A Cinderella Retelling

by E. L. Tenenbaum

  The knock at my door nearly startled me out of my wits, and I pressed my hand against my chest to keep my heart from flying out.

  “Enter,” I called, when I’d regained my voice.

  A head full of wonderfully wavy black hair popped up behind the door. The color seemed even darker against the white, white skin of the face—

  “Princess Lyla!” I cried, jumping up and rushing toward her. I would have been afraid to hug her, but I was too happy then to see a familiar face.

  Princess Lyla laughed, glad at the reaction she’d elicited. “It’s not Princess Lyla anymore,” she said, “for we are to be cousins of a sort. We are just Lyla and Ella.”

  A princess had just given me leave to call her by her first name! Was there no end to the wonders of my life?

  “What brings you here?” I stammered to correct myself. “What brings you here tonight?”

  “Us,” Lyla corrected, opening the door wide enough for two beautiful women to enter behind her.

  The first had long, lovely blond hair that sparkled like gold in the candlelight. Her white skin was luminescent as an angel’s and she had beautifully shaped coral lips. Scampering in behind her was an adorable little spaniel, who slid along the polished wood floor each time he tried to change directions.

  “Oh dear, I hope you don’t mind,” she spluttered.

  “Not at all—” I began, but she was already rushing past me to chase after him. It was odd to notice then, but she had an uncommon grace about her, even when running after a slippery puppy.

  “Mopsey. Mopsey!”

  Lyla laughed and shook her head at the puppy. “She’ll be running after him the whole night. Good thing the twins are asleep.”

  My eyes bulged after the angelic woman, captivatingly beautiful, though not in the same way as Lyla. She didn’t have one child, but two?

  Catching the look on my face, Lyla answered aloud for me. As it turned out, Lyla would be one of my best sources of information on royalty in the palace. Why she ever took a shine to me is still beyond my comprehension, but I’m forever grateful that she did.

  “Queen Alaina is a bit older than she looks. The first to be ‘awoken’ by true love’s kiss,” Lyla explained with a smirk that hinted at a joke within the wording. “She has a little boy and a little girl and they’re both as adorable and mischievous as that puppy. We persuaded her to let the nursemaids put them to sleep so she could sneak here with us.”

  “I’m very grateful, Your Majesty,” I said after the queen, who was working on tugging a fur lined slipper out of the spaniel’s mouth.

  I wasn’t even sure it was my slipper with so many new things to keep track of, and only confirmed it when I noticed that everyone else still had both shoes on.

  “This is Princess Kiara of Delphe.”

  Lyla gestured to the second woman, a true beauty not just because of her perfect ringlets of brown hair or the incredibly delicate features of her face, but also because there was something about her that radiated outward, making her all the more beautiful. I would call it graciousness, patience, or even temperament, all of which I would find out to be true, but the strongest feeling from her was a sense of absolute acceptance of whomever was before her. Her unique beauty was a reflection of the beauty she so easily saw in others, even fearsome beasts.

  “She also had two horrific sisters,” Lyla whispered to me.

  Princess Kiara reached out with both hands to clasp one of mine in hers. “We are so happy for you, Ella,” she said with a warm smile I believed to be genuine.

  I had to blink back tears, so overwhelmed was I that they had come to visit, that they so readily accepted me into their august circle. All had journeyed from their kingdoms to be here, and instead of taking the night off, they had chosen to see me. Ella. Cinderwench. Of all people. I felt so out of place in that room. Neither a beauty nor a princess, I had no gifts from faeries, only tinted eyes and tiny feet. What could I add to this little royal group?

  “Now,” Lyla began, and it was then I noticed the bottle of wine in her hand, “as you’ll be too excited to sleep tonight, we’ll while away some of the hours with you.”

  “Some of the hours?” I repeated.

  The other three laughed at my innocence.

