"file:///C:/Users/SLW/Documents/PBS/Book%20Formats/TheWrongedPrincessFormatted.docx#tProglogue">Pro l og u e "'Tis time to set our plan in motion, Thomasine." "She is very young, oui?" Queen Thomasine, of Chalmers Kingdom, spoke in hushed tones to her twin sister-Cinderella's illustrious fairy godmother. "She cannot be more than all of seventeen, I vow." The queen was Maman to none other than Prince Edric Osmond Thorn VIII, but she'd lovingly referred to him as Prince Charming since he'd been a chattering infant. The name had attached like mortar to stone. Thomasine ignored her sister's comment with compressed lips and paced the small sparse chamber. She preferred not to think of a ten-year-old being forced into such a situation. What she did prefer to think of, however, was how enamored her son was over the unknown beauty seen fleeing the ballroom at the stroke of midnight a sennight prior. A lovely ball she herself had staged. "Are you certain this scheme of yours shall work? The chit managed to dislodge her glass slipper on the stair in her haste to depart. That silly boy of mine has the ridiculous notion of trying it on every maiden in the kingdom to find her. If that is not the most preposterous idea I have ever heard…" A suspicious snort sounded from her twin. Thomasine looked up quickly. She detected nothing in her sister's gaze, just intelligent gray eyes that mirrored her own. Thomasine sighed. "I realize he is only nineteen, but I fear he may be following in my dear Osmond's stead. As much as I adore my husband and king-why I vow this monarchy would have long since perished without my brains and intuitiveness." The smile her sister bestowed was condescending at best. "'Twill be difficult, dear, but 'tis all for the greater good, just as we'd discussed. You shall see." Her sister's lack of concern was most unnerving. It was all Thomasine could do, restraining the efforts to confront her son to tell him her vexations on the matter. But young men rarely listened to their mothers, no matter how wise the action. Hands fisted at hips, Thomasine considered Faustine's petite figure and elegantly styled coiffure, so similar to her own. "You realize a skilled formula is necessary in camouflaging Prince's powers of recognition, non? We would not want to hamper the outcome of our little undertaking. The whole purpose is teaching him to think through his impulsive tendencies." " Oui, oui." Faustine stood quickly-poised, rather-to make her unusual exit. "Not to mention our future princess has seen you. Once she sees me-I am queen, you know-and, well, we do resemble one another, non?" " Oui, Thomasine. Now, if you've no more obstructions to impinge my delay?" "Attends…wait!" Thomasine said. The frothy pink gown her sister wore reminded Thomasine of an overly sweet confection. Dotted with an egregious host of tiny diamonds-a bit much in her opinion-she thought the dress might better serve as a beacon in the eye of a storm. "What of the powers bestowed by the mysterious Monsieur Pinetti?" "What of them?" Thomasine studied her expression carefully. Still, not a twinge of concern marred her brow. How did she do it? "Will he consider this an abuse of power?" "Bah, how will he find out, ma chère? Do not worry so. What can go wrong?" With a flick of the thin silver baton she held-Poof! She dissipated, leaving an air of sparkling shimmers in her wake. "What, indeed?" Thomasine said to the now empty chamber.