Back in Druscilla's tent, our heroes had precisely 17 minutes to prepare for the showdown.

Ashley, still barely disguised as Druscilla, had dismissed the ladies-in-waiting to enjoy the fairgrounds. No sense involving them.

Druscilla's tent seemed a lot larger than before, most likely because the corner where the golden Charming trophy stood was now empty. The thing was so huge, it must've taken half an army to lug it to the marquee.

Ashley sat before Druscilla's mirror as her friends poked and prodded her, trying to repair her disguise to fool the crowd and Charming.

Everywhere, the tent was abuzz with activity. And not all of the buzzing came from the vast fly population hovering over the buffet—a table laden with tea sandwiches and pastries intended for Druscilla. But now the royals partook ravenously of the bounty.

"This is delicious," Blanche said. "What is it?"

"It's an apple tart," Sadira said, loading a plate with egg and cress sandwiches.

Ashley's stomach growled.

"Are you joking?" Blanche said.

"Nope. Wow, it's good. I guess I like apples."

Ashley eyed the sandwiches from the chair on the far side of the tent where she was being worked on and sighed.

"Keep your mouth closed," Layyin ordered, brushing more of the pigeon poop makeup onto Ashley's cheek. "Do you want this stuff in your mouth?"

"No," Ashley said. "But I do want a sandwich."

"You'll end up eating poop. You can have food later," Layyin promised. "After Charming is cold and stiff and lying in his grave while worms feast on his eyeballs," her face lit up. "Extra incentive!"

"Gross," Ashley said. "Now, I'm not even hungry."

"You're welcome," Layyin said.

"Hey, Layyin, want a sandwich?" Sadira said.

"Sure."

"Don't you want to know if the bread is gluten-free?" Ashley said.

"Pshaw. I no longer fear gluten."

Tressa picked detritus out of the beehive wig, still balancing on Ashley's head. "Hold still," Tressa commanded.

"MMMshhallll shaaas," Ashley said. She couldn't open her mouth at the moment due to the proximity of Layyin's brush to Ashley's lips, but she'd developed a horrible itch on her scalp.

"I don't care if your scalp itches," Tressa said. "We're almost out of time, and I won't have you going out there looking like bees are nesting in your hair.

How Tressa had understood Ashley's meaning was a miracle. But even more miraculous, as the Princess of Xanthe pinned, teased, and smoothed, the wig turned into something not horrendous. Say whatever you like about Tressa, but she did have a way with hair.

Derek crouched at Ashley's feet, focused on gown-transformation duty. He pinned and snipped the battered pink fabric with pins and a pair of shiny silver professional scissors pilfered from the sewing kit, while surreptitiously snacking on an errant fly that happened to pass near.*

Kai, who had been flagging, took a few minutes to regenerate her thirsty scales in Druscilla's shark-shaped portable tub and was now toweling off.

The gong tolled eight.

Ashley gulped. "Oh, no!"

With each clang, Ashley's heart rate accelerated. If her heart were a horse, it would have easily won the Interkingdom Triple Crown. Her breath came in short bursts; her head spun. She could practically see her heart beating through the tight bodice of the gown. Sweat dripped down her temples. Oh, wait, that was pigeon poop.

"Breathe deeply," Sadira suggested. "You're fluttering like a lightning bug trapped in a jar."

"Relax, Ashley," Derek said through pins in his mouth. He removed them one at a time to fix the hem. "I don't want to stick you. Well, I do want to stick you, but I'll try to hold back. You cannot rush my artistry. Also, no bride of any worth is on time for her wedding. Make the guests wait for it. Make 'em want it."

"I'm not getting married, Derek. As you well know. I wish that were all I had to worry about. The problem is that tonight there will be blood spilled, and I've no idea whose it will be. Mine, Charming's, yours—" Ashley looked at all her friends. She couldn't bear the thought of losing any of them.

"Not mine, darling," Derek said. "I hereby proclaim as Prince of Over the Rainbow and the most handsome in the land, that all my blood will stay inside this perfect vessel of humankind. Can't speak for any of the rest of you."

"Don't worry, Ash," Sadira said, glaring at Derek. "We've already taken out two evildoers. Only one more to go. We're good at this."

"Yeah," Tressa piped up. "That's a sixty-six and two-thirds percent success rate."

Blanche set down her plate, licking her fingers. "All that remains is for us to take down the lying, cheating, ancient evil of the Seven Kingdoms," Blanche said. "Who deserves everything you will do to him."

