None of her dreams could have prepared her for the sight of the palace.
Everything was so massive. The curving staircases blanketed in carpets of velvet wine, the high ceilings arching above her in golden beams, the pillars of marble framing the ballroom as it stretched out before her.
Hundreds of courtiers filled the space, all facing the dais Cinderella assumed to be where the focus of the ball was: the Prince. It was impossible to see past the crowd to catch a glimpse of the King's son, but Cinderella put little effort into the endeavor. Far more intrigued by the surrounding grandeur, she cast a mere glance at the court before returning her attention to the dazzling scenery.
"Excuse me, mademoiselle, but are you looking for someone? I don't believe I have seen you here before."
Cinderella snapped her head towards the unexpected voice. Standing off to the side was a young man, who was watching her curiously. He was not one of the attendants or guards she had passed on her way to the ballroom; his formal attire clearly indicated he was a guest of noble station. He had a tall, slim figure that was pleasing to the eye, and a head of dark brown hair neatly combed back, allowing Cinderella to get a full view of his face.
He was alarmingly handsome.
For a moment, she was quite unsure what to say. She had not been expecting to be noticed so quickly upon her entrance to the ball, if at all. And yet a man stood before her now, his soft brown eyes gazing at her in fascination.
Unbothered by her silence, the man's lips curved upwards. "No, I am certain you are new to the palace," he said. "I would have remembered meeting you."
A tentative smile touched Cinderella's mouth. "You are correct in your assumption, sir," she said. She pulled at the stitching of one of her gloves nervously. "I had not realized I was so obvious."
A laugh emanated from the man. "Most of the courtiers here are far too pompous to notice much beyond their own lapels and plumes. Your attentions were diverted elsewhere, which was refreshing to see." He gestured to the ballroom. "And what is your final assessment? Is everything done to taste? Or perhaps the decorations are overdone in their extravagance?" He shot her a humorous glance. "I'm afraid my own opinion would be a useless one to adhere to, as I have a rather mediocre eye for such finesse."
Cinderella's smile widened. "I think it is perfect."
The warmth in his eyes deepened. He took a step towards her and extended his hand. "Well then, now that you have given your approval of the place, would you care to dance?"
She hesitated, her gaze flickering to the courtiers. "But no one else is dancing," she said.
The man shrugged. "Then I suppose we shall have to be the first to do so. Don't worry, they will join in soon enough." He winked. "Following others is what courtiers do best."
Cinderella stared at him, shocked at the blatant manner in which the man spoke of the other nobles. Did he not care what they might think if they overheard him? But the man, who continued to hold his hand out to her, seemed utterly unconcerned by such potential consequences.
She had not danced in years. To do so now, and in front of so many people…
She opened her mouth, ready to reject the offer. But the gentle coaxing in the man's eyes eased her anxiety, and she found herself stretching her hands towards his.
Her hand slid into the cradle of his waiting fingers, and she stifled a sharp intake of breath. Even though both of them wore gloves, a surge of warmth radiated across her palm at his touch. For a moment she was sure that he had felt it too, for he stilled, a strange look passing over his face. Then he blinked, and a jovial smile brightened his features once again.
He led her through the tangle of people to the center of the ballroom. Cinderella forced herself to look ahead, uncomfortably aware that many of the guests were watching her and the man. Panic struck her as she realized that her stepfamily could very well be nearby, and for a brief moment she considered wrenching her hand free of the man's to disappear into the crowd and escape what was beginning to feel like a very precarious situation.
The man pulled her to a stop, and she turned to face him. Run! Her thoughts urged her. Before you are recognized! Before your deception is uncovered for all the court to see. Before he realizes who you really are.
But then he placed his hand on the small of her back, and all her worries were wiped from her mind. A tingling sensation erupted from where his palm was pressed, spreading outwards and engulfing her entire body. She lifted her free hand and laid it on his shoulder.
The orchestra near the dais began to play a waltz. And they were off, dancing across the ballroom floor. The man led Cinderella with a relaxed confidence, and she soon found herself void of any concerns that she may make a misstep. How could she, with such an attentive partner?
