Banished: Book 1 of The Grimm Laws

by Jennifer Youngblood

  Cinderella’s eyes went wide. “I—I was flattered,” she stammered, “but I do not love him! I love Rushton!” Her voice rose. “Why won’t anyone believe me when I say that I love him?”

  Wisteria lifted an eyebrow. “Love can be as fleeting as the drops of dew that give way to the rising sun each morning.”

  “Not my love,” Cinderella countered, her jaw tight.

  Wisteria gave her a long look as if she were deciding whether or not to believe her. Finally, she pressed her lips together into a thin line. “You love my son.”

  “Yea!” Cinderella’s heart lifted. If she could convince Wisteria of her feelings then perhaps she could convince Rushton as well. “Yea, I love him with all of my heart.”

  They sat silently for a moment until Wisteria spoke. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to make us something for the evening meal. I—we—will have a talk with Rushton, and we will convince him of thy devotion.”

  “But Rushton left, and I don’t know where he went.”

  Wisteria gave her a wise smile. “I know my son, and I have a pretty good idea where he went. I’ll find him … leave that to me.” She cocked her head and looked sideways at Cinderella. “There is something I need thee to do for me.”

  “Anything.”

  “I need a couple of items from the marketplace. Couldst thou get them for me while I go and find Rushton?”

  “Sure, I’ll get whatever ye need,” Cinderella said eagerly.

  “Great.” She pulled a folded piece of parchment from her bodice and handed it to Cinderella. “Give this to the old woman at the herb stand, and tell her that I sent thee.”

  “Okay.”

  Wisteria picked up the daisy that Rushton had left laying on the hay. She held it up for inspection and gave Cinderella a questioning look. “A daisy? Why not something more romantic like a rose or a lily?”

  She chuckled. “I know it’s simple, but that daisy represents a thousand words—a thousand feelings—my undying love for thy stubborn son.”

  “Here, allow me.” Wisteria picked the straw from Cinderella’s hair and smoothed down her blonde tresses. Then she tucked the daisy into the tight braid that was wound around the crown of her head. She stood back and admired her handiwork. “Now … you look perfect. Even Rushton will be impressed.”

  Tender emotion welled in Cinderella’s breast as she looked at the mother of the man she loved. “Thank you,” she said softly, touching Wisteria’s arm. “Rushton is lucky to have thee … as am I.”

  Wisteria acknowledged the compliment with a nod. “Go,” she said gruffly, “and hurry so that thou wilt make it back by the evening bell.”

  * * *

  Edward pulled his hood closer up around his neck in order to hide his face. He had replaced his royal blue tunic and surcoat with a plain-spun brown tunic and shorter jacket, more in keeping with a commoner. His nerves were wound up tightly, and his palms clammy. Even so, he forced himself to walk casually between the stands and stalls of the merchants selling their wares.

  “Would the young man care to try some delicious figs?” A middle-aged woman held out her hand to him. She smiled, revealing missing teeth.

  He shook his head, “Nay.”

  “How about some juicy apples then? Picked them fresh today.”

  He gave her a curt bow and stepped back, pulling his cloak tighter around himself. “Nay, Mi’ Lady, nothing today,” he said holding up a hand in a farewell gesture.

  She scowled. “Be gone with thee, beggar.”

