Once Upon a Time: The Villains (25 page)

“Oh, look!” the maid in front squeals, rising on her tiptoes. “The king!” We all shuffle to see.

“So handsome,” another says on a sigh.

“Move on, Renée!” a maid in back calls. “Others have yet to see.”

I am almost to the front. I peer past a shoulder and see the king. He is handsome and tall and exactly as I remember him. I watch him move from person to person with ease. His eyes flit our way and the maids giggle. “Did you see?” one cries. “He looked straight at me.”

The king moves closer to where we peek from the kitchens and the twittering and giggling rise to new levels. Finally, it is my turn. I only wish a quick peek. Mayhap I will see my husband. My eyes roam over the beautiful scene and my heart grows sad. Not too long ago, I would envy this life before me, but now I feel only regret. With new eyes I see myself as I had been — selfish, vain and mean.

A flurry of gasps sound in my ear and my eyes focus on what has caught my companions’ attentions. The king strides straight for us. Is that recognition in his eyes? How surprised he must be to find a princess among his servants. I step back, but I find myself suddenly alone.

The king stops before me and bows. A wicked smile touches his lips. “It is not every day I find a beauty among my servants.” He turns and waves at the orchestra. They start to play and he grabs my hand.

He pulls me close and whispers in my ear, “Today is a special day. Ask of me anything.”

My eyes are glued to the floor. “I do not dare.”

“I know what you want. What every young girl dreams about. I am sure I can find a beauty such as you a rich and handsome lord for a husband.” He twirls me close to a smiling lord. “Here is one now. A most fitting man, don’t you think?”

I’m confused. Maybe he doesn’t recognize me. “I am already married.”

“What does that matter? I am king. If you will it, I can dissolve your marriage and procure you a new one. Look. There is a king just there. He is handsome, or so he tells me. Wealthy, too. I know he is looking for a wife.”

I try to pull away, embarrassed by his boldness. He will not relent and sweeps me on toward the man in question. “Please, your majesty. I love my husband and wish for no other.”

I feel the pots sway and bounce. Goat milk splashes against my skirts and the meat pie flies from my pocket to land at our feet. “No!” I cry. Horror colors my cheeks and I push away, dropping to the floor.

The crowd bursts into laughter at my dilemma and the king stands over me, his hands on his hips. “What is all this?”

As I scoop the pie into my hand, my eyes well with tears and my stomach tightens with a terrible ache. I shake my head and wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand. “These were a gift for my husband.”

“A poor gift, this.”

I lift my head and stare at the king. I cannot control my tears or my tongue. “It may seem so to you, but they were all I had to give him.” I stuff the remains into my pocket and quickly rise.

My time of humiliation has only begun for the crowd points at my skirts, and as one, burst into laughter. It is now apparent that the fabric is sopping wet — and in a most inappropriate place. A lord snickers to his wife behind his hand, but I hear what he says. “She’s wet herself.”

The king calls for silence, but the crowd drowns out his order. Oh, how I long for the ground to open and swallow me whole, anything to escape this moment. He bends to help me, but embarrassed to the very marrow of my being, I push him away and dash through the crowd toward the great doors not caring who I touch with my food-encrusted hands.

Just beyond the doors, I am pulled to a stop. Whirling about, I nearly collide with the king. He takes hold of both my hands. “Do not be afraid, Princess. It is I, one of your many suitors.”

So he does recognize me. His plan was to humiliate me as I had him. I hang my head and say, “I know, and I am deeply sorry for what I did to you.”

“I must beg your forgiveness.”

“Nay, what has happened I deserve.”

“I thought to teach you a lesson, but it is I who has learned the most. No one deserves to be humiliated and deceived.” He lifts my chin with his knuckle until my eyes look into his. “Do you not recognize me?”

What game does he play now? I know him. I have told him so. “Yes, you are King…” I truly did not know his name. “You are the king who came to my home. The one I called Thrush-beak.”

“Aye. But look into my eyes. Do you not see me?”

