Cinders, Stars, and Glass Slippers: A Retelling of Cinderella

by Brittany Fichter

  Some help that caution had been.

  Desperately, she began searching her memory for the last time she had opened her chest. It had been days. Weeks, really. In fact, the last time she recalled opening her chest was the day . . .

  “He planted it!” She jabbed her finger at Conrad. “The last time I opened that chest, I found him hiding beneath the window of my bedchamber. I have never even met the king of Tumen!” She turned, finally willing herself to make eye contact with Nicholas. For by now, she knew he was her only hope. “Ashland doesn’t have dealings with Tumen.” Her voice cracked.

  He met her gaze, but his face was hard and his eyes remained distant.

  “Quite a charge you bring against the assistant of the king’s personal assistant.” Lord Benedict snickered. “As you asked earlier, what proof have you to lay such claims?”

  “Ask my guards!” Elaina said. “They can witness that he was there that day!”

  “Standing in a bush and planting false evidence are two very different charges,” Lord Benedict said, shaking his head. “Nay, I believe you found a kingdom that was quite interested in Ashland’s fall, should the rebellion win, and you decided to use those negotiation skills to benefit yourself.”

  Elaina had the desire to hurl some of her father’s curses of choice at the fat old lord, the ones her father saved up for the worst of situations, typhoons and krakens and such. But instead, she turned to Nicholas once more, pleading with her eyes for help.

  But his face did not melt into the teasing, friendly expression she had come to know so well, or even the injured, frustrated one that he’d worn on the palace steps. Instead, they were hard as flint.

  29

  Mistaken

  “Father,” Nicholas murmured, still holding Elaina’s gaze. “I request permission to discuss this hearing privately. With you first and then the magistrates.”

  The king nodded gravely before standing and leading the way out of the throne room, flanked by the magistrates. They made their way into a smaller antechamber behind the throne room, but instead of stopping there, Nicholas continued on into an even smaller room behind that. Once he and his father were alone and the door was shut, Nicholas let out a gusty breath.

  “This whole hearing is a farce. Conrad Fuller planted that evidence.”

  His father slumped into a chair and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You know I like her, son. She’s been as helpful to us as her father. But I really don’t know what to do in the face of such proof.”

  “But the proof is a lie!”

  “And you know that how?”

  Nicholas tugged on his stiff formal collar, feeling desperate for some air that the confining legal robe did not allow for. “Elaina told me about Fuller snooping around her home, how he was standing just below her window at one point, just like she said. That also happened to be the day Bladsmuth was delivering a note to Elaina, and Fuller had accompanied him.” Nicholas leaned over the table toward his father. “He had to have taken advantage of his master’s distraction.”

  “But we’ve established that only Lady Elaina has the key to that chest.”

  “Perhaps she left it open.”

  Nicholas’s father shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “And how do you plan to convince the magistrates on such circumstantial evidence?”

  “I don’t need to convince any—”

  “You forget that I am not the only one responsible for her sentence! The decision is not solely mine!”

  Nicholas wanted to throw something through the little window above him. Perhaps the sound of shattering glass would make him feel better. “Do you think she’s guilty?” he asked instead.

  His father’s face looked haggard in the small window’s weak light. “Knowing what I do of her character, my heart tells me no.” He looked up at Nicholas. “But that will not convince the magistrates.”

  They sat quietly for a long time, each one staring at his hands. Nicholas wanted so badly to shout at his father and demand they let her go. But for the first time in his life, he knew his father wanted the same thing he did. And they were both powerless to get it.

  “What is the punishment for such a crime?” Nicholas finally asked.

  “Execution.”

  Nicholas closed his eyes. In his heart, he asked forgiveness for what he was about to say. But it was the only way he could think of that might save her life. “Father, do you know why Elaina is being hunted by the Shadow?”

  “I assume it has to do with her familiarity with secret information.”