  A burst of anger flared over him. It was astonishing how quickly the woman had turned on him. He was not accustomed to such ill treatment. For a fleeting moment, Edward thought about what the woman would do if he were to reveal his true identity, but his annoyance was a small trifle in comparison to his objective. According to the Sorceress Griselda, it was on this evening, before sunset, that he would rescue his true love—a damsel in distress—in this very marketplace. He glanced up at the afternoon sun. A trickle of perspiration rolled between his shoulder blades. He didn’t have much time before the sun set. Where was that damsel in distress? Where was his true love? He’d arrived at the marketplace a little after midday and had been aimlessly wandering ever since. What if the Sorceress had been wrong? What if she had tricked him in order to get the coins? He laughed inwardly at himself. He was a prince, bred from birth to face insurmountable foes—taught to squelch his fears and to conquer at all costs, and he was falling apart simply because he was about to meet his true love. Perhaps the Sorceress was wrong. Perhaps he’d already met her. So taken was he with Cinderella that he’d fleetingly considered not coming to the marketplace at all. Cinderella was everything he could ever want in a bride—beautiful, charming, polite. And yet there was something about her that was as reticent and skittish as a newly folded colt. Whenever he was around her, he got the feeling that she was holding something back, but what? This was not the time to be thinking about Cinderella. He must put all thoughts of her behind him, as he’d done with his past love. Today was a day for hope. Today was a day for the future. He was a prince, destined to be king, and he needed to find a bride that he could love—a bride that he could adore. Anyone would be better than the dreaded Helsin. He shuddered at the thought of the man-bride his father had selected for him—all for the sake of some treaty.

  He walked past an older man and his daughter selling knives, swords, daggers, and other forms of weaponry. The old man held out a dagger, catching Edward’s attention. He reached for it. “May I?”

  The man nodded. Edward took the dagger from him and held it up for inspection, the metal shimmering in the afternoon sun. It was made of the finest steel. The hilt was crafted out of strong wood that was wrapped in buckskin, and the grip fit well in his hand.

  “How much?”

  “Four shillings.”

  It was a fine dagger—one of the best he’d seen, and the man and his daughter looked hungry with their gaunt expressions and hollow eyes. He wondered if he’d been their only customer today.

  “I’ll take it.” He reached for his pouch and withdrew two crowns, placing them in the old man’s hands.

  The old man’s expression was one of disbelief as he looked at the coins in his hands. “Two crowns? But that’s the equivalent of ten shillings.”

  “Take them,” Edward urged.

  Tears filled the man’s eyes. “Bless you.”

  The daughter stepped up beside her father and put a hand on his arm. She too looked astonished at the large amount of money. “Papa, ‘tis an answer to our prayers.”

  The man took a closer look at Edward as recognition set in. Excitement quivered through his feeble frame. “I know thee. Thou art Prince—”

  Edward put a finger to his lips. “Please, Sir, I prithee to be silent.” He stole a glance over his shoulder to make sure no one had heard.

  The old man nodded in understanding. “God has been good to us this day. Praise to God above … ” he lowered his voice to a whisper “… and long live the Prince.” He lowered his head slightly. “Your majesty, may God smile down upon you this day and bestow upon your golden head a bounteous blessing befitting of your kindness.”

  “Thank you,” he murmured, placing the dagger into his belt. Yes, he certainly hoped that fortune would smile down upon him this day, for he certainly could use a blessing … err, damsel in distress right about now.

  * * *

  Rushton pressed his heels into the sides of his horse, urging it to go faster. He’d behaved like a hot-tempered fool with Cinderella. He was being irrational where Edward was concerned, but ever since the day of the tournament when Edward had selected Cinderella at the Parade of Maidens, Rushton couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his gut that told him he was going to lose her. What he hadn’t admitted to Cinderella was that she consumed his thoughts from the time he awoke to the time he lay down his head at night. His love for her had developed out of their childhood friendship, and he really couldn’t pinpoi
nt when it had happened, but it had. He was now madly in love with her and didn’t know what he would do if he lost her. He thought of her tear-stained face and how distraught she’d sounded, calling out his name as he’d walked away. There would be time to make amends to her, but right now, he had to make sure that Griselda’s foretelling would come to pass, so that Edward could move on to another maiden. A measure of relief settled over him when he saw Josselyn standing at the junction where the two rivers met.

  “Thou art late!”

  Rushton, dismounted his horse. “I’m sorry, I got detained.”

  Josselyn puckered her lips. “I was beginning to think ye weren’t coming.” She held up a piece of parchment. “Your hastily scrawled letter wasn’t very forthcoming. What is it you wanted to speak to me about, Squire? I only have a few moments and then I must return to the castle. The courtier will be wondering where I am.”

