by Shea, K. M.
Another soldier smacked the back of Gustav’s head.
“What he means to say,” Ivo drawled. “Is he never knew Erlauf history was entrenched so deeply in Trieux.”
The rest of the tour attendees nodded in agreement with Ivo.
Friedrich sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“He’s being selfish by trying to keep all this historical knowledge to himself,” Cinderella murmured.
“I heard that,” Friedrich said.
“You were meant to,” Cinderella said with a smile as sweet as fresh baked pastries.
“I suppose even if I tried to stop this, you would not stand for it?” Friedrich asked.
“I would want them to get their money’s worth, else I would feel terrible,” Cinderella said.
Friedrich studied his men with his stoniest look. Kurt and Ivo stood strong, but Gustav and a few others shivered. “Just this once,” he said to them. “Never again. Tell anyone back at camp with the same harebrained scheme: NO.”
“Yes, sir,” his men said, saluting him.
“Well then, let us continue. As I was saying, down this road one may find the historical building of Volognex.”
“Oohhhh,” Gustav said in appreciation.
“Quite so. It is famous because…,” Cinderella’s voice trailed out of hearing range as the soldiers trailed after her like a herd of attentive cows.
Friedrich adjusted his hat. “I want them to like her. I want her to like them,” he repeated to himself. He groaned as he headed back to his friends. “Who am I kidding? Diederick is right. She is a firecracker.”
Chapter 9
Cinderella stood in the field of flowers, her bare feet wet from the morning dew, and watched beautiful flowers of gold and sunshine yellow sway in the breeze. Because of their circular shape and the way they swayed, the Sun Skip flowers looked like tiny suns bounding across the field.
The wind tugged at Cinderella’s apron and skirts, and she clamped her chin-length hair to head with her hands as she looked at her gorgeous crop. “I don’t know if they’re going to sell, but they are beautiful,” she said, her gray eyes softening as she inhaled the sweet fragrance.
“It is as you say, Mademoiselle,” Gilbert said.
Two months ago, Friedrich had first given her the flower seeds. Now, near the last month of summer, it was time to test his words. “Cut enough to fill a dozen buckets. We’ll take some to the market today,” Cinderella said.
“I will inform the men, Mademoiselle,” Gilbert said.
“Thank you,” Cinderella said, turning from the field. “There is something I must do. It will take but a minute,” Cinderella said.
“Of course, Mademoiselle,” Gilbert bowed.
Cinderella picked up a wooden bucket, filled it at the kitchen well, and grabbed a ladle before she returned to the flower field. As she walked the perimeter, she watched the servants cut the flowers with great care before arranging them in buckets of water.
“They look striking in the crimson, morning sunlight,” Cinderella said as she stopped by a copse of trees and held out the bucket.
Ivo—one of Friedrich’s men—bowed as he stepped out from behind the tree. “My apologies, Mademoiselle. I did not mean to be intrusive,” he said, taking the bucket.
“You weren’t. It is merely that I know better. One of you is always skulking in my shadow. Or is it more than one today?” Cinderella asked.
“The Colonel has forbidden me from mentioning your three-man guard,” Ivo said before he sipped water from the ladle.
“Three of them? Goodness, my criminal skills are rusting. I only saw you,” Cinderella sighed. “Where are the others?”
“The barn roof and the bushes by the kitchens.”
“I see,” Cinderella said. “I am going to the market as usual. Would you like a ride in the wagon?”
Ivo shook his head. “Thank you for the offer, but we will catch an assailant off guard if he doesn’t see us with you.”
Cinderella squinted up at the grizzled soldier. “It’s been months since Friedrich was attacked. Isn’t the danger over by now?”
“Not as long as the Colonel courts you, Mademoiselle.”
Cinderella sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if your charming Colonel is more trouble than he is worth.”
“It will delight him to hear that you called him charming.”
