Perfect Day
"How did you enjoy the ball, darling?" Eugene asked as he helped Cinderella climb up into their carriage.
"Oh, it was wonderful," Cinderella said. It was true that her encounter with Lieutenant Kilpatrick had been painful, but she had gotten away from him as soon as the dance had ended, and she was determined not to let him ruin what had been, for the most part, a lovely and enjoyable evening with Eugene. Besides, she expected that, whatever he said, he would forget about her soon enough; he had to, for what else could he do when she was unattainable?
As Eugene climbed up into the carriage with her, Cinderella snuggled up against him. "I love dancing with you more than anything else in the world."
Eugene smiled as he put one arm around her. "I'm glad you had a good time, though I'm sure you will grow sick of these things soon enough?"
Cinderella looked up at him. "Are you sick of them?"
Eugene shrugged. "There are just so many and they are all the same. It gets hard to be enthused about them any more."
"I don't think I could ever grow tired of galas as long as you're with me," Cinderella said. "Unless you think that I will grow tired of you? Or you'll grow tired of me?"
Eugene leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. "Never." He smiled, as the carriage began to move off, bouncing a little on the cobblestones. "You know, the end of the ball doesn't have to mean the end of the night."
Cinderella giggled. "That sounds absolutely wonderful."
In a private room in the inn of the Elephant and Castle, Serena de Montcalm waited for Lieutenant Kilpatrick to arrive.
She had arrived at the inn swathed in a long dark cloak that had concealed her from prying eyes. She had received this room, where she could meet the Lieutenant in secret, because the landlord was a former tenant of her father's and had, in fact, received the money to buy the inn from her father. She had faith that he would ensure that she was not disturbed or overheard.
If only she could have as much faith in all her servants.
Serena took out a gold half-hunter from her purse and tsked as she noted the time. If she stayed too long then her absence might be noted. But she needed to meet with him, if only to demand to know what was taking him so long. She had expected him to be able to move quickly, and instead there seemed to be no progress whatsoever. The princess had not even hinted at so much as having an admirer, let alone being interested in another man. And it was not discretion, because Cinderella didn't have any. If she hadn't said anything it was because she had nothing to say.
The door opened the Wolfe Kilpatrick sauntered in, looking altogether too pleased with himself. He crossed the wooden floor with an arrogant, sauntering gate that put Serena in mind of a cat. Smirking, he sat down across the plain wooden table from her, and put his booted feet upon it.
"You're late," Serena growled.
Kilpatrick's smirk only widened. "Forgive me, milady. I was getting acquainted with Lady Conde."
"You're supposed to be seducing the princess, not rolling in the hay with Lady Conde," Serena snapped.
Kilpatrick leaned forward, and Serena thought she caught a hint of anger in those green eyes. "Careful, milady, I'm not some hired hand you can bark orders at to set me running. So best lower your voice."
Serena scowled. "Who do you think you are to talk to me like that? You're nothing more than a penniless exile."
"I'm the man who knows a great deal about you," Kilpatrick replied, softly and slowly. "You lied to me, milady."
Serena blinked. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You told me that Princess Cinderella had her eye on me," Kilpatrick said. "That she would welcome seduction. You said that all I had to go was woo her and she would fall into my bed. That was a lie."
Serena's lip curled into a sneer. "Is she too much of a challenge for you?"
Kilpatrick grabbed her arm with astonishing speed, gripping so tight that Serena cried out in pain. "I don't appreciate being mocked, ma'am. Or played for a fool. Don't laugh at me again." He released her arm before he continued. "The princess doesn't want me. She only wants her husband, her charming prince. She loves him."
"Love," Serena spat. "Who talks of love? Poets, the most amorous and unfaithful creatures in the world. My father loved my mother so much that his string of mistresses started the moment she was dead. Love is nothing but an empty word, meaning nothing. Nobody loves. Don't talk to me about love. She's flattered, that's all. She was a dishmaid, and a prince not only looked at her twice but he was actually foolish enough to marry her. So now she's pathetically grateful to him. You only have to speak to her for a few moments to understand that."
"Be that as it may, call it what you will," Kilpatrick said. "The fact remains she doesn't want me, doesn't want to be seduced or wooed. You lied to me."
Serena leaned back. "And what if I did?"
"I just wondered why you did it," Kilpatrick said. "And then I remembered that adultery is still treason in the royal family. If the princess was caught having an affair, then her head would be on the block before she could say a word to defend herself. So I wonder, milady, who might be interested in knowing that you're trying to get the new princess put to death."
Serena shifted uncomfortably. "You have no proof of this."
"Scandal doesn't need proof to be scandalous," Kilpatrick said. "Just the word of it would throw enough mud onto your reputation that it would take years to wash off."
Serena tried her best to ignore the cold feeling gripping her stomach. "What do you want?"
"You," Kilpatrick said. "In my bed, whenever I desire."
Serena breathed in heavily. "You must be mad. You want me to become your... I'd rather face the scandal."
"I'm aware that I'm asking a lot," Kilpatrick said. "And that's why I'm offering you more than your silence. You'll still get the death of the princess, as you desire. You'll just have to pay me for my services, is all."
Serena's eyes narrowed. "You just said that it couldn't be done."
"I said that she didn't want me," Kilpatrick replied. "Do you think she's the first. There have always been those who refused me the first time or two. Virtuous maidens, wrapped in resolute morality, wives determined to be faithful. But I have broken down every gate that stood against me, and stormed the keeps that lay within. They all come, in the end. Some require more persuasion than others, but they all come."