  “Patience is a virtue, Josselyn, one that thou wouldst do well to acquire.”

  She put a hand on her hip, her eyes blazing. “I did not come all the way out here to get a lecture from you, so if you have something to say, say it! And say it quickly!” She pushed back a stray curl from her forehead.

  “What if I told you that I could give you that which you most want?”

  A furrow appeared between her brows, but he could see the interest sparking in her dark eyes. “What do you mean?”

  This is where it got tricky. Edward’s true love would supposedly materialize this evening at the marketplace, but Rushton wasn’t taking any chances. In case Griselda was wrong, he needed Josselyn there as a back-up. “What if I told thee I could give ye Edward?”

  She was amused. She looked past him to the horse that he’d tethered to a nearby tree. “So, art thou carrying Edward around in thy pack, or perchance he’s in thy pouch?” She clasped her hands together. “Do give him to me, please.”

  Rushton scowled. “By my troth, Josselyn, you could worry the feathers off a goose. I’m trying to help … if ye will let me.”

  She folded her arms across her ample chest. “All right, I’ll play along. You are going to give me Edward.”

  “Yea.”

  “Well, aren’t ye the gallant squire. Sir Rushton Porter, the noble, has ridden out here, away from the all-seeing eyes of the castle to offer me the prince.” A crafty smile curved her lips. “Suddenly all becomes clear.” She straightened the folds of her gown. “This is about Cinderella. Edward has taken a fancy to my stepsister, and you want to use me as a distraction.”

  “Not merely a distraction,” he countered. “I’m offering thee the chance to prove to Edward that ye are his one and only true love.”

  She threw her head back and let out a deep, throaty laugh that turned into a snort. While she was passably attractive, she was crude, and her tongue was more lethal than a serpent’s. There was no way Edward, cultured and fair-minded, could love someone like her. What had he been thinking? “This was a mistake. Forgive me, Mi’ Lady …” he bowed “… I should not have come.” He moved to go, but she stepped in front of him.

  “Oh, no. You aren’t leaving until you tell me what you have in mind.”

  He looked at her, sizing her up. “Okay,” he finally said, “I’ll tell thee all, but we haven’t much time.” He retrieved a yellow rose from his pouch. “For starters, you must wear this in your hair, and you will need to make haste and get to the village … quickly.”

  * * *

  Josselyn lifted the hem of her gown as she picked her way around the mud and patches of horse dung on the road. She was still not sure that she believed the outlandish tale that Rushton told her. Still, if there were the slightest chance that she could win Edward’s heart, then it would all be worth it. She twisted her mouth into a sneer, thinking about how difficult it had been to watch Edward showering Cinderella with affection. She always felt conflicting emotions where Cinderella was concerned. A part of her cared for her stepsister and felt pity for the peasant orphan whose father had squandered away her inheritance, but the other part—the larger part—resented her. Josselyn had always known that her beauty paled in comparison to Cinderella’s. Her mother knew it too, which is why she tried so hard to relegate Cinderella to the life of a servant. She was so worried that Cinderella would outshine her only daughter, and she had; for in a strange turn of events, it was Cinderella who secured their coveted positions as Ladies in Waiting. It was Cinderella who caught the eye of the Prince. It was Rushton’s love for Cinderella that prompted him to seek out her help. The sun seemed to always be shining on Cinderella whilst it was raining on her. Grace and daintiness came as easily as breathing to Cinderella, while for her, it was brutally difficult.

  Hopefully, before the sun set today, that would all change. Her heart fluttered with anticipation as she thought about Edward with his golden hair and brilliant smile. How Cinderella could prefer Rushton to Edward was beyond her. Admittedly, Rushton was devilishly handsome with that thick head of dark hair and those brilliant blue eyes. Sure he was witty and brave, but he was also moody and reckless. Edward, on the other hand, was genteel, levelheaded, and charming—the perfect prince. She looked at the sloping meadow in the distance. The village was just beyond it. If a damsel in distress was what Edward wanted, a damsel in distress was what he would get.

