I watched him enjoying his work for quite a few minutes unable to tear my eyes away. I took utter joy in watching the way he moved before I accidentally knocked over a salt pot on a counter to my right. He heard the noise and stopped humming immediately. His concentration lapsed, and the dish he’d been washing fell into the sink, splashing water everywhere.
“Please don’t stop. I was enjoying it.”
He bowed in the same way as all the servants did, his curls flopping over his eyes as he lowered his head.
“I’m sorry Your Highness. I didn’t know you were here.” His voice was much deeper and richer than his youthful face implied. He had the cutest dimples on his cheeks, and his curly brown hair was just a touch too long. His eyes were a shade lighter than his hair. Caramel to chocolate.
“Evidently,” I said, and he blushed.
“Why do you clean the dishes individually?” I asked. “Wouldn’t it be quicker to wave your wand and wipe them all clean at once?”
“Yeah, but where is the fun in that?” He grinned and then as if remembering his place, straightened up. “How can I help you, Your Highness?”
“I came down for something to eat, but I see I’m too late.” The kitchen was clean with nothing left out.
“Sit down,” he ordered, pointing to a huge oak table in the center of the room.
I arched my brow at his command. Having never been told what to do by a member of staff before, it took me by surprise. Nevertheless, I did as he said and took a place near the end of the table. He put a clean plate in front of me and an empty glass.
“What’s this?” I asked, looking down at the plate.
“I’m going to cook for you. I can’t have the princess go hungry.”
“No, that’s fine. I can’t ask you to do that. I’ll just grab some leftovers from the fridge.” I stood as if to leave.
“I can cook. One day I want to be a chef. Of course, I’ve got a long way to go.” He indicated the pile of washing up still to do. I didn’t want to offend him, so I sat back down. He brought out a bottle of sparkling wine and poured me a glass.
“It’s not as good as the stuff you guys drink from the wine cellar, but it’s pretty nice.”
I took a sip. The bubbles hit the back of my throat, and I began to cough.
“Sorry!” He looked stricken. “I thought it would be ok. I guess you aren’t used to the cheap stuff, hey?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m not actually used to drinking at all. It’s one of the few things I’m looking forward to at the ball—getting drunk for the first time and forgetting the whole thing.”
I realized then that I had said too much. To talk in such a way in front of a servant was simply not done. He just laughed and opened the fridge, bringing out a host of fresh vegetables.
“Not looking forward to it, huh?” He brought a knife out and began expertly chopping up an onion into tiny pieces. His hands worked so quickly, I could barely keep up with them. I wondered why he didn’t use his wand when he could so easily have done so.
“I didn’t mean...”
“Don’t worry. I’d hate to have to go in your position too. I totally get it.”
Something about his manner put me at ease. Usually, any conversation with the servants, with the exception of Jenny and Agatha, had me reeling around in my brain to say the right thing.
“Maybe drinking should be in your lesson plan as well as soup! You don’t want to get so drunk that you fall over.” He turned and grinned at me again, showing off his dimples.
He moved from the onions to the carrots where he cut them julienne style.
“You know about the soup? I was supposed to remind Monsieur Pascal.”
“He already knows. Look.” He pointed at a huge white board, covered in barely legible text. I made out such words as pheasant, ‘lobster, and in the top right-hand corner, soup for Princess Charmaine’s lesson.’
I had never felt so ridiculous in my life. My cheeks burned as I realized that this cute guy knew that I needed lessons to eat soup. Whatever must he think of me?
“I can eat soup, you know. It’s just that they don’t trust me not to spill it all over my ballgown.” I took another swig of the wine. This time, it went down the right way without me choking.
“I don’t doubt it. I don’t know why they are having this ball. There must be a hundred men already lining up to ask you for your hand.” It was his turn to go red. If anything, it made him look cuter. He turned and threw the chopped veggies into a pan to try and hide it.
I gave a small smile and sighed. “It’s not that. They have to be the right kind of men.”
“Oh,” he said. “And what’s the right kind of man?”
I remembered what the reporter had said earlier. No Magi had been chosen. Something about it made me feel bad, although I really wouldn’t have expected anything else. No Magi had ever been in a high position. They were usually to be found more in manual labor jobs.
“One who doesn’t spill soup all down his tuxedo, I assume.”
He laughed. “That rules me out then. I’m the clumsy one in the kitchen.”
The way he’d deftly handled those veggies and the plates earlier, made me think he was telling a white lie to put me at ease. I’d never seen a man move in such an assured manner. Nothing about him was clumsy.
Even now as I watched him chopping up some meat, he moved quickly and with a dexterity I’d never seen before. He threw it all in with the veggies and added some other ingredients. With all the powders and creams he threw in there, it reminded me of the beauticians this afternoon except, this was not a face he was creating. Whatever it was smelled out of this world.
“Are you a sous chef?” I asked.
“I’m just a kitchen hand. I wash up when everyone goes home. I do errands, that sort of thing.”
“Then how do you know how to cook so well?”