"You can't coerce her," Serena said, calling it that to avoid thinking about what it really was. "If you do then any value is lost. She has to give herself to you of her own free will or it isn't a crime."
"Don't worry about that, milady, they all come to love it in the end," Kilpatrick said. "That's the game, you see; that's why the reluctant ones are the most enjoyable: because I work to make them love it... to make them love me."
"So far you haven't made much progress," Serena murmured.
"I was confused about what I had to do before," Kilpatrick said. "I know now. This is a siege, and I am an expert in siegecraft."
Serena smiled. "And you're not worried about what will happen once you're discovered?"
"I have my escape routes well prepared," Kilpatrick said. "I always do, in case any angry fathers come calling."
Serena chuckled. "You're a damned rogue, aren't you?"
"Very damned, if half of the what priests say is true," Kilpatrick replied. "Though this rogue is rather curious: why?"
"Why what?"
"Why seek the princess' death?"
Serena shrugged. "I have no choice. It's for the good of the family."
"So you're not jealous, then?"
"What do I have to be jealous of? Is she more beautiful than I am?"
"Yes," Kilpatrick said bluntly. "Though, for me, I find that it isn't her beauty that draws me in. To tell the truth it never is."
Serena frowned. "Then what is it?"
Kilpatrick licked his lips. "Have you noticed, Serena, how often your princess wears white?"
"It's a colour," Serena said. "It's as bland as she is, but what of it?"
"White isn't bland, Lady de Montcalm," Kilpatrick said. "White is pure. And the princess almost always has some white about her."
Serena snorted. "If she's still a virgin then it can only be that Prince Eugene is not a man."
"I'm not talking about chastity, ma'am, I'm talking about purity," Kilpatrick said sharply. "There are more kinds of innocence than not knowing what it feels like to be penetrated. The kind of innocence I'm talking about... the princess gives it off like the sun gives off light. Girls like her... I'll take my payment in pleasure from you, ma'am, but you are too worldly for me to have sought you out otherwise. The girls I like, the girls I hunt, the girls that I remember after the night is done even if I never see them again, they are all innocent, all pure. And Princess Cinderella is the purest I have ever set eyes upon."
"So... it is the corruption that appeals to you?" Serena asked.
The smile on the face of Wolfe Kilpatrick was a thing to behold, and to shrink from. "What else would appeal to a man like me, milady?"
Serena forced herself to smile as she began to wonder just what she had got herself into.
Lucille stood in front of the counter in a little pawnshop, her fingers lightly touching the pearl bracelet she had just laid down in front of the owner.
"They're real pearls," she said defensively.
"I don't doubt that they're real pearls," the pawnbroker said. "That's what worries me, and that's why I won't touch them."
"Why not?" Lucille asked. "They're worth money."
"They're worth trouble, too," the pawnbroker said, his moustache bristling. "I don't need the constables coming down here to haul me away, I'm not a fence. I don't touch stolen property."
"What do you mean, stolen?" Lucille asked, hiding her surprised at the fact that he had, in fact, guessed at the truth. "They're mine."
The pawnbroker did not look as though he believed her in the least bit. "Really? Frankly, miss, you don't look near well-off enough to have jewellery like this, and the fact that you're here in the middle of the night doesn't inspire much confidence either. Did you steal this from your mistress?"
"No," Lucille lied. "I'm telling you, that belongs me. Please, I just need a little money for it."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't believe a word coming out of your mouth."
"And quite right that you should not, my good man," a man said, his voice rising above the jingling of the bell as she stepped through the door and down the steps into the shop. He was dressed in a long coat, his face half hidden behind a tricorne hat, though what Lucille could make out of his face was handsome and clean-shaven. "That bracelet belongs, not to the charming mademoiselle, but to Her Royal Highness Princess Cinderella. You are very wise to want nothing to do with it."
The pawnbroker paled. "The...princess? I wasn't going to touch it, you heard me plain as day!"
"Calm down," the man said with a hint of a laugh in his voice. "I'm not a constable. I do, however, require a word with the young lady in private. Give us the room, if you would."
The pawnbroker frowned. "But this is my shop."
The man sighed as he put down three gold pieces on the counter. "Please. We will not be long."
The pawnbroker snatched up the gold quickly. "I'll, um... I'll just go take inventory, I think." He bustled off into the dark recesses of his shop.
Lucille backed away from the stranger, eyeing him suspiciously. "How did you know the bracelet belonged to the princess?"
"You are the princess' maid, are you not?" the man said. "Miss Lucille."
"How do you know my name?" Lucille demanded. "And who are you?"
"My name is Anton," he said. "And I know a great many things. I know, for instance, the names of all your creditors, and how much money you owe to each of them."
Lucille shifted uncomfortably. "Then you why I needed to take it. I was going to get it back, once my luck turned around, but I needed a bit of money to keep them off my back, is all."
"Thankfully, that will not now be necessary," Anton said, producing a piece of paper from inside his coat. "This is a note of hand from Monsieur Mirabeau, acknowledging that I have brought up all our debts to him. I have similar notes from all your other creditors."
Lucille's eyes widened. "Then..."
"All the money that you owe, you owe to me," Anton replied.
Lucille shivered. "What do you want?"
"Not Princess Cinderella's pearls, to be sure," Anton said. "I advise you to take them back to the palace and slip them back into your mistress' jewellery box before their absence becomes noted. We wouldn't want to see you lose your position, would we?"
