After the departure of her fairy godmother, Ashley, determined to learn all she could about pleasing her prince, stretched out amongst a sea of aubergine and gold velvet cushions on her window seat, the open copy of Princess Monthly in hand. Heavy, jasmine-scented summer air wafted through the open windows. Insects buzzed songs of true love beneath a fat full moon, bringing light to an otherwise inky sky. Ashley's head also buzzed from having two glasses of whiskey, which made the words on the pages a little fuzzy.

A whinny drifted from the unicorn-grazing yard far below. With liquid courage from the alcohol, Ashley, who, if you'll remember, is afraid of heights, ventured a glance down at the frolicking creatures. Their iridescent coats shimmered in the moonlight. Ashley sucked in a breath at their beauty.* Two of the creatures had ventured off from the others and were enthusiastically performing the activity pictured on page 22 of Princess Monthly entitled: Jockeying for Position. Her mouth fell open. Could humans do THAT?

Despite the distractions, Princess Ashley read the article sixteen times until she could quote it verbatim. By this point, the pages of the magazine were sticking to her sweaty hands.

She slapped it closed, stomach tightening, cringing, as it sunk in that she'd done absolutely everything wrong on her wedding night. She had laid primly upon the bedcovers, trying her best to look pure and regal—as motionless as a painting. She might've cried a tiny bit. But it turned out none of this was correct. Especially the crying part.

Here's a sample of what the article advised a princess to take heed of during lovemaking:

There were advanced chapters that dealt with incorporating desserts, leather garb, and weaponry, but these seemed optional, so Ashley decided she could probably skip them for now and save them as a backup in case things got stale. "I can do this!" Ashley declared. "I am desirable. I am worthy of love."

But a voice inside her asked if he is your one true love, should all this be necessary? Like most of us do when that voice of wisdom interferes with our plans, Ashley pushed it down as far as she could and pretended she hadn't heard.

"Mwahaha," came a disembodied voice. Ashley hated disembodied voices even more than her inner wise voice. The disembodied usually meant you ill.

"Who's that? Is someone here?" Ashley's stomach clenched. The roses on the wallpaper shifted. "Are you kidding me? You can talk? Verbally-adept wallpaper is illogical. Wallpaper is not animate." But here she was talking to it anyway. Stupid fairy tale magic. "Can't you be silent and stagnant like normal wall décor? Why must you mock me?" Ashley didn't want to admit it, but the wallpaper's judgy-ness hurt. As if it knew the truth she worked so hard to hide from the rest of the castle. That she was not worthy. She was a fraud. She would never fit in. The prince would never come back, and she'd never have a family.

On the bright side, she wasn't wallpaper!

Now the question was, how long would she have to wait before she could put her new knowledge into action?

Her eyes grew heavy; the wallpaper monsters hissed for her attention. She folded the magazine and growled: "I'm thinking wood paneling in here." The monsters quieted. She shivered, and closed the windows, and in seconds fell into a deep sleep.

As it turned out, Ashley didn't have to wait long to learn when her prince would return.

The princess woke with a start from a panicked banging at the window screen. She shook off a weird sex dream about iced baked goods and blinked her eyes at the morning sunlight spilling through the windows. "Igor!" It was Magnificent Marveloni's pet crow with an envelope clutched in its beak, batting its wings like a hurricane against the glass. "Settle down, or you'll get injured."

Igor threw his body into the effort as if to say, 'you're not the boss of me.' Crows can be so immature. Why don't they use their words?

Ashley opened the window, and a now dazed Igor flopped onto the pillows. "Oh, poor thing," Ashley said. "Let me get you some water."

The crow sniffed at her offer, opened its beak, dropped the envelope, and began preening its oily black feathers.

Ashley took the envelope into her shaking hand and sniffed it, hoping it might smell like her prince, but instead, it reeked of crow saliva—vaguely sulfurous with decaying fruit undertones. "I don't get why you won't talk to me. It would simplify things. And you wouldn't have to fly for miles and miles with an envelope in your beak. That's gotta be hard on the aerodynamics."

(At this point, I should probably remind you that Princess Ashley could speak to animals. You'll remember the bluebirds, mice, and forest creatures who came to her aid during the Stepmonster Times.)

Igor was the one animal who didn't talk to Ashley. It wasn't that she couldn't, but because he refused to converse with a human, believing it was beneath him. Plus, he was an all-around unpleasant creature.

She hesitated before opening the envelope. Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird's wings, and her stomach clenched. Would it be good news or bad? Was her prince on his way home? Had he become dragon fodder? Or even worse, was he leaving her? Forcing even breaths, Ashley broke the royal seal. Her prince had to be all right. This was the fairy tale life she'd paid for with blood and sweat, kindness and obedience, not to mention the whole ORPHAN thing. Again.

She read:

My Dearest Princess,

I shall return from my quest this night. The turnips have been harvested, and the dragons slayed. As if either stood a chance against our righteous swords! Peace once again reigns in the kingdom. Soon we will be reunited.

Love,

Charming

P.S. I have a huge surprise for you!

Ashley leaped from the window seat and arabesqued around the room, holding the note against her heart. "He's coming. He's coming!" she sang.

A line of bluebirds fluttered to the windowsill and began harmonizing. Igor crowed and did his best to cover his ears with his wings. But his sour attitude would not dampen her mood, because her prince was on his way, AND he loved her. Igor ruffled his feathers, hopped over to the bluebirds, nudged a few off the ledge, and flew away, shrinking to a black dot—a blemish on the sky.

