“Because it was written, Lady Tremaine. You were destined to come to the Many Kingdoms and marry Cinderella’s father, and his abuse would turn you into a monster, causing you to abuse his daughter in turn. We thought if we could rewrite this story and make sure the brooch got into your possession, it would give you the courage to stand up to him. Don’t you feel more in control when you wear it? I saw you touching it just now. That is what gave you the strength to confront me.” Circe looked into Lady Tremaine’s eyes.

“That’s true, but why keep the book of fairy tales from me? Why stop my letters from reaching Lady Prudence?” she asked, searching Circe’s face and hoping she could trust her.

“Maybe it was a mistake to keep the book from you,” Circe said. “We thought it would frighten you, or perhaps lead you further down the path we were trying to help you to avoid.” Lady Tremaine felt Circe was telling the truth. But before she could speak, Circe continued, “As for the letters, I’m sorry to say that was hubris. We wanted to be the ones to help you. We had countless arguments about Lady Prudence’s letters, but ultimately, my sisters and I decided we wanted to be the ones who saved you, not her. Can you ever forgive me, Lady Tremaine? You must believe all we have ever wanted to do is help you and your daughters.”

Lady Tremaine didn’t know what to think. She desperately wanted to get her and her daughters out of the Many Kingdoms, and if trusting these treacherous witches helped them to do that, then what could possibly be the harm?

“We can help you escape, Lady Tremaine,” Circe coaxed. “You don’t have to marry off one of your daughters to a priggish prince. Besides, that fate lies with Cinderella.”

Lady Tremaine’s eyes bulged. “Cinderella? She’s not even here!” she said, looking around the ballroom. “She’s at home—she—er—she has nothing to wear.”

“Oh, she will be here, and the prince will want to marry her. It’s all written,” said Lucinda.

Lady Tremaine threw her hands up. She was sick to death of the book of fairy tales and this supposed prophecy. “If it’s already written, then how do you propose we change my fate?” she asked, clutching her brooch. She felt herself growing angry. None of these women made sense. Not these witches and not Nanny.

“By magic,” said the four witches at the same time, laughing again.

“But Nanny said she couldn’t help me, because I am the villain in this story. How are you going to help me?” Lady Tremaine asked.