Cinderella snorted and felt for the chain of her dragon necklace. “Perhaps. Could you signal to your comrades to come out of hiding for a moment? I would like to see you all watered before we leave for the market. It is to be a hot day, and you all make me uncomfortable with your long sleeves and armor.”
“As you wish, Mademoiselle,” Ivo said, holding up a small mirror. He flashed it several times, making sunlight bounce across the land.
Cinderella saw a soldier slide off the cow barn roof, and another slip out of the bushes Cinderella stood by when filling the bucket.
“Thank you, Ivo,” Cinderella said, taking the bucket back. “You are a saint of patience. I don’t know how you stand these boring guard duties.”
Ivo shrugged.
“What?” Cinderella asked.
“The Colonel doesn’t force us to guard you. We sign up for the duty.”
Cinderella tilted her head. “If you will excuse my bluntness: why?”
Ivo shifted, making his weapons clack and his armor creak.
Cinderella flattened her lips. “I will wait until Gustav is on duty and ask him. He will tell me.”
Ivo rolled his eyes, more in disgust over his young associate than Cinderella’s craftiness. “As you wish, Mademoiselle,” he said.
Cinderella grinned and started to walk away. “Carry on, Ivo.”
“Aye-aye, Mademoiselle.”
Cinderella watched Vitore sell an armload of the Sun Skip flowers to a well-to-do Erlauf woman. After the lady passed over the right amount of change, she took her flowers and walked through the market—the flowers marking her with a halo of gold.
“Vitore, how many flowers have we sold?” Cinderella whispered.
“All but one bucket, Mademoiselle,” Vitore whispered back.
“The market opened an hour ago!”
Vitore crossed herself. “Mercy on Aveyron, I never thought flowers would outsell hotcakes.”
“Most of the customers are from Erlauf,” Cinderella said.
“All the customers, except for Madame Marie,” Vitore said.
“This is a strange phenomenon. I thought Friedrich exaggerated the Erlauf love of nature, but perhaps he didn’t. I wonder if we could charge more per flower…”
“Blessings be said over your Colonel. I will never call him a rake or rogue again,” Vitore said looking to the sky with clasped hands.
Cinderella grinned at the maid, but the gossip’s face was creased in seriousness. “Don’t tell him that,” Cinderella said. “He’ll be insufferable with smugness for a week.”
An Erlauf government worker approached the stand, and Vitore lunged to help him.
As the man bought the remaining armful of flowers, Cinderella started making calculations. She had one field of flowers, but she needed to keep some planted in Aveyron so the seeds could be harvested. They cut a small portion of the flowers that morning, and according to the book Friedrich gave her, Sun Skip flowers could be harvested and sold for two weeks.
If they raised the price of the flowers…
“Is it enough, Mademoiselle?” Vitore asked, watching Cinderella count on her fingers.
“It’s not,” Cinderella said.
Vitore drooped.
“But, it’s quite a bit. Depending how high we can raise the price, it could cover a sizable portion of the fine,” Cinderella said.
Vitore smiled. “We will make it, Mademoiselle,” she said.
“I hope so,” Cinderella said.
As Vitore bustled about, collecting the empty buckets, Cinderella tried not to despair. The flowers would take care of a fourth of the fine. It w
as an incredible amount for a single field, much less a single crop. If Aveyron pulled through this, Cinderella would expand the crops to include a variety of flowers. However, there were few other options of fundraising as the rest of Aveyron’s income was already spoken for between upkeep, servant wages, and regular taxes.
Still, chopping a large chunk off the fine was more than Cinderella imagined. Hope was not lost, yet.
“I’m going to step out for a few minutes,” Cinderella said, untying her apron and stowing it beneath a basket.
Vitore raised her eyebrows.
“Yes, I’m going to call on Friedrich,” Cinderella said.
“You needn’t explain yourself to me, Mademoiselle.”
“I doubt that,” Cinderella dourly said. “I won’t be long. I’m sure even Friedrich must be working this early in the morning,” she said, running a hand through her bright, silky hair.
“Of course, Mademoiselle,” Vitore said.
