A Tale of Fur and Flesh by Unknown

upstairs.  The
cook did not argue.  “You’re young, little creature,” Berte said.  “Best to
enjoy life before you’re old and withered like me.”
    The change in Berthe touched Lally deeply.  There was
something of her mother’s kindness in the cook after all.  When Lally dressed
in the third of her mother’s gowns, she prepared to sprint up the staircase. 
There was one problem:  Berthe stood leaning against the worktop, staring at
the closet.
    “What’s that bright light shining through the cracks
in your cupboard door?” Berthe asked.  “It sparkles like starlight.  Deary me,
I can’t stop gawking at it!  What you got in there?”
    There was only one way out. And, really, she had no
other friend but Berthe.  Why not share her secret?  Lally opened the flimsy
wooden door and revealed her human form to the cook.  Her golden hair fell like
rays of sunlight against her pale skin.  Under the horrible wolf’s head and
hideous mish-mash of peltry, she was not hairy at all, and hardly an animal.
    Berthe covered her gaping mouth with one hand as she
held herself upright against the worktop.  “Hairy animal, is that really you?”
    “Please, call me…” Which name would the princess
select today?  “Allerleirauh.”
    “Mercy me!  My little kitchen pet has transformed
right before my very eyes.  A greater beauty I’ve never seen.  Why, you ought
to get yourself upstairs to dance with that king of ours afore that little
blonde missy shows her…”  Berthe stopped mid-sentence.  Her wide eyes revealed
what her mind had just pieced together.  “It was you all those times!”
    “Only twice,” Lally smirked.
    “Wait ‘til the king finds out he’s been lusting after
a kitchen rat all summer,” Berthe cackled.
    Perish the thought!  Lally’s chest went numb.  A
ghostly ache shot through her knuckles.  “No, you mustn’t tell him!”
    “Why ever not?  Seems to me our king has a fine sense
of humour,” Berthe reasoned.
    Was she trying to be cruel, or was cruelty just an
inextinguishable part of her nature?  And even if the king could find humour in
most matters, Lally could not help but recall King Aelwyn’s displeasure when
she assumed he hailed from elsewhere but the North.  Perhaps he would not find
Allerleirauh’s box of secrets terribly amusing either.  “Pray, allow me to tell
him myself,” Lally pleaded.
    Berthe could hardly argue.  Nodding, she replied,
“You just go on up and have yourself a good time.  Don’t even worry about
coming back downstairs tonight.  And if you’re not here lugging pails of water
in the morning, I’ll know we’ve got ourselves a new queen.”
    The caring smile on Berthe’s lips made Lally wish her
mother was alive to see her off.  Still, she appreciated the cook’s sympathetic
words.  Before hopping up the kitchen stairs, she threw her arms around
Berthe’s neck.  “Thank you,” Lally said, kissing her cheek.  “You are a kind
woman.”
    Fluttering along the corridor, Lally felt
feather-light after heaving one secret from her shoulders.  She might just
disclose her true identity to the king after all, if this was how wonderful
revelations felt.  There he was.  King Aelwyn.  Seated upon his throne at the
far end of the great hall, he represented all that was good in the world.  At
the winter feast, she would sit at his side.  King Aelwyn and Queen
Allerleirauh.  Her happy heart bounced in her chest as she stepped into the great
hall.  A path cleared before her.  King Aelwyn rose from his throne.  Relief
washed over his face. “Allerleirauh, you’ve returned,” he said, bowing deeply
before her.
    At all costs, she avoided revealing her anxieties. 
They were not for him to see.  For him, she wanted to be more than the animal
in her past.  Superhuman, even.  A picture.  “You knew I would return,” Lally
answered, offering her hand to dance.  “How could I stray when I so love you?”
    Lally froze.  Why