1 Dewitched (34 page)

Marcella screams at me again. Panic-stricken, I grab another bottle.

Magic Lip Plumper Potion
: Apply liberally for fuller, more kissable lips. He won’t be able to resist!

Choke! The thought of Gallant kissing Marcella sends me over the edge. I want to rip the slut’s phony fat lips right off her face, pull out her bottle-blond hair, and punch her inflated boobs. I feel evil! So over-the-top evil! And there are no little voices in my head telling me what
not
to do. Damn it! Why didn’t I create a potion to end her life a long time ago?

Brainstorm! One of these potions
has
to be poisonous, and I’m going to find it. I’ll take the slut by surprise and force it down her throat.
Drink it and die, bitch!
I can’t wait to see her take her final breath. I’ll blow her a kiss good-bye. Then I’ll cover my tracks with a fake suicide note. Something simple like…
Dear People: Changed my mind about marrying The Prince. He didn’t really love me. So I took my life. Love--M. 

Yes! I’m back to being an evil genius! So much for rehab. It was a total waste of time.

 Madly, I tear through the racks of potions, examining one bottle after another. Damn it! Nothing! Then, unexpectedly, I come upon her foot potion.

Miracle Foot Potion
: Heals, soothes, and smoothes swollen feet. Satisfaction Guaranteed.

I look closely at the fine print.
“Caution! Poison! Keep out of the reach of children!” 

The sweet irony of it all! It’s funny how things sometimes work out for the best.

I wrench the bottle open and take a whiff. Whoof! Nasty stuff. I can’t wait to pour it down the skank’s throat. Ha! I’m finally going to give her a dose of her own medicine. A fatal one!

Suddenly, my hands shake. Violently. The bottle slips out of my fingers and crashes to the floor, cracking in half. A rancid odor fills the room as I numbly watch the potion snake across the tiles.

“Look what you’ve done!” screeches a voice behind me.

I wheel around. Marcella. Barefoot in her red gown. The train trailing out the door.

“Rub some on my feet. Now!” Her voice is as toxic as the potion.

Still quivering, I squat down and smear the potion all over her skanky feet. I ask myself for the second time:
Why? Why didn’t I kill her when I had the chance? 

 A nauseating mixture of confusion, anger, and despair seeps into my veins as Marcella hobbles back to her chamber. She plops down on her bed. The dainty ruby shoes sit on the floor, waiting for a pair of feet to claim them.

  I confess. I haven’t prayed since I was a child. Why bother when my prayers for a loving mother were never answered. Now, it’s all I can do. To pray. To pray that her
Miracle Foot Potion
doesn’t work. That she’ll never be able to get her bone-ugly feet into the dainty ruby slippers. It’s the only hope I have left to stop her from going to the ball. And from marrying Gallant before the effects of her love potion wear off.

I hold my breath as she steps into the shoes. She wiggles her feet; she pushes. She wiggles again, pushes harder. She grunts. She groans. I smile slyly, but not for long. To my utter astonishment, the skank manages to stuff her big, red, puffy feet into the little slippers.

“Ha!” She smiles triumphantly. “They fit like a glove.” 

A miracle. My heart sinks like a boulder.

Marcella parades again before the mirror. I hate that mirror! I want to bash it. Instead, I dash out of her chamber before I dare do it.

Marcella screams at me. “Get back here!” I shut my ears to her shrill cry.

After tonight, Marcella will no longer be a PIW. She’ll be a real princess. Gallant’s princess. Tears spill from my eyes.

Marcella yells out to me again. “Jane, one last thing. Remind me to fire you after the ball.”

***

Gallant is downstairs at his desk, sketching. My heart flutters. How handsome he looks in his navy velvet suit and white blousy shirt, opened far enough to expose his tawny, chiseled chest. He gazes up at me with a fleeting smile. I blink back tears and meet his eyes. I so desperately want to run over to him and sink my body in his. The only thing that’s stopping me is shame. That and the fact that he’s marrying another in a matter of hours. 

