On her quest to track down her husband and lady-in-waiting and prove to herself that nothing untoward was going on, Ashley spent fifteen freezing minutes lost in the stone maze, otherwise known as Cornell Castle. For some reason, she got many strange looks and head shakes from the staff as she passed, including a judgy raised eyebrow from the court jester—a man wearing argyle tights with little bells jingling on his cap, dragging a stick puppet of his head along the stone floor.

At least thirty maids, four footmen, a red-faced chaplain, and a drunken knight gave her inaccurate directions. Ashley resorted to asking the rats, scritching, and scratching behind the walls, but they were no help. She was rather like a ball being ricocheted from one dimly-lit, damp, spiderwebbed corridor to another.

Her thoughts also ricocheted.

From:

There is nothing to worry about; my husband is my one true love, which means Scarletta isn't his love.

To:

Scarletta is pretty and cultured and probably doesn't talk to mosquitoes. Maybe Charming regrets marrying me.

Back and forth until her brain was as scrambled as eggs in a skillet.

Speaking of eggs, as she turned the corner into the east wing, Ashley picked up a whiff of bacon, sausage, maple syrup, and yeasty bread, which she followed, stomach growling like a mad dog.

"I found it," Ashley rejoiced, executing the first recorded fist pump in history. Locating breakfast may seem minor to most of us, but to Ashley, it was like completing a marathon, only with less sweat and blisters.

"Who goes there?" came a gruff voice from beyond a curved wall.

She rounded the bend to discover Terrowin, one of the castle's terrifying guards. In addition to having roughly the size, shape, and hairiness of a bear, he carried a six-foot iron battle-ax as if it weighed no more than a jester's puppet.

Upon seeing Ashley, rather than bowing and myprincessing, Terrowin adopted a battle stance and readied his weapon, as if she were a dragon or troll who had penetrated the castle.* She gulped. The blades looked very, very sharp.

Ashley backed away, holding up her hand in an I'm-not-a-dragon-or-troll-so-please-lower-your-weapon gesture. "It's me," she warbled. Perhaps she should've taken a moment to tame her hair before departing the bedchamber. Ashley smoothed her curls.

Terrowin's eyes widened. "Princess Ashley?"

He dropped the ax with a heavy thud on the stone floor and bowed deeply. "So sorry, me highness. Didn't mean to raise a weapon to ya. Thought you was a ... never mind." He whimpered. "Please don't kill me."

Ashley sighed. Why did people always think she was going to have them executed? If they wanted a despot, they ought to move to Wonderland, where that psychotic queen lived. "Terrowin, please get up. I don't even know where to find an executioner if we even have one. I hope we don't. But regardless, I'd never hurt you."

"Thank you, Highness. Thank you," he cried softly, not moving from his bow.

"Is the prince in there?" she pointed to an arched stone entryway.

"Aye. Should I announce ya?"

"No, thanks; I'd like to surprise him." She winked.

His cheeks reddened. "That explains a lot."

Rather than pressing the guard to explain this odd statement, she decided to continue on her original quest. Since Terrowin hadn't budged, she was forced to step over him and the battle-ax to gain entry. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light streaming in from a wall of stained-glass windows on the east-facing side. The design in the glass depicted a gruesome scene of a handsome prince with a killer smile, stabbing a dragon, blood gushing from a mortal wound.

She scanned the hall for her husband and Scarletta. The place was the size of a jousting field, with long empty wooden tables and benches, and a line of candlelit iron chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. On the back wall, an enormous bench groaned under the weight of a breakfast banquet that could've served a hundred men. Were those chocolate chip pancakes? Saliva filled her mouth; her belly was as hollow as a lightning-struck redwood.

But first things first. Confront lady-in-waiting and husband.

The two were seated at the furthest table opposite the windows, practically in the dark. Their heads bent together. Bile rose in Ashley's throat. She tiptoed toward them, wending her way past tables and benches. Weird spider-shaped shadows from the chandeliers trailed at her feet.

"Husband ..."

He stood from a gilded chair that screeched against the stone floor, while her "loyal" lady-in-waiting leaped away from him, as red-faced as her name. The woman's metallic scent burnt the back of Ashley's throat.

"You're here," Charming said with equal parts shock and awe.

"I am." She jabbed her fists into her hips and turned on Scarletta, who fell into a deep curtsey. Her well-endowed chest practically popped out of the bodice of her ice-green gown. The lady's silks quivered like lime jelly. The woman was terrified. "Why are you here?" A tiny vein throbbed on Ashley's temple.

Scarletta laughed.

Laughed!