  She stopped and looked ahead. That mist of green had not been there before. Strange. She stood there, not sure if she should keep moving forward when something shot out from it. She let out a cry of dismay as a dot landed on her sleeve. She frantically tried to brush it away. Another landed on her gown, followed by another. A flurry of tiny green dots encircled her like angry hornets before they melded together, growing larger and more terrible. The green encapsulated her, and she peered through it, trying to find a way out. She saw a break in the green and dove for the opening. For a moment, it seemed that she’d broken free, but as she looked up, she shrank back in terror as a giant fist arose before her eyes and opened its fingers, cloaking everything in a sickly green. “Magic,” she uttered. Tentacles of fog slithered around her, settling into her lungs and making it hard to breathe. She doubled over coughing and then tried to regulate her breathing. She must keep her wits about her. That was her only hope. She tried to stay on the road, but it was impossible to tell what was around her. She stumbled around blindly, not knowing in which direction the village was. All hopes of reaching Edward vanished as she continued wandering aimlessly through the threatening fog.

  * * *

  With Josselyn prepared and on her way to the marketplace, Rushton could relax a little. His plan was to linger on the outskirts of the village and out of Edward’s sight until the damsel was rescued, and then he would head back and find Cinderella to make amends. He’d warned Josselyn that there might be another damsel at the marketplace and that in order to win Edward’s heart, it was imperative that she be the one that was rescued. Josselyn assured him that she could handle the situation, and he didn’t doubt it. There were no lengths that Josselyn wouldn’t go to in order to get Edward. While he felt a slight twinge of guilt for pushing Josselyn into Edward’s arms, he also felt relief that the ordeal would finally be over. After all, Josselyn was a much better choice than the dreaded Helsin. And for all of her faults, Josselyn truly did love Edward. That much he knew. What could it hurt for Edward to end up with a girl that loved him? He could surely learn to love her, couldn’t he? When he neared the marketplace, he could see a crowd already gathered in the street.

  * * *

  Cinderella looked again at the parchment that Wisteria had given her and then at the stall located directly across the cobblestone road where she was standing. Normally, she loved the hustle and bustle of the marketplace with the wide varieties of shops clustered together, elbow to elbow, and peering over the street vendors selling their wares, but today, she was solely focused on taking care of Wisteria’s errand so that she could return and patch things up with Rushton. One of the things she loved most about Rushton was his intensity and
passion for life, but it was that same intense passion that also made him rash in his judgment and unreasonable. His bull-headedness could be so infuriating! Did he really think that she would forget about him the first time someone else—a prince—paid her some attention? Yea, she would patch things up but not before she made him grovel a bit first—as if she could make Rushton do anything he didn’t have a mind to do. She chuckled at the thought.

  She looked to where a man was selling swine and goats and another was selling eggs. Beside them, a woman was selling vegetables, and to the right of her … She looked closely. That must be it, for Wisteria told her that the woman would be old and that she would be selling a large assortment of unusual herbs and roots. The sunset bell began clanging. A clutch of anxiety pounded in her chest. She needed to hurry in order to get back in time for the evening meal. As she stepped onto the road, she heard a commotion, followed by screams. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The horses charging at her full speed … the panicked look of the driver in the wagon as he tried to regain control of the reins. She tried to back out of the way but then let out a shriek of pain as she turned her ankle on a loose stone and went down. Strong arms wrapped around her, helping to break her fall.

  “Mi’ Lady, I’ve got you. Thou art safe now,” she heard him say.

  She looked up into the face of the angel that had rescued her. “Prince Edward,” she breathed, and then everything went black.

  Chapter Twenty

  The Dinner Party

  Elle’s heart jumped into her throat as she held onto the trellis for dear life. It creaked under her weight, and she prayed it would hold her. Only a few more steps, and she would be down. Hold on tight, she commanded herself. Steady! She didn’t let out a breath until her feet hit the ground. A wave of exultation covered her as she looked up at her bedroom window. She’d done it! She’d escaped from her room with only a few minor scratches on her arms—thanks to the thorns on the rose bushes.