by Shea, K. M.
“No, Step-Mother. He was here for me,” Cinderella said.
Lady Klara folded her hands in front of her. “I see. I apologize for detaining you so. Carry on.”
“Thank you, Step-Mother,” Cinderella said, curtseying before she fled the room, shivering. Lady Klara had that effect on her. The woman never liked Cinderella’s father, and Cinderella was no better in her eyes.
Cinderella co-existed with her step-family because their presence made her unmarried state possible. Without them, Cinderella would not be chaperoned, and Aveyron would be snatched from her by the queen of Erlauf before Cinderella could turn eighteen.
However, whatever positives there were to their presence, Cinderella still disliked them—and the feeling was mutual. Lady Klara was from Erlauf. She was the widow of an army officer who was slain in battle.
Housing the enemy, feeding them, and seeing to their desires rankled Cinderella. Thankfully, they seemed to dislike their housing situation as much as Cinderella did, and mostly kept to their rooms or spent all of their time with other Erlauf friends.
“It seems those from Erlauf will not give me rest,” Cinderella said. “I wish they would all just leave.”
“The Erlauf Count Linz once stayed here. During his visit he…,” Cinderella trailed off as she watched another squad of Erlauf soldiers troop past. They seemed to be out in high numbers today. She would have to wait to perform one of her less-than-legal errands thanks to the sudden influx.
“Cinderella?” the Colonel said, shattering Cinderella’s thoughts.
“Yes?”
“What did this count do during his stay?” the Colonel said before he yawned.
“He broke his toe and hobbled for the rest of his life. This way, please,” Cinderella said, holding up her makeshift flag as she led the Colonel and her maid deeper into the historic district of Werra.
“You made that up,” the Colonel said.
“I did not.”
“You must have. You cannot tell me a Trieux history book would contain that kind of information. No Erlauf historic text would.”
“It’s true,” Cinderella said, passing five soldiers as she led the Colonel through what remained of the Royal Gardens.
“Mademoiselle!”
Cinderella paused, recognizing the voice.
“Mademoiselle Cinderella,” a young boy called as he scurried to catch up.
Cinderella squinted, recognizing the young boy as a servant from Aveyron. If memory served her correctly he was the youngest shepherd in the duchy. “Yes, Florian?” she asked.
“Vitore sent me. She needs assistance,” the young boy said, panting.
“Is something wrong?”
Florian shook his head. “Customer bought out all our potatoes for the day.”
“Didn’t we bring a dozen bushels?” Cinderella asked.
“Aye. Cook up at the castle bought ‘em, but he needs help transporting ‘em. Someone needs to mind the stall while Vitore ‘n me deliver the potatoes,” Florian said.
Cinderella almost clapped her hands in glee. All the potatoes were sold out? And it was still moderately early in the day. What good luck!
“Of course we can return,” Cinderella said.
“Are you going refuse to give me my money’s worth, then?” the Colonel asked, his voice lazy.
Cinderella winced. She had forgotten him. “No, of course not, sir.”
In Cinderella’s hesitation the housemaid stepped forward. “I will go will go with young Florian.”
Cinderella’s sense of decorum briefly fought with her great desire for money. “Are you sure you do not mind?” Cinderella asked as the housemaid stalked closer.
“If you will pardon me, Mademoiselle, I will send someone from the market to watch you. The Tanner’s wife, perhaps,” the maid said, whispering to Cinderella.
Cinderella smiled in relief. “Very well. That sounds excellent, thank you.”
The shepherd and maid bobbed in a bow and a curtsey before they scrambled in the direction of the market.
Cinderella watched them go before she continued on her course, heading through the historical district.
“Where are we going?” the Colonel asked.
“To the Ruins of Alsace,” she said, naming a historic Trieux building that Erlauf had torn down.
“We’ve already visited Alsace. Twice.”
“Yes, but I did not tell you all there is to know of it,” Cinderella said.
“I can hardly wait to hear more,” the Colonel said, his voice lacking enthusiasm.