  Nicholas shook his head. “She’s gifted.” When he looked back up at his father, he finally saw the expression of horror that he had been waiting to see for years. “She used her gift often to save our ships while at sea. Hundreds of lives have been spared since she was a little girl. And now we’re going to execute her,” he finished helplessly.

  “You really love her, don’t you?” His father stared at him, his mouth hanging open.

  Nicholas pulled the ring from his pocket and turned it in his hands, pausing when the gems caught the light and cast their sparkles all around him. “I was going to make her queen.”

  Nicholas’s father stared for a long time at the ring. Then he stood and leaned against the wall and cursed. “There must be something we can do,” he said, pounding his fist against it.

  Show us, Nicholas prayed. I beg you, do not allow innocent blood to be shed. Don’t let her blood be shed. If they had to sentence her to death, Nicholas didn’t know how he would ever be able to live with himself, let alone face his mother or sisters or Elaina’s aunt or any of his own friends—

  Nicholas stood so fast his chair nearly tipped over. “I want her exiled.”

  “What?”

  “If we can convince the magistrates to exile her instead of putting her to death, I can send her to Destin.” Nicholas’s excitement began to build as he paced the room. “King Everard adores her. She’ll be safe there, and I can find a way to clear her name here and allow her to return home!”

  “Slow down, son.” His father put his hands on Nicholas’s shoulders and held him in place. “I understand your plan, but convincing the magistrates won’t be easy. Some of them haven’t forgiven you yet for insulting them during the meeting with Bladsmuth.”

  “Father.” Nicholas grasped his father’s arms and held them tightly. “We have to try.”

  His father stared down at their clasped arms. How long had it been since they’d touched, Nicholas wondered. He couldn’t recall the last time, nor did he care. He only waited.

  Finally, Xander nodded. “Very well. I suppose it can’t hurt to try.”

  Nicholas pulled his father into a quick embrace before straightening his shoulders and walking back into the antechamber.

  “So,” he said to the men piled into the little room, “is it safe to assume that you’ve made your decision unanimously?”

  Lord Benedict rolled his eyes. “Did you really need to ask us that?”

  “Not unanimously.” Lord Greyson called out from the back. When several of the magistrates turned to glare at him, he only shook his head. “I am not convinced. Lock or no lock, it seems to me as though planting evidence might have been a rather easy task.” He adjusted his spectacles. “Particularly with a girl of eighteen years. They’re not known for taking care with secrets.” He chuckled darkly to himself. “I should know. I had seven.”

  “The rest of us,” Lord Stiles said in a thin voice after glancing at Benedict, who nodded vigorously, “believe she is guilty.”

  “Really?” Nicholas looked around, staring at each magistrate until he made eye contact. Most just looked down at the floor. “Well then,” he said. “I have spoken with my father, and we agree that exile would be an appropriate sentence.”

  “But public hanging is the norm!” Lord Benedict cried out.

  “Yes.” Xander spoke for the first time, though he stayed seated behind Nicholas. It seemed as though the day’s strain had taken most of the
life out of him. “But if Elaina Starke truly did deal with the Tumenians, who would love to see us fall and our trade routes collapse, then who better to examine her than the Fortiers? Destin is Tumen’s greatest enemy, and if anyone is to understand what brought one of our finest ladies so low, it would be they.”

  “I believe,” Lord Greyson said, his thin face brightening a bit, “that Queen Isabelle has a gift that might be helpful in determining the truth. Perhaps she might even be able to discern whether the girl is truly guilty or whether something deeper is afoot.”

  Nicholas nearly allowed himself to smile at the old man. As Greyson’s words sank in, the looks of relief on the majority of faces around them revealed that many had truly not wanted to send the girl to her death after all.

  “So it is settled then,” Nicholas said. “If you agree with a majority, I will send for a courier bird at once.”

  Everyone but Benedict and Stiles raised his hand. Nicholas wanted to jump and shout for joy until he realized what he still needed to do. This sobered him instantly.

