“Drizella! Drizella!” someone barked. It sounded like Mother. I was very much still asleep.

  “Drizella!!”

  "Huh? What?" I yawned. What did Mother want with me now?

  “Get up! Quick! This instant!” Mother drew the curtains back with a quick motion. “We haven't a moment to lose.”

  She hurriedly left my room. What was that all about? My mind was still thick and foggy.

  “Anastasia? Anastasia!” I heard Mother in my sister's room. “Get up, Anastasia!”

  I walked slowly across the hall and slipped into my sister's room, yawning still. Mother was drawing the curtains in there, too.

  “Oh, everyone's talking about it,” she said excitedly. “The whole kingdom! Hurry now! He'll be here any minute.”

  “Who... will?” I yawned once again.

  “The Grand Duke. He's been hunting all night.”

  “Hunting?” I asked. The Grand Duke? Mother wasn’t making much sense.

  “For that girl,” said Mother. “The one who lost her slipper at the ball last night. They say he's madly in love with her.”

  I sat heavily on Anastasia's bed, willing my brain to gear up a notch.

  “The Duke is?” asked my sister.

  “No, no, no! The Prince!” said Mother.

  CRASH!

  Cinderella, standing at the door, dropped the breakfast tray, shattering everything across the floor.

  “You clumsy little fool!” Mother barked. “Clean that up, then help my daughters dress.”

  “What for?” I asked, tired. I joined Anastasia in her bed.

  “If he's in love with that girl,” Anastasia pointed out, “why should we even bother?”

  We pulled the heavy blankets over ourselves to hide from mother. Oh, let us sleep already, we had enough of that prince yesterday!

  “Now, you two, listen to me!” Mother ripped our blanket away with practiced cruelty. “There is still a chance that one of you can get him!”

  “What? One of us?” we said in unison. “Why, Mother, what do you mean?”

  “Just this,” Mother said. “No one, not even the Prince, knows who that girl is.”

  That didn’t make much sense, either.

  “The glass slipper is their only clue,” Mother continued. “Now, the Duke has been ordered to try it on every girl in the kingdom, and if one can be found whom the slipper fits, then... by the King's command, that girl shall be the Prince's bride.”

  “His bride...” Cinderella repeated stupidly.

  “His bride!?” Anastasia and I jumped up.

  Wait a minute. I felt something was off in that logic. But my brain was still a jumble of sleep and fogginess, and I swept myself up in Mother and Anastasia's excitement. I didn’t like the prince, no, but a chance to marry a royalty wasn’t a bad thing.

  What did she say earlier? The Grand Duke was on his way? Damn, I had to get dressed!

  “Cinderella, get my things together,” Anastasia demanded.

  “Never mind her,” I told the servant girl, shoving my clothes into her arms. “Mend these right away!”

  “Not until she irons my dress!” argued Anastasia, piling even more clothes into Cinderella's hands.

  “After she's brushed my shoes,” I snapped back.

  “W-w-what's the matter with her?” Anastasia looked up at Cinderella. I looked, too. She had this dazed, unfocused look in her eyes. It was weird.

  “Wake up, stupid,” I said.

  “We've got to get dressed!” Anastasia said, distressed.

  “Dressed... Oh, yes...” Cinderella said in a confused, airy tone. Then, to my absolute amazement, she just dumped the entire pile of clothes right onto Anastasia's lap.

  “We must get dressed,” Cinderella murmured to herself while simply walking off. “It would never do for the Duke to see me looking like this.”

  What was she on about? The Duke wasn't here for her! She wasn’t even at the ball! Did she not hear a word Mother just said?

  “Mother, did you see what she just did?” cried Anastasia.

  “Are you just going to let her walk away?” I asked.

  “Quiet,” Mother shushed us.

  Then we noticed Cinderella singing softly to herself in the hall. Mother’s eyes narrowed, and she followed her out.

  Very weird behavior, from Cinderella and Mother alike.

  We waited for Mother, who had probably gone to fetch the servant back. We certainly weren’t expected to mend the clothes ourselves!

  But as we waited, and I finally became more or less awake, I willed my lazy brain to start functioning properly.

  Something was very strange about yesterday, and this morning, too. First of all, why did they need the shoe? Couldn’t the prince just come and take a look himself? Was it too much of a bother for him? It seemed worth the effort, as lazy as he might be, since the process would literally decide the identity of his wife.