He sprinkled some black powder into the pan and sniffed it. “How do you know how well I cook? You’ve not tasted it yet.”
“It smells so delicious. It can’t possibly be anything but good.”
“If only Monsieur Pascal could hear you say that.”
“Haven’t you shown him what you can do? One smell of that, and he’d be promoting you to second in command.”
He gave a wry smile. “It’s not that simple. People like me don’t get those kinds of jobs.”
“People like you?”
“You know.”
And I did know. I felt awkward. While Magi took on many roles in society, they were widely regarded as suspicious because of their Magic. Because of that, they were rarely given any jobs in power, and I couldn’t think of one that had a leadership role in the palace. If there were more of them, things would probably be different, their strengths obviously greater than the rest of us. But they were a small sect, who had been downtrodden for years. The few homeless people I’d seen were Magi, putting on magical puppet shows in the streets for a few coins.
Of course, I couldn’t say any of this to him. I settled on asking him his name instead.
“I’m Cynder.”
“It’s nice to meet you Cynder. I’m—”
“Princess Charming.”
“Charmaine,” I corrected him.
“I know, but I always thought of you as charming.”
I blushed again. He didn’t notice as he was serving up food onto my plate.
“Aren’t you going to eat with me?” I asked, noticing there was still a lot left in the pan.
“I can’t eat with a princess. I’ll finish it off when you leave.”
Something about the thought of him eating alone made me feel sad. What rule was there that forbade a princess and a kitchen hand to eat together? There was none as far as I was aware. “Nonsense. Grab a plate and eat with me. You may as well pour yourself a glass of wine too. I don’t want to be the only one drinking.”
“I’m afraid I can’t possibly.” He looked nervous at the mere suggestion, but I was more nervous
at the thought of him watching me while I ate.
“If anyone comes, I’ll tell them I insisted.”
He took out a plate and a glass and sat next to me. I picked up the bottle of wine and filled his glass to the top before refilling mine.
As predicted, the food was delicious. He’d made some kind of creamy white sauce that tasted like nothing I’d ever tasted before and poured it over chicken and rice. The vegetables he’d done before rested on the side.
“What is this?” I asked, wolfing it down in a very unladylike manner.
“It’s an old family recipe. Do you like it?”
“Like it? It’s the most delicious meal I’ve ever tasted. You need to serve this at the ball.”
Cynder laughed.
“I’m not joking. I’ll speak to my father and have Monsieur Pascal make this recipe.”
“I don’t think Monsieur Pascal will thank you for that. He’s been planning the menu for this ball for months. We’ve already ordered all the ingredients.”
I looked at the board again. “I hate lobster and pheasant. They are both so pretentious. I’d be much happier with plain old chicken.”
Cynder laughed again.
“I can make this dish any evening you want, just for you. Just come down after ten at night because that’s when everyone leaves.”
“I’m sure no one will mind if you make me something before ten,” I replied airily.
“If anyone found out that I had made a meal or eaten any of the food, I’d be fired. It’s hard enough to get a job being a Mage in this kingdom as it is.”
“Why would you be fired? You’ve only made me dinner.”
“I have to play by the rules, and the first rule of working here is to know my place. My place is over there by the sink.”
“But that’s absurd!” His talent was wasted washing up dishes. Then I thought of the interview I’d had earlier. My mother had been so uneasy at the mere mention of the Magi that she’d cut an interview short because of it.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn. I do love this job; I really do.”
I heard him say the words, but I wasn’t convinced he meant them. There was a sadness in his voice and an underlying note of anger. I’d struck a chord with him, but I wasn’t sure how to handle it. As usual, I ignored that which made me feel nervous and instead threw the plate into the soapy water where I began to wash it.
“What are you doing?” Cynder ran towards me in alarm.
“I’m washing my plate. It’s the least I can do.”
“I can’t let you do that! You’re the princess.”
“You made the dinner; I’ll wash up. It’s only fair. Here, give me your plate.” I took his plate from him without even asking and threw that into the suds too.
“You are not at all what I imagined. Sure, I’ve seen you around, and you are nothing like the rest of your family, but I never expected...”
I could really feel the wine hit me. Between us, we’d finished the whole bottle. Maybe it was that, maybe it was something else, but having him close to me gave me an idea. An idea I’d never have contemplated if I were sober.
“Maybe you can do something for me in return?”
“What?”
“Teach me to dance the way you were dancing when I walked in earlier.”
“I wasn’t dancing. I was washing up.” He looked perplexed, but I could see a hint of amusement in his face.
“Yes, you were. I saw the way your feet moved. There was such freedom in it. I’m having lessons, and I’m hopeless. I’ll finish up this mountain of dishes while you dry, and then you can show me your moves.”
He looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but he agreed nonetheless.
It took us a good twenty minutes to get it all finished, both of us doing the task by hand. As I’d been taking sips of wine from my glass, which had magically refilled itself before I washed each plate, I was very tipsy.
I stood to one side of the table and held my arms out the way my dance teacher had shown me only a few hours before.
