His eyes met hers, and his expression grew serious. “The truth is, I’m no more royal than you.” He let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “In fact, I’m in reality less of a royal than you, as your father was a duke.”
“A foolish duke who squandered away the family fortune,” she said regretfully.
“The point is, Cinderella, there is greatness in thee.” The sincerity of his words pricked at her, causing her eyes to go misty. If only she could believe him, but in reality she was nothing—a peasant in her stepmother’s home. Seraphina had kept her on for one reason—she’d worked hard and proven herself useful. She’d lived her life in fear, knowing that one misstep could get her thrown out. She blinked rapidly and looked at the ground, her shoulders deflated in defeat. He stood and went to her side.
“Hey.” The tenderness in his voice turned her to mush, and she couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. He lifted her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Hey,” he said again. “Thou canst do this. They will only see what ye let them. Ye must convince them that thou art a lady.” His voice was so firm and unyielding that she was forced to comply.
She still had her doubts as to whether or not she could pull it off, but he believed in her so completely. For his sake, she had to at least try. She gave him a stiff smile. “Okay.”
He caressed her cheek with his thumb, causing her pulse to bump up a notch. Ever since that fateful day when he’d saved her from the bully, the two of them had been inseparable. At first, she only thought of him as a friend. No, that’s not true. He’d always been more than a friend. He was her best friend, her confidant, the spark of light in her otherwise dark world. He was her salvation, her everything. But lately, things between them had started to change. She’d seen him, when he thought she wasn’t looking, studying her with a fierce intensity that kindled a fire inside of her. Whenever he came near, her heart leapt in anticipation. He had awakened the best part of her—a part that she never knew existed. Life was rich and wonderful when Rushton was at her side. She would go to the castle for Rushton. It was as simple as that.
“Let’s try it once more,” he said, his voice laced with tenderness. “If ye do it properly, we’ll go for a ride on Shadow tomorrow.” He motioned at the calico horse that was tethered to the side of the barn.
“Really?” She couldn’t stop the smile from breaking out on her lips.
He nodded.
She laughed. “You’re bribing me, aren’t you?” Rushton had taught her to ride, and he knew it was the one thing she loved to do more than anything else.
“Whatever it takes,” he said, mischief dancing in his eyes. As he gazed down at her, his expression changed to something more complex. His lips parted, and he seemed to be battling within himself as his blue eyes went a shade darker. Her breath caught, and she wondered if he was going to kiss her. Instead he encircled her waist and started twirling her around. “Next, I’ll teach you to dance,” he murmured.
Her face went warm, and she could feel her pulse pounding painfully in her ears. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand being this close without kissing him.
The ringing of the sunset bell sent a feeling of foreboding rushing over her. She stopped. “Oh no, I’ve lost track of time. My chores.” Panic made it difficult to breathe. She’d gotten so caught up in spending time with Rushton that she’d neglected to do them. Seraphina would be livid.
He caught her wrist. “They’re taken care of.”
“What?” She shook her head. “Ye don’t understand. I was supposed to feed the chickens, draw water from the well, clean the floors, dust the furniture, make the bread, and …”
“Whoa! Take a breath.”
Angry tears welled in her eyes. There was no way she could explain the depth of Seraphina’s anger or the wrath that she would surely incur.
“Thy chores are already done.”
“Nay … that’s impossible.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “Aye, let’s just say that Josselyn and I came to a little arrangement.”
A furrow appeared between her brows. She didn’t like the idea of Josselyn and Rushton having an arrangement. She didn’t like the idea of Rushton having an agreement with any maiden other than herself.
“Josselyn agreed to do your chores today and the rest of the week in exchange for a favor.”
“What favor?” she asked, her tone wary. “‘Tis a mistake, Rushton. She’ll lie to thy face, and she won’t hold up her end of the bargain.”
“Oh, she’ll hold up her end of this bargain, I can promise you that.”
She shook her head, not liking the sound of this. What favor had Rushton agreed to? She wouldn’t put anything past Josselyn. “What did you promise her?”
“An opportunity to attend the King’s Ball in the castle.”
Her jaw dropped. “But … how?” Invitations to the King’s Ball were only extended to the highest dignitaries. For an entire year, Seraphina had been trying unsuccessfully to secure an invitation to the King’s Ball on Josselyn’s behalf.
He smiled. “The Prince and I are like this,” he said, holding up crossed fingers.
“Really?”
She knew Rushton was highly respected, but she hadn’t realized that he’d risen to such heights. Of course, he was well spoken, terribly handsome, and brilliant. It was only natural that he would attract attention. An unbidden jealousy seized her as she thought about the ladies in the court—attractive ladies in fine dresses, unlike the dreadful frock she was wearing. Those ladies had most assuredly noticed his witty charm and infectious smile. She cringed thinking of Rushton dancing with someone else.
“Don’t look so crestfallen. I’ll get you an invitation to the ball as well.” He lifted an eyebrow in a challenge. “Under one condition.”
“Oh, yeah, and what is that, pray tell?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “No more curtsying to the hogs, okay?”
She laughed. “Agreed.”
