"Is this your attempt at making me feel better?" She groaned and put a hand on his decorated shoulder.
"It is for the best." He looked her in the eyes, a thoughtful look on his face. His faced lowered to hers spellbindingly. Their lips touched softly, the Prince taking control of the kiss, his hand curling around her neck to pull her closer. Cinderella was aware that this was exactly the opposite of what she should be doing. But it was too sweet, the moment was too perfect to pull away from. Her heart burst in her chest, jumping from the sheer pleasure of being embraced by her mystery writer. If she was to go home to a life without happiness or love then she would make the most of this one perfect moment. In his arms, protected and safe. Slowly, they pulled away from each other out of breath.
"Would you grant me the next dance?" He stood and held a lofty hand out to her.
She blushed, "I do not know how."
"Trust yourself." She took his hand and together they walked, arms linked, towards the ballroom. As they entered, neither of the two particularly noticed the encroaching stares from those around them. They were instead immersed in the simple touch of a hand through an offered arm. Cinderella had stars in her eyes as the Prince led her into the fray of dancing couple, swinging her into a wide arc, putting her hand in his, ready for the opening bars of the waltz. As the music rose they spun in choreographed moves, the Prince taking complete control of the dance, sweeping Cinderella this way and that, covering for the moves she did not know. "To live without dance is to live without soul;" He quoted with a smile.
"Oh, I love to dance but my...my education was limited."
"That is a shame." He released his hand from her back and took the hand that was clasped within her own, lifting it above her and encouraging her to spin. She laughed, twirling. For a single moment everything was perfect, the Prince was grinning that broad boyish grin down at her, her head felt light with mirth and the song was alive with electricity. Then, on another spin she caught sight of her family, turning away from the dancing couples and towards the door. Alarm rang through her, if they were leaving then so would she be compelled. Her body stiffened as the waltz closed, giving the Prince a hurried bow and taking off in the other direction, without a word. She heard naught of what he said, nor did she see the mass of people that descended on the Prince, offering their greetings and asking each other who he'd been dancing with.
Cinderella, sick with panic, gave no thought to which entrance she was exiting, her only thought being that she had to return home before her stepmother. Her stepmother would most definitely take her anger out on her two daughters if she did not, and Cinderella would not allow that to happen. She ran out onto the path, somehow finding herself next to the royal stables.
"Stop!" she spun on the spot, the Prince stood between her and the entrance to the ball.
"I must go"
"You've said that before," he remarked, talking lazy steps closer. She spun around looking for an easier way to leave, time was of the essence, her stammering heart reminded her.
"I really must go." He seemed to notice the panic in Cinderella's voice as he came closer, a dent of concern marking between his brow.
"What's wrong?" She looked away from him. She didn't have time for this, her brain yelled. She had to leave.
"Your horses," she pointed at the stables, losing all sense of rational though. "Can I borrow one?" He stared at her speechless, beginning to laugh before stopping himself at the wild and helpless look in her eyes.
He took her hand, "Come with me." Together they ran into the stables, the guards and stable hands moved away when they noticed that it was the Prince who entered. He untied one of the steeds, "She's my best horse. As quiet as a mouse and very kind too." He brought over a stool so that she could hook her leg over the side in a thoroughly unladylike manner. "Do I have your word she will be returned?"
"Yes, thank you." The Prince led her, atop his horse, out of the stable.
"Good luck." He reached out to release a portion of her dress that had been caught under the riding habit. Pulling it up only slightly, but it was all that was needed for him to see a small golden shoe with glass carvings. "Wait!" The Prince caught hold of her ankle. He looked up. Realising what he'd discovered, Cinderella's eyes widened, acting upon instinct she quickly tightened the reins and urged the horse to run. Leaning over the horse as it began to gallop her ankle slid out of the baffled Princes hand, taking her shoe off in the process. As she sailed through the trees she dimly heard him call out her name, but by then it was too late. The clock tower chimed midnight in the far distance.