Cinderella shook her skirts. “I won’t be long.”
“You’ve already said that, Mademoiselle.”
“Good morning, Vitore.”
“Good morning, Mademoiselle.”
Cinderella left the cheeky maid and the market, and marched towards the outskirts of Werra. The closer she got to the regiment’s camp, the more it seemed Cinderella left Trieux for Erlauf. Most government officials and officers made their homes near the army camps, and their families milled up and down the streets during the day. Cinderella could tell their country’s heritage because everything about them was darker—their hair, eyes, even their clothes were dark and boring.
Every once in a while, there would be a splash of gold against the muted Erlauf colors—someone wearing a Sun Skip pinned to his shirt, woven into her hair, or set in the band of his hat.
“Such a different culture,” Cinderella murmured.
When she reached the First Regiment’s camp, the soldiers guarding the gates did nothing to stop her. They saluted her, but their eyes passed over her without care. However, as she passed through the gates, a large square of scarlet red cloth was hoisted up the flag pole with the Erlauf flag and the flag of the First Regiment.
The path Cinderella took was dotted with sedate, orderly soldiers. Like the ones at the gate, they all saluted her. Occasionally one or two of the soldiers smiled at her, but most appeared to move along at a brisk pace.
Cinderella was not fooled.
Up in a watch tower, a soldier cawed like a crow, and at the edge of her vision, she saw more than one soldier sprint to the officer’s lodging—her destination—as if hellhounds were after them.
A soldier “accidentally” let go of his patrol dog. The dog bounded up to Cinderella for a petting before the soldier leisurely collected the animal. Berta also “happened” upon Cinderella and invited her to the kitchens.
“Don’t you want a pasty, or Apple rings? You’re just a small morsel. You need to eat more lest the wind carry you off,” Berta said, planting her meaty fists on her hips.
“After,” Cinderella said. “I need to see Friedrich first.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Berta said.
Cinderella was almost to the front door of the officer’s building when a window on the second floor opened.
Friedrich—impossible to miss with his black eye patch, popped out of the window. He sat on the frame before flinging himself off it.
Cinderella held in a shriek, but Friedrich landed with ease. He paused long enough to brush himself off and twitch his Erlauf burgundy jacket into place before speaking. “Cinderella, my Pet, how happy you make me by coming to visit,” Friedrich said, curling an arm around Cinderella’s shoulders.
“You must be the only officer in the whole Army who involves his regiment in his personal relationships,” Cinderella said, slipping out of the arm, although she followed Friedrich away from the building.
“You hurt me, but no. I’ll have you know it’s a family tradition. When my Father courted my Mother, he used an even more elaborate system involving his soldiers. However, he didn’t have a regiment under his disposal, so I would like to think I can still beat his antics,” Friedrich said, moving at a rapid pace.
“Is there a reason we are running away from your office?”
“It’s not my office we’re running from.”
“The general you serve?”
Friedrich hesitated. “Yes. Yes, it is my general I don’t want you to meet. Certainly. You are so sharp,” Friedrich said, reaching for Cinderella’s hand.
Cinderella darted out of range. “You’re lying.”
“Pet! How could you say such a thing? I am deeply wounded,” Friedrich said, relaxing after they darted behind the mess hall—which was finished and fully operational.
“I doubt that. You will be a gloating monster after you hear my news,” Cinderella said.
“You’ve decided to stop denying your feelings and plan to elope and run away with me?” Friedrich said, perking with interest.
“No.”
“Oh,” Friedrich said, easing back into a stance of nonchalance. “Then no. I don’t think I will be doing much gloating.”
“I am here to humble myself and admit you were right in your advice to plant flowers.”
“So they’ve bloomed, then?”
“They’ve bloomed, and I sold a batch at the market this morning.”
“Sold out already, eh?”
“Yes.”
“In all fairness, it seemed unlikely you would ever know that about our culture unless you visited Erlauf. As you haven’t many flowers besides wild flowers here, we don’t often get to express our passion,” Friedrich said.