  The walk out of the antechamber to the front of the dais was one of the longest and shortest journeys Nicholas had ever taken.

  Elaina was still on her knees before the throne. It galled Nicholas to see her looking so submissive. So defeated. And to know that he had played a part was even worse. Only a few hours before, he had betrayed her heart. Now he was ruining her life. He masked his feelings, however, with resolve. This was going to save her life, even though it would cut his own heart like a knife.

  But Elaina would live.

  He went to stand at the front of the dais until he towered over her small huddled form. “Lady Elaina Hope Starke, the magistrates and rulers of this land have found you guilty.” His voice cracked on the last word. But he had to go on. “You are hereby sentenced to exile from Ashland,” his voice grew quieter, “until you are either proven innocent or the Maker leads your soul into eternal bliss. And if you ever return to Ashland’s shores without a complete pardon by the crown and his men . . .” He paused, but knew he had to say the words anyway. “You will die.”

  For the first time since he had begun speaking, Elaina lifted her head. Her face was wet and her eyes were red.

  And the look she gave him pierced him to the bone.

  * * *

  As soon as Elaina had been dragged away and her guards notified of her final destination, Nicholas turned and stalked out of the throne room. In moments, he was in his chambers, yanking the infernal court robe off and throwing his travel belongings into a bag.

  “And where do you think you’re going?”

  Nicholas paused, but didn’t look up to answer. “Elaina was just declared guilty of—”

  “I know. I was there.”

  “I’m getting on that ship with her, and I will accompany her down the river and through the continent to Destin. I have to explain everything.”

  His mother left the doorway and came to stand beside his bed, where he was still feverishly tossing legal documents and an assortment of weapons into his bag.

  “Your father risked much with the magistrates today by allowing you to declare that sentence on your own. If he angers them too much, they have the power to call a hearing to express their doubts about his ability to reign.” She took Nicholas’s hands and turned him to face her. “Are you sure you want to run off like this without consulting him first?”

  Nicholas gave his mother a quick hug, then closed his bag. “Give Father my thanks and respect. I will be back when I get this mess sorted out.”

  “I know I should stop you . . .” She shook her head.

  “Then why aren’t you?”

  “I can’t help feeling that this is part of the Maker’s way of answering your prayer.”

  “So you’re not going to tell Father?”

  “Leave your father to me. Now go.”

  * * *

  Nicholas stole away in the shadows of the late afternoon. He really wanted nothing more than to leave immediately, but his mother had cautioned him to wait until she gave him the signal that all was clear. Once he knew his father was occupied with trying to restore the good spirits of the wedding feast, Nicholas made his escape. Covered in his darkest cloak, he slipped through the servants’ passageways.

  Every little noise startled him, making him sure the entire palace must have noticed his absence by now. Still, the few servants he did run into hardly spared him a second glance, and within fifteen minutes he was in the stables. He didn’t breathe easily, however, until he was on his horse and beyond the palace gate, making his way to the eastern wharf.

  Help me, Maker, he pleaded. I am doing my best to make this right.

  The ride to the eastern wharf, across the valley and hills to the other side of the peninsula, would be quicker for a single rider on a fresh horse than it would be for a group of five men and one woman. But Elaina’s party had left before him, and they would waste no time getting to their destination. They had been trained to move quickly and discreetly, and no doubt would be under orders to stop for no one.

  For a while, Nicholas entertained the idea of catching them sometime during the night, but as the hours wore on, he had no such relief. The guards would switch mounts several times throughout the journey. They would stop at the royal stables scattered along the road for such purposes. Nicholas had to switch mounts as well, but whenever he stopped, there was never a horse ready as quickly as he wanted it, because the guard party had already taken the freshest, fastest ones.

  It was late morning by the time he spotted the thin line of water in the distance, and afternoon when he actually reached the boats. His backside ached and his thighs felt like they might never work again. Still, Nicholas pulled his horse to a halt and called out to the nearest sailor he saw. “Captain Stein?”