CHAPTER
NINE
Cinderella hugged the neck of the horse as it galloped through the forest. She'd lost hold of the reins and now she clutched its neck for dear life. She wasn't confident that her body was shaking as a result of the horse alone. Cinderella forced herself to take calming breathes. As they flew past the oak tree she turned her face to the other side as to avoid the memories that had been created there. As her arms struggled to keep hold of the horse she couldn't keep from remembering the look of abject shock on the Princes' face. When she'd cleared the forest, she slowed the horse down to a trot. Entering through the back garden, she pulled on the reins until the horse stopped. Sliding down, she only realised as she touched the ground that she was missing a shoe. She pulled up the dress and looked sadly down at her feet. She shook her head to clear away the thoughts, tied the horse to a tree just outside the garden and crept in through the back door. She took the stairs two at a time, keeping care to be as quiet as possible. Opening her room slowly to avoid the creaks, she breathed a sigh of relief and was immediately caught by her stepmother.
"Dressed in such fine clothes for your chores." She stood from the bed, her height and expression formidable. "Tell me Cinderella, how stupid do you think I am? That I wouldn't notice my very own burden at the ball, dancing with the Prince." Cinderella was speechless, her heart caught in her throat. "Did you lie to him? Tell him that you were a part of our family, that you aren't filth." She spat the word. Walking casually over to Cinderella's dressing table, picking up things, glancing at them and slamming them forcefully back down on the table.
"I-" she twisted abruptly to glare at Cinderella.
"Yes? Please explain how you duped the Prince into a dance when my two beautiful entitled daughters barely managed a return smile."
"I did not dupe him!"
"So you deny presenting him a false image of yourself?"
Cinderella pushed her shoulders back, trying to match her stepmothers posture, "Yes."
"And I suppose that dress that you're wearing is yours? You stole it didn't you? Don't deny it, how else could you afford such a fine dress."
"It was a gift." A slow sickening smile slithered onto her face.
"Ah, I see now. You've taken after your mother. Enjoy your presents Cinderella." She pushed past Cinderella, walking to the door where she turned back to her with a sneer. "If you so much as attempt to contact the Prince again I will expose the truth of your birth, I will not have the daughter of a common whore upstaging my daughters." She slammed the door behind herself, Cinderella ran to the door when she heard a faint metallic click, but by then it was too late. It had only taken a moment for her stepmother to turn the key and lock Cinderella's room from the outside. Indefinitely.
The Prince sat in his study, his chin resting on the antique desk, his eyes resting on the shoe. He was baffled, every time he recounted last night's events one particular thing kept nudging at him. She'd been about to walk away. She'd known it was him and turned away. Every time he thought about the way she'd acted towards him, how she'd seemed genuinely frightened at the end of the night, he couldn't help his pulse jumping, his heart beating faster. He smoothed a hand over his brow, why had he given his horse to someone he'd thought was a perfect stranger? It could not have been her beauty alone that had persuaded him to lead her into the stables, give her a horse and let her gallop away. He groaned. Hopelessly in lov
e but without hope, is what she'd said. Why was she without hope? Royalty marrying a lower class was rare but it wasn't unheard of-
"There you are, I have been looking absolutely everywhere for you," his mother called from behind him. He didn't move, still staring at that small perfect slipper. She came closer, watching over his shoulder. "My, that is a beautiful shoe." He sat back in his chair stretching his limbs. He'd seen the pair of shoes in the window of a store and it had called to him.
"It is." He turned to his mother, watching her take a seat on the chair in the back corner of the room. "Is there something I can help you with mother?"
"That girl you danced with last night, who was she?" He'd been naive to hope that she might not have noticed.
"A girl." A girl he'd hoped to marry. He pointedly refrained from thinking of the kisses they'd shared, the feel of her small hand in his, the way she'd smiled, laughter in her eyes as she twirled in dance.