“All the same, I doubted the wisdom of your words. Thank you for pushing the subject.”
“Of course. Anything for you, Cinderella,” Friedrich said, brushing Cinderella’s cheek with his fingers. “Will you make much off them?”
Cinderella nodded. “A fair amount.”
“But not enough to cover the landholding fine?”
“No.”
Friedrich nodded. “That’s unfortunate.”
“I will keep trying. The summer isn’t over yet,” Cinderella said.
“Perhaps our sweet queen would accept a partial payment?”
“Your queen is a harpy, and I very much doubt she would bend that much,” Cinderella sourly said.
“She’s not so bad,” Friedrich said. “Haven’t you heard? Next week she and the Erlauf Commander—the consort—are reopening the Trieux Royal Library.”
“What?”
“Yes. It has been renamed. It’s now the Erlauf Repository of Stories and Education.”
“That’s a mouthful.”
“They’re calling it the Rose for short. See? I told you flowers are important to us.”
“I believe you, now. I am impressed she means to open it again, but it may not help me. If they limit the patronage—as they did when it was under Trieux rule—it might be even more difficult for me to conduct my farming research. Do you know what the membership fee is? Knowing your queen, I should think it to be the price of a good horse,” Cinderella said.
“No, it’s free.”
“Free?”
Friedrich nodded. “Free for everyone—commoner, servant, noble, Trieux or Erlauf. Everyone can use it.”
Cinderella tucked her head, uncertain. “That’s very…generous.”
“The patrolling soldiers—mostly from the Second Regiment—were relieved to hear the news. With the library opening again, they no longer need to fear embarrassment by the book thief that persists in evading capture,” Friedrich said.
“How fortuitous.”
“There’s going to be an opening ceremony and everything. You should go,” Friedrich said.
“Will you be attending?”
Friedrich sighed. “Alas, I cannot. I am being forced to work myself to the bone for the occasion.”
Cinderella laughed. “You haven’t worked a full day since I’ve met you.”
“That isn’t true,” Friedrich objected.
“Hah!”
“Perhaps I have worked less since becoming acquainted with you. Unfortunately, next week even I cannot weasel my way out of work—though I long to do so.”
“It saddens me to be told that, Fred.”
Friedrich laughed, a sound that caressed Cinderella’s skin like velvet. “At least you are beginning to acknowledge how you pine for me.”
“Speaking of pine, I must return to the market.”
“You pine for that loose-mouthed maid of yours?”
“No, for our customers’ money.”
“Sometimes I worry you will marry me only for my money,” Friedrich said, leaning over her.
Correctly interpreting his movements, Cinderella squirmed to the side before he could kiss her cheek. “One day someone is going to hear the way you moon over me and report back to whatever Erlauf lady your parents have selected for you,” she said.
“It makes no difference. My parents already know all about you,” Friedrich said, losing the jesting edge to his voice.
“What?” Cinderella said, freezing.
“Do you really think I could use my regiment as a sort of go-between and not tell my parents?” Friedrich said.
“Isn’t that a part of sewing wild oats and what not?” Cinderella said, her forehead scrunching. She had the barest sense of what “sewing wild oats” meant, and suspected it was wilder than what she was picturing.
“The moment I chose you I told them,” Friedrich said, sliding his hand under Cinderella’s chin.
Cinderella shifted and avoided looking at Friedrich’s painfully intense eye.
Friedrich sighed. “I wish you would stop clamping up whenever I mention how serious I am,” he said, his voice low like a dog’s growl.
“It’s because you aren’t serious,” Cinderella said. “You always flirt and joke.”
“No, I flirt and joke because I doubt you would stay in my company for longer than a moment if you knew just how serious I am,” Friedrich said, sliding his fingers up Cinderella’s jawline.
Cinderella caught his hand and pulled it away from her face. “Friedrich, I can’t.”
Friedrich sighed and looked up at the sky. “I know.”