  “We won’t be here all night,” Kiara elaborated, “just long enough to calm your nerves. You’ll have time enough for beauty sleep—”

  “Which really works,” Alaina interjected with a wink.

  “—though you scarcely need it,” Kiara finished.

  It was becoming clearer how she could be the one from the four of us to have married a man once considered a beast. Little did I know…

  “Come now,” Lyla called, beckoning us to my sitting area and popping the cork on the bottle to pour us each some wine. She handed out the glasses, then motioned us to raise them with hers. “To Alex and Ella,” she proclaimed. “To a true happily ever after,” she added with an undisguised—I thought then unwarranted—tinge of sadness to her voice.

  “To Alex and Ella,” the others chimed.

  Scarcely had the wine touched our lips then Lyla jumped forward. For whatever reason, she’d set herself on taking me under her wing, and it seemed she wouldn’t let me go tonight without making me feel accepted. More than she already had.

  “Kiara plays the harp divinely,” she said, “and Alaina sings like a nightingale.” She glanced around the room as if I kept either of them at hand.

  “I don’t play any instrument,” I told her quickly, before she had a chance to take my rooms apart in her intense search of one.

  Lyla stuck out her lower lip, pouting and thinking. “Then we’ll have to bring some here!” she proclaimed.

  “Surely, Lyla, it’s not that important,” Queen Alaina tried to temper her.

  Lyla glanced at Kiara, who shrugged back in return. “How far is the music room from here?” she asked her.

  That was good enough for Lyla. “Come along then,” she commanded all of us.

  Only Lyla, in a room of royalty where one woman even outranked her, would dare take charge like that. I would realize it was part of her air. Like a streak of lightning across a darkened sky, in the same way she dared anyone to be more beautiful than she, she dared the whole world to try and bottle her electricity. It was both frightening and exhilarating to be around.

  After a small tussle involving me figuring out what I could or could not wear for our short walk to the music room and locating slippers unmangled by a dog which took longer as the others admired my new gowns and offered some tips on dressing, Lyla bustled us out of my quarters. Apparently, the palace had three music rooms, and I’d only known of one.

  We had just made it out of my chambers and past the cadre of guards—which included some of the queen’s, some of the princess’, and some of mine—when a deep voice stopped us in our tracks.

  “What mischief brews here, Lady Ella?” The question seemed to reverberate in the very floor beneath us.

  We turned around to face the captain of the prince’s guard, the rest of our guards a few paces behind him. They’d turned to follow us when we thought to sneak out, but only the captain was daring enough to ask the question.

  Lyla rolled her eyes at him, a habit no doubt developed from her relatively frequent encounters with him and his prince. “We’re having a ladies’ night, Captain,” she said sweetly.

  The captain looked toward me, which I supposed was right, given as I was the one he was now sworn to protect. “Now?”

  I answered before Lyla could. “We’re just going to play a little music, that’s all. I’ll be back before curfew,” I couldn’t help adding in. Lyla snickered beside me.

  The captain didn’t change his expression. “Very well. Please let the guards know if there’s anything you need.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” I said kindly. “Good night.”

  “Good night, Lady Ella,” he replied. He dipped his head to the others. “Your Majesty, Your Highness, Princess.” />
  “I freely admit that it isn’t easy getting used to people actually caring about my whereabouts,” I confessed to the others as we continued on.

  “It’s always nice to have someone care if you’re there or not,” Kiara reassured me.

  “You were blessed in so many ways,” Alaina added, then she let out a harsh laugh. “My mother-in-law was an ogress.”

  Lyla shared her laughter, no doubt thinking of her own stepmother who wanted to eat her heart. Walking with them down the hall, I had an eerie moment when it felt that I was really above us, floating along while the four of us chatted and giggled below. Aside from myself, the smallest, the youngest, the most naïve of the bunch, I saw three beautiful portraits of royalty. Three dynamic, courageous women, who had all survived something, who had all accepted, defeated, overcome to gain their happily ever after.