Cinderella glanced over her shoulder. The bored Colonel stared at her, and behind him walked the five soldiers from the gardens. “I am sure,” Cinderella said.
“When will you desist playing tour guide?” the Colonel said.
“I should think never. It is the greatest aspiration of my life to give historic tours,” Cinderella lied as they approached the toppled building. The grounds surrounding it were a wreckage of rubble and stone.
The Colonel snorted. “I see. I suppose those of Trieux have a different, perhaps inferior, sort of aspiration they shoot for.”
Cinderella stopped and swung around to face him. She was about to blast him with some sharp words she would regret later but was silenced by the sight of the five Erlauf guards.
They followed Cinderella and the Colonel all the way to the ruins, an area rarely patrolled, and even less often frequented by normal citizens.
“…Cinderella?” the Colonel said.
Cinderella tilted her head as she studied the soldiers.
The Colonel briefly turned to see what Cinderella gawked at. “Pay them no mind,” he said, returning his attention to Cinderella.
Cinderella ignored his advice. There was something off about the soldiers. Cinderella watched as one of the men swung a quiver off his back. Her heart stopped when she realized what it was.
The soldiers were dressed in Erlauf burgundy and gray, but their quivers held arrows fletched with feathers dyed Trieux lavender, and their swords were the ornate, beautiful kind Trieux nobles used to use.
They were not Erlauf soldiers.
They were assassins.
Cinderella shifted her gaze from the assailants to the Colonel. He stared back at her with boredom.
He didn’t know.
Cinderella could make an excuse and dart off, and he would be killed. One despicable Erlauf officer would be wiped from the world, and one of her problems would be solved.
She could be wrong. Maybe they weren’t here to kill him, but no one would blame her if she didn’t speak up, right?
The Colonel blinked his dark eye at her. “Cinderella? Are you finally done?”
All she had to do was leave.
The assailants spread out in a formation, giving her the opportunity to turn her back.
But she couldn’t.
Cinderella scrunched her nose up. “Blast,” she said before grabbing the Colonel’s hand. “Come on.”
“What?” the Colonel said, sounding amused as Cinderella dragged him into the ruins.
“Don’t slouch along, run,” Cinderella hissed, jumping a fallen support beam. She pulled him behind a crumbling wall. “Stay down,” she ordered before she peeked around the wall, looking for the men.
“What has gotten into you?”
“Those weren’t Erlauf soldiers,” Cinderella said.
“What are you talking about? Of course they were.”
“Then why did they carry Trieux weapons?” Cinderella asked, glancing at the crouching colonel.
“What?” he said.
“They were obviously hired to kill you,” Cinderella whispered, spotting a soldier who was headed into the stone maze of the ruins.
“Impossible,” the Colonel scoffed.
Cinderella ducked, avoiding an arrow that clipped the wall.
“Impossible, you say,” Cinderella said, her voice dead.
“What about you? You aren’t a no-name. They could be after you,” the Co
lonel argued as Cinderella abandoned her flag and indicated he should follow her.
“Why would they kill me with Trieux-fletched arrows?” Cinderella asked, jumping a toppled wall before she darted into what once was an office. It was one of the few room in the building in which all four walls were still intact.
The Colonel said nothing, but stepped in front of Cinderella, as if to take the lead. “No you don’t,” Cinderella said, sliding in front of him. “You have no idea where we are. I’m leading.”
“The situation has changed, Lady Lacreux. This is no historic tour,” the Colonel said. Somewhere along their flight, he had unsheathed his sword. He held it so naturally at his side Cinderella hadn’t noticed it until he brought it near to her body.
“Don’t you think I know that? But you cannot fight five men. We have no choice; we must retreat. You don’t know where we are, and I do; therefore, I lead,” Cinderella said, starting through an open doorway.
“You’re a civilian. You aren’t trained in evasion techniques.”
