Page 11 of How To Survive This Fairytale

“No,” you lie, because you sense youmustlie, or else you’ll be putting Gertrude and Favorite and their five swan brothers at risk.“No, of course not, Your Majesty.I’d have to go home to them.”

“We simply don’t have time for that, my sweet,” says the queen.“I’m on a very strict schedule.You must either come with us now or atone for your crimes another way.”

You spare a glance into the underbrush, where Favorite is still hidden behind a tree.Goodbye, you say in your heart.Goodbye.I love you.When you’re human again, tell Gertrude what happened to me.

You bow your head to your queen.

“I’ll come with you,” you say, though it breaks your heart to say it.

To your great surprise, she offers you her hand.You settle in the saddle in front of her, and when she kicks her horse, you’re forced to gallop into a life you never, ever wanted.

8.

EAT WHAT’S PUT IN FRONT OF YOU.

Pheasants cookedin ginger and maple syrup.Boiled cherries, bursting red, upon pillows of whipped cream.Halved apples, baked in brown sugar.Honey-glazed hams.Cinnamon-roasted almonds.Luscious grapes, purple and shining under the chandeliers that burn above the Fair Queen’s long table.The Fair Queen and her courtiers spread butter bright as sunflowers across bread with a crust thick enough to knock on.Their laughter—as ripe and rich as every course—closes upon you like an oven door.

“You haven’t touched your plate, sweet boy,” says the Fair Queen.“What’s the matter?Is this banquet not to your liking?”

All the eyes of all her knights and attendants turn toward you and your untouched plate.

“I’m sorry,” you say.“It’s just… you remind me of a witch.”

THAT CAN’T BE THE WAY THIS STORY ENDS.

Try Again?

All the eyes of all her knights and attendants turn toward you and your untouched plate.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

After swift calculations, you decide the bread is safest to eat.The rich, creamy butter melts as soon as you smear it across.One bite, and you’re back in the hovel with Gertrude, eating bread you made together.Gertrude is going to need to make the bread alone now, forage for food alone, retrieve thorns alone, prepare the balm for her hands alone, and bandage herself alone, as she did before you arrived.All while trying to break a curse, and it will be six years before Favorite can tell her what happened.

You burst into tears at the table—full-bodied, ugly weeping—and cannot eat another bite.

THAT CAN’T BE THE WAY THIS STORY ENDS.

Try Again?

All the eyes of all her knights and attendants turn toward you and your untouched plate.

“I’m sorry,” you say.“I’m merely… overwhelmed… by your generosity, Your Majesty.”

One bite of pheasant, and you’re back in the cage, eating foods you never imagined existed, so desperate for every crumb you lick every plate clean.One bite and you remember the haze, how you ate and ate and ate and dreamed only of more.One bite and you remember how the witch wanted your own meat: succulent and sweet.

Your stomach lurches.The back of your throat burns.

You vomit on your dinner plate.

THAT CAN’T BE THE WAY THIS STORY ENDS.

Try Again?

All the eyes of all her knights and attendants turn toward you and your untouched plate.

“I’m sorry,” you say.“I’m merely… overwhelmed… by your generosity, Your Majesty.”

Remember: you have to be clever.