by Aron Lewes
“Finally...” Terra sneered as she finished her rules. “If you're going to stay here, you must take a bath! You're really living up to your name right now... Rank.”
Sharman's sharply dressed footmen rolled out the red carpet for the arrival of Prince Elliot. They raced from Elliot's carriage to the Winter Palace's front gate, unwinding the spool of carpet as they ran.
When Elliot realized he had arrived at his destination, he closed his book with a sigh. The bookish prince rarely went anywhere without a stack of novels. The ride to the Winter Palace was so long, he read five whole books during the journey. They weren't small books either. They were thick, fat books with small words and wide pages.
As Prince Elliot alighted from his stagecoach, he shielded his eyes from a burst of sunlight. He had never been to Sharman's Winter Palace before, and he was awed by the sight of it. It was a magnificent mansion, wrapped in red vine, with soaring silver towers and a crystalline front gate. The palace was cradled by a shimmering lake, on which a single swan was trumpeting. It was as if the majestic bird wanted to celebrate Elliot's arrival.
As Sharman marched down the plush red carpet, he soaked in the sight of the arriving prince. It had been years since they had seen each other—perhaps even a decade. Handsome Elliot was tall and dark-skinned, with a chiseled jaw and full, straight lips. Serious as he was, Elliot's lips rarely smiled. He was incredibly clean cut, with close-cropped black curls and sharp, dark eyes. His tailored red coat was molded to his body, and his black boots were so polished, they were practically glowing.
“Elliot!” Sharman exclaimed as he greeted his fellow prince. “It's lovely to see you again! It's been ages. How are you?”
“I'm well enough, Prince Sharman,” Elliot replied with a sigh. “And you?”
“I'm troubled, obviously. My sister's curse has caused me a great deal of stress,” Sharman said. “Also... this carpet isn't red. It's maroon.” Sharman snapped his fingers and motioned for one of his footmen to come forward.
The thin footman dutifully dipped into a bow as he addressed his prince. “Yes, Your Highness?”
“Why is this carpet maroon, Davies?” Sharman asked. “I specifically asked for a red carpet. Are you trying to insult Prince Elliot?”
Davies leaned closer to the carpet. “Is it... not red?” he asked. “It looks red to me, sir.”
“No. It's maroon,” Sharman insisted. “Only red is suitable for a prince, Davies. Red. Do you understand? Bright red. Vermilion. Crimson. Even scarlet would suffice. This red is unacceptable. It's leaning toward purple or brown.”
“Uh... I-I'm sorry, Your Highness.” Davies bowed again as he stuttered another apology. “Would you like me to replace it?”
“No. It isn't necessary,” Sharman said. “We will suffer with this. Shall we head into the palace, Prince Elliot? We have much to discuss, I'm sure.”
Elliot studied the carpet as the princes strode forward, side by side. “The color looks fine to me...” Elliot whispered beneath his breath.
“I regret that my fiance isn't joining us,” Prince Sharman complained as they entered the Winter Palace's opulent foyer. “I wanted her to meet you, but I couldn't find the girl. She's so elusive... either that, or my palace is too bloody large!” Sharman paused to chuckle. “Anyway, you'll meet her later, I'm sure. At supper, perhaps?”
“I didn't realize you had a fiance,” Elliot chimed in.
“Oh?” As they walked down the hall, Sharman removed his gloves and stuffed them in the pockets of his coat. They were fancy, so he liked them, but they didn't quite fit his hands. “You didn't hear about Cinderella? I thought her story would spread far and wide. I believe I'm the first prince to choose a commoner for a bride.”
“She's a commoner?” Elliot's eyes went wide with surprise. Behind his spectacles, they looked even larger.
“Indeed,” Sharman replied. “It's unusual, but I beg you to be kind to her. Cinderella is the most important person in the world to me.”
“I would be nothing but kind, of course, to the woman who is going to marry my childhood friend,” Elliot replied. “I hope she makes you happy.”
“Oh, she makes me more than happy.” Sharman's lips were raised by the widest of smiles as he sang Cinda's praises. “She's the most beautiful woman in the world, Elliot. And I am, of course, the luckiest man.”
“I envy you,” Elliot quietly confessed. He was telling the truth. More often than not, Elliot felt lonely and unloved.
