Anyone else might have buckled under the added burdens, but no matter what task Lady Tremaine or her stepsisters threw at her, Ella focused on staying positive. She hummed while she picked vegetables from the greenhouse. She sang as she washed and ironed. She even smiled as she helped Lady Tremaine into her dresses that cost more than the fired staff.
She saw how her stepmother looked at her—as just another mouth to feed, an interloper in the house that now belonged to her. But Ella had made promises—the one years earlier to her mother and the more recent one to her father. And she would not break those promises. Even if, as the days passed, she became less a sister and daughter and more a servant.
At night, after the last of her chores was done and her stepmother and sisters were tucked into their beds, Ella was finally able to rest. Only then would her humming end, and she would let some sadness creep into her heart.
One night, after a particularly long day, she found herself too exhausted to eat. Putting the small chunk of bread and meager serving of cheese on the floor, she called out to her only friends—the mice Jacqueline and Gus. They appeared quickly, followed by their two small children, whom Ella had named Esau and Jacob. She watched as they ate their dinner. Ella was happy to see someone enjoying it.
And then, too tired to walk up the stairs to the attic, she curled up in a ball on the hearth of the fireplace and fell asleep, the dying embers providing at least a little heat for her chilled and aching bones....
Ella woke with a start. The embers in the fireplace had long since grown cold, and she could hear her stepsisters and stepmother rustling about upstairs. Panicked, she leapt to her feet and scrambled around the kitchen, putting breakfast together. As the water began to boil, she rang the bell indicating breakfast was ready. The Tremaines had been taking their meals downstairs as of late, and they expected breakfast at the same time every morning.
A few minutes later, Ella entered the drawing room to stoke the fire. Her stepfamily had already arrived, and she was greeted with a cold stare from Lady Tremaine.
“I thought breakfast was ready,” she said, her mouth turning down at the corners.
“It is, madam,” Ella answered. “I am only mending the fire.”
This reply did not seem to ease Lady Tremaine’s anger. “In the future,” she snapped, “can we not be called until the work is done?”
Ella nodded. “As you wish.” She went to retrieve the eggs and tea and then quickly returned. As she began to serve, Lady Tremaine raised an eyebrow.
“What is that on your face?” she asked.
Ella lifted a hand and gently wiped it across her cheek. Her fingers, when she looked at them, were covered in a fine layer of black soot.
“It’s ash from the fireplace!” Anastasia exclaimed, laughing out loud. Drisella quickly joined in.
“Clean yourself up,” Lady Tremaine said. “You’ll get cinders in our tea.” While her tone was disapproving, Ella couldn’t help noticing that her stepmother seemed pleased to see her in such a state. And her stepsisters were clearly thrilled.
Drisella bounced in her seat, clapping her hands in glee. “I’ve got a new name for her!” she cried. “Cinderwench!”
Anastasia looked Ella up and down. “I couldn’t bear to look so dirty.” Then, smiling cruelly, she added, “Dirty Ella.”
“Cinderella!” Drisella exclaimed. “That’s what we’ll call you.”
As her stepsisters continued to tease her, Ella tried to ignore them and serve breakfast. When her stepfamily had their food, she moved to her seat at the table. Until then, this had been the only meal she was still able to share with her “family.” But Lady Tremaine’s voice stopped her.
“Who’s this for?” she asked, pointing at Ella’s plate. “Is there someone we’ve forgot?”
“It is my place,” Ella said.
Lady Tremaine shook her head. “It just seems too much to expect you to prepare breakfast, serve it, and still sit with us. Wouldn’t you prefer to eat when all the work is done, Ella? Or, should I say, Cinderella?”
For a moment, Ella said nothing. Her stepsisters looked on as if waiting for her to oppose their mother. But instead, Ella simply nodded and said, “If you please, madam.” Then, picking up her plate, she left the room.
It was only when she was safely in the kitchen that tears filled Ella’s eyes. Then her hands began to shake violently, causing her to drop her plate. It fell to the floor and shattered, causing Ella’s tears to fall faster.