Ashley only had a few hours to get ready and put her knowledge from the HEA article into action. She'd have to enlist the help of the castle seamstresses, hairdressers, cooks, maids, gardeners, and Pilates instructors. (Many of the positions described in the magazine looked like supple muscles would be imperative.)

Mere seconds after Ashley rung her summoning bell, asking to be connected with Max and her ladies-in-waiting, the bedroom door flung open, and a flock of ladies rushed in, their skirts rustling like fallen leaves in an autumn wind. "Majesty! Good morning!" said Scarletta, the gorgeous copper-haired leader of the group. The woman smelled like her name. Like the color red—sharp as hunger; deep as spice; scorched as the blacksmith's forge.

The rest said good morning in unison, like a well-trained army.

"Good morning," Ashley chirped. "Wait, anyone know where Max is?"

"She said to tell you she's under the weather and won't be able to help with your, um ..." Scarletta said.

"What? What did she say?"

"She said. Um." Scarletta cleared her throat and glanced at the empty suit of armor with its massive mace guarding Charming's closet.

"Why does everyone think I'm about to have people carved up?" Ashley grumbled. "Look, I'm not the sort of princess who shouts "off with their heads" when I wake up on the wrong side of the bed. Okay?"

"Okay," Scarletta said. "Max said, 'tell her that I'm under the weather and won't be able to participate in this anti-feminist, imbecilic, ridiculous embodiment of the patriarchy.'"

"Well, never mind then. I hope she recovers quickly," Ashley said, hurt her fairy godmother was being so judgmental, but knowing it came from a good place.

Ashley clapped her hands and smiled. "Shall we get started?"

Scarletta bustled toward what Ashley dubbed "The Vault," a repository for her wardrobe. It was the size of a jousting field, with dozens of mannequins decked out in finery—rows and rows of counterfeit princesses from which to choose. The fabrics all matched the gold, purple, and red color scheme of the castle, like camouflage. It was as if she was just another tapestry or painting or footstool.

Trails of magical fairy lights lit the Vault as it twisted and turned in a veritable maze of sparkly jewels, crowns, satin, silk, velvet, and even an entire room dedicated to shoes. "You seem quite spirited today, Your Highness."

"Oh, I am. My prince comes tonight. Never mind a gown. I have a whole list of things I need to be done in preparation. Will you all help me?"

At this, the eyes of the ladies-in-waiting lit from within; their grins stretched so wide it was like being surrounded by spooky jack-o-lanterns with fancy updos and layers of petticoats. "Really? You're going to let us help you?" said a very young, brunette lady-in-waiting. Was her name Valerie? Vale? Valeria? Ashley should learn their names instead of identifying them by hair color, but she had no intention of keeping a staff of servants having been one for almost her whole life.

When she arrived, the ladies wanted to do everything for her—dress her, undress her, bathe her, arrange her hair, feed her—in other words, treat her like a babe. There had been much grumbling at the beginning about Princess Ashley's insistence on caring for herself. By now, however, they'd given up. So, you can imagine their shock when Ashley asked them outright for help.

"I am. Here's what I need."

Princess Ashley described her plan. There was a bit of tittering at the sexy bits, but their general enthusiasm allowed the princess to endure the mortification. They hurried off to their various tasks while Ashley wrote a response to her husband:

My Dearest Prince Charming,

It is with great joy that I anticipate your arrival this evening. I've missed you so.

All my love,

Ashley

P.S. I have a big surprise for you too! xoxoxo

Ashley shivered at the vision in her head of the two of them entwined in the sheets, declaring their love for one another—with words, mouths, and hands. Her dream of iced baked goods sauntered back into her head. She reminded herself that this was an advanced suggestion in the article, and she shouldn't get ahead of herself. Shaking the thought away, she whistled for her favorite carrier pigeon, Domino, who always delivered on time. It flew to her from the dovecote and landed on the window seat, cooing.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Domino. You are the best pigeon a girl could ever ask for."

"All the welcomes, Princess. Have thoust a task for moi?" Domino's English wasn't the best.

"Please deliver this to the prince." She handed him the note, sheathed in a rose-scented envelope, and sealed in wax with her signet ring, which lay heavy on her finger.

"Blerp," Domino said, which Ashley took to mean "sure." The pigeon gripped the envelope in her beak.

"Oh, wait," Ashley said. She opened The Vault and sighed. Which way to intimates? She ought to have a map produced to avoid this problem in the future.

"You still alive in there?" the pigeon called from outside.

"Just fine," Ashley assured her. "I won't be but a moment."

She finally found the intimates department, opened a glass case, and selected an unworn purple lace thong with a little diamond crown in front that some faraway duchess had sent as a wedding gift. Ashley hesitated, biting her lip. "What the heck? Might as well begin my seductive phase now." She hustled out of The Vault, not wanting to keep Domino waiting because that was rude. "Do you think you could manage this too?"

Heat rose from Ashley's neck to her cheeks. Domino, however, didn't react, most likely because, as a pigeon, she didn't understand human clothing, or why humans were made without feathers or fur. It seemed like a big design flaw not to come equipped with protection from the elements. Domino clutched the thong in her claws. "Sparkly pretty! For your nest?"

Ashley winked. "Uh, let's just say it will enhance the chances of there being a nest."

Domino hopped on to the windowsill. "Ciao," she said, before heading off to run her errand. Luckily, the Ever After carrier pigeons always seemed to know how to find a note's recipients.

Soon the prince would have Ashley's "messages." She grinned and rubbed her hands together. Her Plan of Ultimate Seduction would work. It had to.

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