"And what are your intentions with this girl? I did not recognise her, therefore she must not be suitable." She was suitable in every way that he cared. She was kind and sharp, witty and beautiful. She had a mind that challenged his own.
"I intend to wed her, but you are correct she is not of royal blood, nor is she nobility." His mother made an intake of horror, standing from her chair.
"You must know that I do not approve." He nodded, his mind was set, not his mother nor the entire royal line could have forced him to change his mind. Regardless of what station of life she was from he would be a fool to refuse himself the chance of a future with her. "You will be making a mockery of us! What will they think?"
"They will not think anything. They are our subjects, not our advisors."
"That we are not royalty!" She fumed, pacing in his study, her hands balled up by her side.
"If anything, it will bring us closer to our subjects," she made a short bark that sounded vaguely like a laugh.
"Mother, this is what you wanted, for me to marry for love." She glanced at him, stopping mid stride.
"You only met her last night!"
"That may be true but I have know her for much longer." She rolled her eyes, falling back into her chair.
"Explain yourself." He took a deep breath and began recounting the series of events that led to last night.
Dorothy Fairgem sat in her back room, making adjustments to a new dress she was working on, white and beautiful. Fairgem rushed to finish the dress, the sun rose as she sat over it, trying to make something even half as beautiful as the one that she'd given Cinderella two nights previous. Fairgem had been expecting Cinderella to arrive the next morning, regaling her with stories of romance and returning the dress. Instead, she'd received silence. Her teeth worried over her bottom lip as she focused on the dress. Nothing would come from worrying she reminded herself. Nothing had gone wrong. The plan hadn't been fool-proof but Cinderella had known that there would be risk. The bell attached to the door at the front of the shop rang as it was pulled open, indicating that a customer had entered.
"Just one moment!" She called out as she carefully laid the dress to rest back on the table, slipping her feet back into her slippers and walking out to meet them. She'd been expecting a customer, hoping to be met by Cinderella but never imagining the Prince would be standing in the center of her humble store looking uncomfortable and masculine surrounded by rows of lace.
"Your Majesty," she bowed clumsily.
"Fairgem, have you seen Cinderella?" He held the shoe, fidgeting it from hand to hand. Her heart rate sped. He too thought something was wrong.
"I have not." His frown darkened, it had been what he was expecting but not what he'd hoped for.
"How can I contact her?"
"Come, sit." She motioned him over to a small pink, heart shaped stool where he sat trying to accommodate for his long legs. "Is it possible she does not want you to contact her?" He was silent. Fairgem had to ask; she knew that Cinderella had been afraid. It was entirely possible that realising he was the Prince had pushed her past her limits and now she was retreating. She'd never thought she was acceptable, her stepmother had beaten it into her at such a young age that regardless of how much praise Fairgem had tried to counteract that abuse with, it had never been enough.
"Yes." He looked down at the shoe in his hands. Fairgem itched to ask but she knew that he wouldn't tell her, she knew very little about the Prince but of what she had gleamed, he was private. Especially about things he cared for.
"Cinderella has a secret, something she thinks you will reject her for." He looked up.
"It does not matter."
"You will not ask me for it?" She sat back in her own chair, surprised.
"It matters not to me." He levelled her with his eyes, fire burning within their depths.
"You surprise me, your Highness."
"I have lived my entire life with people expecting things of me. Expecting me to disappoint them or to make them proud. Thinking that they know what I am capable of." Mark stopped abruptly, reining his frustration. He looked back down at the slipper, taking deep calming breaths. "Will you give me her address?" Fairgem watched him curiously. He was not who she'd thought he would be. She'd confessed to wondering how on earth Cinderella had connected with him in their correspondence. But as she sat opposite of him, his head bowed slightly in respect that he didn't owe her, she saw their resemblance. She saw his vulnerabilities and she respected him for them. Perhaps Cinderella was not the only one afraid. Because he had not ordered her to surrender the address, nor threatened her, she humbly agreed and sent him on his way before returning to the back room. Smiling, she picked up the gown once more. Pushing the needle through the fabric, content that she had done right by her daughter.