Lucille took a step backwards. "I can't pay you," she said. "At least not right away. When I get a run of luck on the cards, then-"
"I do not want money," Anton said. "I have in mind a different way in which you can pay off your debts."
"I'm not that kind of girl," Lucille said quickly.
Anton chuckled. "And I am not that kind of man, mademoiselle, what do you take me for. No, the currency I had in mind, the repayment that I desire, is information."
Cinderella awoke with Eugene's arms around her, enfolding her about the waist.
"Good morning, love," he whispered as he kissed her upon the back of the neck.
Cinderella twisted her body around to smile at him. "How long have you been awake?"
"Not long," Eugene said. He brushed some of her strawberry-blonde hair - she had not braided it before bed, so it hung lose all around her shoulders - out of the way before he kissed her again upon the cheek. "Long enough to see that you are as beautiful asleep as you are awake."
Cinderella laughed as she prised his arms away from her and climbed out of bed, she padded across the room in her lavender nightgown to draw the curtains. Light flooded into the bedroom. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?"
"Very much so," Eugene said, flopping onto his back and stretching his arms out across Cinderella's bed. "So lovely that it seems a crime to do any work today."
"Do you have a choice?" Cinderella asked.
"Not often, but every once in a while," Eugene said.
Cinderella smiled. "What would you do instead?"
"I thought that I could spend the day with you," Eugene said, rolling out of bed. "You could also leave aside your lessons and your work today. We could go riding, and see the land of which you will be queen one day."
Cinderella looked down at her feet. "I... I'm not sure that my horse-riding is good enough to keep up with you." I'm not sure that I am good enough to do anything but fall off the back of my horse. She hadn't ridden since she was a child, and having to learn again was something that she was quietly dreading.
She turned away to throw open the doors onto the balcony, letting the morning breeze blow gently on her face and ruffle through her locks.
She felt Eugene rest his head upon her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her, strong and firm, but gentle too. "We don't have to ride if you don't want to. We could take a carriage. We can do... anything you want."
Cinderella closed her eyes and smiled as she placed her hands atop Eugene's. "A carriage ride... that sounds lovely."
"That's settled then," Eugene whispered into her ear.
"But we can't go anywhere or do anything until I get dressed," Cinderella murmured.
"I'm not stopping you," Eugene said.
Cinderella chuckled. "I'm not getting dressed with you in the room."
"You were quite willing to get undressed while I was in the room last night," Eugene said.
Cinderella gasped in affected shock as she disentangled herself from his grasp and strode over to the door, throwing it open and pointing out into the corridor down to the stairs. "Out," she said, with mock sternness.
Eugene smiled boyishly. "Of course, your highness." He walked outside.
Cinderella began to close the door, only for Eugene to push it open again.
"One more kiss, before I leave you," he said, kissing her on the lips.
Cinderella melted into his kiss, into his embrace, and when he released her she could not keep from smiling. She said, "Now will you let me get ready?" But she could not even pretend sternness, or pretend anything but the joy she felt.
Eugene bowed his head. "Of course, my dear. Don't keep my waiting too long."
"I won't," Cinderella said, shutting the door to her chamber.
She glanced at the bell-pull that hung down beside the bed, that would summon her maids to help her wash and dress, but she found that she did not want to summon them quite yet. Cinderella hummed to herself as she walked over to the vanity and sat down on the padded stool in front of it, her own face beaming out at her with a smile bright as the sun as she picked up her comb and started to brush the tangles out of her hair.
"You sound happy, Cinderelly," Jaq said, as he crawled out of the hole in the wall.
Cinderella sighed. "Oh, that's because I am, Jaq. Eugene and I are going to spend the day together. No lessons in etiquette or history, no having to try and remember who this king or that queen is, or what the minister of the something does and what makes him different from the minister for the exact same thing. Just me and my husband. I just know that this is going to be a perfect day."
Eugene waited at the bottom of the steps from the Queen's Tower, listening for the sound of Cinderella's footsteps on the stairs, getting faster and faster as his angel descended.
She was a vision of loveliness. Her dress was white and ankle length, with bows around the hem. The sleeves descended to her elbow and ended in frilly cuffs, leaving her hands and lower arm bare. The neckline was lace, and hung above the shoulders, with a bow about the size of Eugene's hand sitting in the centre of it. A white silk choker clasped around her throat, and a pair of sapphire earrings peaking out from underneath her hair, where the only jewellery she wore to adorn herself on this occasion, proving that her beauty needed no adornment. Cinderella had tied back her hair into a low ponytail, held back with a ribbon in a bow with streams of silk descending from it, flowing behind her as she came towards him. Her slippers were high heeled and white, unadorned by any bow or design upon the toe, and clicked whenever they touched those parts of the stairs that were uncarpeted.
To be blessed with such a wife, so beautiful, so graceful and so kind... it was the sort of blessing that pagan savages would have offered up whole herds of oxen in sacrifice to the gods. There were times when he felt like doing the same.
"Have you been waiting for me?" Cinderella asked. "I didn't keep you, did I?"
"Of course not," Eugene replied as he took her arm. He sniffed. "Your perfume smells very nice."
"I'm glad you like it, since you gave it to me," Cinderella said.
"Well then, I have excellent taste it seems."
Cinderella laughed. "I'm hardly likely to dispute that, since you chose me to be your wife."
"Even more proof of my exquisite good judgement," Eugene said airily, as he led her into breakfast.