  Calla skips down the staircase and breaks our tense silence. Clutching Lady Jane in one hand, she runs over to her father to give him a hug. Her beauty has no equal. In fact, she’s more beautiful than ever, in the gown Gallant bought her--a white lacy confection that’s accented with a yellow satin sash. The sash matches her golden curls, that are held back by her ever-present red velvet bow…the bow that once must have belonged to Snow White. How much she resembles her mother, with her flawless alabaster skin, rosebud lips, and twinkling chocolate eyes. An insufferable pang of guilt stabs me. How could I have…?

“Jane, why aren’t you dressed for the ball?” asks Calla. 

Caught off guard, I falter for an excuse.

“Big parties are not my thing.”
That sounded stupid.

“But you came to my birthday party!”
She’s got me.

“I don’t really know how to dance.”
That sounds better though not true.

“I can teach you!”
She’s got me again.

“I have nothing to wear.”
Well, that’s the honest truth.

“You can borrow something from Marcella.”
She’s got a point.

“I don’t think she’d like that,” I stammer. Truthfully, I can’t imagine myself in any of Marcella’s sleazy gowns. Except for The Emperor’s magnificent creation with a few major alterations.

Aware she’s getting nowhere with me, Calla turns to her father and implores him to make me go the ball. I wonder if she knows that it’s more than a ball. That tonight she’s getting a new mother. Marcella!

Gallant’s face lights up. “Jane, it would be an honor to have you as my guest.” 

My gaze meets his. I’m burning up with desire. Even my conscience can’t quell the flames. 

“Thank you, My Lord,” I say, holding back tears
and
my body. “But honestly, I don’t want to go.”
Liar!
“Plus, I can use the night off to catch up on some of Marcella’s chores.” 

“Did I just hear my name?” comes a coy voice from the staircase.

Marcella! She slithers down the steps, the long train of her gown trailing behind her.

“My love, do you like it?” she asks, stopping to pose in front of her husband-to-be.

Color drains from Gallant’s face, and his eyes morph into sharp blue daggers. I’ve never seen him like this before. Can her spell possibly be over?

“Where did you get that?” he demands, his voice powered by anger.

“At The Ballgown Emporium. It’s an Emperor Armando original.”

 “No, that!” He points to the long red velvet cloak that she’s added to her ensemble. I recognize it immediately and shudder.

“Oh, I borrowed it from your closet. It goes so well with my outfit. Don’t you agree, my love?” 

 “Take that off. NOW!” Each word is a sharp staccato. “That cloak belonged to Snow White!”

 “Whatever,” says Marcella, not the least bit miffed. She unhooks the fastening and lets the cloak slide off her.

The Prince catches it before it falls to the floor. Cradling it in his arms, he lowers his lips to it. My body goes numb. This time his kiss will not magically bring back Snow White from the dead.

Gallant turns to me. Guilt and shame consume me. I can’t look at him.

“Jane, please put this cloak back where it belongs after we leave,” he says stiffly.

“Yes, My Lord.” I cannot tell him how much I dread touching it.

As he hands me the cloak, our fingers interlock over the blood-red velvet. His heat courses through my veins, searing every part of me. I try to pull my hand away, but he won’t let it go.

“Jane, please come to the ball,” begs Calla again, this time clasping her little hands in prayer. “Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Get over it child,” snaps Marcella before shooting a wicked smile my way. “Servants do not attend wed--I mean, balls.”

Her words slice me like razors. I turn my head so neither Gallant nor Calla can see the tears forming in my eyes.

“We’re late!” shrieks Marcella. She yanks The Prince away from me and shoves Calla to the front door where their coach awaits them. Calla glances back at me, unable to mask her disappointment.

I long for Gallant to turn his head.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t. He does!

I hold his gaze in mine as if I’ll never see him again. Then he’s gone.

“These shoes are killing me,” I hear Marcella moan outside. So much for “Satisfaction Guaranteed.”
I hope you suffer all night!

Clickety clack. Clickety clack.
The sound of the coach fades into the distance. I bury my head in Snow White’s lifeless cloak and cry. 

