I probably shouldn’t have stopped to write, but I feel safe at the moment.
I am with friends, although I shouldn’t wonder if you think I don’t have any — or deserve any — after what I have done to your beloved prince and your kingdom.
I don’t expect you to believe me. Why would you, when you have already heard from the queen, and she is so much more compelling than a liar like myself?
Yes, my almost subjects, I admit to being a liar. In my place, you might have had better character. I commend you. Perhaps I even envy you a little.
My lies have cost me dearly, but not in the ways you think. They hurt me only because they hurt those I hold dear, and because they hurt you, the people of the happiest home I have ever known, and have separated me from you forever.
So why do I write? I suppose I want, like all people, to justify my actions. But there is more. Everywhere I go, I hear stories of the almost princess, and I want you to know me as I am, not according to the rumors that make me out to be a saint, a demon, or, stranger yet, a hero of the Refusal.
Before I begin my story, I must ask you to accept one thing, and only one. I never lied to your prince. I never lied to my Benen, though I cannot say he did not lie to me.