The carriage ride was wonderful. Eugene took her out in a two-wheeled open-topped gig, pulled by a pair of strong bay horses. They clattered quickly out of the town and into the open countryside beyond. The sun was shining bright, filtered through Cinderella's parasol to cast her white dress as something almost ethereal in its beauty. Eugene took her through lushly rolling fields and mist-enshrouded moorlands, where the grass was pale and the sky was grey, and down country lanes between hedgerows filled with birds and mice and voles. They passed by thick, impenetrable woods, and over rolling hills above the dales where brooks and rivers babbled by. For Cinderella, who had never really been allowed far beyond her house since her father had died, it was an amazing experience. For years her whole life had been constrained by the distance between her house and the shops it was necessary for her to go to get food and other necessaries for her stepmother and stepsisters. Now, to be able to see the whole land that she had missed, she felt like a bird that had, for so long, been trapped in its cage unable to do anything but sing upon command, but was now free to fly where it would and sing what it wanted.
And she did sing. Cinderella sang with the birds in the trees and in the hedgerows, adding her voice to theirs as the gig rolled by down the dusty lanes. She sang for Eugene as they stopped for a light repast by the bank of a swiftly flowing river, the water more blue than Cinderella's eyes. She even sang for the river itself as it babbled by, as she stood on the edge of the bank watching the water ripple by beneath her.
"Be careful," Eugene said. "If you fell in the river might sweep you away before I could get to you."
"I'll be alright," Cinderella said, as she knelt down the plucked a wildflower from the bank, raising it to her nose to sniff it. "Besides, if anything did happen I know you'd save me. You'll always save me."
"I'm glad to have your confidence," Eugene said, taking the flower from her hands and weaving it into her hair. "But I'd rather not test it if we don't have to."
Cinderella smiled as she allowed him to lead her back from the riverbank, into the shade of a willow tree. She turned to look out beyond the river, across the rolling green fields beyond. "This is a beautiful country, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," Eugene murmured. "But only so long as we take care of it."
"We?"
"My family," Eugene said. "Armorique is ours, from the rocky coasts to Normandie in the west and Anjou to the south. We have to guard it, to rule it well, to be good stewards of it for all who live in it."
"Does it worry you?" Cinderella asked. "To have such a responsibility upon your shoulders?"
Eugene hesitated.
"You can be honest with me," Cinderella said. "You don't need to bluster or pretend for me. Nothing you could say would make me think less of you."
Eugene smiled. "Yes, it worries me. It worries me that I will not be the man, the king that father is when my time comes."
"Are you starting to regret running away on this carriage ride with me?" Cinderella asked.
"Oh, no, that isn't what I mean," Eugene said. "Even father gets fed up with it sometimes and lets things sit for a while. What I mean is... father is far wiser than he is given credit for. He has so many tightropes to walk and he walks them all. Take this war, for example: the Angevins want us to come in on their side, because they don't have the strength to defeat the Empire on their own. The Empire want us to stay out of it, but not as much as they would like us to join them and attack Anjou from the north. Father won't do either of that, he is strictly neutral, but he manages to be so in a way that doesn't offend either of them too much, and risk reprisal when the war ends."
"So there won't be a war?" Cinderella asked.
"Not here," Eugene said. "Not unless something goes extraordinarily wrong."
"Good," Cinderella said. "I'm not sure that I could bear to watch you go off to fight, knowing that you might never come back."
"If there was a war, then I would have to go," Eugene said. "There are some things that a man simply has to do, otherwise he isn't a man, and when that man is also a prince one of those things includes leading his people into battle, if battle threatens them."
"But there won't be a war," Cinderella said. "So you'll be safe. You won't have to go."
"No," Eugene said. "I've no plans to let Princess Eleanor steal me away, nor any other son of Armorique either." He gestured to the countryside around them. "Who in their right mind would let the savagery of war disturb such a beautiful and peaceful place as this?"
"No one," Cinderella murmured.
Eugene nodded. "I would not take this country to war unless we were attacked in some way first, and I think that father feels the same way, that is why we have ignored every entreaty by Anjou, every visit by Princess Eleanor. Apparently she plans to return here again soon, and you can meet her for yourself."
"Eleanor..." Cinderella tried to remember the name from her lessons. "She is the princess of Anjou, isn't she? Is she coming to ask for you to fight for her?" Cinderella said.
"Once again, yes," Eugene replied. "One of her most admirable and at the same time most irritating qualities is that she never takes no for an answer for very long, at least not if no isn't the answer she wants. She... Eleanor is the royal equivalent of a mastiff."
"I thought they called her the lioness?"
Eugene laughed. "She likes to be called that, rather a silly affectation if you ask me. But I shouldn't say any more, I don't want to put you off her too much. You might like her."
"I'm not sure that I could like anyone who wants you to take you away from me to battle," Cinderella said.
"Eleanor is only doing what she thinks best for her country and her people," Eugene said. "That is her duty, and I cannot fault her for that. But our duty is to do what is best for our people, not hers, and that is why we must refuse her. And keep this fair paradise untroubled by the hand of war. But enough of such things. This is a day for you and I."
"We are talking about you," Cinderella said. "You are showing yourself to me, as you have shown me this land."
Eugene smiled. "I should have brought my canvas and paints. You would look lovely, immortalised beside the river like this."
"Perhaps you could make a picture of when we return to the palace," Cinderella said.
"Yes, if that is agreeable to you," Eugene said. "Although, if you don't mind, I'd quite like to paint you in the dress when you wore when we came home from our honeymoon. It suited you very well."
"Alright," Cinderella said. "I'll get changed when we get back."
