for all the money The King and I donate to Faraway.”

She gazes down at her red heart-shaped watch. “They were supposed to be here already,” she pouts. The Queen has no tolerance for lateness. That is why she and perpetually late Cinderella have never really gotten along.

“Time’s up!” roars The Queen. “Bring me the baby.”

The butler climbs back up the ladder and brings Swan to her. The baby is still wailing, her face contorted and scarlet red. The Queen removes the infant’s blanket and gown, draping them over the butler’s arm, and cradles the diaper-clad baby in her ample arms. She peeks inside the diaper. Her lips purse in disgust—I think Swan has pooped—and then she grins. She yanks off the diaper and proudly holds the baby up high so that everyone can see her little wrinkled butt. Smack in the middle of one of her tiny cheeks is a purple bruise the size of pea.

“Our little Swan is indeed a princess!” roars the jubilant Queen. “She felt the pea through all those mattresses and feather beds. Only a
real
princess would do that. From this day on, she will be officially known as Princess Swan!”

Cheers and applause. King Midas leads a toast for his new granddaughter, Princess Swan. Cinderella, who has retreated to a corner, listlessly raises her cup. The poor girl seems so lost and forgotten. I actually feel sorry for her. Maybe she needs someone to talk to.

A loud thud, accompanied by the sound of a few broken things, stops me dead in my tracks and startles everyone. The Badass Fairies, Fairweather, Flossie, and Fanta, have landed. Or should I say crash-landed.

One by one, they stagger to their feet, adjusting their bent wings.

“It’s about time,” grunts The Queen.

“The trip was challenging,” says a flushed Fairweather, unable to mask her embarrassment.

“We haven’t flown this far in ages,” says Flossie, as if giving an excuse.

“We had to stop for a bite to eat,” says Fanta, her voice matter-of-fact. Fairweather gives her a “shut-up” nudge with her elbow. Fanta cringes.

The three Badass Fairies haven’t changed a bit—except their butts are even bigger. They’re still wearing their frumpy frocks and matching bonnets, completing each other’s sentences, and about to bicker.

“Excuses, excuses.” The Queen rolls her eyes with disdain. “Let’s just get on with the blessings.”

Taking turns, the Badass Fairies waddle over to Princess Swan, wave their magic wands over her, and bestow her with a blessing. Fingers crossed one of them blesses her with Beauty. She sure could use some help in that department.

“Princess Swan, I bestow upon you the gift of eternal thinness,” says Fairweather.

What a waste of a blessing! While I’m sure every Fairytale princess yearns for this lifetime-guaranteed gift, this poor scrawn-of-a-child needs some meat on her bones.

“I bestow upon you the singing voice of an angel,” says Fanta.

Good one! I wish someone had done that for me.

“And I bestow upon you the gift of eternal beauty,” says Fanta.

Phew! I was getting worried.

“Let’s par-tay!” bellows King Midas.

Winnie, once again, has done her magic. The feast that follows is spectacular—a savory symphony of fresh baked breads, pastries, tarts, and salads. Villagers mingle amongst royalty. The gifts they have brought for Princess Swan are abundant—ranging from a basket of freshly baked muffins from a little village girl in a red hooded cloak to a coach full toys from Pinocchio, my dear Faraway friend who inherited his father’s toy business and turned it into an empire. His constant companion, Peter Pan, has offered Princess Swan a coupon good for one free trip to Neverland when she turns ten.

The Queen, still cuddling Swan in her bountiful arms, mingles with her guests and is the center of attention. “Isn’t she drop-dead gorgeous?” she thunders. My mother-in law is extremely myopic but too vain to wear glasses. She’s oblivious to Swan’s ugly duckling looks. No one has the nerve to tell her the truth. They want to keep their heads on their shoulders.

In the crowd, I spot Elz at the banquet table, standing next to a much more relaxed Winnie. I make my way over to them.