“Frederick,” Ella said one morning, over a breakfast of poached eggs she wasn't allowed to cook herself. “The roof in the south village is still leaking from the spring storms. We talked about the masonry budget.”

Frederick looked at her, truly seeing the callouses on her hands that the palace lotions couldn't quite erase. He realized that the very grit that had allowed her to survive her stepmother was what the kingdom actually needed.

Six months after the glass slipper fit, the "happily ever after" had hit the wall of royal reality. Prince Charming—whose name was actually Frederick—wasn't a villain; he was just a man who had never had to pour his own water or make a single difficult decision.