I was elated. The fire brimmed inside my chest was ready to detonate; the warmth emulated throughout my entire being, raging through my chest to my arms and to the tips of my fingers. I was searing in tingling warmth. My mind wouldn't be tamed. In my mind, I was soaring, brushing past the tips of the tallest evergreens above Char's castle, kissing the feathers of each cloud. The fireworks were bombarding my mind in a dazzling array of orange, fuchsia, and rose. Through this, a woven golden thread gathered in the center, rocketing to the zenith of my heart. I was free.

I couldn't decide about what I was more joyful of: my freedom, or the revival of Char's love. I gazed fondly at him, noting that an unruly russet curl had wiggled loose from his otherwise immaculate hair. His expression was of utmost joviality; he could hardly contain his happiness. Lifting my sweltering gaze, I interlocked my green eyes with his soft brown ones. I was mesmerized by the warmth and kindness that radiated from him and was consumed by the infinite love that I saw. It was an unmistakable connection. I grabbed his hand and our unfurling fingers interlocked as if on their own accord. Disregarding Hattie's obstinate howls of fury, Olive's prominent confusion, and Mum Olga's bellowing commands; I pulled Char away from the raging verbal battles in Mandy's kitchen, and led him outside to the solace of Mum Olga's courtyard. I shuddered to recall that this very terrace in which we stood was the very one that I had scoured my perpetually bleeding hands and had laboured endlessly to clean.

Char, my whole-hearted, gentle prince. He forgave me. This was unfathomable. After all that I wrote in that letter, he was able to forgive me? It was most probable that Char had dubbed Hattie as the culprit writer of that letter. I desperately needed to explain everything to him. Char deserved the wholly legitimate truth, and I would never be able to exonerate myself if I deceived him any longer. The happiness that was bubbling inside me vaporized instantly. I was completely ashamed of myself.

"Char," I began timidly but was distracted by Mandy's whooping, chuckling, and Mum Olga's and Hattie's quarrelling. Char heartily grinned in response, and I couldn't help but blush and smile.

Wringing my now cold, clammy hands, I tried again, my voice barely a whisper. "When you received my last letter, what-"

"Hattie! That despicable, foul wrench!" He passionately interjected, "She wrote that letter, did she not?"

It wasn't a question, but I felt obligated to answer him.

"I—"

Without waiting for an answer, he proclaimed, "I know she did! I'm certain of it."

Then, Char blushed at his audacity, and at his un-chivalrous interruptions. He caught my expression and must have mistaken my guilt for my loath for Hattie. In a gesture of sympathy, he gingerly smoothed my grimy, dirt infused hair and smiled.

"I've been meaning to tell you about my curse!" I blurted. Then, clamped a hand to my mouth. I had been too accustomed to following my obedience that I nearly forgot my newfound happiness. Char, however, still looked confused.

Staring ashamedly at the floor, I mumbled, "You remember when I told you I was cursed a few minutes ago?"

"Yes." His voice was saturated with compassion and empathy. "You were cursed with the condemnation of living with your stepsisters and your stepfamily. Those mephitic elephants! I certainly don't blame you for saying you were cursed."

How could I possibly tell him that almost everything he'd known about me had been false? Everything that mattered, that is.

I attempted a smile, but only the corners of my mouth quivered. Here was Char's attempt to make me laugh, and I had denied him of that chance.

"No," I said, "although I can assure you that they truly are the most ravenous rabbits you'll ever meet—Hattie in particular—that is not exactly what I meant."

Char, grinning in anticipation of another joke, looked startled. His ghost of a smile and vanished and his handsome features were contorted by confusion, but his unwavering attention was instantly captured. It dawned on him that I was actually being serious.

Seeing his rapt curiosity, I proceeded to babble my story; my servitude to Mum Olga, my embarrassment dehumanizing myself in Hattie's numerous cotillions, and—most of all—

my curse came tumbling out.