Apparently, the quivering was not due to fear. On the one hand, that was progress—at least one person in the castle didn't think she was a killer. Still, if she were going to send anyone to the gallows, it would be Scarletta. Lucky for her, Ashley didn't know where the gallows were.

Ashley straightened her spine and folded her arms across her chest. "What is going on?"

"Well, if you must know, we were discussing your surprise." Caught in the magic of Charming's blue eyes, sharp jaw, and tight jodhpurs, threads of golden light dancing in his hair, Ashley nearly forgot why she was even upset with him. She rubbed her sore wrists and remembered.

"What?" Of all the explanations, Ashley hadn't considered this.

"Huge surprise. Remember my note?" Charming flashed his perfect white smile in her direction, and despite everything, her stomach flipped. "Alas, I fear it might be ruined now. Why did you think I left you shackled to the bed?"

"You what?" Scarletta said.

It was now Ashley's cheeks that turned red. She'd only shared the handcuff procurement with the castle guard.

"Never mind. We shall do the surprise here. Scarletta, please fetch Marveloni."

Without hesitation, Scarletta flew from the room, the pounding of her heels diminishing into the stone maze.

"Marveloni? He's involved?" When the one-eyed royal magician looked at her with that empty gaze of his, it was as if a thousand spiders crept over her skin, spinning webs that grew ever tighter.

"Why, of course. It was his idea. Now I have a question for you."

"Yes?"

"Pray, how did you escape the shackles, my vixen?"

For a moment, she pondered telling him the truth. But decided perhaps that wouldn't be helpful. She could only imagine the conversation:

"A mosquito saw I was in trouble and relayed the situation to a pigeon who called in a legion of mice, gophers, snails, and raccoons. I explained what I needed, and they managed to help me escape."

"Guards, please confine the princess to a padded tower."

"No, it's fine, dear. They were ever so kind. Though I did have to make some promises about ceasing poisoning activities in the castle."

"Make that a padded dungeon cell. Oh, and throw away the key."

"I cannot reveal all my secrets, husband," Ashley said at last.

"I see. Well, if you won't tell me that, could you possibly explain what on earth are you wearing?"

Ashley looked down. "Oh, dear." Through all the madness and worry, she'd forgotten to put on anything over her chemise.

You'll have to understand that in Ever After, the very idea of a princess roaming around the castle in what was essentially her underwear, was unheard of. It would be the equivalent of a president or prime minister going on national TV naked.

"I have to go change," Ashley said.

"Not yet." Charming removed his ermine-edged velvet cape and wrapped it around Ashley's shoulders, fastening the clasp at her neck. The fabric, heavy as the morning fog, rooted her to the stone floor. "There is a surprise coming. And while we wait, I have some incredible news to discuss with you. Sit?"

"Thank you." She sat.

Taking her hands in his, he stroked her knuckles with his bare thumbs. Her heart sped; her breath quickened. He smiled. "It's the best news, my love. Because of some bookkeeping error to do with the leap year, or Jupiter aligning with Mars, or a misplaced solstice, or some such, it turns out this fall the Intra-kingdom Games shall be held! And as the prince, I am expected to participate. I'm sure to win the dragon battle and the jousting, if not the whole shebang."

"Where are the games held," Ashley inquired, hoping right here in Ever After.

"In the Freestate of Ugge. A silly little place that believes in something called Democracy. It'll never work."

Disappointment pressed on to Ashley's small shoulders like an ox's yoke. "But that is so far, my prince."

"Yes, but we can exchange "messages" with Igor," he raised his eyebrows and chucked her chin.

"Perhaps I could join you?"

"You're sweet, my love, but 'tis an arduous journey filled with mud puddles and bouncy carriage rides and unwashed serfs. Princesses hate that sort of thing. Hey, why the long face?"

"Nothing," Ashley sighed. "At least you'll be here till the autumn."

"Oh, no. I'm off again this afternoon. The training will take months."

"What?"

"I promise to bring home the golden trophy! It will look great in our bedchamber. I'll have the window seat removed to make room. Don't fret. I shall return before your 21st birthday on October 20th."

"Terrific," Ashley muttered. The window seat was the only part of the room she liked. He was leaving. Again. And she could do nothing to stop him. As a consolation, at least he knew her birth date.

"I'm over the moon that you're pleased. Oh, here we are," Charming said.

The sharp, burnt-iron smell of dark magic wafted into the room. In walked The Marvelous Marveloni with two bridled unicorns. Ashley hugged herself, trying to withstand the sensation of spiders crawling over her body.

"Surprise!"

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