The Next Cinderella

Chapter 29--'The Bachelor's' Audience

It was time to share the true nature of the contest, he'd said.

But what on earth did that mean?

It was the question that permeated the royal hall, with immediate self-interests on everybody's mind.

As the king mulled over whether his BFF King Edward had been lying about erasing his kingdom's debt, the queen mulled over the new closet she'd had installed, to accommodate all the gowns that would be hers once the kingdom was back to swimming in coin. Had the closet been in vain? As she considered the possibility of premature closet construction, a single tear just above the freezing mark trickled down her seemingly bloodless cheek.

For the big-baby prince who was pimping himself out to gain popularity in the seven lands, any chance that he'd lose out on his narcissistic drug was sheer horror.

For Myrielle...she only hoped the truth would keep her safe from the chopping block. For Fredrick his wish was much the same; to continue to have a living head attached to his living body.

There was no center stage in the royal hall, so Gianni glided into the space between the royals and the accused, waving the scroll back and forth in the air as he reveled in their captivated stares.

"This competition began in the heart of the Enchanted Kingdom," he began. "In a place that was left with an entertainment void once Prince Charming found his princess Cinderella."

Fairy Godmother immediately made a vomiting sound, a reaction that was now a Cinderella-induced instinct.

"Alternative forms of entertainment were certainly pursued," he went on, "but they really only focused on the couple who had already made it." He sighed. "Let's just say that after eleven one-month anniversary parties...things got a little stale."

"Will my son get monthly anniversary parties too?" said the king. "With accompanying ten-tiered cakes?" He licked his lips in desperation.

Gianni gritted his teeth. "I am sure that can be arranged." The king nodded in relief. "As I was saying...the kingdom was starved for a show. They needed shock value, excitement...a spectacle! And so...the contest to find your next Cinderella was produced."

Myrielle scratched her head, leaving a greasy residue of honey-tar solution on her fingers. She absent-mindedly wiped them on her gown. "How is this a show if no one's watching?" She instinctively glanced around at the walls. "Or are they?" Next she shot a glance at Fairy Godmother. "Or is your magic actually real then?"

Fairy Godmother stumbled forward, her earlier jolt of sobriety as fleeting as a passing breeze. "When was the magic not real?" She waved her wand for added effect. Nothing happened. She shrugged.

Gianni pushed her aside to regain his share of the spotlight, a.k.a. one hundred percent of the spotlight. "To answer your question—you traitorous peasant girl—the audience was in place from the start, and they awaited every update with ravenous anticipation."

Gianni went on to describe the logistics of the sixteenth-century 'ABC's The Bachelor,' a show without the presence of the Internet or TV. He explained how all the notes he'd been taking weren't only for his inevitable book, but also for the re-caps and exclusive gossip, which would make their way on horseback for urgent publication in the kingdom's weekly chronicle. But it didn't end there. He also wrote scripts about every challenge, for detailed re-enactments that took place in the kingdom's outdoor theatre.

"The crowds took great delight in the peasants' desperate attempts to win each challenge," he said chuckling. "But eventually...observing the spectacle alone wasn't enough." He glanced around the hall dramatically. "Eventually there was a thirst to have a hand in the outcome too."