  What I didn’t know then was that none of us ever truly had it at all.

  As Long as We Both Shall Live

  There hasn’t been, and I suppose won’t ever be, much to compare to the day of my wedding. Even now, after all that’s happened, the magic of that day hasn’t faded. So much of it has to do with the aura, the excitement, the general atmosphere of a royal wedding. On that day, kings and queens, princes and princesses, dukes, duchesses, and dignitaries from all over the realms gathered solely to celebrate together in peace and happiness. So long as no one said something out of line when drunk, there would be no wars between us, for at least another week.

  I could spend days describing the ceremony, the celebration, the gowns, the clothing, the jewelry, the food, the people, everything. But try as I might these years later, I have found no words to encapsulate the way I felt that day, when for the first time the sun shone brightly upon my future. Though I had already lived in the palace three months, though I had been catered to my every whim, though a tree had been uprooted and a pond dug in my name, the moment my dress was fastened behind me, the moment I slid on a new pair of Castarrean glass slippers, I became another person. Rather, I stepped into another world and left behind everything and anything I had ever known. My life would never be what it was.

  It would be far worse.

  But I didn’t know that yet. All I knew was that whatever glory Marie’s magic had woven for me was little compared to the dress four seamstresses spent three months creating for my wedding day.

  Made out of silk billowy as a cloud, so soft I thought my hand would fall through it, and though I was wrapped in yards and yards of it, I didn’t feel its weight at all. The entire bodice was covered with tiny crushed crystals which spilled down my waist before tapering off like fine mist over the skirt of my dress. The crystals were so small they were hardly visible, but they caught the light and shone like dozens of tiny rainbows. Were I to stand in a dark, mirrored room, one candle could illuminate my dress and thusly the whole room in a kaleidoscope of color.

  Along the bottom half of my layered skirts, attached with real silver thread, was a garden of delicate white plumerias clustered along the front of the dress then scattered behind onto the long, long white train of my gown as if I was dropping them as I walked. Fresh dahlias had been cut and wrapped in a thick white bow for my bridal bouquet. A comb was stuck into the frail lace of my diamond studded veil until the prince would lift it and my world would be full again.

  “Kings and queens, princes and princesses, noble people of the realms,” the ceremony began, “His Royal Majesty, King William Robert Alexander, the fair and just, welcomes you to Laurendale in celebration of the wedding of his son, His Royal Highness, Prince Henri Christopher Charles Alexander, to the Lady Ella.”

  I haven’t much to say about the rest of the ceremony itself because I don’t remember it. I was too dazed with disbelief, ecstasy, and exhilaration to register anything before the moment the prince slid the gold ring onto my finger and the guests threw rice as we retreated down the aisle. As for the guests, I didn’t know most of them, but I knew all were important.

  I recognized Lyla, of course, and assumed the handsome man standing beside her with hair streaked gray like a wolf’s was her Prince Daimyon. I caught sight of Queen Alaina beside her king, each struggling to contain a squirming toddler, and I suspect from the way the queen kept sliding her foot, a loveable spaniel as well. Princess Kiara stood next to a mountain of a man who, though handsome, looked as though darkness clung to his shadow. Only Kiara, dwarfed as she was by his enormous frame, could still so distinctly shine beside him. And, though it may have only been my imagination, I’m quite certain I saw Marie hovering briefly somewhere past the crowd.

  Aside from the prince, and perhaps my new friends, there really was no one else that I cared for to be at the wedding. I don’t even know if my father came. The only thing that would have made a perfect day complete was if my mother had been there to see it.

  After the ceremony was over, my new husband took my hand and led me down the aisle to the cheers and good wishes of all gathered. We had just crossed the threshold of the chapel, ready to lead everyone to the first of several days of festivities and feasting, when three swirls of color materialized at our feet. We pulled short abruptly and looking down was the only time that day when my joy was not absolute.

