Chapter Seven
A whinny from Pansy reminded Ella of the precarious situation, and she finished adjusting her knife at her hip. She forced her voice to be matter-of-fact. “Your mother is in the hands of a foul knight. My failed shot may have made things even worse for her. Rest assured I will do all I can to help get her back.”
She looked up at Alexander.
Now that she knew who he was, she could see the blue of his eyes, even in the shadows. The strength in his shoulders.
The mix of pain and bright hope in his gaze.
He looked as if he might take a step forward, but he held himself back and nodded in acceptance. He mounted his horse and waited for her to do the same. “I imagine Hector’s force will go off the main road as soon as possible, so that they evade my father’s pursuing troops. If we are to intercept them, we must do the same. I suggest we plow north from here, directly into the woods.”
Her brow creased. “But that would bring us down into the swamps. That is dangerous territory, even in the drier months. If we attempt it now, with the snow cover over it, we will hardly know which path is safe. A horse could easily break through and become hopelessly mired.”
His gaze held hers. “Do you have another suggestion?”
Ella sighed and shook her head. “Lead on, and I will go at your side.”
He nodded, his gaze shining.
And then they were in motion.
He forged through the brush, his steed moving with careful precision across fallen log and tumbled rocks. Pansy followed in his path, often using the same hoof-prints in the snow for her own smaller frame. They paused occasionally to listen for any sounds of their quarry, but the forest echoed in silence. Only the whistle of the wind and the shush of snow falling from a branch answered them.
Dawn was just bringing faint light to the sky when Alexander pulled up. His brow was creased with concern. “The swamp begins in earnest before us. You have been good to stay with me this far, Ella, but I beg you to go back. I have no doubt that you are a talented archer – but if your mare were to falter –”
Before she could form a retort, Ella found Pansy stepping forward.
Ella reached for the reins. “Pansy, wait –”
Calmly, with determination, Pansy stepped forward into the swamp.
Alexander’s voice held concern. “Ella, pull her back. She doesn’t know –”
Pansy walked along a ridge with quiet certainty.
Awareness lit Ella, and she held back a laugh. “Oh, but Alexander, she does know. This is where she lives. This is her back yard. She probably knows far better than any of us how to traverse the maze of treacherous swamp and firmer soil.”
Alexander’s gaze held doubt, but at last he gave his steed a nudge to follow. Now it was Ella and Pansy leading the way.
Down, down, down they went, deeper and deeper into the valley of the swamp. A hill rose alongside them to the right. Ella had heard legends that it had provided coal in the distant past, but now it lay vacant.
They rounded a corner.
There, tucked into the base of the hill, was a long stone cottage. Its thatch roof was layered in snow. Thin tendrils of smoke rose from its chimney. A heavy fence surrounded it, but it was barely visible - the entire property was ringed close by thick, high shrubs of bushy pine. Only a narrow entrance at one end existed, closed by a sturdy gate.
Alexander reined in hard, his face going white.
Ella looked back at him in surprise. “What is it?”
His eyes were locked on a wooden cross nailed to the chimney. His voice was rough. “They’re real.”
“Who are real?”
His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword.
Ella followed his gaze.
The front door of the cottage had pressed open. Out into the snow marched six warriors, short, burly, in leather armor with crosses embossed at each chest. Their hands rested on swords at their hips.
They lined up before the cottage, their gaze resolutely on Alexander.
Ella’s throat went dry. “We can always go back –”
A low chuckle sounded from behind them.
They turned.
A seventh man stood there, perched on a rock, a crossbow held steadily in his hands.
It was aimed directly at Ella’s chest.
Thank you for reading Cinderella. The next book in this series is Snow White:
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Dedication
Heart-felt thanks to:
Ruth, who always provides feedback and support for all my projects.
To members of my Sutton writing group and Boston writing group who provide valuable feedback.
To my boyfriend, Bob, who has supported me in my dreams for over twenty years.
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About the Author
I grew up, as most girls do, reading fairy tales. I was often torn between enjoying the fantasy and being disappointed by how passive the heroines seemed to be.
Let’s take sleeping beauty. Aurora lays asleep on a bed for a hundred years until a guy comes, kisses her, and marries her.
Snow White? She stupidly, despite many warnings, eats an apple given to her by a stranger. She falls into a death-sleep and lays in her coffin until a guy comes along, kisses her, and marries her.
Or Beauty and the Beast. I admit I adored the library, especially in the animated version. But I was less keen on the idea that a woman in an abusive relationship simply had to be patient and understanding, and the ‘beast’ would eventually give up on his abuse and treat her like a princess.
I have been working on my own versions for many years. It took countless tweakings before I felt I had created the mix of strong-and-compassionate that I hoped to convey.
I’d love to hear your thoughts on them!
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Cinderella - A Retelling with Strength and Courage Page 10