“If I may be so bold... why did it take you so long to reach the Winter Palace, Elliot?” Sharman asked. “I sent the invitation a long time ago. To be honest, every other prince has kissed my sister. Even Prince Aarav reached the palace before you did, and he had to travel across an ocean! I didn't think you'd ever get here.”
“I'm sorry,” Elliot apologized. “My grandfather died. It was a difficult time, and I didn't want to leave my family.”
“Ah. I see.” Sharman nodded. “I'm sorry to hear that... and now I understand your absenteeism. Family is very important to me as well.”
When the young princes reached Rose's bedchamber, Sharman held his breath and opened the door. “Please work...” he whispered to himself as they entered the room. “Elliot is my sister's best and last chance... please work.” He blew a quick kiss to the heavens. He hoped the gesture would inspire a deity to work in his favor.
“It seems she's grown into a lovely young woman,” Elliot observed as he approached Princess Rose's bed. “The last time I saw her, she was ten. We were sitting together at a picnic. I plucked a bug from her hair, and she screamed.”
“Fascinating,” Sharman's response was tinged with poorly veiled disinterest. “To be honest... I'm nervous. I'm desperate for this to work.”
“And I hope it does.” Elliot's face was expressionless as he hovered over Rose. “I would be honored to have your sister as my wife, Prince Sharman.”
“Of course. Any man would be honored,” Sharman dryly croaked. “Well... go ahead and kiss her, then. For the sake of my sanity, do it quickly. I need to know if you're the one for Rose.”
Elliot's lips descended to Rose's. As soon as his mouth touched hers, the princess' eyelashes fluttered.
“This is it!” Sharman gasped. “You were the one! She's waking up, isn't she?”
As his sister's eyes opened, Sharman's relief nearly knocked him off his feet. He staggered to the nearest chair and used it to steady himself.
When Rose was awake, she sat up with a startled gasp. “Did you just... kiss me?” she asked the bespectacled prince.
“I did,” Elliot replied. “Because your brother asked me to.”
“He what?” Rose's green eyes narrowed as she turned to Sharman. “You asked this man to kiss me?”
“This man, dearest sister, is Prince Elliot,” Sharman explained in the gentlest voice he could manage. “And... over the last several days, many men have kissed you.”
Rose's eyes were livid, and her voice was sharp. “Whaaat?” she screeched.
“You were cursed by a witch, Rose. You fell into a coma,” Sharman went on. When he crossed the room to claim a hug, she pushed him away. “Don't be angry with me! I had to do what I had to do! Only a kiss from your soulmate would wake you up, and since I had no idea who your soulmate was, many men had to kiss you.”
“Prince Elliot is... my soulmate?” Rose's freckled nose puckered as she studied her hero.
“Indeed. And since he's the man who woke you, you're now betrothed,” her brother reported. “He's been promised your hand in marriage. I'm sure you'll have a happy future together.”
“Marriage?” Rose gasped at the thought.
“Yes.” Sharman smiled at the couple. “Prince Elliot is your soulmate, sister. Don't complain. You'll marry him, and then you'll be--”
“Sorry!” Rose interrupted. The princess crossed her arms and sneered at her brother, who looked a bit perplexed by her reaction. “I'm sorry, Sharman. I'm sorry, Elliot. Truly. But the fa
ct of the matter is... I'd really rather not.”
“But sister...” Nervous chuckles rippled from Sharman's throat as he watched his sister slide from bed. At first, she was unsteady on her feet. Two weeks in a coma made her weak. “You don't understand... you must marry Elliot. We had an agreement.”
Rose staggered, so she grabbed Elliot's arm to steady herself. Even though she was rejecting him, she was using him as a crutch. “No, you don't understand!” Rose whined. “This isn't fair! Have I no say in my own future?”
“Rose...” her brother began, “Prince Elliot traveled a long way to help you. His kiss saved you. Can you not be a bit more amenable to the idea of marrying him?”
When her legs were ready, Rose released Elliot's arm and stumbled to the door. “I don't hate him, and I don't want to hurt his feelings, but...” Rose finished with a wince, “I won't marry someone I'm not utterly in love with!”