Cinderella snorted. “I’m certainly a great deal more trained at evading in Werra than you are,” Cinderella said, heading for a winding staircase posted in the corner of the room. It led to the second floor, which was visible through great, gaping holes in the ceiling.
“Are you kidding? This cannot be stable enough to hold us,” the Colonel said.
“Would you stop fussing and just follow me? You’re wasting time,” Cinderella said, halfway up the staircase.
“This is insane.”
“Walk only where I walk,” Cinderella instructed when the Colonel joined her on the second floor.
Cinderella edged down the hallway, navigating her way through yawning chasms and weak floors. Although the air was cool, sweat beaded on her forehead. She tensed when a floorboard creaked when the Colonel stepped on it, but it held him.
When Cinderella heard footfalls on the stairs, she led the Colonel into a side room. Most of the floor was gone. Cinderella thought the Colonel would hiss something at her, but he was quiet and faced the hallway, crouched in a defensive position.
Cinderella grabbed a ladder that leaned against the closest wall. With the ease brought by practice, she lowered the ladder across the hole. She fixed it between two support beams, creating a precarious bridge.
“Come on,” Cinderella said crawling across the hole.
“Will it hold me?” the Colonel asked.
“I should think so. A quite obese soldier used it once and it didn’t budge then. Come,” Cinderella bid.
Rather than shuffle across on his knees, as Cinderella had done, the Colonel stooped and leaped from rung to rung, his sword outstretched.
The ladder buckled, but the Colonel safely crossed. Cinderella hauled the ladder across the gap. A lavender fletched arrow struck the ladder from below.
The assailants worked soundlessly. They did not call to one another, but Cinderella could hear the pattern in their footfalls.
Cinderella slid the ladder across the small bit of floor and threw a rock into the next room. She stepped up onto the crumbling outer wall—which was only a foot or two above the floor—and motioned for the Colonel to join her. When he did, she took another brick and threw it into the room she slid the ladder into.
Cinderella heard the thud of an arrow embedding into wood in the next room—her mislead had worked—before she picked her way along the crumbling perimeter wall.
Cinderella and the Colonel shuffled along, traveling the length of the building. When they reached the far end—the same end at which they entered the ruins—Cinderella shimmied down a thick length of ivy.
When she reached the ground, the Colonel slid halfway done the vine before letting go and dropping with the elegance of a cat.
It was unfortunate, but besides the rubble, Alsace was stranded in an expanse of green lawn. Thankfully, once they cleared the park, soldiers were close.
“We go this way,” Cinderella whispered, pointing in the direction of the Royal Trieux Library. “There are more patrols there. We will run into reinforcements faster. Ready?”
“Yes,” the Colonel said before he and Cinderella started running.
Cinderella was grateful for her knee-length skirts—sprinting in a full-length dress would have been torture—although she kicked up pebbles that stung her bare skin.
Cinderella didn’t hear the soldiers, but the Colonel must have, for he wrenched Cinderella aside just in time to avoid getting hit by an arrow.
A soldier with a bow stood on the second floor of the ruins. He fitted another arrow to his bow as one of his companions chased after Cinderella and the Colonel, Trieux sword extended.
The Colonel dragged Cinderella in a serpentine pattern, snaking back and forth. It kept the archer from taking an easy shot, but it let the soldier with the sword catch up.
The archer shot at the Colonel just before they darted in between two buildings. He missed, but they weren’t safe yet. There were still another two blocks to run before they could join the swirling masses of Werra.
Cinderella yelped when the pursing soldier caught the hem of her skirts and yanked her backwards.
The Colonel could have left Cinderella there. If he was smart, he would have. Instead, he lunged after her. He sliced through Cinderella’s skirts—shortening the back by several inches but freeing her—and kneed the soldier in the side.
He nailed the soldier in the sternum with the hilt of his sword, driving the man back, before grabbing the soldier by the throat and smashing his head against a wall.
The man wore a helmet—so it did not knock him out—but it jarred him enough that the Colonel was able to kick his feet out from under him and slam him to the ground.