"Hear hear, Blanche. The bedswerving son of a harlot has committed a plethora of crimes." He removed a roll of parchment from his pocket. "I have a list right here. It will help you, Ashley, in understanding the righteousness of our quest." He cleared his throat.

"Using marriage to all of us to accumulate wealth and titles.

"Cruelty to the people of the kingdoms—living in opulent castles while his subjects live in squalor.

"Aiding and abetting the kidnapping and torture of children.

"Dragon murder and parsnip obliteration.

"Treating women as objects.

"Cheating - on spouses, cards, sports, death.

"Pillaging the coffers of stolen kingdoms.

"Laughed at his subjects during Quarterly Tribunal, he dishonorably referred to as Whinging Week.

"Abusing the arts to boost his fragile ego, i.e., statues of him everywhere.

"Terrible in bed.

"That last one is enough of a reason he should meet his maker today," Derek sneered.

"Good list, Derek. All you need to remember, Ashley," Layyin said, "is that Prince Charming must die."

"Correct," Derek said with a final flourish of a snip. "Stand and admire."

Ashley stood. Druscilla's ugly monstrosity of a gown was now a shabby chic mermaid-shaped, narrow-silhouetted frill.**

"It's lovely, Derek. But why do you all persist in reminding me of Charming's crimes?" Ashley said. "Do you think I'm mentally impaired?"

"No, we know you're mentally impaired," Kai said. "Look at you. You're positively covered in pigeon droppings."

"Sit back down," Layyin said. "I missed a spot."

Ashley sat.

"True," Derek said. "But that's not her fault. Hon, we just don't trust you to kill anyone, no matter how evil. So far, your kill score is zero. How can you survive the entire narrative without killing, when the story is entitled Prince Charming Must Die?"

Ashley raised a poop-encrusted eyebrow and narrowed her gaze on Prince Derek. "Maybe I should practice first?"

"There is no practice. Only doing."

"I meant practice on you."

"Please don't give up your day job. You'll never make it in stand up," Derek said.

Ashley grunted. "Look, how about a pep talk instead of a 'we all doubt you' talk?"

Sadira nodded. "She's right, Derek. We need to boost her confidence, not tear her down. She's about to face Charming on stage, alone, in front of hundreds of people. He may have something up his proverbial sleeve that we don't know about."

Layyin dripped some poop on Ashley's décolletage and wiped it off with a handkerchief without missing a beat. "Yeah, and who knows? The crowd could turn into an angry mob and rip her limb from limb. Perfect! You're back to looking like Druscilla," Layyin said, grinning.

"Don't know if our pep talk's helping," Kai said. "Look at her; she's frozen like a statue."

"She knows the danger. I'm just showing her I understand and sympathize," Layyin said.

"Guys, do you think anyone will be suspicious when Druscilla doesn't make her grand entrance on a unicorn?" Blanche said.

"No one will suspect," Ruth said, poking her enormous head inside the tent. "A dragon escort is much better than a unicorn."

"Ruth!" Ashley said, knocking over her chair.

Paris poked his head in as well. "Sorry, Highnesses," he said. "I tried to stop her, but she ... well ... she's a fire-breathing dragon, so I couldn't stop her."

"That's all right, Paris, love, we know you tried," Derek said.

"Don't worry, Paris," Ashley said, then turned to Ruth. "You're going to fly me in? Don't you want to go to the dragon stables and be with Deathgiver? I heard they had jellied moose nose."

Ruth snorted. "Jellied moose nose is disgusting. And all they do is gamble and talk about getting dragontail. I'm divorcing him. He's done nothing but keep me down all these years. Besides, Derek is cuter."

"True," Derek said.

"And ever so humble," Layyin teased.

"Here, take this," Ruth said, tossing a bottle to Ashley.

She caught it one-handed, looked at it, eyes widening. "Where did you get this?"

"Gerald. He said you might need to give a potion to Charming at the ceremony."

"Is he still running that errand?" Ashley said.

"He is. He and Terrowin are doing some behind the scenes work. You'll see."

"Of course," Ashley said. Even if Gerald wasn't here, encouraging her, massaging her aching shoulders, he'd given her exactly what she needed to march into the ballroom tent and take down Charming—a full bottle of Wane & Tail.