“Learn to love him,” Sharman suggested. “Elliot is a charming prince... or so I've heard. He has a good reputation. Furthermore, he is your soulmate.”
“I'll choose my own soulmate, thank you very much!” Rose declared. “And now... if you don't mind, I'm leaving!”
The siblings' argument had stunned Prince Elliot into silence. When she stormed from the room and slammed the door behind her, he winced.
“Well, uh... normally, she's much nicer than that,” Sharman claimed. “Don't be discouraged. I'm sure she'll come around.”
“Perhaps... I shouldn't force her to marry me?” Elliot suggested.
When Sharman's head shook, his brown curls tumbled across his forehead. “No! A large dowry was promised in exchange for saving my sister's life. That dowry shall be yours, and my sister's hand in marriage will be yours. Anything less would be totally unfair.”
“I didn't expect her reaction,” Elliot lamented. “It was rather... disappointing.”
“I know. I'm sorry. I'm disappointed in her as well.” Sharman gave his stubbled chin a contemplative stroke. “Oh well. Not many women can be as perfect as my Cinderella, I suppose.”
* * *
“I don't want to marry Prince Sharman. Is that awful?” Cinderella whined to her stepsister as she collapsed on Terra's bed. “I don't hate him, but it's increasingly difficult to imagine myself as his wife.”
“Then don't marry him,” Terra suggested. “No one is saying you absolutely must.”
“But I'd be a fool if I didn't,” Cinda sighed. “I mean... what is my alternative, Terra? Go back to my stepmother? Go back to Gaia? Go back to the life that made me miserable?” Cinda pouted at the ceiling. “I should be more grateful. I really should. Sharman is handsome.”
“He is. He has lovely eyes,” Terra agreed.
Rank, who was hiding in the closet, snorted at Terra's compliment. When she heard the noise, Cinda sat up and asked, “What was that?”
“Uhh... I have... nasal problems,” Terra tried to duplicate the sound. After snorting a few times, she added, “My nose is, uh... leaky.”
“Really?” Cinda frowned at her. “Do you have a cold?”
“No no. I'm fine,” Terra assured her with a smile.
“So, anyway...” As she spoke, Cinda slid from Terra's bed, “Princess Rose is awake now. I'm supposed to have supper with her later. And I'm supposed to have lunch with Sharman in thirty minutes. Apparently, I have to get dolled up for that.” When she was on her feet, Cinda shuffled to the door. Her legs were lethargic, and her hunched posture suggested melancholy. “Handmaidens are supposed to fix my hair. Can you believe I have handmaidens now? I used to mop floors, wash clothes, and dump chamber pots... now I have maidservants attending to my every need. It's so odd.”
“I imagine your life must be very different.”
Cinda nodded at her stepsister's reply. “It is. It most definitely is.” With one foot in the hallway, Cinderella turned around and added, “I'll try to visit you later. I'm sorry we haven't spent more time together. Sharman keeps me busy.”
“It's alright.” Terra started to close the door, encouraging Cinda's speedy exit. “Goodbye!”
As soon as the door was closed, Terra fell into bed with a sigh. “Alright, Rank. You can come out now.”
When the mage exploded from the closet, he was holding a bouquet of red roses. “Ta dah!” he cried, holding out the flowers to Terra. “It was quite cozy in your closet. Cozy and dark. I liked it.”
“You're so strange, Rank.” Terra accepted his flowers with a roll of her eyes. “Also, it's really inconvenient to have you in my room.”
“I dunno why you don't want Cinder Girl to know I'm here,” Rank said as he idly twirled his wand. When a spark accidentally crackled from the tip, he tucked it under his arm.
“To begin with, I shouldn't have a man in my room at all,” Terra began. “Secondly, you were one of our abductors. Do I really want Cinda to know I'm helping you? Lastly, you were in the prison yesterday. I could probably get arrested for letting you hide in here!”
Rank sniffed under his arm. With a whimper, he declared, “I smell girlie!”
“Rank... are you even listening to me?” Terra grumbled. “You're off in your own world, I swear.”
“It was all those soaps you made me use! If I take another bath, do I have to use the soaps? They smell like flowers.”
“Yes, Rank. There's nothing wrong with smelling nice.” As she dragged a hand down her face, Terra whispered to herself, “I can't believe I'm letting him stay here... I think I've gone mad...”
