The following morning, Ashley slowly woke to a jasmine-scented breeze drifting in from the open windows, the previous night's activities floating over her consciousness.

She relived the highlights—the way Charming tore off her panties, the thrill of the sweet nothings he whispered in her ear, his blissful moans, the way he shouted her name when he reached the pinnacle of pleasure. Well, maybe it wasn't really her name precisely, more like "my princess," but this was a term of endearment. Right? He hadn't forgotten her name per se. Had he?

Never mind. Of course not.

She ran her tongue over her lips, raw from Charming's kisses. Her lady parts were also sore from her husband's man parts, and she had considerable chafing on her cheeks from his unkempt "I've-been-on-a-lengthy-quest-with-the-boys-and-had-no-need-to-manscape" beard.

Everything was fine. Except of course, for the fact that it ended so fast. But it didn't matter. Proper ladies didn't enjoy sex. They endured it. Or so she'd been told.

As the pressure on her bladder intensified, she emerged from the fuzzy half-dream state, sensing something was amiss. For one thing, a mosquito circled her head like a vulture who's spotted some tasty carrion. She tried to swat it away. But as it turned out, she was still shackled to the headboard, which explained the spasms of pain rippling down from her fingertips, across her shoulders, and into her neck.

"Charming?" she said, painfully turning her head toward his side of the bed. But all she beheld was a prince-sized hollow in the sheets.

She pulled against the cuffs, but only succeeded in further digging the metal into her wrists. "Agghhh," she gasped.

Maybe Charming was nearby in his closet, or "man cave" as he referred to the dark room adjacent to The Vault.

She'd never been inside because one of the first castle rules he relayed to her was that this was a restricted zone. Only the prince had the key. She joked a time or two that the cave was where he kept the bodies, but he did not even crack a smile at her attempt at whimsy.

"Charming?" Ashley cleared her throat. "Could you please unlock me?" she beseeched politely and sweetly, as any good princess should. When the only response was the loud buzzing of the mosquito hovering closer and closer to her ear, Ashley went for a slightly more demanding tone. "Charming? Earth to Charming. Earth to Charming. Hello?"

"Bzzzzz," buzzed the mosquito.

Ashley's heart sank like a leaky boat. Where had he gone? Why had he left her in handcuffs? And how was she going to get out of them when she couldn't reach the key nor the summoning bell? She had no choice but to bellow for help, despite the fact that all she wore was a half-mangled feather corset with no panties. She suspected bellowing wasn't a princess-like mode of communication. But the burning desire to pee and the pain in her arms won over decorum. "Is anyone out there? Please? I could really use assistance," she shouted.

That's when she remembered she'd given her ladies-in-waiting the evening and morning off to recover from the extra work yesterday. Also, she had not wanted anyone in the anteroom when she was executing her Ultimate Plan of Seduction. Ugh!

"Bzzzzzz," the mosquito landed on her nose, interrupting her thoughts and forcing her cross-eyed. "Mmmm. Carbon dioxide. Mosquitolicious! Plus, thin skin. Best kind. So much easier on the old straw. Am I right?"

This was her first experience talking to a mosquito. Usually, they just sucked her blood without even a "hello." Now was not a good time for a nice big mosquito bite on her nose. "I've never sucked anyone's blood, so I have no idea. Perhaps you could ask a vampire."

"Hahaha. Those aren't even real."

"Look, could you maybe not bite me right now? My swatters," Ashley wriggled her fingers, "are indisposed, and it wouldn't be very gentlemanly for you to bite someone who cannot defend herself." When you have nothing else, appeal to a man's sense of chivalry. She'd heard her stepmother give this advice to Ashley's stepsisters.

"First, all bets are off when it comes to a bloodmeal. Second, I'm not a dude. Only female mosquitoes bite. And we do it to nourish our eggs. Now, what kind of monarch would you be to deny a mother the ability to feed her children?"

A pang of longing pierced Ashley's heart. She could not deny a mother's request. "Very well, but could you maybe avoid my face? I'm trying to attract the prince, not repulse him with a giant red swollen bite mark."

The mosquito abandoned her nose. It took a few moments before Ashley could uncross her eyes.

"How about the wrist?"

"Sure," Ashley said.

Once the mosquito was finished with the banquet, it whirred back to her nose. "Thanks, Princess. Bzzzz. Oh, and if you're looking for your prince, he's in the breakfast hall gettin' awful cozy with that redheaded lady-in-waiting. Her blood is revolting if that makes you feel any better. Yours? Amazing. Nine out of ten. If you drank a little more ale, it'd be the bomb."

