Cinderella and the Colonel

by Shea, K. M.

She’s going to help me? Cinderella wondered as she stared at her step-mother. The surprise numbed her body, and she felt slack-jawed.

  “You look surprised,” Lady Klara said, folding her hands in her lap.

  “I am surprised,” Cinderella said.

  Lady Klara sipped her tea and rearranged the papers.

  “Why are you doing this?” Cinderella asked.

  Lady Klara arched a formidable eyebrow. “It was you who requested my help, Cinderella.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t think you would actually give it,” Cinderella said, the words spilling out of her mouth. She hesitated, wondering if she should apologize, before she tucked her head. No, this was important.

  “In spite of what you may believe about those of us from Erlauf, I am not entirely unfeeling, Cinderella,” Lady Klara said.

  “I have been haunted by debts. I have looked to you for help before, but this is the first time you will give it.”

  “Perhaps that is because I could not help you before,” Lady Klara said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I don’t think you understand just how wealthy you are.”

  “…Is that a joke?” Cinderella said. Confused and as hopeful as she was, Cinderella felt so overwhelmed she grew angry. “I have beggared myself and lost most of my possessions to keep this duchy going. I am on the verge of losing it, and you call me wealthy?”

  “Aveyron is twice, no, three time the size of the largest Erlauf estate. Queen Freja has taken so hatefully to you because you are the sole Trieux estate that has lost not a single acre, servant, or animal. If your father was alive and Duke of Aveyron, I very much doubt she would attack you with the same vigor.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your father would have sold parts of Aveyron to keep his personal comforts.”

  “My father was a kind and generous man!” Cinderella said, her eyes flashing.

  “He was, and yet he bought a manor in Loire which you—dressed in a servant’s uniform—stand before me, desiring to sell so you may keep your estate.”

  Cinderella was silent.

  Lady Klara stood, her chin lifted as she fixed her eyes on Cinderella. “Once Queen Freja finishes giving land and titles to army officers, you will own more land than the Erlauf royal family. She fears you, because you have done what no one else has—in Trieux or Erlauf, for we in Erlauf have also been hit with taxes—has done. You are extraordinarily wealthy, just as you are extraordinarily stubborn, Cinderella.”

  Cinderella stared at the floor. “I just want to keep all my servants,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Of this I am aware, which is why I will help you—though my husband must be rolling in his grave,” Lady Klara said. “But as I have neither finances nor influence, this is the only way I can help you: by lending you my name.”

  Cinderella raised her gaze to rest it on Lady Klara. What had Friedrich said? Only the strong could forgive. As Cinderella stood before Lady Klara—the widow of an Erlauf war hero—it occurred to her that Lady Klara must be a very strong individual.

  “Thank you,” Cinderella said, the words falling short of everything she meant to say.

  Lady Klara raised her shoulders in a minute shrug. “Make the arrangements to meet with a financial officer, and I will go with you to make the claim,” she said, strolling over to a window.

  “I’m sorry,” Cinderella said.

  “For?”

  “For the war, for your losses, for judging you without mercy.”

  “Don’t be silly, child. You were just a girl. You cannot be held responsible for any of those things,” Lady Klara said.

  Cinderella shifted.

  “But, Cinderella,” Lady Klara said, turning from the window. “Please consider carefully what you will do with your power.”

  Cinderella swallowed. “Yes, Step-Mother,” she said, curtseying before she left the parlor.

  Her mind spun, and Cinderella had to lean against a wall after she shut the door. It was too much to take in. Her Step-Mother was helping her. Queen Freja targeted her because she would not sell or downsize…

  “What about my marriage?” Cinderella murmured. “Does Queen Freja not realize when I marry I will be forced to sell Aveyron? No one else shares my scruples in selling.”

  Cinderella pushed the thought from her mind. It was more than she could handle at the moment.

  “First I must make the arrangements to pay off the debt. I will free Aveyron from this financial mountain,” Cinderella vowed.