The faces of the other guests flew by in a blur as the couple whirled past. All else seemed to fade, save for Cinderella and the man before her. Tearing her gaze from the magnetic pull of his eyes was an impossible task, and one she would not have wanted to indulge in even if she were capable of doing so.
They made their way across the ballroom, dancing through a curtained archway and onto a terrace overlooking the palace gardens. No one followed them, and they were left alone to finish the dance as the final notes of the waltz faded into the night.
They stilled, neither of them loosening their grip on each other. No longer preoccupied with the dance, Cinderella was once again very aware of the man's hand on her waist. The tips of his fingers felt like pinpoints of heat, searing through the fabric of her gown as if it were her very skin he was touching.
"You…you dance very well," she finally managed, her voice breathless.
The man took a moment to respond, looking just as dazed as she was. Then he grinned at her. "My father certainly would be glad to hear that," he said. "It'd be a comfort for him to know that my complaints at having to attend dance lessons were not ignored in vain."
Cinderella laughed.
"You are quite a fine dancer yourself," said the man. "I am assuming you had a plethora of adoring instructors growing up."
It had been an innocent comment, but Cinderella could not help sobering. "Just one," she murmured. "My father." She swallowed. "But it's been some time since our last dance."
The man's grip on her hand loosened at the look on her face. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to –"
"It's all right," said Cinderella. "It's been many years since his passing." She stepped back, and his hand fell away from her waist. His other hand remained linked to hers, and she made no effort to detach herself from it. "Besides, I have other friends to sate my desire for companionship."
"Oh? Would I know any of them?"
"I doubt it," said Cinderella humorously. "They are of a rather…different sort of social circle than the one you are likely used to."
The man pressed his lips together. "I am not as confined to the palace court as you may think me to be."
Cinderella cringed. "I did not mean any offense. I only meant…" She trailed off, not sure how she could possibly explain the meaning behind her cryptic answer.
The man's expression softened. "You did no such thing," he assured her. He glanced over his shoulder at the curtained entrance separating them from the ballroom. "Come," he said, pulling her towards the steps leading into the gardens. "Lest we stumble upon any wandering guests and are forced to partake in boringly polite conversation with them."
Smiling at his jest, Cinderella followed him down the stairs. They stepped onto a stone pathway and walked along it through the neatly maintained grounds, which were decorated with flowering archways and intricately carved statues. All the while the man's gaze remained on Cinderella, apparently content with simply watching her as she marveled at their surroundings.
They stopped before a large fountain. Water spilled from the centerpiece in endless streams, sending ripples out towards the fountain's walls.
"This place is beautiful," Cinderella sighed.
"It is rather pretty in the moonlight," agreed the man. "As you have never been here before, I am going to assume you are visiting someone. Family, perhaps?"
Cinderella was suddenly very grateful they were outside; she could only hope that the night's darkness would hide the flush that had crept onto her cheeks. How was she to answer? "Yes," she said carefully, inwardly wincing at the lie.
The man nodded. "Cousins, maybe? An uncle? Or perhaps a sister who had married some well-off duke and is now blessed with five or six children."
A laugh spilled from Cinderella. "Not quite."
The man gave her a look of mock horror. "Don't tell me she has more than six children."
"No," grinned Cinderella. "I am aunt to no children at all."
"Ah." The man nodded in a curt, matter-of-fact manner. "Then it is your aunt that you are staying with."
"No. Not exactly."
The man huffed in feigned exasperation. "Will you not divulge the answer, then?"
"Certainly not," said Cinderella, mirroring his lighthearted tone. "My relative would hardly approve if I were to give out such delicate information so freely."
The man chuckled. "Of course." He eyed her thoughtfully. "Well perhaps you will at least give me your name."
Cinderella paused, startled by the unexpected question. "I…" She shook her head. "No," she said, her voice soft with regret. "No, I had better not."
The man tilted his head, frowning at her sudden change in demeanor. "Why ever not?"
She bit her lip. Then she forced a smile back onto her face. "Oh it is a rather dull name," she said airily. "Hardly one worth dimming the night's air with."