  And it was a bizarre way to identify a lady. Glass slipper or not, it was bound to fit dozens of girls our age...

  Unless... oh! She was a thief! Just like I had cleverly deduced yesterday. That made it all so much more reasonable.

  The Prince didn’t really care, but the Grand Duke was tasked with finding the thief. And the glass slipper was a clever trap—a conviction, proof of her criminality. It was a genius way to investigate all the girls in the area without revealing they were suspects! And that was why they made it mandatory.

  Trap or not, the Duke was coming, and he was important. I had to get dressed. Where was Mother with Cinderella?

  Then the doors opened. Mother was back, but alone.

  “Where is she, Mother?” whined Anastasia. “I must have my dress ironed, and my shoes need washing!”

  “Do it yourself!” said Mother. “And get ready. We are putting on the same dresses as yesterday.”

  “But why, Mother?” I groaned.

  “We need to look like we were at the ball,” Mother explained. “Stop acting like spoiled brats.”

  “But Mother,” I said, “this whole thing... it isn’t as you think at all.”

  “What do you mean, Drizella?” she asked with very little patience.

  “The girl yesterday was a thief, Mother,” I explained. “That’s why she ran away. The Duke wants to find her to arrest her! We shouldn't participate in this glass slipper test!”

  “What, what!?” Mother gaped at me. “Who put that silly idea in your head!?”

  “The only thing that girl stole,” Anastasia sighed in a silly, romantic voice, “was the Prince's heart....”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “No,” I said. “She seduced the Prince, then stole... maybe a family jewel. That's why she ran away, and the Prince's men are after her!”

  “What absolute nonsense,” Mother scolded. “Remove that silly thought from your head at once.”

  “So why does he need the shoe?” I asked. “Why doesn't the Prince come himself to identify her?”

  “Well,” Mother took a moment to think. “He must have bad eyesight. It's not that uncommon.”

  “But I think—” I started.

  “Stop that!” Mother barked. “Thinking doesn’t suit you. Listen to me. The King wrote a royal proclamation that whoever's foot fits the shoe marries the Prince. Do you know what a royal proclamation is?”

  “That's... that's...” I started.

  “That is the law,” Mother cut me off. “So this cannot be a trick to catch a thief, understand?”

  “Yes...”

  “She could have run away for a million reasons,” said Mother. “Probably because she is stupid.”

  “Yeah!” giggled Anastasia. “The Prince has basically fallen head over heels for her, and she runs off? She's even more stupid than.. than...”

  “Than you,” Mother finished for her. “Listen, Drizella. Stop with this nonsense. You will do everything you can to make that shoe fit your foot. Lick it if it helps, understand? Don't you dare do otherwise.”

  I nodded. Mother could be scary sometimes.

  Mother then began the torture of dressing us, strapping us back into our cages: the tight corsets, the heavy, suffocating petticoats, and the stifling bodices.

  We made it just in time. The call of a trumpet sounded from outside, ceremonially announcing that the Grand Duke's carriage had arrived.

  Anastasia and I took to the window to watch.

  “Oh, Mother, Mother!” called Anastasia. “He's here! He's here!”

  I hurried over to make some last-minute makeup adjustments in front of the mirror.

  “Do I look alright? I’m so excited!” exclaimed Anastasia. “I just don’t know what else to do.”

  It was an old duke, not the prince! I wanted to remind her, but I held my tongue. I went to apply some face powder, and my sister simply shoved me out of the way to put on her own.

  “Girls...” Mother said, smoothing her skirts. “Now remember... this is your last chance. Don't fail me.”

  She went and opened the door.

  In the doorway stood a little, ugly messenger with a large trumpet. “Announcing His Imperial Grace, the Grand Duke,” he announced, stepping aside for the Grand Duke to enter.

  “You honor our humble home, my Lord,” said Mother, bowing politely.

  “Ahem. Quite so,” he responded.

  “May I present my daughters,” she said, gesturing to us. “Drizella and Anastasia.”

  On cue, we dropped into our deepest, most practiced curtsies. Anastasia went a step further, pasting on a stupid, fluttery smile and adding, “Your Grace.”

  “Yes. Charmed, I'm sure.” The Grand Duke visibly winced at Anastasia's homeliness.

  “His Grace will read a royal proclamation,” said the messenger. He drew out a long piece of parchment and opened it in front of the Duke.