  Cinderella sweated as the government official handling Aveyron’s debts—Lord Diederick—studied the sales bills and receipts for Windtop Manor. It puzzled Cinderella that a titled Erlauf Lord served in the government. Moreover, why was he in charge of debt collection? If there ever was a less glamorous government position, Cinderella certainly hadn’t heard of it.

  “You claim Duke Eugene Lacreux willed this to you, Lady Klara?” Lord Diederick asked, looking at Lady Klara over the wire rims of his eyeglasses.

  “Yes,” Lady Klara said, her voice stiff.

  “And have you proof of this?”

  “Only my word, and his heir’s agreement.”

  “Hmph,” Lord Diederick said, returning his attention to the papers.

  Cinderella discreetly shifted in her summer dress. She did her best to look assured and slightly bored, although she wanted to wring her hands nervously.

  Lady Klara looked as unmovable as a boulder, which is to say not at all different than her usual expression.

  “It appears to be legitimate,” the young lord finally said, pushing the papers aside. “The crown will hold the deed to Windtop Manor until it is sold to pay Aveyron’s debts, if that is what you wish to do with the funds you receive from the sale, Lady Klara?”

  Cinderella waited with baited breath.

  “Of course,” Lady Klara said.

  “Very well,” Lord Diederick said. “There will be an inheritance tax, as this property was not previously reported,” he said, leveling his heavy gaze at Lady Klara and then Cinderella. “And after that, a sales tax. If it is priced reasonably, the sale will pay off Aveyron’s debt and have a small amount remaining, which will naturally go to Lady Klara.”

  “I beg your pardon, there will be some left?” Cinderella frowned.

  “Indeed,” Lord Diederick said.

  Cinderella shook her “How can that be? Is the debt not…” she trailed off when Lord Diederick showed her a scrap of paper.

  “This is the remaining debt,” he said.

  Cinderella stared at the number. The Sun Skips canceled a portion of the debt, but Cinderella knew exactly how much she paid off. The number Lord Diederick showed her was incorrect.

  Cinderella frowned. As much as the smaller debt would delight her, the last thing she needed was Queen Freja harping at her again in several years for failing to pay the entire debt. “I believe there may be a mistake,” she said.

  “There has been no mistake. Over the past few days dozens of individuals have trooped through my offices, reducing Aveyron’s debt with copper and silver coins,” Lord Diederick wryly said.

  “What?” Cinderella said, her forehead wrinkling.

  “A stable boy was the last to come. He left not an hour before your arrival after depositing five copper coins against your debt. A fellow named Gilbert was the first to make a payment, I believe,” Lord Diederick said, rustling papers.

  Cinderella lost the stiffness in her spine and leaned back in her chair. She stared at the ceiling, doing her best to keep from crying.

  Her servants, Aveyron’s employees, were paying off the debt.

  “Is everything alright?” Lord Diederick mildly asked.

  “She is fine, just feeling a bit peckish,” Lady Klara said with her usual lack of audible compassion. “Must you retrieve a supervisor to approve the debt payment plan?”

  “No. My word is more than plenty,” Lord Diederick said, perhaps a little affronted.

&n
bsp; Cinderella closed her eyes, barely listening to the conversation. She felt ashamed. To think she considered fleeing to Windtop, even if it was for a brief moment. I don’t deserve their loyalty. I have done nothing to warrant it.

  “Cinderella, your signature as witness is required,” Lady Klara said.

  Cinderella bit her lip and pushed the feelings aside. “Yes, I apologize,” she said, discreetly brushing tears from her eyes before she fixed a pleasant smile on her face. “Where do I sign?”

  “Here,” Lord Diederick said. “Read the agreement before signing.”

  Cinderella did as he advised and saw nothing alarming. In fact, to her surprise, Lady Klara noted that any surplus profit from Windtop would be used against Aveyron’s land tax.

  “You will hold all paperwork pertaining to Windtop Manor?” Cinderella asked.

  “Until it is sold, yes. Strictly speaking, the fine will not be collected until after the sale. Holding the deed will assure the crown of future compensation.”

  “How fast must Windtop Manor be sold?” Cinderella asked.