Shortly afterwards they started back, and soon returned to the palace by a much more direct route than they had used going out. Cinderella said goodbye to Eugene for the moment as she climbed up the stairs to her chambers, so that she could change into the dress that he wished to paint her in, the wide-skirted dress she had worn to come back from the honeymoon chalet. Cinderella climbed the stairs up to the royal chambers... and found Lieutenant Kilpatrick waiting there for her.
"What are you doing here?" Cinderella demanded, as he hovered on the threshold of her own room like a ghost or some other malignant thing forbidden entry into a civilised place. Except in this case the malign presence was already there.
"I came to leave you this, princess," Kilpatrick said, offering her another rose, like the one he had left for her the day before the ball. "Of course, I didn't realise that you would come to allow me to deliver it in person."
Cinderella did not move, not even to take the rose he offered her. She was in a bit of a quandary. She didn't want to go into her room while he was there, but equally for him to leave he would have to squeeze past her through the doorway. Neither option was ideal for the purpose of keeping him as far away from her as possible.
Kilpatrick smirked. "You ought to take the rose, ma'am; it's rude not to. And you never know, refusing might cause you to turn into a hideous beast."
"I somehow doubt that you are an enchanter," Cinderella replied.
"You hurt me, Cinderella, I've been told by many that I'm quite beguiling."
"Don't call me that," Cinderella said. "I'm your princess."
"Actually, you're not," Kilpatrick said. "I'm not from this land, I'm merely here to earn a living for a while. But if you prefer, I'll call you princess for now. So, princess, won't you come in. Or did you come here just to hover at the doorway?"
Cinderella didn't reply.
Kilpatrick's green eyes gleamed. "Do I frighten you, princess?"
Cinderella swallowed. "Are you not trying to frighten me?"
"No," he said softly. "I'm trying to give you what all women want, in their heart of hearts, even though they won't admit it, sometimes not even to themselves."
"And what's that?" Cinderella asked.
Kilpatrick did not reply. Instead, he placed the rose in his hand upon Cinderella's bed and then, with a mocking bow and a smug smile he retreated backwards away from bed and door and Cinderella, until he was standing in her dressing room, giving her ample space to enter the bedroom itself.
Cinderella walked in, hesitating beside the bell-pull. On the one hand, if she summoned her maids, then the presence of witnesses would prevent any impropriety on his part. On the other hand, if people saw her with another man in her bedroom, then any number of rumours might get started. Already the morning newspaper had criticised her for attending last night's ball and 'dancing while the people starved' (Eugene said that they weren't starving, and the newspaper was reaching for melodrama in order to sell issues); who knows what they might say if they heard that she had been seen in her own bedroom with a man who was not her husband. And if Eugene heard about it... then there would be a duel, and to prevent a duel was the only reason that Cinderella hadn't told him about Kilpatrick in the first place.
She did not ring for her servants. Instead she walked further into her bedchamber, staying close beside the bed until she was standing between the bed and the vanity. "Thank you, lieutenant. Goodbye."
"Goodbye?" Kilpatrick said. "You make it sound as if I'm leaving, princess."
"I'd like you to leave," Cinderella said primly.
"I think I'd rather stay," he drawled.
"That won't be possible," Cinderella said. "I'm about to get changed."
She saw from the look in his eyes that that had been exactly the wrong thing to say. "Oh, now I definitely want to stay, princess."
He took a step towards her, and Cinderella took a step back away from him.
"What do you want from me?" Cinderella asked.
"All of you," he said, advancing on her another step as Cinderella retreated another step before him.
"You can't," Cinderella murmured. "Don't come any closer."
He did, and for every step he took Cinderella retreated a step, until he had driven her out of her room and onto the balcony.
"Why not?" he asked. "Because you don't love me? What has love to do with desire?" He smirked. "Of course, you wouldn't have known desire or lust, would you, princess? You're too pure for such earthly things. You'll come to feel it soon, I guarantee."
"No," Cinderella whispered. "No, leave me alone."
"When women say no what they really mean is 'not yet'," Kilpatrick said. "They mean chase me more, pursue me more fiercely, fix me in a net. And if that's what you want." He took another step towards her.
"Stay away from me," Cinderella cried, retreating further. Except that she had used up all the room on the balcony, as she discovered to her shock and horror when her legs collided with the marble rail that separated her from the enormous drop off the tower. She teetered on the edge, swaying one way and the other as the world waited to decide if she would topple and fall or not. "Oh no!"
Kilpatrick grabbed her arm, gripping into the bone, and at once both moved towards her and pulled Cinderella in so that he was holding her tight against his chest.
"I have you tightly in my grasp," he whispered into her ear. "If you don't like it, I could let you go, and watch you drop to the ground with the freedom that you desire." With one hand he grabbed hold of the ribbon holding back Cinderella's hair, and pulled it. The bow into which she'd tied it unravelled, and the ribbon was caught by the breeze and carried away, drifting lightly through the air even as it descended lazily towards the ground below.
"Perhaps you'll fly just like that," Kilpatrick said. "Or perhaps not." He leaned her out so that Cinderella was looking straight down at the long drop, her locks being blown around her by high air. "Shall I let you go?"
"No," Cinderella murmured. "No, please don't."
"No," Kilpatrick murmured. "Because whatever they say women don't want to be let go. They want to be held tight, they want to be controlled, they want to be dominated, to be mastered. Because it feels dangerous, even though it's actually much safer than trying to fly. And so I'll master you, Princess Cinderella, and you will love it." He pressed his face to within an inch of Cinderella's neck, and sniffed hungrily. "What a charming perfume, princess. You should wear it more often." He dragged Cinderella in from the balcony, then let her go.
