by May Sage
She had long, soft hair and wore a dress made of abundant layers of night sky; there were no other words for it.
It was Cinderella.
If she’d walked in like that ten weeks ago, he would have immediately identified her.
He walked to her slowly, as though an abrupt movement might have made her disappear; when he was close enough, he bowed down and offered his arm.
They made their way to the thrones.
There were three seats; two were simple and delicate while his stood out like a sore thumb with his long back, the engraved good and all the plush decorations.
Rather than taking his rightful place when they reached it, he led her to it and made her sit.
And without another word, he ran out of the room, using the speed of every single wind he could conjure.
He was back in a few instants, cutting through the whispers of his subject when he revealed what he was holding in his hand.
•
Catching his gaze as he sensually removed her magically crafted stiletto and slowly fit her plexi courts on her, Ella wondered if the King had a serious feet fetish.
She also wondered how the hell she’d ended up on that sit, with Dane at her feet.
She’d only agreed to Skinny’s plan because she’d needed to shut him up and quench her last shred of hesitance; only then would she be free to move on.
She hadn’t believed she’d been seen by anyone, and certainly not him.
“I do,” he told her. “Give you all of my honesty, my faithful devotion and my affection now and every day until my last breath. Just never leave my side again, and we’ve got a deal.”
The ball was a success; the food was delicious, the wine, plentiful and there was the undying entertainment of watching the King and his sweetheart murmuring to each other.
Ella and Dane were indifferent to it all, ceaselessly talking, touching and kissing.
It turned out Sheila was his head of HR. he hadn’t thought twice about calling on her in the middle of the night because, well, he was kind of a needy employer and his staff generally were always on call.
She admitted to jumping to conclusions quite quickly but he wouldn’t hear about it, pointing out that he’d given her every reason to doubt him.
“Sheila really isn’t my type,” he ensured her and she nodded her agreement.
When he asked how she knew, she pointed out she looked very similar to Aurora.
“Actually, I think you’ll find that Aurora looked a lot like you, Cinds.”
She smiled at her old nickname; obviously, he’d had a look into the file his sister had read.
“What file?” he asked, a dark edge to his voice.
Startled, Ella told him about her interview with Silvia; she’d definitely made very clear that she’d been aware of her identity from the beginning.
Dane looked around the room, seeking the tall blond, but she was nowhere to be seen.
“Why would she hide it?”
“Because it’s what she does,” Sandro, who’d stayed close to them, drinking in their happiness, interjected. “Causing or at the very least, encouraging discomfort, disputes, petty difficulties. I know you love her, Dane, but don’t believe for one second she loves you back. There is too much pain in her heart to be comforted by anything else than other people’s misery.”
Silvia’s ills were soon forgotten as other matters were discussed, anything from Drusilla, Anastasia and Lady Tremaine, to Aurora, Dane’s father, Mal and Skinny.
“How come she got to see two of you, when all I got was some cryptic message in my mind?”
“Let’s put it that way,” Skinny said, “would you hand deliver a letter to the milkman? De Luz come from a little clan of servants – you’re very far down the hierarchy in our realm. Azuls were another story, but they haven’t ruled in centuries.”
“And Cinders?”
Ella did her best to attempt interrupting the discussion when she sensed it might lead to mentions of pixies and playfulness, but Skinny wasn’t having any of it.
“My clan has control over gold; we’re one of the most powerful leaders amongst the fay because of it. We don’t take too kindly to… some other materials, so gold is what we use in most utensils. As such, we’ve soon learnt to wield fire.”
A god dozen people had converged to listen to his tales; it wasn’t every day that people came across actual fays – let alone one who’d lived in the Old Kingdom.
“That makes us powerful. Powerful people tend to get the best mates. Ella’s line is known for their…”
“Skinny? Scalpel,” she reminded him.
Epilogue.
She’d had to go.
Not only was the girl going to tattle about the little slip she’d made during their interview, but she’d had to get out of there. The room reeked of laugher, joy, sensuality and freaking happiness.
Before her mother had left to go back to her realm, she’d told her that she could feed from it and Silvia had tried.
It made her feel sick to her stomach for days.
No, what replenished her energy on was so much sweeter. Pain. Torment. Despair.
It had been time anyway. She’d been away from the seas for far too long.