“There will be no going back once the ball has taken place. I feel a sadness, almost grief-like in its depth, threatening to consume me.”

Before the ball, Sophia compares the sadness she feels to loss, creating a metaphor of death for forced marriage. To Sophia, marrying a man would mean denying everything she is (a spirited lesbian woman), which is a sort of death. To her, living a lie is not living, making attending the ball a spiritual death.

“‘I know you’re different, and that this will be hard for you, but you have no choice.’

Different.

That’s how she sees me, and every time she uses that word, a distinct air of disapproval accompanies it. Lille has left its stain on her, too…

I was twelve when I told my parents that I would much rather find a princess than a prince. They had gone into a state of panic, from which they emerged with a renewed sense of determination. They told me that in order to survive I would have to hide how I felt. I was never very good at it, and the weight of the mask grows heavier with each passing year. I want nothing more than to cast it aside.”

Sophia’s mother’s usage of the word “different” to describe her daughter’s romantic interest in women demonstrates how heteronormative their society is. They do not even have a word such as “gay” to describe people like Sophia; she is simply called “different,” and her mother says it with disapproval. Sophia also uses the metaphor of a heavy mask to describe the exhaustion and pain that comes with being forced to hide one’s identity.

“My path has been chosen for me since birth. My future is already written, and I don’t have a say in any of it.”

Throughout the novel, Sophia uses the metaphor of a story or text for her life, explaining that it’s already been “written” by King Manford and the palace-approved version of “Cinderella.” Simply because of her gender, there is only one “story” she’s allowed to live out, and it was assigned at birth; she is to marry a man who claims her.