“Mother! Do you realize what you just said?” Drizella asked.

“Of course. I said if…” said Lady Tremaine, smirking.

Chapter XVII: The Ball

The castle was everything Lady Tremaine had imagined. She felt at home there. It was the first time since she had left England that she felt like she was in familiar surroundings. She was even happy to see the gangly Grand Duke rushing about, though their first uncomfortable meeting years ago had made it impossible to become true friends, which would probably account for his not stopping to say hello to her and her daughters as they made their entrance. Well, this time if she had the opportunity she was going to make the grandest of impressions on him. They did know each other, after all, and her husband had been part of the court. Things were so odd in this kingdom; it never made sense to her that she hadn’t been invited to court before now, or that no one had sent their regrets at Sir Richard’s passing, or simply checked in to see if she and her girls were all right.

As she and her daughters stood in line waiting to be announced to the royal family, Lady Tremaine fussed over Drizella’s and Anastasia’s feathers and ruffles, making sure they looked perfect.

“Mother, please stop! You’re making me nervous,” said Anastasia, stamping her foot.

“I’m sorry, my darling. I just want you to look beautiful for the prince. I know he’s going to want to marry one of you. You’re the most beautiful girls here,” she said, looking around the room at all the other courtly ladies and gentlemen hoping their daughters would catch the eye of the prince.

“Oh, Mother, please! You know that’s not true,” said Drizella. “Look at all these beautiful girls, they’re all like Cinderella. We don’t stand a chance.” She sighed deeply.

The castle was simply bursting with eligible young ladies, all dressed in their finest ball gowns, which glittered under the light of chandeliers. They were all breathtaking, but even Lady Tremaine had to admit to herself that none were quite as lovely as her vermin-loving stepdaughter, whom she had thankfully left back at the château.

Lady Tremaine noticed that Anastasia, too, looked self-conscious as she hid her hands, which were still cracked and dry from years of washing dishes in the kitchen.