  The Grand Duke cleared his throat and started in a sleepy, boring tone: “All loyal subjects of His Majesty are hereby... notified by royal proclamation in regard to a certain...” He yawned mid-sentence. “…glass slipper. It is upon this day decreed—”

  While he was reading, the midget messenger dramatically whipped the velvet cover off the pillow he carried, beaming with self-importance as he revealed the glittering glass slippers to the room.

  I gave it a look. It was pretty, but so incredibly small. It wouldn’t fit my foot in a million years. Good. I was still harboring thoughts that this was a clever thief hunt and didn’t want to take my chances. But since Mother was so insistent, there was no harm in putting on a small show.

  “Why, that's my slipper!” I shouted in fake surprise as I pointed at the shoe.

  “Well, I like that! It-it's my slipper!” Anastasia immediately copied me, as she often did.

  Then I heard another voice. A small, high-pitched voice. “No, no, no,” it squeaked. “That's Cinderelly's slipper!”

  What!? It was very quiet, but I definitely heard something. I looked around and saw absolutely no one else in the room. Did I imagine it? Did my own brain utter it out of fear? Did I know this to be true?

  No! Remember, it was physically impossible!

  Then Anastasia made a brazen move to snatch the slipper right off the messenger's pillow. Naturally, I joined the scuffle. But the short man was remarkably quick on his feet and smoothly snuck away from our grasping hands.

  “Girls, girls!” Mother stopped us. “Your manners.” Then she turned to the Duke. “A thousand pardons, Your Grace. Please continue.”

  “Yes, quite so,” said the Duke, and he continued reading. He talked and talked, yawning endlessly. It was boring stuff. I didn’t really listen.

  After what felt like forever, he finally finished and almost fainted on the spot. The messenger quickly slid a armchair behind him to catch his fall.

  “You must be quite fatigued, Your Grace,” said Mother, gesturing toward the kettle. “May we offer you some tea?”

  “What? Tea? Thank you, madam, no,” said the Duke. “We must proceed with the... the fitting.”

  “Of course,” said Mother. “Anastasia, darling.”

  Anastasia sat down, foot thrust out and ready, as the messenger carefully approached with the slipper. It seemed to fit—if you ignored the fact that her dress was covering the back half of her huge foot! The slipper was only capping her toes; the rest of her foot was hidden by the fabric.

  “There! I knew it was my slipper,” exclaimed Anastasia happily. “Exactly my size. I always wear the same size. As soon as I saw it, I said—”

  But then the messenger lifted her leg up to show everyone the fit. The heavy fabric of her dress slipped back, revealing that her heel was entirely exposed. She wasn’t even halfway in!

  This was... stupid.

  “Oh! Well... it... it may be a trifle snug today,” Anastasia tried to lie. “You know how it is... dancing all night. I can't understand why.”

  The messenger sighed and went to pound the shoe onto her heel with his fist, hitting it hard.

  “It's always fit perfectly before,” said Anastasia. “I don’t think you're half trying! Mother, can you—”

  “Quiet, my dear,” shushed Mother. “We mustn't disturb His Grace.” The Duke was actively snoring in his chair, and for some reason, Mother wanted him to stay that way.

  “Young man,” Mother turned her sharp gaze to the messenger, “are you sure you're trying it on the right foot?”

  “Oh, it's the right foot,” whined Anastasia, “but it must have shrunk or something. A glass shoe isn't always reliable.” She then violently kicked the poor messenger, sending him crashing against the piano. “Why can't you hold still a moment!?” she shouted at him.

  It was almost unbearable to watch, and loud enough to jolt the Duke back to his senses.

  “Oh, my word!” said the Duke. “Enough of this!”

  My crazy sister finally stopped struggling.

  “The next young lady, please,” called the Duke.

  It was me, of course. I sat there, sticking my far left foot out in front of the messenger. But as he tried to push and slide it onto me, I was suddenly terrified that he might succeed. It didn’t look like it was going to—it was far too small for me—but... what if it did? Despite that royal proclamation, I still wasn’t eager to risk a trip to the dungeons.

  So I snapped, “Oh, of all the foolish little idiots!” and I kicked the messenger squarely in the head with my other foot. “I'll do it myself! Get away from me! I'll make it fit!”

  I wanted to feel it myself, to make sure it didn’t fit. Good. It definitely wasn't going to. I made a little theatrical show of bending my foot, pretending to aggressively stuff it into the glass.

