by Y. M. Pang
I was the eldest daughter, so I knew I was doomed.
The youngest marries the prince. The youngest saves the kingdom. The youngest is immortalized in song. I told myself I didn’t mind missing those things. I didn’t want princes, or kingdoms, or songs. I was happy being the wicked one.
If only I knew a single story–just one–where the wicked sister won. (Continue Reading…)