“And no more conversations with the cow.” He shook his head. “Otherwise, people might start to talk.” His eyes twinkled.
She nodded. He spun her around once more, and then she reluctantly extricated herself from his grasp. “I have to go home now.”
He nodded. “Meet me here tomorrow?” As he spoke the words, she saw a yearning in his eyes that caused her heart to flip. He was feeling it too—this incredible attraction between them. The thought sent her hopes soaring upward to the sky.
“You can count on it.” She made a promise to herself right then and there that she would learn all of the silly things it required to be a Lady in Waiting. She would impress his mother and go to the castle, so that she could be near Rushton. And she would do whatever it took to earn his heart because it was becoming painfully clear that somehow—without her realizing—he’d already stolen her heart.
Perhaps it had been his all along.
* * *
Elle sat up in bed. She looked around at the dark room and then lay back down. Talk about a doozy of a dream. She’d been flying over hills and … She stopped, searching her brain. She’d dreamt of someone. He’d been wonderful, funny, gorgeous, intense. A warmth shot through her. Rushton. The name rippled through her consciousness like fast-turning pages from a forgotten book. She frowned. Where had that come from? For starters, his name was Rush, not Rushton. And Rush was most certainly not the guy she’d been dreaming about! She laughed at the thought. What she needed the most at the moment was to get a good night’s sleep—no dreams! Go back to sleep! she commanded herself, but it was no use. She tossed and turned for another half hour before she finally let out a defeated breath and threw back the covers. She stood and went to the window. She had a bird’s-eye view of Rush’s home. The windows were all dark, and she had the uncanny impression that she was seeing into a face with fathomless, black eyes. Fleetingly, she wondered which room was his and then scowled at herself for thinking such a thing. He’d been somewhat nice to her on the roof, she admi
tted, although she still didn’t have a clue what had happened between the two of them before the accident. At least they were friends now. She made a face. Or something. She gathered her hair up in a ponytail. Rush was occupying way too much of her thoughts. The spiteful part of her hoped that she was driving him as crazy as he was driving her. She chuckled. That was wishful thinking on her part. He was probably sleeping like a baby.
* * *
Rush punched the pillow with his fist. He hated nights like this when he couldn’t get to sleep. It was all because of Elle. She was driving him crazy! One minute she was hot and the next minute she was cold. Things had gone well tonight. A slow smile stole across his face. Incredibly well. It was those moments like tonight that gave him a sliver of hope. Every time he decided to write her off for good, then she would do something to redeem herself. He’d been livid when she slapped him at the game, as if he didn’t have the right to kiss her in front of people. He’d certainly kissed her enough times in private. She was not immune to the strong attraction that rose up between them whenever they were near each other, he could see it in her eyes. She’d wanted him to kiss her, and he could have. He should have, but he was tired of being a stand-in for Edward. He was tired of her using him. If she couldn’t acknowledge that they were a couple in public, then he sure as heck wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of having a secret relationship. She seemed different now than she did before the accident, more sincere. The problem was, he wasn’t sure if it was real or another one of Elle’s elaborate games. Tonight, he’d almost believed her when she said that she’d forgotten everything. She’d looked so lost. His instinct was to throw his arms around her—to protect her from all of the hurt and uncertainty. But there was still a part of him that didn’t trust her. His life would be simpler if he could just forget about her. After all, it wasn’t as if he were lacking for female attention. There were plenty of girls that would give their right eye to go out with him. Even as he thought the words, an image of Elle flashed through his mind—her blonde hair, expressive eyes, those long legs, and that whimsical smile that held a touch of mystery. She’d gotten under his skin, into his blood, and it was killing him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get her out of his system.
He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift. He thought about that ridiculous truffle she’d given him—a symbol of their new friendship. The last thing he wanted was to be Elle’s friend. It was all or nothing.
When he finally drifted off to sleep, he was riding his bike over long ribbons of chocolate, white on the top and dark underneath. He looked ahead, but the ribbon continued on and on to a place in the distance he could no longer see.
* * *
“Mother, if thou wouldst give her a chance, then thou wouldst see in her the greatness that I see.”
Wisteria let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, Rushton, my dear, naïve boy. Thou canst possibly see her for what she is because thou art blinded by her beauty. Beauty flowers for a moment and then fades as surely as the fall gives way to winter, and thou wilt be left with nothing but rot and decay.”
“Nay, you’re wrong!” he countered, his face growing flush. “You don’t know her like I do. She’s generous and kind and—”
“Penniless!” she inserted, holding up a finger. “Let’s not forget that.” Wisteria stood on her toes and strained to reach a bottle on the top shelf. It contained a glob of something green and slimy. When she opened the lid, the stench of rancid meat invaded the air.
Rushton gagged. “What is that?” he said, averting his nose.
“A combination of cow dung, snake venom, and beet root.” She scooped out a portion of the putrid substance and dropped it into a cauldron of boiling water.
“It smells awful!”
She sniffed. “Really, I hadn’t noticed.” Then she laughed and poured a bottle of black, thick liquid into the cauldron.
He scowled. “Thou toyst with me, Mother.”