"Uh, thanks." Ashley made a mental note to avoid ale. Then the part about Charming being with Scarletta sunk in. "He's where?"

"Bzzzzz. Breakfast hall. You might want to check on what they're up to. I don't think it's just scrambled eggs if ya know what I mean."

Adrenaline surged like fire through her veins. What was Charming doing with Scarletta? It was probably nothing. He was her Prince Charming after all. Princes act, well, princely. Chivalrous.

"Sorry, I have no idea what you mean," she lied. "Is there toast and orange juice involved as well?"

"You have a lot to learn about how this whole royal thing works. Bzzzzz."

Ashley sighed. "Tell me about it."

"Bye, Princess. Thanks for the breakfast! See you later."

"Uh, you're welcome? I guess."

After last night, Ashley refused to think ill of her prince, but that didn't mean she trusted Scarletta. Which made it important she get down to the breakfast hall. But how? Well, the best way to solve any problem was the first to dissect it.

Her problem(s) defined -

1. Prince left her cuffed to the bed & is having breakfast with Scarletta

2. Full bladder

3. Arms overhead killing her

4. Mosquito bite demanding to be scratched

5. Starving

6. Wearing a half-mangled feather corset and no panties

7. No way to reach the key or bell

8. No humans within earshot

Terrific.

What all this boiled down to was that Ashley now suffered from that inevitable fairy tale princess predicament known as "Damsel in Distress Syndrome."

Happens to the best of them.

The princess may be locked in a tower guarded by dragons, or in a mountain cave guarded by dragons, or inside an actual dragon, and some prince has to rescue her from certain death—by dragon. The main question here being why dragons like princesses so much. Princes, being generally larger, would make a more satisfying meal.

"Hey, Princess!" Domino hopped on to the windowsill, then swooped to the bed.

"Domino!"

"Chomperz said you could use a hand." She lifted a stubby pigeon leg which, rather noticeably, ended in a delicate orange claw rather than a hand.

"Chomperz?"

"Small buzzy thing. Drinks blood. Breeds in stagnant water."

"Oh, the mosquito. That was kind of her to tell you about my 'situation.'"

Domino's eyes flicked to the handcuffs. "No problem, I'll get help." Domino flew back to the sill and cooed loudly. Soon an army of woodland creatures, mice, gophers, snails, and raccoons worked their way over the windowsill, dropping onto the window seat. They must've climbed all the way up the stone wall. Her heart swelled with gratitude.

In minutes the animal forces had, through teeth, claws, and a heavy, but disgusting, application of snail slime on her hand and wrist, managed to gnaw through one cuff enough for her to slip out her hand. She used the key to free her other one.

Ashley sighed with pleasure as she rubbed her wrists and attacked the already swollen mosquito bite with her fingernails. "I don't know how to thank you."

"Anything for you, Princess," said a gopher. "But since you offered, maybe you could help us in our fight against the use of gopher traps on the unicorn grazing yard?"

"I'll see what I can do," Ashley promised, getting up from the bed and throwing on her chemise.

She splashed water on her face and listened as the snails asked for the cessation of poison on the roses, the mice requested no more traps in the kitchens, and the raccoon posited the idea of removing the door to the chicken coop.

"I'll try," she said. "Everything but the chicken coop that is." She shook her head at the raccoon.

"Can't blame a raccoon for tryin'," he said.

The creatures all looked at her with hope twinkling in their little eyes. "Don't get too excited, guys. I'm only a princess. I'm here more for decoration than administration. But I will do my best."

"We appreciate any effort," said a fat brown mouse.

Ashley smiled. Was it rude for her to ask them to go? With every fiber in her being, she needed to pee, then get to the breakfast hall and see her prince. To check on Scarletta, to eat breakfast, to ask why he left her handcuffed, and hopefully, get him back to the bedchamber to continue what they started last night. "I'm sorry to ask you to leave," she said at last, "but ... um ... nature calls."

"Nature? But what are we? A burgeoning industrial complex?" the raccoon griped.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. See you later!"

A line of animals worked their way to the window, and soon Ashley was alone. She slid the golden chamber pot from beneath the bed. As she urged her bladder to empty faster, she realized in the three months she'd lived in the castle, all morning meals had been served in her chamber. She had no clue how to find the breakfast hall.

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