Cinderella collapsed onto her knees as Kilpatrick offered her a mocking bow, and left the room. She heard his footsteps echoing down the stairs.
Cinderella let out a sob as she clutched her hand to her mouth and fought back tears of fright.
"A perfect day," she murmured. "Jaq, Gus, are you there? Anyone?"
Both Jaq and Gus emerged from the hole and scurried across the carpet towards her. "We're a-here, Cinderelly. Wesa right here."
Cinderella said, "Oh, thank goodness, I'm so glad. I need... I need to talk to someone about this. Did you see any of that?"
Jaq nodded. "Some of it. Cinderelly okay?"
Cinderella nodded. "I'll be all right, I hope."
"That man a bad man, isn't he?"
"I'm afraid so," Cinderella murmured. "Oh, Jaq, what do I do?"
"Why don'tcha tell da prince?" Gus asked.
"Because if I tell Eugene then he'll fight a duel over my honour," Cinderella said. "And Lieutenant Kilpatrick will kill him. I can't let that happen, I can't let Eugene get hurt on my account. If there isn't anything I can do on my own I'll just have to bear it, for Eugene's sake."
"Poor Cinderelly," Jaq said. "That fella worse than Cinderelly's stepsisters."
"I thought that when I married a good man, and he is a good man, he's wonderful," Cinderella said. "I thought that when I married him all my troubles would be over. In some ways it seems they've just begun."
"We're sorry, Cinderelly," Jaq said. "Me not know what to do. Me not able to help you much now, even when you need it. Me kinda useless."
"No, Jaq, don't ever say that," Cinderella said. "Just having you with me, knowing that you're here when I need you... if anything I'm the one who's letting you down. I only spend any time with you when I need to talk to you about my problems."
"That okay, Cinderelly, we not got no problems," Jaq said. "So, what Cinderelly gonna do now?"
"About the lieutenant, I don't know," Cinderella said as she stood up. "But what I am going do right now is change into my other dress, go back downstairs and spend the rest of the day with my husband. I didn't let my stepmother or stepsisters get me down and I'm not about to let Lieutenant Kilpatrick do what they couldnn't."
Out in the city streets of the capital, where the Queen's Tower was but one of many distant spires looming up overhead, Jean Taurillion strolled down Corn Exchange Street with sure feet and certain purpose, seemingly oblivious to the way that people were staring at his ragged clothes and bare feet.
In fact he seemed so oblivious that he walked right into a well dressed old gentleman in a frock coat and a top hat, knocking him sideways as Jean brushed past.
"Watch where you're going, you rascal!" the gentleman snapped.
Jean pirouetted on the spot as he touched his forelock and bowed. "Sorry sir, beg your pardon sir."
He turned again and kept walking. When he had turned around the corridor he stopped to take a look at the wallet he had lifted out of the man's pocket.
Inside he found money, a great deal of money, in notes that ranged from new and crisp to faded. Jean did a preliminary count, and it was enough to feed everyone for several days, if they ate frugally.
But that wasn't all that was in the wallet. There was also a hand written letter which Jean didn't read and two pictures in miniature: one of a woman, and another of three children, two girls and one boy, all dressed up all fancy like. Probably they were the gentleman's wife and children.
Jean frowned. He wasn't a bad person, or at least he did not think himself so, though he was aware that the law might disagree with him at times, and he tried hard to live by the code he had set himself, even if that code came mostly out of an old book he had left from his mother. He was a thief and a pickpocket, true, but only in the same way as that old Robin Hood of England, taking from those who had too much to care for those who had little or nothing. And one of the things that, in Jean's own opinion, separated him from cocks like Talbot was that he tried not to hurt people by his thieving. And losing pictures of your wife and children... Jean reckoned that would probably hurt.
So he stuffed the money into the pocket of his ragged coat, put the letter and the pictures back in the wallet, and stepped back out of the alley and into the main street.
"Hey, mister!" Jean yelled. When the gentleman turned, Jean chucked his wallet back at him. "You dropped this!"
He saw the fellow catch it, and then immediately legged it out of the sight with the gentleman's imprecations ringing in his ears.
Then, with his conscience clear and proud in the knowledge that he had done a good deed, Jean returned to Taudis Lane where the rest of his gang was waiting. He sauntered in, whistling cheerfully as he flashed the notes he had stolen. "Good news! We're going to eat tonight, and for many nights after."
He looked around his gang. Someone was missing. Marie, Thomas, Christophe, Angelique...
Jean crossed his arms. "Where's Olivier?"
"He went somewhere with Talbot," Thomas said, not meeting Jean's gaze.
"Talbot," Jean seethed. "Talbot again. If he likes Talbot so much why he doesn't go live with him and see how he likes it. Didn't any of you try to stop him?"
"He's bigger than us," Christophe said.
Jean rolled his eyes. "Do you at least know where he went?"
"Talbot wouldn't say in front of us," Marie said. "But I followed them a little way, and he said he had a plan to make a score from the palace."
"The palace?" Jean said. "That's ridiculous. Talbot's an idiot if he can thinks he can rob the palace."
"He seemed to think it would work," Marie said. "He said he had a way in, but he needed a strong pair of arms to carry things out."
"More like he needs a fool to take the fall for him when they get caught, which they will," Jean said. "You realise he'll hang by the neck for this?"