  “There,” I declared.

  “It fits!” Mother said. What, are you blind?

  “It fits?” asked the Grand Duke, startled.

  The moment I released my grip, the extreme pressure of my oversized foot acted like a spring. The glass slipper shot off my heel, launching high into the air.

  The Duke leaped forward and just barely managed to catch it before it shattered on the floor.

  “Oh, Your Grace, I'm dreadfully sorry,” Mother placated him. “It shan't happen again.”

  “Precisely, madam,” he said in profound annoyance. He looked like he was ready to bolt. He turned toward the door. “You are the only ladies of the household, I hope—oh, I presume?”

  “There is no one else, Your Grace,” Mother lied without batting an eyelash.

  “Quite so. Good day. Good day!” he said, turning the handle.

  “Your Grace? Your Grace! Please!” Cinderella voice!

  We all looked up. Cinderella was descending the stairs. “Wait! May I try it on?”

  “Oh, pay no attention to her,” Mother said quickly to the Duke.

  “It's only Cinderella,” added Anastasia.

  “Our scullery maid,” I explained dismissively.

  “From the kitchen,” said Anastasia. “She's out of her mind.”

  “It's ridiculous. Impossible,” I said. But as I said the words, a sickening feeling washed over me.

  The small squeaky voice I heard earlier. The reason Mother had stalked after her this morning. The beautiful girl that I saw dancing with the Prince…

  Cinderella is the thief!

  But a thief wouldn’t willingly come to try on the shoe! I was confused all over again.

  “Yes, yes,” agreed Mother. “Just an imaginative child.”

  “Madam, my orders were every maiden!” the Duke declared. “Come, my child.” He took her by the hand and, with every bit of courtly grace, led her to the chair. The Grand Duke was treating her like an equal. What a joke.

  The Duke signaled the messenger, who hurried over eagerly, the shoe resting on the velvet pillow.

  Then Mother did something unthinkable. She extended her cane just enough to trip the messenger! It might have looked like a clumsy mistake to the Duke, but I saw her eyes. It was definitely on purpose! Why would she do such a thing?

  Of course! Mother actually believed the shoe was Cinderella’s! That was why she went after her this morning to lock her up. At the ball, too, she had stared at the mysterious girl with intense suspicion.

  The messenger hit the floor with a heavy thud. The glass slipper flew from the pillow and shattered into a million glittering pieces across the floor.

  The Duke collapsed to his knees in front of the broken glass, looking utterly destroyed.

  “Oh no, no, no, no,” the Duke trembled. “This is terrible… the King! What will he say? What will he do?”

  “But maybe, if it would help—” Cinderella started gently.

  “No, no,” the Duke wept melancholically. “Nothing can help now. Nothing.”

  “But you see, I have the other slipper.” Cinderella reached into her apron and actually pulled it out.

  Mother gaped. We were utterly dumbstruck. And the Duke... he looked the happiest I had ever seen a man look in my life. He kissed the glass slipper in pure appreciation, then, without a moment to waste, he slid it onto Cinderella's right foot.

  It fit like a glove. A perfect, glass glove.

  At the ball, it was her.

  In that moment, I felt many things, but surprise wasn’t one of them.

  Deep down I think I knew it then too. I just didn’t want to believe it. Not really.

  How she got the dress, how she got to the ball in time, why she ran off—all these things I didn’t knew, but they weren't important anymore.

  And of course the Prince fell immediately in love with her. That wasn’t surprising too. Cinderella in a pretty dress was absolute perfection, after all.

  My thief theory wasn’t going to hold water, either. Cinderella wouldn’t have come down to try the shoe if she were a criminal. And let's be honest— It was silly. Cinderella couldn’t even disobey a direct order to wash a shoe. She was the exact opposite of a thief.

  Now, she was smiling goofily, walking out the door on the Grand Duke's arm, without so much as a single glance our way. Cinderella was going to the Prince. To marry him.

  She wouldn't be a servant anymore. She wouldn't have to obey our every whim or do as she was told. She was going to become a princess, or a queen, or whatever. She would have everything she could ever dream of, and marry the stupid, handsome prince who was her true love.

  And I hated her for all of it.

  For she had everything and I was absolutely nothing.

  My only consolation? That she would finally be out of this house, and hopefully, I would never, ever have to look at her stupidly perfect face again.