Kneeling, she began to pick up the pieces. Ella caught sight of her reflection in the copper pot hanging from the hearth and gasped. Her face was indeed covered in ashes, and her blond hair was tangled and unruly. She was Cinderella.
Suddenly, something inside Ella broke. For so long she had been trying to be the girl her mother and father would be proud of. She had kept her promises and tried to be gentle and kind. She had been courageous in the face of many unknowns and stayed strong when left alone. But now it seemed all for naught. Her new “family” had turned her into a creature of ash and toil. She was nothing but their plaything, someone to mock and order about. It was all too much.
Jumping to her feet, Ella threw off her apron, and she raced for the stable. Luckily, Lady Tremaine had seen the worth in keeping a horse on the property, so Galahad remained, happily munching hay in his stall. Hearing her footsteps, he lifted his big gray head. A moment later, Ella had him in the aisle and was pulling herself up onto his strong back. Before anyone could stop her, she urged the horse forward and they took off.
The trees whipped by in a blur and the wind prickled Ella’s eyes, but she didn’t care. Beneath her, Galahad’s strong stride was calming and reassuring, a reminder of days gone by when she would ride for hours around the meadow, her father teaching her how to post, pick up the proper lead, and, eventually, take small jumps. Now, immersed in the fresh air, Ella felt like she could breathe for the first time in a long while. As they continued to race along, a smile spread across her face.
And then, right in front of them, a stag leapt out of the woods.
Galahad reared back, spooked, almost throwing Ella to the ground. Her legs gripped the horse’s sides and she stayed astride. When she was sure Galahad wouldn’t rear again, she began to rub his neck, calming him. It was only then that she noticed the sounds of an approaching hunt: the baying of hounds, along with the shouts of men and the pounding of horses’ hooves. Ella knew that if the hunt caught up with this beautiful creature, he would be killed. She couldn’t let that happen. “Run!” she called to the stag. “Go! Quickly!”
As if he understood, the stag bolted into the trees, disappearing into the thick brush. Moments later, the ground beneath Galahad shook and the forest exploded with the sounds of the hunters, who seemed to be very nearby now. Spooked once more, Galahad started to gallop as fast as he could. Ella tried to slow him, pulling the reins and calling to him.
Suddenly, another rider appeared beside them, pulling at Galahad’s reins and slowing him to a trot. Ella patted Galahad’s mane, eager to make sure Galahad was okay.
Then she found herself peering up at the other horse. A tall, athletic horse. And on the tall horse’s back, peering at her with an amused expression on his face, was the most handsome man she had ever seen.
The prince let out a sigh. He was tired of the endless hunts. The pageantry of it all...the racing endlessly through the forest after a helpless beast that had done nothing to deserve its fate. Yet he was the prince.
The day’s hunt had started out like any other. The baying of the hounds as the horn was blown. The initial rush he felt as the throng of horses took off, their heads pulling at the bits in their eagerness. But after that, the prince had felt nothing. He galloped along, his head a million miles away, as men whooped and hollered around him. The chase took them deep into the kingdom’s forest, and after a while, the prince couldn’t tell one grove of trees from another. The hounds grew more anxious as the smell of the stag grew stronger. There was
a flash of movement through the trees, and the prince knew the end was near.
And then there was chaos.
The horses whinnied as they suddenly switched directions. The prince spotted a different horse across the way, one that was sprinting haphazardly and was dangerously close to throwing its rider.
Quickly guiding his horse toward it, the prince reached out and grabbed the reins, pulling with all his might. The two horses slowed and started to circle each other. It was then that the prince got a good look at the girl astride the other horse. Her hair was tangled about her face, and her dress was mottled with mud. But when she looked at him, her blue eyes were clear and unafraid. For a moment, he found himself lost in their depths, seeing sadness behind the courage.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m all right. But you’ve nearly frightened the life out of him,” the girl replied.