CHAPTER
TEN
Cinderella pulled at the door latch, it refused to give way. Frustration built within her, making her want to scream. It had been two days. Two days without food or contact. She fought tears as she walked back to sit on her bed. Her stomach ached and her head pounded so loudly, as she lay on her bed, that she almost didn't hear the quiet whispering just outside her room. Silently she stood, creeping over to the door to rest her ear against it in the hopes of identifying the whisperers. She bent down to look through the keyhole and was shocked to see both Anabeth and Rebecca standing outside her door, looking as if they were in the middle of an argument. She strained to listen,
"Anabeth, mother will punish us, she's evidently done something to deserve her punishment."
Anabeth's answer was vehement, "Nobody deserves to be locked in their room for days, and I’ve asked in the kitchen, she hasn't been receiving food!"
Cinderella's heart leapt. Please, she repeated under her breath like a chant.
"Anabeth..."
"No, I'm entering." Cinderella heard the sharp scratch of metal against metal as Anabeth pushed the key into the lock and twisted. She was halfway across the room when the door opened a fraction to reveal the heads of her two sisters. "Hello." Anabeth said cautiously, opening the door a fraction wider to reveal a tray of food in her arms. "We brought you some food," they entered the room, Anabeth smiling kindly and Rebecca walking beside her with a small frown on her face.
"Thank you." She reached out to the tray Anabeth placed on the table and picked up a piece of bread and cheese. She ate in silence as they watched her. "I'm sorry, I didn't offer you some, would you like to share with me?" They shook their heads and signaled that she should continue eating. Once she'd finished she picked up the tea and took small sips of it, savouring the full flavour. It wasn't quite hot anymore but nevertheless it warmed her. "I cannot thank you enough."
"You are welcome. Why is mother punishing you?" Anabeth asked, to which she received a sharp elbow to her side, delivered by her sister who glared at her pointedly.
"No that's ok, it's a fair question." Cinderella put the teacup down. Walking over to the chest where she kept her clothes, she opened the latch and proceeded to pull out the gown she'd worn at the
ball. She held it up to show them. Their eyes widened when the realisation dawned on them.
"I knew it was you." Rebecca said, standing to take a better look at the gown.
"Is that why mother hates you? Do you sneak out often?" Cinderella laughed softly at Anabeth's questions.
"That night was the first time I have ever defied your mother and no, she has hated me long before this. Ever since I was born you could say."
"Why?" Cinderella left the dress in Rebecca's hands and went to sit beside Anabeth on the bed. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves and ignore the way her heart hammered away in her chest.
"Because of our father." The room was silent. Her hands trembled with fear. She couldn't bare her sisters' rejection. The silence stretched in the room until Anabeth made a small fake cough.
"So you are not a distant cousin after all."
"I am not. We share our dear father." Absurdly, Anabeth laughed.
"Dear? My, that's not how I would describe the man."
"How would you describe him?" She looked up at Rebecca who still stood, turned away and holding the dress.
"Cruel, self-centred, controlling. He never let us hug him you know? Said it wasn't seemly." He had never let Cinderella hug him either, but she'd assumed it was because of her illegitimacy.
"Truly? And I." Anabeth turned to her, embracing her in a hug that warmed her further than any cup of tea could have.
"Truly, sister." Tears formed in her eyes, rushing down her cheeks as a result of her heart full. They only withdrew from their embrace when they heard the door open and shut, noticing Rebecca had silently left the room.
"She is angry." Cinderella wasn't surprised, she'd never dreamed to expect that one of her sisters would accept her, much less both of them. Anabeth placed her hand on Cinderella's shoulder, offering a small smile.
Dearest Cinderella Page 5