The man cocked an eyebrow at the odd response. He shook his head in amusement. "Very well. I shall try to guess it." He thought for a moment. "Isabelle?"
The corners of her mouth quirked further upwards. "No." She tugged her hand from his and moved away from the fountain, walking towards a bridge arching over the garden's canal.
Disappointment flitted across the man's face at the loss of her hand, but he did not try to grab for it. He followed her onto the bridge. "Charlotte?"
"I'm afraid not."
"Helga?"
Cinderella burst into laughter, and the man quickly joined in.
"You're right," he said. "Not very fitting." He tapped his chin. "Ilene?"
"A lovely guess, but no."
"Am I to receive no hint, then?" It was a teasing question, though it teetered close to a plea.
Cinderella smiled. "Perhaps I may give you one later. But for now…" She turned to the bridge's railing and propped her arms on it, leaning forward to gaze into the canal waters. "Let us simply enjoy the evening."
The man sighed, though the playfulness in his eyes did not wane. "Very well." He mirrored her movements, his arm brushing hers as he settled against the railing.
They fell silent, staring out over the water with a peaceful contentedness. Faintly, Cinderella could hear the chatter of the guests in the palace, the muffled sound mingling with the music from the orchestra. But her interest in the ballroom had long faded in favor of where she was now, with the freshness of the outdoor gardens and moonlight spilling onto the canal's glimmering surface. It felt like a dream, perfected by this charming stranger standing beside her, whose arm remained pressed up against hers in a manner that sent her mind reeling with delight.
This. She thought wistfully. This is what makes life divine. She turned her head to look up at the man. He adjusted his gaze to match hers, and she found herself unable to quell the sudden rapid beating of her heart.
He smiled. "Dance with me again?"
She nodded, allowing him to take her hand from the bridge's railing to encase it in his. They swept off the bridge onto the grass of the gardens, where he guided her in gentle circles beneath the star-speckled sky.
"Since you are a visitor to the city," said the man. "Perhaps you travel often. Am I correct in that assumption?"
She shook her head. "No, sadly not." She gave him an apologetic smile. "I hate to repeatedly give such disappointing answers to your questions."
"Your answers aren't disappointing," he said, sounding surprised at such a notion. "On the contrary, I find them rather intriguing." His hand, which was pressed against the small of her back, drew her ever so much closer. "All right, if you were to travel, where would you go? Surely there is some exotic place that draws your attention."
Anywhere. Everywhere. Wherever freedom is.
"Well?" he prompted.
She sucked in a breath, gathering her courage to continue beneath such an earnest gaze. "Oh, there are many places. My father used to tell me about all the cities he had visited while traveling. Each sounded more wonderful than the last." She sighed. "Though I doubt I shall ever see them."
The man frowned. "Why do you say that?"
She fell quiet, debating how to respond. "Have you traveled?" she asked instead.
The man hesitated, clearly wanting to repeat his question. "Yes, I travel often," he admitted. Slowly, he led them back onto the terrace. "But my father has grown tired of it, I think."
"Why?"
"He believes me to be avoiding my responsibilities." He shrugged. "Which I suppose I am. But condemning myself to the dull lifestyle he wants for me is something I have long dreaded. I had been trying to delay it for as long I could, even though I knew I would have to come back here eventually."
"And are you glad that you did?"
His gaze locked onto hers with a startling intensity. "I am now."
She did not have an answer for that.
Their dance finally ended, and the man led Cinderella to a short wall bordering the terrace. He helped her settle onto it, then sat beside her.
"How long do you plan to stay in the city?" the man asked. The question was laced with hopeful anticipation. "Surely you did not come for the ball alone."
"And if I had?" inquired Cinderella.
The man was silent, contemplation heavy in his eyes. Then he reached out and placed a gentle hand on her arm. "Then I would beg you to reconsider the length of your visit. To stave off your departure for a later time."
Her very breath felt stolen from her. "Why?" she managed.
He bent, lowering his face so that it was level with hers. "Because all the grandeur and magnificence surrounding us…it utterly pales beneath the notion of not seeing you again after tonight."