Christophe shrugged. "Will we miss him?"
"Don't say that," Jean said. "I know he's an idiot, but he's still family. Marie, you take the money and keep it safe. I'll see if I can catch them before anything too bad happens."
"Why does she get to hang onto the money?" Christophe asked.
"Because she's the only one who actually did anything about this," Jean snapped. "Now wait here and stay out of any more trouble. I'll be back as quick as I can."
Cinderella changed into her other gown, the dress that she had worn to come back to the palace after her honeymoon with Eugene. Like the other dress she had worn today, this dress was white, with a skirt that only went down to her calves instead of her ankles, and which billowed out around her, supported by several layers of petticoats beneath. It had a pink peplum, with a pink sash tied into a bow at the back wrapped around Cinderella's waist. The short sleeves fell off her shoulders, leaving them as bare as her arms, while gripping tightly just below the shoulders with several layers of near-transparent fabric, shading from white to pink.
She adorned herself with pearls, necklace, bracelets and earrings, just as she had worn on that day, and held back her hair with a white headband with a bow on top just as she had done. Her maids blushed her cheeks lightly, and rouged her lips to a light shade of pink. After putting on her gloves, and her wedding ring and her engagement ring just as she had worn them, Cinderella spent a few moments fussing with her necklace to make sure that it looked just right, then put on her white slippers with pink bows upon the toe, and glided downstairs to find Eugene.
She found him in the garden, and as always she found herself unable to control her feet the closer she got to him. Whenever she was aware that her prince was near she became unable to simply walk, let alone maintain a steady or a stately pace. She had run to him, she had to get to him, and so Cinderella was practically skipping by the time she reached him and threw her arms around his chest and hugged him tight.
"Thank you," Cinderella whispered.
"For what?" Eugene asked.
"For being you," Cinderella said. "For being a good man. Don't ever let me forget how lucky I am." If there was one small upside to Lieutenant Kilpatrick's attentions it was that he illuminated by contrast just how good and kind her husband was.
Eugene sketched her in several different poses - sitting down, kneeling upon the grass, standing in various postures - before he found the one that he wished to capture in his oils. Then Cinderella stood for him as he rendered more beautiful than she had ever looked in life.
As she stood, Cinderella thought, and as she thought an idea came to her.
Bruno! I'll bring Bruno to my room!
It was not a solution to the problem, but hopefully the presence of her old hound and his teeth might dissuade the lieutenant from dropping into her bedroom whenever he wanted to leave her roses or love poems which she did not want.
"Eugene," Cinderella said.
"Yes, darling?"
"Bruno, my dog, he's in the kennels isn't he?"
"Yes, he is," Eugene replied. "The kennelmaster has been taking care of him."
"Could I have him live with me, in my chambers?" Cinderella asked.
Eugene paused for a moment. "Isn't he a full grown bloodhound? Are you sure there's enough room?"
Cinderella put one white-gloved hand to her mouth as she laughed. "You have seen the size of my rooms?"
Eugene chuckled. "I suppose you have a point there. May I ask what's brought this on."
"Oh, you know," Cinderella said. "He has been a good friend to me since I was a girl, I suppose I feel a little bit guilty about leaving him in the kennels. I'd like to have him around. And there is plenty of room up there."
"There's no reason why not," Eugene said. "And even if there was, you're the princess, so there's no reason you couldn't ignore the reason if you wanted to."
So, once the portrait was done, Cinderella asked him if she could have a little time to herself, and wandered along to the kennels near the back to the palace. As she got closer, it seemed like all the dogs began to howl and bark at once, scratching at the doors that held them back. It was enough to stop Cinderella in her tracks, and give her pause about going on any further.
"Stop that! Quiet down, you mutts! Quiet, I say!" A woman, lean and corded like a whip, strode out of the kennels. She was wearing men's trousers, of kendall green beneath a green shirt, and wore her brown hair tied back in a high ponytail. She had a stick in her hand, and a big black wolfhound trotted beside her, taller than her knee-high boots, panting with its tongue out.
The woman looked at Cinderella, and instantly bowed. "Your royal highness. This is an unexpected honour." When the dogs continued to bark she kicked the kennel wall and yelled, "I told you to quiet down! We've got royalty visiting!"
"Are... are you the kennel master?" Cinderella asked.
The woman grinned. "That I am, your highness. Tatiana Vandamme at your service, but you can call me Wolfy if you like." Her grin faded as she seemed to realise what she had said. "But you won't, because we aren't friends, your my boss. Um, what can I do you for you, your highness. I said shut your gobs or it there'll be no dinner in this kennel, I promise you that."
"Um, am I upsetting them somehow?" Cinderella asked. "It seemed to start when I arrived."
Tatiana sniffed the air as though she was a dog herself. "It's probably your perfume, your highness, some kinds of it get dogs excited."
"Oh, I see," Cinderella murmured. "It doesn't seem to be exciting that one."
Tatiana reached out and scratched her wolfhound behind the ears. "That's because I've got Roland here well trained. Had him since I was a pup, haven't I boy, haven't I? Yes I have, and your the best dog that... ahem. Sorry, your highness, my apologies."
"It's all right," Cinderella said with some amusement in her voice. "You clearly enjoy your job."
"Oh, yes, they can be a riotous bunch sometimes, and when they are you have to come down hard on them, but they're good boys and girls," Tatiana said. "I grew up with a lot of them, my father was the kennel master here before me. Now, I shouldn't waste any more of your time. What can I do for you?"