Her answer surprised him and the prince cocked an eyebrow. “Who?”
“The stag,” the girl said matter-of-factly. “What has he ever done to you that you should chase him about?”
The prince stifled a smile. It was amusing to hear his own thoughts echoed back to him aloud. “I confess I have never met him before. Is he a friend of yours?”
“An acquaintance,” she answered. “We met just now. I looked into his eyes, and he looked into mine, and I felt he had a great deal left to do with his life. That’s all.”
For a moment, the prince was struck silent. He had never met a girl like this before. He was used to folks falling all over themselves to say whatever they thought would please him. But this girl? She was the most forthright person he had ever met. And he wanted to know more about her.
“What do they call you?” he asked.
To his surprise, the girl blushed, as though the question made her uncomfortable. “Never mind what they call me,” she said.
The prince watched as she began to check her horse, clearly anxious to make sure he was all right. She seemed undaunted by the forest around her and the strange man in front of her. “You shouldn’t be this deep in the forest alone,” the prince said, trying not to stare at her hair, turned golden by the sun.
“I’m not alone,” the girl said, shrugging. “I’m with you.” Then she paused. “What do they call you?”
The question brought the prince up short. Clearly she didn’t know who he was, and he didn’t want to spoil the moment by revealing his true identity. He racked his brain, unsure what to say. Finally, he decided to tell her a part truth. “They call me Kit,” he said. It was his childhood nickname, used by his father.
The girl nodded. “Where do you live, Mr. Kit?” she asked.
“I, uh, live at the palace,” he stammered. “My father is teaching me his trade.” Again, it wasn’t exactly a lie. He did live at the palace, though his “trade” was not traditional.
“You’re an apprentice?” the girl asked. “That is very fine. Do they treat you well?”
Kit was beginning to feel slightly guilty. He didn’t want to lie to her, but this was one of the most interesting conversations he had had in a while. That would change if she found out he was royalty. “Better than I deserve, most likely,” he finally answered. Then, trying to change the subject, he asked, “And you?”
A look of sadness flashed across the girl’s face. “They treat me as well as they are able,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” Kit said, his voice gentle. For some reason, the sadness in her eyes made him angry. He wanted to find out who would cause such a look in a girl who seemed so strong.
“It’s not your doing,” the girl replied. Then she straightened her shoulders and her eyes grew bright again. “It’s not so very bad. Others have it worse, I’m sure. We must simply have courage and be kind, mustn’t we?”
Kit was taken aback. “Yes, you’re right.” It was a simple notion, but the girl said it with such conviction. It echoed his own feelings, and he felt himself on the verge of saying so. But then the sound of a horn echoed through the forest.
The girl looked panicked. “Please don’t let them hurt him!” she shouted.
“But...we’re hunting,” Kit explained. “It’s what’s done.”
“Just because it’s what’s done doesn’t mean it’s what should be done,” the girl said. “Leave him alone, won’t you?”
Kit started to argue, but then he shook his head. No, the girl was right. There was no reason for the hunt. “All right,” he agreed, smiling.
She returned his smile. “Thank you very much, Mr. Kit,” she said.
Another peal of the hunting horn blasted through the woods, and at the edge of the clearing a man on horseback appeared. Kit stifled a groan. This was his captain of the guard, and he was obviously not pleased the prince had slipped his watch.
“Your High—” the Captain began.
The prince quickly interrupted him. “It’s me, Kit. I’m Kit,” he said, his meaning clear. “And I’m on my way.”
An amused expression crossed the Captain’s face, but he left it at that. Kit met the girl’s gaze. “I hope that I will see you again,” he said.
“And I, you,” she replied.
Before either of them could say anything else, the horn gave another frantic blast, and Kit turned his horse. As he galloped away, he snuck one last look over his shoulder. The girl stood there, holding her horse’s reins in one hand, the other raised in a wave good-bye. As she disappeared from sight, Kit felt a funny sadness fill his chest. She was the most interesting girl he had ever met. What if he never got to see her again?