  Lord Diederick tapped a spot on the paper. “You have one year. If it fails to sell in that time, the crown will seize Windtop itself as reimbursement for the debt.”

  “That seems reasonable,” Cinderella said. She hesitated a moment longer before she signed the document, freeing Aveyron from Queen Freja’s grasp.

  “Thank you for your valuable time, Lord Diederick,” Lady Klara said, standing.

  “Of course, it is my pleasure to assist you,” Lord Diederick said, pushing away from his enormous desk so he could stand and bow.

  “I’m sure,” Lady Klara said before she curtsied. “I will see you at home, Cinderella.”

  “Yes, Step-Mother,” Cinderella said, following her out of the room.

  “Duchess Lacreux,” Lord Diederick called.

  Lady Klara forged ahead, heedless of the call, but Cinderella paused in the threshold of the lord’s office. “Yes?”

  “I am glad your financial situation is resolved,” Lord Diederick said. “I am a close friend of Colonel Friedrich’s. He was…concerned for you.”

  “I see. In that case, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Diederick,” Cinderella said.

  Lord Diederick bowed again. “The pleasure is mine. In the future, I hope to see you for less…personal circumstances.”

  Cinderella awkwardly nodded. “I agree,” she said, not certain if she meant it. “If you will excuse me, Lord Diederick.”

  “Certainly. Good day to you, Lady Lacreux.”

  “Good day, Lord Diederick.”

  “So, she is free, now,” Diederick said. “For better or for worse, she has squirmed out from the pile of debt and is influence free,” he said before tossing back the rest of his drink.

  Merrich leaned forward to avoid the exuberant jubilation of three farmers seated at the table behind him. “You are giving her quite a long leash. Is that wise?”

  “I don’t want her leashed at all,” Friedrich said. “I want her free.”

  “That sounds terrifying,” Merrich said.

  “It is,” Friedrich said, tracing the rim of his tankard with a thumb. In spite of the uproar in the pub—everyone in the room was drunk or halfway there, excluding Friedrich and his friends—Friedrich retained an aura of intense clarity. “But I want her. And if we’re all to survive this, the country needs her free. I can’t hold it together, not with my duties in the Army. She must be the one to do that.”

  “So the Veneno Conclave representatives had nothing helpful to say, I take it?” Diederick asked.

  Friedrich shook his head and scratched at his eye patch. “They spoke not at all of the magical mishaps taking place worldwide. The Conclave is scared—you can see it in the way the representatives avoid speaking of the sudden outbreak of cursed royalty and the increase in sightings and skirmishes with dark creatures and users of black magic. I think the Conclave means to ignore the problem because they cannot solve it, and they are terrified to admit it.”

  “How can they ignore it? Even if one excludes the creatures, it is indisputable that the royal class is under attack. Prince Severin—restored as he may be—was attacked in his family’s palace and cursed there. There are the twelve princesses of the south no one can seem to cure, and aren’t we still waiting to see if the Sole princess cursed to sleep will slide through her birthday?”

  “If the representatives refused to talk about the dark tide of magic, what did they speak of?” Diederick asked.

  “A lot of pretty things, but mostly they communicated their unhappiness with us for taking over Trieux,” Friedrich said.

  Merrich frowned and didn’t react when the wall next to him was soaked with beer after a tipsy blacksmith threw his mug at the wall. “They’re supposed to be impartial. Can they legally say those kinds of things?”

  “Who is going to take them to court?” Friedrich asked. “No one from Trieux will bother, and Erlauf is tapped out of funds and scurrying to pay back our debts to the penny-pinching princess of Arcainia.”

  “I thought she and her brothers disappeared,” Diederick said. “Another victim of a dark curse?”

  “She did, but her underlings keep her monetary empire running in her absence. In truth, we shouldn’t have borrowed so much from her to go to war against Trieux. It made the short war possible, but we’re paying for it dearly,” Friedrich said.

  “And now we sit with a debt-riddled country; the only council of magic users in the world is upset with us; and our conquered territory persists in trying to rip away as we brace ourselves for a decade of dark magic,” Diederick summarized.