“Shut your eyes and put your arms down by your side.”
It wasn’t what I was expecting, but I did as he asked.
He began to hum again, but this time picked a quicker tune than he had before. I could hear the tap tap tap of his shoes against the tile floor.
I expected his hand on my shoulder and one on my waist, but instead he took both of my hands in his.
“Feel the rhythm. Don’t think about any fancy dance moves, just move your body whichever way feels natural.”
“I don’t know any dance moves. Nothing about dancing feels natural.” I opened my eyes and looked right at him.
“Let me help you then.” He grabbed my waist and pulled me towards him until our bodies were slammed together, shocking me. I opened my mouth to speak, but then he began to move. The same sinewy effortless moves he’d made before, but this time taking me along for the ride. I was so close to him, I could smell the cologne on his neck and feel the vibration of his throat as he hummed the sweet tune. I closed my eyes and let him take me with him into his magical world.
He spun me around effortlessly, our bodies molded together, and when he came to a standstill and the humming stopped, I opened my eyes. He gazed down at me, with those caramel eyes and then slowly took a step back.
“You are better than you think you are,” he said. “You can move. You just have to learn to work your body in time to the music.”
I’d never moved the way he’d just taught me. I think my father would have a heart attack if I tried anything like it at the ball.
“Will you teach me?”
“I just did.”
“I mean every night until the ball. I promise to come after ten. No one will know.”
“I guess neither of us has the freedom we’d like,” he mused aloud.
He looked unsure as though he was doing something wrong. Indeed, it felt elicit to me too although I didn’t know why.
“I’ll help you with the washing up again.”
“Then how can I say no?”
He smiled at me, showing off those dimples of his.
That night as I slipped into bed, for the first time in two days, I felt confident about the upcoming ball. With Cynder’s help, I’d be the best dancer in the palace.
CHAPTER FOUR
Cynder
The next morning, I woke up with a feeling of excitement as though I’d had a lovely dream but forgotten it the moment my eyes opened. It took me a few moments to realize it was because of last night and dancing in the kitchen. It was the first morning since Grace died that I hadn’t woken up with pain being the first emotion I felt. Sure, I still hurt. Nothing could take away the anguish I felt at losing my sister, but at some point between ten o’clock last night and this morning, the crushing weight on my heart had lifted slightly, and my first thought upon waking was not of Grace or the upcoming ball, but of a servant who washed up in the kitchen downstairs.
I looked at my clock. Jenny would be along at any second to let me know what the day had in store. As if on cue, the door opened, and she appeared with a folio in her hand. At the very same time, the other door opened and Elise came bounding in.
“Is that what I think it is?” her eyes opened wide as she took in the folio in Jenny’s hand.
“It’s the list of men coming to the ball. Their photos and a little information about each of them are in there. It’s for Charmaine’s eyes only,” she said, ignoring Elise’s exuberance and passing it to me.
Elise, in turn, ignored her and jumped onto the bed beside me as I opened the folio to the first bachelor.
“Wow, he’s ugly,” remarked Elise. “Why does he only have three teeth?”
“You heard Jenny, you aren’t supposed to be looking at this,” I pulled it away from her prying eyes. I couldn’t go through it with her commenting on the appearance of every guy in there.
“Why
?” she sniffed.
“I don’t know. Maybe they don’t want anyone else falling in love with these guys before I do.”
“I already am in love with them.” She danced around the room with a silly grin on her face.
“You should go. I need to shower.” It was a lie. I was sure to get scrubbed down in the marble room again later, but I wanted to look through the list in peace.
“Ok,” Elise singsonged. “I’ll see you later.”
Jenny sighed as Elise left the room. “I’ll be off too. I’ll be testing you on their names after breakfast, so try and remember some of them, ok?”
She closed the door behind her, leaving me alone with a hundred photographs of men, one of which I was supposed to marry within the next six months.
I opened the folio and stared at the first photo. It was a grainy black and white picture that was clearly years old. I could see Elise’s point. He did look like he only had three teeth. I read the name printed underneath.
Julius Darwin III
Landowner
Landowner? What did that even mean? Is that all he did? Own land? I put it down to my side, beginning a pile that would firmly be labeled, nope.
An hour later and my nope pile was getting ridiculously high. I’d put three photos on my maybe pile, and my yes pile was sadly deficient. I’d only included the three in the maybe pile because I thought Elise might like them.
There was a knock at my door.
“Come in.”
Cynder walked in with a large silver tray containing cereal and fruit. My heart leapt when I saw him.
“The queen noticed you hadn’t been down for breakfast, so she sent instructions to the kitchen to have something light brought up for you. I asked Pascal if I could bring it up.”
I eyed up the bland looking cereal and sighed. “I’d kill for a bacon sandwich.”
“I knew you’d say that!” He grinned, pulling a paper bag from his back pocket. Immediately, the aroma of bacon filled the air.
Charm (A Cinderella reverse fairytale) (Reverse Fairytales Book 1) Page 4