“Keep running,” the Colonel said.
Guessing what he was about to do, Cinderella turned on her heels and fled.
The Colonel joined her a few moments later, his sword red with blood.
Cinderella shivered, her blood chilled, but she could hear the noises of activity and animals. She sucked in air before screaming, “HELP!”
The Colonel blew a metal whistle and hauled Cinderella along by her elbow. They ran an additional block before they were surrounded by a sea of Erlauf soldiers wearing the dragon-plate-like armor and dressed in Erlauf burgundy.
“Five men. One is down one street back, dead. Two archers, one dagger user, and another swordsman,” the Colonel said.
Two squads peeled off from the mass of soldiers, heading for the ruins of Alsace. The remaining soldiers moved into an organized, protective formation around Cinderella and the Colonel.
Cinderella stared at the Colonel’s bloodied sword.
“Cinderella.”
Cinderella snapped her head up so fast her neck cracked. “Yes?”
“Are you well? Were you hurt?” the Colonel said.
“I’m fine,” Cinderella said, her voice sounding muffled and echo-y to her ears.
“It’s important—the weapons were likely laced with poison. Did the swordsman even graze you?” the Colonel said.
Cinderella rocked back and forth on her feet. “No. I stumbled in the ruins, but that’s all,” she said, her eyes falling back to the Colonel’s sword. “I don’t feel very well,” she said before her legs gave out underneath her.
Something roared in her ears. All Cinderella could think of was the Colonel’s red sword and the man he killed. She was vaguely aware that the soldiers around her stirred.
“—see she receives medical attention for you, sir.”
“No, I will take her there myself. It’s just shock, I think. No small wonder. I doubt she was ever chased by assassins before,” the Colonel said.
Cinderella felt arms around her before she was picked off the ground. She would have protested, but her vision was blurry, and it felt like her heart might pop out of her chest.
“She didn’t run off and leave you?”
“No. I’m ashamed to admit it, but she was the one who noticed…”
&nbs
p; “—brave little thing.”
“Yes.”
Cinderella’s head rolled back against her will, and she lost track of the conversation as her stomach heaved. “I’m going to be sick,” she said.
The Colonel and his soldiers didn’t react fast enough.
Half an hour later, Cinderella sat in a guardhouse with a steaming cup of tea in front of her. Two soldiers were posted at the door, stone-faced and holding wicked-looking scythes.
“May I go home?” Cinderella meekly asked.
They ignored her.
Cinderella looked back at her tea, inhaling the soothing, herbal scent.
The Colonel entered the room, his hair damp—probably from bathing—and wearing a fresh uniform.
Cinderella guilty looked away. “I apologize,” she said.
“It was understandable. Normally, I would have let you lie down where you were, but I did not want to leave you so close to danger,” the Colonel said.
Cinderella grimaced, upset with herself and with the Colonel. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t stand the slaughter. But there was something shameful about throwing up on the man who was carrying her to safety.
“The nurse reported you were fine,” the Colonel said.
Cinderella leaned into the steam of her cup. “Yes. May I please go home now?”
“Not yet,” the Colonel said, taking a seat across from Cinderella. He clasped his hands together and stared at her with an alarming amount of intensity. “Why?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Why did you tell me? You could have made an excuse and left. They would not have followed you. Why did you run with me?” the Colonel said.
Cinderella pressed her lips together and said nothing.
The silence stretched between them, twisting around Cinderella like a snake.
“Why not?” Cinderella finally said.
“Look at me, Cinderella,” the Colonel said, his voice sharp like the edge of a sword. “I want an answer. My country has done its best to grind you under its heel. You hate me and everything I stand for. Why?”
Cinderella squirmed under the Colonel’s intense gaze before blurting out, “Because you’re still a person. You’re an Erlauf officer, but even Erlauf soldiers deserve life. I won’t just sit there and watch someone be murdered in cold blood, even if the victim would be you. It’s wrong. It’s horrible.”