  “If Trieux separates, it is going to be eaten by darkness,” Merrich predicted.

  “And we will be two steps behind them,” Friedrich grimly said. “We are spent. Even a military as grand as ours cannot fight without money to fund it. It is why we are so desperate to encourage Trieux’s healthy economy.”

  “And all of this rests on the shoulders of your lovely red-haired lady,” Diederick said as a barkeep refilled his tankard. “Are you certain you want to trust her with the future of her country and ours?”

  Friedrich tapped his fingers on the table. “Cinderella is special.”

  Merrich rolled his eyes, and Diederick chugged his drink.

  “I’m not being a cad—I mean it. She has a capacity for loyalty and love one doesn’t often see. People want to love her. If she would give up on her last shard of bitterness…I don’t think even a dark enchanter would dare tangle with her. Her love can get people to think beyond themselves. And that is what we need in this age,” Friedrich said.

  The three friends were silent, dwelling on Friedrich’s words.

  “I’m in,” Merrich said, slamming his drink down. “If she’s as great as you say, I will march to her orders until the day I die.”

  “Thank you, provided you don’t get any funny ideas about her,” Friedrich said, eyeing his old friend.

  Merrich rolled his eyes again. “I assure you I can control myself from accosting the love of my closest friend.”

  “Diederick?” Friedrich asked.

  “She’s not ready yet,” Diederick said. “She doesn’t see the danger of dark magic. It hasn’t touched Trieux, even though we’ve been getting hit with it in Erlauf.”

  “Then you have to trust she will be ready. I can’t delay a formal engagement much longer. A Trieux brat will pull her out from underneath me,” Friedrich said.

  Diederick studied his friend. “You would marry her even if you didn’t think she was the best option for our country, wouldn’t you?”

  Friedrich shrugged. “I love her,” he said.

  Diederick nodded. “In that case, I, too, will throw my lot in with you.”

  “I never pictured you as a champion of love,” Merrich said.

  “Hardly,” Diederick said. “But I would not wish a loveless marriage on Friedrich.”

  Friedrich clasped his friend on the back. “Thank
you.”

  “Of course.”

  “Now the only thing left to do is to propose. Again,” Friedrich frowned. “I hope she takes me seriously one of these times.”

  “You mean you’ve already asked?”

  “At the beginning of the summer.”

  Merrich laughed. “Cheers, to our whipped Prince. May you finally get the girl you dream of—who also keeps you in your place.”

  “Cheers,” Diederick said.

  “I am so touched,” Friedrich flatly said.

  The friends laughed and talked late into the night, advising Colonel Friedrich—or as his Royal name decreed, Prince Cristoph Friedrich VI—and hoping he made a wise decision in loving a fiery Trieux duchess.

  Chapter 12

  The morning of the Victory Ball, Julien Rosseux called on Cinderella.

  “Julien, what a pleasant surprise,” Cinderella, awkwardly wiping her hands on her apron.

  “Lady Lacreux,” Julien said with an extravagant bow.

  “Please, just Cinderella,” Cinderella said before turning to her servants, who were packing up the last of the goods for the market. “Leave without me if you must, Vitore. I will be along later.”

  “Yes, Mademoiselle,” the maid curtseyed before she climbed into the wagon.

  Cinderella returned her attention to Julien and concentrated on being a good hostess. “Would you like any refreshments? Tea, perhaps?”

  “No, but I thank you for your offer,” Julien said, folding his hands behind his back as they sauntered up to the chateau.

  “May I ask what brings you to Aveyron?” Cinderella asked, tucking a strand of scarlet hair behind her ear.

  “I wanted to see you,” Julien said. He looked handsome in the morning light with dove gray breeches, a simple white shirt, and black vest. Typically he wore something more fashionable, but the simplicity of the outfit seemed to fit him better.

  “I am honored and delighted,” Cinderella said, leading him around the perimeter of the chateau. “How is your sister?”

  “She is well. She was disappointed she did not get to see you beard Lady Feautre.”

  Cinderella grinned. “Cerise is a girl after my heart.”

  “She seems to think so too,” Julien chuckled.