He makes no sense. I shake my head in confusion, but I do as he asks. His eyes are the most wondrous shade of blue. They remind me of laughter and summer and unending tenderness. I pull back. I know those eyes.

An uncertain smile appears on his face. “I have been more thrush-beard of late. I deceived you from the beginning. I treated you terribly, more like a slave than a wife. I even dressed as the soldier and smashed your pots.”

My heart tightens. “But why?”

“The moment I saw you, I knew we were meant for each other, but I also knew even if you had accepted me that day, I could not marry you for your haughtiness. When I heard your father say he would marry you to the first beggar to come along, I approached him with an idea. This was all a scheme your father and I created to show you your prideful ways. And then when you professed your love, I didn’t believe you. I had to test you once more. I had to see if the dazzle of this castle and the promise of your old life would have you abandon that love. It has been torture treating you thus, but I did it all for the love of you.”

“You love me?”

“More than anything.”

Why? I had humiliated him in front of everyone and caused him more grief than a husband should have to bear.

Hot tears run down my cheeks and he wipes them away. “I can’t bear to see you cry. Please say you forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” My breath is painful to draw. I feel lightheaded. He’s asking me to forgive him when I’m the one who should be groveling at his feet. “I don’t deserve your love.”

“You have it none the less, and a great deal more. Stay with me. I cannot wait for spring.”

I throw myself into his arms and hold tight.

He pulls me close and strokes my hair, murmuring sweet words of comfort. “Today is a day of celebration. My people will finally meet their queen and see what a warm and generous woman she is.”

I am queen, but I look like a beggar, and I don’t even care. My husband loves me. My husband, King Thrush-Bea—

My eyes widen. “How good of a wife can I be? I don’t even know my own husband’s name.” I pull away and look at the face I love more than any other.

He runs his finger down my cheek and smiles. “I am Jean-Luc Quennel Etienne de Radepont.”

I curtsey. “It is a pleasure, Jean-Luc.”

He bows and lifts my hand to his lips as a tender light dances in his eyes. “The pleasure is all mine, Abrial.” He lifts his hand and a servant appears. “Take my lady to her room and dress her appropriately. Today, we finally celebrate our marriage.”

Throughout the land a story rose of a princess who wed a beggar man who turned into a king. But that is not the truth. The truth is an unworthy woman wed a king who turned her into a princess.

If not for my husband I would have lived my life selfish and mean. When I look back, I am embarrassed by who I was. Princess I may have been, but one who didn’t deserve the title. Marriage to Jean-Luc opened the door to my gilded cage, and now I truly have a live filled with love, laughter and the freedom to be who I was always meant to be.

Shea Berkley
is a kidlit author living in the beautiful Southwest of the United States. Her books include
The Marked Son
(2012),
The Fallen Prince
(2013), and
The Rising King
(2014) from Entangled Teen. Contact Shea at
[email protected]
and read more about her life and books at
www.sheaberkley.com
.

Once Upon a Time
...

We all know the time-honored fairy tales of Rapunzel, Rumpelstiltskin, Snow White, Hansel and Grethel, Jack and the Beanstalk, and King Thrush Beard.

Or do we?

Not everyone gets a happily-ever-after. What about the villains? Why were they so mean? And how did they turn out this way?

Author Shea Berkley always wondered about the other side of the story. Were Hansel and Grethel really such good children, merely starving when they happened upon the old witch’s candy-covered cottage in the forest? Was Rapunzel really such a victim? And why was it okay for Jack to steal from the Giant without remorse or consequences? Perhaps Rumpelstiltskin was simply trying to collect on a bargain freely made by the hapless peasant girl determined to be queen. And the wicked queen stepmother to Snow White was not always evil incarnate. What about the spoiled princess King Thrush Beard tries to tame?

Pull up a chair and join us for six tales told from the other point of view. The point of view of the Evil Witches and the Horrid Monsters. You might never feel the same way about these six classic fairy tales again.