👑👑👑

Ashley and Ruth swooped into the marquee's entrance, the crowd beneath cheering and raising their hands over their heads as if trying to touch a goddess. Ashley clenched Ruth's scales so hard, they dug into her palms. Her mouth was as dry as a sandstorm.

The inside of the tent was so enormous, Ruth could fly circles around the perimeter with ease. It was lit with thousands of white pillar candles and garlands of pink roses twisted around the tentpoles, bowing under the tight expanse of the silk "roof."

A freshly-hewn wooden stage, with sap seeping from the splintered surface, took up the entire front of the room. Behind the stage, a shimmering gold curtain fluttered in the breeze created by Ruth's wings. And upon the stage sat the two golden thrones encrusted with rubies and emeralds.

They looked familiar, but Ashley couldn't place them. But a nagging hollow in the pit of her stomach told her that something terrible had happened or would happen here.

A man in shining silver robes with a skeletal frame and wild eyebrows held his arms wide. He looked like an undead benevolent priest. Something felt oddly familiar about him too.

Ugh.

The memory flooded her brain.

Borin! The Prince's Seneschal. The man who made her life in the Ever After castle an utter misery had managed to slip her mind.***

Was he to officiate? Ashley had hoped never to see him again. The gleaming trophy towered behind him. It looked like it had grown in the time since Ashley last saw it. When Ruth made a pass above the stage, Ashley caught sight of Borin adjusting the robe that was stuck in the crack of his backside. "I give you the Princess Druscilla!"

The crowd roared so loudly it vibrated in Ashley's chest. "We better land and get this over with," Ashley told Ruth.

"Gotcha." Ruth swooped low above the people and landed at the edge of the stage, bowing her head to allow Ashley to disembark gracefully. Well, as smoothly as possible whilst in a tight gown and being half-starved.

"Thank you, Ruth," Ashley said.

"Good luck."

Ashley nodded, gathered her courage, hidden beneath the roiling acid in her stomach, pasted on an arrogant smile, and walked as regally as humanly possible toward center stage. She fingered the potion and the dagger, both concealed in the skirt's pocket, somewhat comforted by having at least one killing option close at hand.

Now all she needed was to get the target of her scheme—Prince Charming—to drink the wrong potion and start aging in front of the crowd.

But it seemed the Prince lived by Derek's credo that no one should be on time for his wedding, as Charming was nowhere in sight.

Or ...

Maybe Charming knew of the plot.

And Borin pretended to believe Ashley's disguise, only waiting for the right moment to have her arrested/tortured/killed.

Ashley gulped, straightened her shoulders, and somehow managed to keep up the haughty expression. Fortunately, no one could see her knees shaking beneath the gown.

"Your Highness," Borin simpered, bowing low.

"Boring," she said. "I mean Borin." Borin wrinkled his forehead and pursed his lips. Would Druscilla know Borin's name? Had Ashley just made a colossal mistake? "Charming told me you'd be officiating. Thank you."

"My pleasure, Highness. And may I say you are as beautiful as a summer's day?"

What a lickspittle.**** "Of course, I am. Otherwise, the prince wouldn't be marrying me now, would he? He's not marrying me for my scintillating personality." Ashley snapped, enjoying saying that way too much.

Borin squinted at her.

Uh, oh.

Maybe she shouldn't have said that either.

But sometimes, during stressful circumstances, people let off steam with unplanned sarcasm.

Where was Charming?

Perhaps she was too late with the potion, and he'd already turned into an old man or even disintegrated into dust, which would not do at all. The people had to witness his demise. Who would believe her without proof? The people need to know that it's possible to defeat the bad guys. That sometimes right wins. Justice prevails. The history books will not be written by the villains this time. There is hope.

She hoped.

Borin's eyes bored into hers.

Whispers from the audience shivered over the room.

And outside, owls hooted, unicorns had enthusiastic sex, and dragons roared about cheaters and prizes.

Everything was suspended in time. Expectant. Waiting.

For what? For her? For Charming? For a meteor to crash into the tent and put an end to it all? She glanced at the top of the canvas, holding her breath. Sadly, no meteor.

Unable to stand the silence any longer, she moved in front of Borin and cleared her throat.

"People of The Seven Kingdoms and to our hosts—The Freestate of Ugge—welcome to all of you for attending the Interkingdom Games, where the best of the best compete to prove who amongst us is the most talented, virile, and worthy.

Sweat dripped down her back. What else should she say? The crowd stared at her vacantly.

