I look at her closely, and then shake my head. "My mother is dead. She died eleven years ago, falling off a dragon. Villagers saw her body fall into the lake. There is no way that you are my mother." Even as I say these words, I feel a burning desire inside of me. I want it to be true. I want her to be my mother, and I  want her to hear my story and cradle me in her arms and tell me that it will be alright.
She laughs like a madwoman, and then she looks at me. "If I am not your mother, explain how I know that when you were five years old, you threw a fruitcake at your governess?"
I gasp, and suddenly, I remember where I know those golden eyes from. I remember someone with those eyes lifting me up and swooping me through the air singing a song about flying dragons. I remember those eyes laughing when I threw the fruitcake, laughing so hard that she couldn't even punish me. I throw my arms around her, and I start to sob. I know that this seems impossible, but I am more willing to believe this than I am willing to believe anything else. I know that I should be asking her how she is even alive, why she is here now instead of six feet deep. Yet I cannot. Somehow, I want to wait until she is willing to tell me.
She releases me and holds me at arms' length, studying me intensely. "You've grown so much, but that is rather obvious. You're getting to be quite a beautiful young woman, you know that?"
I smile. "So, Mother, here's what happened in the last few months or so. I was supposed to choose a suitor to marry. The diabolical Prince Everett of Green Dragon was not happy with my choice, so he kidnapped me and brought me here. Now, he is planning an attack on the Red Dragon, and he is going to force me to marry him. What do you think I should do?"
She beckons me into her small cell. It's rather dismal in there, with a pile of scratchy hay, a reeking bedpan, and some droppings in the corner that are decidedly larger than mouse. I sit down on the mushy hay and smile at her.
"Now that you know how to get down here, what if you come down daily with an update? I broke my door's lock, so I can just pretend that it is still closed. An outright breakout would be a bad move right now. It would draw too much attention. As to the war problem, read in the library for a while. 'Vissori Tribuni Calgori' is an excellent choice."
I smile and hug her, then get up and walk out of the cell. She's obviously given me some sort of strange clue, with the book and all. "I'll be back tomorrow!"

That evening at supper, I busy myself secreting away small morsels of food for my mother. Everett prattles on, until something that he says stops me dead in my tracks. "What do you want to serve at the wedding banquet, dearest?"
I give him a look so intense that he turns his head. "What wedding banquet?"
"Oh, the one that we will have after the wedding. It is in ten days, you know. Have you selected your attendants yet? After which wedding, we will wage war upon the Red Dragon for failing to bless our perfect union."
I glance at him. Play the fool, play the fool. "Oh, alright. I was thinking perhaps we could start with a quiche, maybe with some sage. I simply love sage. Perhaps a pomegrantate dessert? I simply loathe traditional wedding cakes."
He smiles. But instead of being purely happy, his smile seems to simply drip acidic false kindness. "Of course, my sweet. I'll send the menus to the chef."
"Do not call me your sweet. I am not your sweet, or your honeypie, or your heart's queen. I am a princess who hates you, and that is how it will always be."
He chuckles. "By tomorrow morning, I am sure that you will feel differently." He claps his hands, and a serving boy comes in with a goblet on a golden platter. The contents are bubbly and lime green. The love serum! I gag and shove the goblet away from me. Everett pushes it back. I shove it as hard as I can, but Everett catches it before it spills. Shame. He claps his hands again, and three manservants come in with coils of rope. They clear away the dishes except for the goblet, and then they lift me up and tie me down onto the table. Everett leans over me and tries to pour the goblet down my throat. His hand gets close to my mouth, and I bite it so hard that I break skin and leave a little half-moon mark. He yelps and drops the goblet, but it lands bottoms-up on my face. The liquid tastes overly sweet and it is sticky. I try to ingest as little as possible, even as it drips off of my nose and into my mouth.

The next morning, I wake with my mind full of little fluttery, sugar-sweet thoughts about love and bunnies and-for no explainable reason- Everett. I climb from my bed and dance to the armoire, where I choose a lacy pink dress made of satin. I lace the corset and wash my face and swirl my hair into a long braid with a pink ribbon. I check the mirror and am astonished by what I see. Instead of their usual state (hazel with crackling streaks of gold), my eyes are a glowing acid green. I shrug my shoulders and then fairly skip down to breakfast. Today, my heart feels like a giant, gushing blob. I don't know what is wrong with me today. My head feels heavy, and I am almost dizzy with peace and joy and love. It's really disgusting, but I can't make it stop. At breakfast, I down so many pancakes with whipped cream and sugared strawberries that I feel light-headed and nauseous.

Later that day, I climb down to the dungeons with a wax-paper-wrapped parcel of food. My thoughts are still sugar-clouded and hazy, but at least I remembered to bring my mother a parcel of food. Inside of it are curried chicken; pancakes; angel food cake that I couldn't resist eating most of; quiche that's not fallen and looks slightly tragic; garlic rolls; a rather soggy meringue that looks deflated. She should be happy. I open her door and smile at her. "Hello, Mother! I brought you food! Everett is wonderful and darling, and he helped me figure out how to package the meringue. Of course, he didn't know what it was for." I insert a chuckle here, involuntarily.
My mother looks at me as though she doesn't understand. "I thought that you hated that man."
"I realized the error of my ways. He gave me this wonderful syrupy stuff last evening, and now I am in love with him. Isn't life just wonderful?"
She opens the food parcel and gets to work. She squeezes the garlic paste from the garlic roll onto a section of the meringue, and then hands it to me. "Eat this," she instructs me. I slide the awful, garlicky concoction into my mouth and swallow quickly.

Instantly, my thoughts clear. I tear down the front of my sickeningly pink gown until I am just wearing the snowy chemise beneath. I gaze around, everything clearer and sharper and better. "What was in the stuff that you gave me?"
She answers curtly. "Garlic and egg whites. Next time something like that happens, request an egg white omelet with extra garlic, and it'll free you."
I throw my arms around her and squeeze. I don't think that I can ever repay her. She reaches for the food that I brought and starts to scarf it down. I do not think that I have ever seen anyone eat that fast. That includes myself. I muster up enough courage to ask the question that's been on my mind since I found her. "Why are you here? Why was your death faked? It hurt to watch a casket being lowered into a grave, but now it hurts more to know that you were never in it. Can you explain, please?" My mother sighs and then starts in on her story. I settle myself onto the stone floor, carefully avoiding the rat droppings in the corner, and chew on a piece of cold pancake.