She stared at him. An unexpected longing to concede to what he was implying rose up within her, but she forced it down. "I can't," she whispered.
He cupped her other arm, holding her as he leaned closer.
"Please," he breathed.
She should run. Tear free from this stranger who so thoroughly captivated her. Escape this wonderful, terrible, ephemeral dream before her deceit was discovered and bared before him.
Oh, but how deeply she wanted this moment to last.
Their lips were almost touching. He paused, waiting for her to draw back. She did not. Her body trembled, her mind humming with the word he had spoken only seconds before: please.
He moved to close the distance left between them.
Then the clock hanging over the terrace struck midnight.
Cinderella gasped and pulled away. "Oh my goodness…."
The man frowned. "What's the matter?"
She shot to her feet, horrified. "It's midnight."
"Yes, so it is," said the man in bewilderment. "But why –"
You cannot leave him. Do not leave him! Do not let this moment slip away from you.
"Goodbye!" cried Cinderella. She turned back towards the ballroom.
The man stood and caught her hand, tugging her to a stop. "No, wait!" The distress in his voice made Cinderella's chest ache, and for a moment she considered heeding his plea. "You can't go now, it's only –"
"Oh, I must!" No, you mustn't! She yanked her hand in an effort to free herself. "Please, please, I must!"
"But why?" Hurt mingled into his confused tone. "Is it something I've said?" He tightened his grip. "If I had brought you offense, you must tell me. Please, you can't –"
"No," said Cinderella. "No, it is not you. You are…" The most wonderful person I have ever met. "It's not you," she repeated. "I just…it's only that…" She glanced about, searching for an excuse. "Why, the Prince!" Her gaze snapped back to his. "I haven't met the Prince yet."
The man looked genuinely shocked at that. His hands fell away from her. "The Prince?" he said, aghast. "But…didn't you know that –"
The clock struck once more.
Panic shot through Cinderella. "Goodbye!" She spun away from him, running across the terrace.
"No, wait!" called the man. "Come back! Please come back! I don't even know your name, how will I find you?"
Cinderella glanced behind her to see that the man had burst into pursuit. She shook her head – though she wasn't sure whom the gesture was meant for – and dashed through the curtains separating the terrace from the ballroom.
"Please wait!"
The final cry from him before she thrust herself into the mass of courtiers tore at her heart. Tears pricked her eyes, but she forced them back. She could already feel the magic unraveling, its emptying spool urging her on.
Come back. Come back. Come back.
His words echoed with each toll of the clock.
Unrecognizable voices were calling after her, ordering her to halt. She ignored them, running as fast as she could down the palace stairs. But she miscalculated the final few steps and stumbled.
And then.
One of the glass slippers fell from her foot, falling to the carpeted steps with a dull clink. Cinderella paused and whipped around to snatch it up, but she caught a glimpse of a palace attendant rushing towards her. Abandoning the slipper, she hurried outside to her waiting carriage.
As the carriage pulled away from the palace, Cinderella could not help turning around to peer out the window. It was an impossible hope, that she might catch a final glimpse of her mysterious stranger. Of course, he was not there.
The carriage jolted through the palace gates, racing onto the road beyond.
Her hair was coming loose, tumbling down over her shoulders in strawberry-blonde waves. Her dress was fading, losing its shimmering silver for a dull pink and white.
On they fled, through the city streets and away from the palace.
Soon the carriage returned to its original pumpkin form. The horses became mice, and the coachman and footman transformed back into a horse and dog. With Cinderella in the lead, they scampered out of the road, watching from the shadows as the King's men stampeded past.
Once the danger had gone, the bedraggled group emerged into the moonlight. Cinderella glanced down, and was surprised to discover that one item had not disappeared in the aftermath of the spell – the glass slipper. She bent, sliding it off her foot to cradle it in her hands.
"Thank you," she murmured. She looked up at the night sky, hoping her Fairy Godmother could hear her. "Thank you for everything."
The evening had ended. But the young man, with his soft brown eyes and comforting touch…he would not fade from her dreams. Of that she was certain.