  On the ground, groveling at our feet, were Madame, Maybelle, and Calliope. I did not know then how they got there. Had anyone asked, I would have refused them entry to the palace island. The captain had already cleared the path for us, Sir Percival was the only other member of the royal entourage who could have recognized them and sent them on their way. He had also exited with the captain and the only one who had left the chapel before us. From what I would learn about him, I suspect that little scene at the entrance was Sir Percival’s doing.

  My prince kept his poise intact, but not without an annoyed click of his tongue and a quick flick of daggers from his eyes. He didn’t want to see them either. He had no patience, no desire to be reminded of the house or circumstances I had come from.

  While her daughters couldn’t control their scared doe-eyes from darting back and forth between me and the prince, Madame focused her stricken gaze upon me.

  “Please—” she began.

  “Rise,” the prince growled at her.

  Hesitantly, she stood, her legs unsteady, her head bowed. After the initial courage that brought her to our feet, it took her some time to find her voice again.

  “Please, Cinder… Please, Ella,” she pleaded, “please forgive us for what we’ve done to you.”

  Perhaps, if we were alone somewhere in my chambers, perhaps if I had nothing else to do but pick a new color paint for my room, I would have stood over her cowering frame and demanded she recount for me in detail every one of her sins against me. I would have liked to know if she even knew what she’d done, if she’d known the extent of the damage her words and actions had on an innocent, motherless girl. I had given her a chance to be mother to me. I had offered her my love and my kindness. But she wanted none of it. She’d thrown it all back at me, the only things I had to give, into the gutter where she thought I also belonged.

  And now she had the audacity to confront me on my wedding day and ask for forgiveness. She truly couldn’t leave any good untainted.

  However, it was my wedding day. I had just become royalty, bestowed with favor beyond the cumulative treasures of my imagination. Hundreds of people were gathered to celebrate and thousands more would hear of all that occurred. Could I not forgive her in the face of it all?

  Only my husband knew how my hand tightened in protest around his arm.

  Yet it was something more that led me to say the three simple words, “I forgive you,” loud enough that anyone who cared to could hear.

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt that my mother had come down to bless my new life after all. It wasn’t until then that I understood that there are some parts of me that would never change, because even with nothing—even with everything—I always had kindness. Madame had nothing, even when it seeme
d she had everything.

  I didn’t stay around for thanks I didn’t want and wasn’t anyway sure were coming. I didn’t need anything from them anymore. I sincerely hoped that no one expected me to ever invite them to the palace. Lentil soup would be on the menu if they ever were. I walked away and left them behind with everything else from my past.

  The rest of the week flew by in a blur, but the one thing that needs mentioning, the one thing I remember clearest of all, was that first night the prince came to my chambers. The rest of the palace hadn’t yet gone to sleep, and their merrymaking would continue into the wee hours of the morning. As for us, we were exhausted, and simply wanted to be alone.

  His gentle knock announced his arrival and the flutter it set off in my stomach was enough to produce one butterfly for each flower on my wedding gown. Earlier, Javotte had prepared me for the prince’s arrival, and though I was excited I was nervous, too.

  “Prince Char…Alexander,” I greeted him as I opened the door.

  “Princess Ella,” he replied with a kiss.

  The prince didn’t seem to be sharing my nerves. He sauntered into the room with a jug of wine, though I’m sure now he’d had enough before he came. He smiled as if he’d conquered a neighboring kingdom. Lyla’s most likely. He set down the jug and scooped me into his arms, spinning me around and around, me giggling and clinging to his neck, until he was too dizzy to stand. Even when he stopped, he didn’t set me down right away. He held me closer as if he too were savoring every precious first moment of the rest of our lives together.

  “A prettier bride, I never did see,” he sang, as he prepared two glasses and filled them from the jug.

  “Certainly more than the groom,” I teased.

  The prince spun to glare at me before he realized I was joking.

  I stepped closer to him. “And why would I want them looking at you, anyway?” I wanted to know.