Her violet eyes grew serious. “Nay, I speak the truth, my son. Nothing good will come of thy infatuation with Cinderella. A fortnight ago, I saw two ravens lighting on the stable roof, an omen of death.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Oh, stop it!” His mother was always trying to use her potions and superstitions as a means of keeping him under control.
“I saw it,” she said, her voice ringing with conviction. She leaned over the cauldron and inhaled the green steam that was lifting up.
Without warning, a chill ran down his spine, and a clutch of apprehension wrangled his gut. He sat down in the chair and held out his hands to the fire in an attempt to ward off the chill that was permeating his body. He willed himself to work through the fear. He was firm in his resolve to stand by Cinderella, and he wouldn’t let his mother change his mind, no matter how persuasive she was.
She came up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. “You feel it too, I can see it on thy countenance. Cinderella is an opportunist. She’s using thee to get to the castle. A rare beauty like hers won’t go unnoticed. She’ll attract the attention of someone else—someone whose rank and authority exceeds yours. In the end, she’ll leave thee heartbroken and alone.”
“Since when is it a crime to be beautiful, Mother? Or are you speaking from experience? Few are as beautiful as thee.”
Her eyes sparked. “Beauty is not a crime, Rushton—until it becomes a weapon, used to seduce an impulsive squire in order to elevate one’s station.”
“It’s not like that, Mother.” He scowled. What did she know of the love he felt for Cinderella? He hated the doubt that was seeping through his toes and rising up higher and higher until he was swimming in it. The black thoughts swirled in his mind, growing more terrible by the moment. He saw a vision of Cinderella—pointing and mocking him. He put his hands to his head and jerked out of her grasp. “Nay! Thou art doing this!” He pointed. “What’s in the cauldron—an anxiety potion?”
She shot him a look of disgust. “Dost thou actually believe I would stoop to using magic against my own son?”
Magic was outlawed by order of the King, but anyone who knew his mother also knew that she did exactly what she pleased, when she pleased. He turned and faced her. The hurt simmering in her eyes sent a stab of guilt shooting straight through him. His first instinct was to say something soothing in order to placate her, but the time for subterfuge was over. “I’m not sure what to think anymore,” he admitted. The silence swirled between them, causing the words to grow large and terrible. There. He’d said it out loud. The truth was that he didn’t know what to think about his mother. She used magic on a daily basis, so it was very possible—probable that she was using it on him. Her power was both revered and feared throughout the kingdom. That much he knew. And she had some hold over the King. Something significant had happened between them—something she never spoke of, but it forever cloaked their world like a sinister shadow, threatening to block out the sun and leave them floundering in darkness.
She wiped her hands on her apron, her shoulders sagging in defeat. She turned back to the cauldron. The lines around her mouth deepened, and he saw it then—something she tried hard to keep hidden. Her frailty. He realized with a start that she was getting older. Her life had been fraught with hardship and sorrow, and she’d lost much. He’d not meant to hurt her, but he wasn’t going to let her fears hinder his happiness. “You love her too much,” Wisteria continued. “Love is a dangerous thing. It will consume thee and eat away at the foundation of thy soul, and I’ll not allow that to happen to my son,” she finished, her chin jutting out.
Defiance burned in her eyes, and he knew she meant every word she said. Suddenly the muddy lake became clear, and he caught an inkling of the hurt that had been plaguing his mother. “Like it has to thee?” He spoke the words softly.
She turned and lifted an eyebrow.
He gave her a sad smile. “I can see the hurt that ye try so hard to keep hidden. It permeates everything around us. I used to think that hurt was ow
ed to the death of my father, but that’s not it at all.” He looked her in the eye. “Is it?”
A shadow of fear crossed her features, but then quickly disappeared into her carefully constructed mask. “I don’t know what you mean.” She turned her attention to the potion.
He arose from the chair and came up behind her. “Mother, what happened between thee and the King?”
She went still.
“Mother,” he implored. “Look at me.”
When she turned, he was surprised to see a single tear rolling down her cheek. “The past is better left alone,” she said, her voice hoarse with emotion.
“But that’s just it, it’s not in the past. It’s affecting everything we do! I see the way you look at him, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you!” She closed her eyes and shook her head. He took her by the arms. “What happened between the two of you?”
When she opened her eyes, the fragile woman had been replaced by the powerful wizard he knew so well. “Aalexander is a dangerous man!” she said vehemently. “Thou must never speak those words ever again. Dost thou understand?” The fire in her eyes demanded his submission, and even he, her son, wasn’t strong enough to go up against her. “Dost thou understand?” she breathed through gritted teeth.
He nodded.
That seemed to satisfy her. “Good, then we’ll have no more talk of this Cinderella.”
“But I love her!” The words exploded out of him. “If you don’t help her get to the castle, then I’ll find another way. There’s nothing you can say or do that will change my mind.” He glared at her, daring her to disagree.
She gave him a long, searching look, and he could see conflicting emotions churning in her. “Dost thou really love her that much?”
He nodded.
“And she loves you?”
“Absolutely,” he said, looking her in the eye so that there would be no question about his conviction.
Banished: Book 1 of The Grimm Laws Page 11