CHAPTER 34

The cooks have the night off. Technically, I have the night off, too, since Marcella’s not here. I should enjoy my freedom, but instead, the great swimmer is drowning in a sea of sorrow. The thought of Gallant marrying that woman is suffocating me, pulling me under. But what does it really matter? Even if he doesn’t really love her. A colossal wave of hopelessness washes over me. The truth is, I can’t hide from my past forever. Eventually, Gallant will find out. The minute he learns that I’m The Evil Queen, the witch who tried to kill his beloved late wife, I will no longer be Jane. My life, as I know it now, will be over. I’ll be as dead to him as Snow White.

Tears pour down my face. I don’t know if it’s heartache or shame. There’s only one thing I can do. I cannot wait until Marcella fires me. Or until my past is revealed. I must leave this house at once. Before Gallant returns from the ball. Before I ever have to face him again.

With my eyes watering, I pack my bag. It doesn’t take long as I have few belongings. Where will I go from here? With my castle a forgotten dream, I’m not sure. All I know is that by morning, I will be far away, moving on to another chapter of my life. Putting this all behind me.

Just one last thing I have to do--write The Prince a note. He deserves to understand my actions. And maybe, just maybe, it will give me a sense of closure.

Slowly, I make my way to his desk, every step an effort. The sketch he was working on faces me. It’s a portrait of Calla. My beautiful, sweet girl. Carefully, I tear it out from his pad and place it in my bag next to my treasured “Best Friends Forever” card from Elz. I’ll cherish my memories of Calla forever.

 Lowering myself to his desk chair, I gently tear out a clean sheet of parchment from the sketchpad and put a quill to it.

 “Dear Gallant,” I begin. This is not easy. Tears flood my eyes and fall onto the words I’ve written. I watch as they dissolve into an illegible black blur, a fitting reminder of my miserable life.

I rip out another sheet and start over. Brushing my tears away, I write my farewell letter.

Dearest Gallant~

By the time you read this letter, I will be gone. I can no longer bring myself to stay in this house and be of service to you and your family.

I have a confession to make. Several years ago, I caused your late wife Snow White great harm. It’s too painful for me to go into the details, but rest assured, I am profoundly sorry for the grave damage I caused. I can only pray that you’ll find the strength in your heart to forgive me.

I will never forget my stay here and the kindness you have shown me. Most of all, I will miss Calla. She’s a very special little girl. Please give her my love and take good care of her. I hope you and Marcella live happily ever after.

Forever~Jane

I put down the quill and read over my letter. Tears blur my vision, but I’m careful not to let them spill onto my words. They’re perfect, but what made me write “Forever~Jane”? I could have signed it, “Sincerely,” or “Best Wishes,” or even “Good-bye.” Instead, I chose “Forever.” Whatever. It’s written. I fold the letter, seal it in an envelope with my tears, and place it in the top desk drawer. Some day, My Prince will find it.

 My tears subside. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. The ball. I can picture it in my head. All eyes are on Marcella in her gorgeous scarlet gown. On the outside, she’s all smiles, but inside she’s dying in her three sizes too small shoes. Suddenly, her feet give out. She’s going down! Yes! And then, no! Just in time, Gallant comes to her rescue, scooping her up in his arms. He carries her up to the altar where The King pronounces them husband and….

I snap open my eyes, and the dam holding back my tears crumbles. An endless river rages down my face. I wish I were at the ball! I wish I could stop Gallant from marrying Marcella! I wish! I wish!
Damn it, Jane. Just admit it. I wish it were me! 

I can’t stop the tears. Searching for something to wipe them away, I find one of Gallant’s handkerchiefs tucked inside a drawer. I dab my face. Its heavenly scent reminds me of the time he tenderly bandaged my burnt hand and brings on more tears. Other memories swirl around in my head. Our first encounter…My “sea monster” adventure with Calla…That outrageous night of drunken folly…And then, that one unforgettable kiss.

Oh, God. How I ache to peer into his jewel-blue eyes, to feel the ripple of his muscles beneath his shirt, to caress his saffron hair. Most of all, I want to kiss him. One more time before I leave. One last time. I no longer need to fool myself. I know why I signed the letter “Forever~Jane.” Because simply, I will always love him.
Forever
, as in as long as I live.