As if they'd been spelled.

"Ahem," came a voice from behind the curtain. "Aren't you going to introduce me the way we practiced?"

Charming.

So he hadn't prematurely disintegrated. But now the problem was that Ashley had no idea how she was supposed to introduce him.

Think, think, think.

It had to be something to do with nourishing the Prince's ego.

Because frankly, everything had to do with feeding his ego. Everything from running seven kingdoms to having seven spouses to winning the Games.

Ashley moved Borin aside and approached the trophy. She couldn't shake the feeling that statue-Charming's golden eyes followed her movements. That its lips curled with more disdain than they had a moment ago. That the man parts grew a tad larger. Like at any moment, the naked metal monstrosity would hop off its pedestal and crush her beneath its feet.

But that would be ridiculous. Metal is inanimate, rigid, and unchanging.

So to speak.

"Ummm, Ashley began, "as I said, this trophy goes to the man who has proven himself ... um ... the most virile, the bravest. The strongest of all men. It is only fitting that this year, as is the case every year," Ashley laughed, "the winner is our very own, Prince Charming." The audience went wild with applause. Ashley held up her arms to silence them. "So, without further ado, the moment you've all been waiting for. I give you, the prince of the Seven Realms, the Lord of the Dance, the Handsomest of the Handsome, the Most Powerful of All ..."

The audience held their collective breath.

"Don't forget the best in bed!" Charming hissed from behind the curtain.

Ashley coughed. "Uh, of course." She turned back to the crowd. "And the man who makes all other men seem inadequate in the sack ..." She opened the curtain a tad and looked behind the stage. Charming wore a suit and cape in the same pink as her dress, and his hair and face had only tinges of gray. He looked as handsome as ever. "How was that?"

"Perhaps you could muster a little more enthusiasm after all those orgasms."

"Those were your orgasms," Ashley couldn't stop herself from pointing out. If it was accurate for her and the other royals, it was probably true for Druscilla.

"True, true. Still, they were impressive. You should be grateful to have been in the room where orgasms of such monumental caliber erupted."

"Uh, yes. Sorry."

The crowd began stomping in the mud in perfect synchronicity. "We want Charming; We want Charming."

"Maybe you should come out now," Ashley suggested. "The crowd is acting strangely."

"I should've told Marveloni to put a little less "love your prince potion" in the drinking water. Where is Marvy?"

"Uh, don't know. He gave me your potion and said he'd be back for the finale."

Charming arched an eyebrow, which made Ashley's stomach to twist. She was on edge. Worried at any moment, she might be recognized. Each word she spoke could be the one that exposed her true identity. "I see," he said.

The question was, what did he see?

"Speaking of potions," Ashley said, her hand shaking as she removed the Wane & Tail from her pocket. Shouldn't you take this now?"

"I already had my potion," Charming said, his eyes aflame as if piercing through Ashley's disguise. "Marveloni sent it hours ago, and I'm almost back to normal."

He already had the potion. Oh, no. The whole plan was crumbling. Ashley clutched the dagger, hate flooding her veins. This evil man had inflicted enough suffering into the world.

Prince Charming had to die.

"Oh, so odd that Daddy didn't tell me he already gave you the potion," Ashley said, slowly extracting the dagger.

"Before we go out there and I make you, Ashley, the princess of all the Seven Realms, there is one thing I must do."

Oh god, he knew who she was. She lifted the dagger over her shoulder, aimed at his heart. But before she could strike, Charming gathered her into his arms, pulled her close, and pressed his lips to hers.

His kiss tasted of burnt metal and dark magic. He bit her lip, hard, and she tasted blood through the pain. Her blood mixed with the spell's swirling darkness, and something substantial left her body, leaving her weightless. Unencumbered. Fear dribbled away.

"Charming," Ashley breathed, "my one true love. What is this?" Ashley said, dropping the dagger to the stage floor. Her brain had filled with goose feathers. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten here nor why she wore these strange clothes. Or, why her face smelled like a filthy dovecote.

Charming pulled away. What was that white stuff on his lip? "Princess Ashley," Charming breathed.

He called her by her name! Charming. Her prince. She tried to shake the feathers out of her head to no avail. What had happened? It was as if part of her life had been snipped from her memory.

Charming scooped up the dagger and slipped it into his pocket. "Tis nothing. But now that that's over and done, I'd like to make an announcement."

"Yes?" Ashley said.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Charming said.