The Next Cinderella

Chapter 19--Leading Man Interlude...

The prince's final words haunted Myrielle as Fredrick escorted her down the moonlit path. She was already reflecting back on the terrible conversation, and obsessing over just how easily Bella had prevailed with her seduction; was beauty really the only way to bag a royal?

Myrielle's failure to win at playing the 'smart card' was a societal plague, and one that would go on to affect womankind for centuries to come. Society of course would refute this malaise with occasional profiles on 'smart girl crushes,' but for every one of those, there was a 'Maxim Hot 100' list and a Victoria's Secret fashion show that supported the age-old outlook: trophy wives would always be in style, and intelligent women were a threat to the male ego.

Or most male egos, anyway.

Fredrick could see that Myrielle had a lot on her mind, and none of it seemed encouraging based on her cloudy expression. He glanced around and noticed Gianni heading down the path.

"Lavatory break," Gianni whispered before disappearing into the night.

Fredrick nodded and once Gianni was out of eavesdropping range, he directed Myrielle to an area secluded by trees. "Let's take a little break before returning to the others; you seem tired and I wouldn't want you to faint."

She frowned at him. "Excuse me?" After putting her heart or brain on her sleeve and being painfully rejected, Myrielle was on edge and triggered by the notion of seeming weak. "I do not need a fainting couch," she said, clenching her fists and ready for a fight.

At the sight of her fists he was tempted to back away but stayed strong. "That was only my formal suggestion," he said calmly. "The real suggestion is...maybe you had a tough time with that cretin and could use a few minutes for a break."

She relaxed her fists. "That's actually a nice idea."

A few seconds passed in the melody of chirping crickets, as Fredrick scrambled for something to say that might put a smile on her face.

"He's horrified of losing his hair," he blurted out.

She raised an eyebrow. "The prince?"

"Oh yes. He has an herbalist concoct these oil and vitamin treatments I administer once a week." He cringed at the thought of the intensive scalp massage that was due in another two days. "And whenever he finds a loose hair on the floor or on a pillow, I hear him screaming throughout the entire east wing."

She laughed. "You have to be exaggerating."

"Not at all!" he insisted. "And sometimes...in the middle the night...I fantasize about cutting all his hair off in his sleep. I'd never do it of course, but..." he looked deep into her eyes, "...it's crossed my mind, and...I've never admitted that before, not to anyone."

Myrielle was at once surprised and comforted by Fredrick's dark admission; it was nice to know that she wasn't crazy in her difficulties to connect with the prince. She suddenly had an idea. "Look at the stars," she said.

He gazed upward. "Okay, looking..."

"Isn't it fascinating to look into the vastness, and know that we aren't at the center of it all?"

He seemed confused. "Are we not at the center then?"

She explained Galileo's theory just as she had to the prince, and was curious to know if his reaction would be the same.

"It seems impossible," said Fredrick. Myrielle dropped her shoulders, realizing all men were the same. "But most new discoveries seem impossible at first."

Myrielle's face lit up. "Do you really mean that?"

He seemed thrown off by her surprise. "Of course I do; it's astounding what we learn through progress as time goes on, and in this case...to know that we're a small part of a much grander scheme."