The next day Kit stood in his father’s bedroom, waiting as the royal physician finished his examination of the king. The older man stood there, clearly annoyed by a process that was becoming all too familiar. Finally, the visit over, Kit helped his father back into his tunic and then began to lead him toward a chair. But his father shooed him away and deliberately continued to stand.
“You sound as if you’re the first fellow who ever met a pretty girl,” King Frederick said, continuing their earlier conversation. Ever since Kit had arrived home from the previous day’s hunt, he had talked of nothing but this mysterious girl in the woods.
Kit let out a sigh. “She wasn’t a pretty girl,” he retorted. Then he corrected himself. “Well, she was a pretty girl. But there was so much more to her.”
“How much more?” King Frederick asked. “You’ve only met her once. How can you know anything about her?”
Kit had a quick answer for that. “You told me you knew right away when you met Mother.”
The king groaned. His son was as stubborn as he had been at that age. “That’s different,” he snapped. “Your mother was a princess.”
“You would have loved her anyway,” Kit replied. That was true. His mother and father had had a grand love.
But his father shook his head. “I would never have met her, because it wouldn’t have been appropriate. And my father, rest his bones, would have told me what I’m telling you. And I would have listened.”
Kit smiled. “No, you wouldn’t.” Then he turned to the doctor, who had been quietly packing up his tools and trying hard not to listen in on the conversation. “How is he?”
The doctor took a moment, as though trying to figure out the best way to deliver the news. The pause spoke volumes, and the king raised a hand, stopping him. “Never mind. If it takes that long to work out a way to say it, I already know it’s bad.”
“Father,” Kit began, all earlier thoughts of teasing evaporated.
The king simply shook his head. “It’s the way of all flesh, boy. Come. We will be late. And punctuality is the politeness of princes.”
Kit sighed. There was no sense arguing with his father when his mind was set. So he helped the older man into his jacket, and together they strode out of the room.
In the corridor they were joined by two men, the Grand Duke and the Captain of the Guard. While the Captain was tall and muscular, the Grand Duke was shorter, his round belly
sticking out over his pants. Despite their physical differences, the two men had two common goals—to keep the king and prince safe and to look after the well-being of the kingdom. How they did so differed, however. The Grand Duke followed the letter of the law to a tee; the Captain was a bit more lax, making him Kit’s ally on more than one occasion.
“My King,” the Grand Duke said as the men started walking down the corridor. He narrowed his gaze at Kit. “Your Highness. I am sure your father spoke to you of your behavior in the forest?”
“Is it any business of yours, Grand Duke?” Kit replied.
The Grand Duke puffed out his chest. “My business is your business, Your Highness,” he said, sounding miffed. “It will not do to let the stag go free.”
A flash of blue eyes and blond hair popped into Kit’s mind, and he found himself echoing the girl’s words. “Just because it’s what’s done doesn’t mean it’s what should be done.” The three older men stopped and stared at him. Kit shrugged. “Or something like that.”
The group resumed their walk. “Still the dreamer,” King Frederick said, trying not to smile. While he would never admit it out loud, he remembered what it felt like to be young and optimistic. “I had hoped that a bit of campaigning would knock some sense into you.” He turned and addressed the Captain. “What have you got to say?”
The Captain was an experienced soldier who had fought alongside the prince in many a battle. “I’d say the war knocked some common sense out of him, sir. While I have never seen a fellow more brave, he exhibited a very troublesome tendency to...think.”
“Sometimes I fear for this kingdom,” King Frederick replied, not sure whether the Captain meant his comment as a good or bad thing.
Silence fell over the group as they left the grand hall and entered one of the palace’s many salons. An artist was setting up his paints. Upon their entrance, he bowed low.
“Make him look marriageable, Master Phineas,” the king ordered the portraitist, causing Kit to groan. “We must attract a suitable bride, even if he is a terrible dunce.”
Cinderella Junior Novel Page 3