  “Four from the end.” The man pointed up the wharf.

  Nicholas pushed his horse south until he found the vessel and its captain.

  “Captain Stein?”

  “That would be me.” But the grizzled captain turned nearly as white as his beard when Nicholas removed his cloak. “Sire!”

  “Shh. I need you to keep my presence here quiet. I must speak with your prisoner below. It must be absolutely private.”

  “Aye . . . of course. You’ll find her in the hold down there, under that flap.”

  “I wish to come with you. Do you have room?” Not that he would take no for an answer. “And I need my passage to be discreet.”

  The captain rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If you want privacy, wait in my cabin until we set sail. Then you can sneak down to the hold quietly.”

  Nicholas thanked the captain and went to wait in the dingy little cabin. He couldn’t help wondering at the security of hiring such a ship to carry the crown’s most reprehensible prisoner. If Elaina had been a truly heinous villain with information pertinent to the enemy, it would have been quite easy to slip in and out with her and have no one be the wiser. He could only guess that most of the navy was busy with Solwhind and this had been the next best option.

  Setting sail took an eternity, but he eventually heard the captain’s call. Nicholas bolted from the cabin, threw open the hatch to the hold, and pulled it shut behind him.

  A single candle lit the dark room, making it barely light enough to see his hands in front of his face. Not that the light mattered. She just had to hear him. He just needed her to know that he was sorry. Sorry for everything. Sorry for his waywardness and his inability to keep her safe. Sorry for putting her in danger in the first place and then allowing Conrad the freedom to do something so heinous.

  When he turned around, however, Nicholas found the door of the prison cell hanging open.

  The hold was empty.

  30

  Sold

  “Alright. In you go.” The sailor tossed Elaina into the hold of the ship. She missed the stairs, however, and landed hard on the wooden floor, smacking her head on the edge of a bench in the process. Before she was able to
stand up, she heard the hatch slam shut above her.

  She groaned as she pressed a palm against her throbbing temple and used her other hand to pull herself up onto the bench. The hold was nearly pitch black, the only light coming from a few holes in the hatch above.

  But the darkness wasn’t so bad compared to the smell, which made her gag. The scents of fish and salt had never bothered her, but then, her father had always insisted on keeping the Adroit spotless. This boat, less than a third of the size of her father’s vessel, had looked nearly ready to sink from the outside. And though Elaina couldn’t see much of the floor beneath her, she was sure she didn’t want to. The spot where she had fallen was clear of debris, but she could feel a thin layer of sticky goo beneath her slippers as she sat on the bench.

  The first ship had been frightening enough, with its human-sized metal cage in the hold and the fierce-looking guard who had watched her every move. But at least that ship had been clean. Not ten minutes after being thrown into the cage, another guard had come down. His navy uniform was rumpled and patched in at least ten different places, making him hardly look like a naval officer at all. But he had handed the protesting guard a parchment and then proceeded to pull Elaina from the cage, and no one had stopped him.

  She had been elated at first. Perhaps Nicholas had believed her and had somehow convinced the guards to let her go. Or maybe the king himself had intervened.

  But when she’d been freed from one horrid ship only to be dragged to this one, Elaina’s hopes of Nicholas coming to her rescue died.

  The hatch above opened again. Elaina squinted in the sudden light as three more people descended the steps, a woman, a man, and a young boy. Unlike her, however, they were not thrown. The man who had tossed her down held the hatch for them as though they were royalty.

  “Are you sure we couldn’t have afforded a better journey there?” the woman asked as she reluctantly stepped from the steps onto the dirty floor.

  “Lilly, I told you,” the man said. “With the rebellion, the only ships sailing between the harbors are local fishing boats and merchants. And if you had wanted a merchant to take us, you should have sold some of those necklaces that you keep stashed away, like I told you to.”