“Anyway...” As he spoke, Rank removed his top hat and scratched his messy hair. “I think I'm going for a stroll.”
“A stroll? Do you really think that's wise?”
“Aye. I'm in my guard's uniform. I think I'll be alright.”
Concern creased Terra's brow. For some inexplicable reason, she was actually worried about him. “I really don't think you should leave this room. What if you're arrested again?”
“Aww... are you worried about Ranky?” he asked with a grin. “That's sweet, love. But I'll be fine.” As he slipped from the room, Rank dipped into a bow. “I'll come back later.”
On his way out, he could hear Terra muttering, “Must you? You really need to find another place to stay...”
As he traveled down the many hallways of Sharman's Winter Palace, Rank tried to look like he belonged there. At Gloriosa's request, he even tried to copy the stiff march of Sharman's soldiers. However, he was the only guard with a top hat and walking stick. When a maid carrying laundry cast a puzzled glance in his direction, Rank ditched his hat on a suit of armor. “I can't part with you, though, can I?” Rank whispered to his walking stick.
Rank strutted down the hall behind a pair of tall guards. To amuse himself, he gave them tails. The guard on the right got a fluffy fawn's tail, while the guard on the left got a rabbit's cotton tail. With each step they took, their tails bounced and bobbed, and Rank snickered into the palm of his hand. Before he lost himself in a fit of giggles, he removed their tails with a wave of his wand.
“I should have given them ears as well,” Rank mused as he entered the garden.
The garden's centerpiece was a silver statue of Prince Sharman, striking a dashing pose. Silver Sharman glistened in the sunlight. He was so bright, passersby were sometimes stricken with temporary blindness when they saw him. Rank couldn't stand the sight of it, so he wiggled his wand and gave the statue a mustache, beard, and goggles. He was so satisfied by his alterations, he practically skipped through the garden.
As he ventured down the cobbled path, Rank passed a sulking Prince Elliot. The pouting prince was sitting on a wicker bench, his spectacles were removed, and his eyes were downcast. When Rank sat with him, he croaked, “Hey, mate.”
“Mate?” repeated a sneering Prince Elliot. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
“No. But I'm about to find out, ain't I?” Rank stuck out a hand, which was cleaner than usual. “I'm Rank.”
“R-Rank.” Elliot's tongue struggled to
repeat the name. “I'm Elliot. Prince Elliot.”
“Ooo. Another prince! I hope you're not as pompous as the other one.” Elliot didn't shake his hand, nor did Rank retract it. His hand hovered in midair, waiting for a shake that never came.
“You're very bold, Rank, to sit with the prince,” Elliot observed. “Most guards would be a bit less... familiar.”
“I'm not like most guards.” Rank grinned at him. “You look sad, Ellie. What's wrong?”
“Ellie?” When Rank didn't explain the nickname, Elliot continued with a sigh. “I woke Princess Rose... but she doesn't want to marry me. In fact, she stormed out of the room in a fit of rage.”
“Ah.” Rank looked down at his hand, which was still hanging in midair, anticipating a shake. “That's rough.”
“It's more than rough. It's a bit... insulting,” Elliot hissed. “Am I not handsome enough?”
“Hmm.” When Rank leaned closer to the prince's face, Elliot leaned back. “I can't say I'm the best judge of that. You look alright to me, though.”
“Am I not rich enough?” Elliot asked. “Did she not like my spectacles? Does she not like dark eyes or dark hair or dark skin? There must be some explanation for her aversion to me, right?”
“Uhhhh...” Rank's lips were parted by a yawn. “I dunno. Maybe you should ask her?”
“I'm feeling rather inadequate right now,” Elliot whined. “I can't remember the last time I've felt so low.”
“You can't let some woman get you down, mate.”
“She's not just some woman, Rank. Rose is supposed to be my fiance!” Elliot cried. “What am I supposed to do if my fiance never wants me?”
“I guess she's just not that into you, mate.” At long last, Rank retracted the hand that Elliot never shook. “Maybe it's time to move on?”
“But I don't want to move on. I like her. Rose was my childhood crush,” Elliot confessed.
“And now your childhood crush is crushing your heart. That's awful. That's--”