"I think you're keeping my old hound here," Cinderella said.
"Ah, yes, Bruno, isn't it?" Tatiana said. "I remember when we got him. You've taken good care of him, your highness, he's still strong for his age. Not a lot of hunting instinct though, I have to say."
"He was never a hunting hound," Cinderella said. "My father got him when I was a girl to keep me company."
Tatiana nodded. "Yes, I could tell he was domesticated. You can always tell a properly house-trained dog from a hunter. You just have to look into their eyes. Are you here to visit?"
"Actually, I'd like him to come and stay in my rooms from now on," Cinderella said. "It's not that I don't think you've taken good care of him but-"
"Oh, I understand, your highness, you don't have to explain yourself to me," Tatiana said. "Besides, I think it's probably better this way. You can't keep house-trained dogs and hunters together for very long, they don't mix well."
Cinderella frowned. "Why not?"
"Different rules," Tatiana said. "Your Bruno, like I said he's strong for his age, but he isn't a fighter. He's not soft but he's not vicious either. Hunting hounds, I love these lads and lasses but you can't forget they're a bunch of barbarians at day's end. They like a tussle, but a tussle for them can leave a house dog with a limp for life if they still have all their legs."
Cinderella gasped. "Bruno hasn't been hurt, has he?"
"Please, your highness, I know my job," Tatiana said. "I've been keeping him separate from the others. Hey, Bob! Get Bruno out here now, his princess has come to get him!"
"Coming, Miss Tatiana," Bob replied in a harassed voice as a young man with a big nose was dragged by Bruno out of the kennel - until Bruno saw Cinderella, at which point he wrenched the leash from Bob's grasp and dumped the unfortunate young man upon the ground as he bounded into Cinderella's arms.
"Bruno! Hello, boy, how are you?" Cinderella asked as Bruno threw himself upon her and started licking her face. "Oh, I've missed you too. But you're going to come and stay with me from now on, in my tower. What do you say?"
Bruno barked happily.
"Oh, I know, you'll love it," Cinderella said as she took off the glove from her right hand and scratched Bruno behind the ears. "Good boy, who's my good boy."
Tatiana grinned. "He's happy to see you, your highness."
Cinderella stood up and put her glove back on. "Could you take him up to the Queen's Apartments, please? I want to go and check on my horse."
Tatiana nodded. "Bob, take Bruno up to the top of the tower."
Bob sighed. "Yes, Miss Tatiana."
"Thank you," Cinderella said. "For taking care of him. He looks very well looked after."
Tatiana bowed her head. "Just doing my job, your highness, because my job is my pleasure."
Talbot de Longueville crouched behind an old shed as he watched the new princess walk - it was hard to describe the way she moved as walking. Although he could see her feet, the way that she moved, the way her dress bounced up and down, it seemed to have so little in common with the way he walked that it was easier for him to think of it as a kind of gliding - towards the stables.
As an adolescent boy, he wanted her. Her pale skin, her pretty face, her breasts, oh god he wanted all of it.
As a thief, however, he was more interested in all those pearls around her neck and on her arms, and in the diamond ring upon her finger.
He watched the princess walk into the stables, and a smile spread across his face as watched all the stablehands leave, leaving the princess alone in their with the horses.
He looked around, to where Olivier the Great Ox crouched beside him, his stupid face blank. He didn't seem to realise what he'd seen. Talbot had the impression that the Ox didn't realise a lot of what he saw. Not that that mattered. Talbot hadn't recruited him for his brains, for Talbot himself was smart enough for two, in his own estimation at least. He'd recruited the Ox for his muscles, and for the fact that it would really, really hack off that self-righteous cock Jean, who thought he was so much better than Talbot because he'd read a book once.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Talbot asked.
The Ox's expression was blank.
"You know what, forget I asked," Talbot said. "Just do as I say and we'll make out of here with an even bigger score than I thought."
"What if the princess puts a spell on us?" the Ox asked.
It took Talbot a moment to remember that he had convinced the Ox that the princess was a witch, like the newspapers were saying. It had seemed funny at the time, and he had heard that the lummox had thrown an orange at her carriage, but it threatened to backfire on him now. Talbot thought quickly.
"She can't," he said. "She can't hurt us because... because the presence of iron negates her magic. So all those horse shoes in there will sap her powers and protect us."
"Oh," the Ox said. "Why has she gone in there then?"
"I don't know and I don't care!" Talbot hissed. "Just do as I say and follow the plan."
"What plan?"
"The plan I'm about to unfold to you!" Talbot snarled. God this is hard work, how does Jean ever put up with this clown? He forced himself to calm down. "Now, here's what we do..."
While Jean called himself the Knight of the Alleyways, Talbot preferred to go by the Golden Scoundrel. The scoundrel part was honest about his business, a good deal more honest than his rival. Talbot had that same honesty in the way he did his work too. There was no room for sentiment when you were a cut purse away from starvation, no place for an idealist on the streets. He would do what he had to, to anyone he had to do it to.
The golden part? Well, part of it was that he had never been caught, and part of it was that he always struck rich. And today, Talbot was going to strike very rich indeed.
Cinderella entered the stable to find four or five stablehands inside, looking as though they were finishing up their work.
"Good evening, gentlemen," Cinderella said with a slight curtsy.
They bowed. "Your highness. Is there something we can do for you?" asked the oldest of them.
"Oh, no, thank you," Cinderella said. "I've just come to visit my horse for a little while." She was aware that she was a little over-dressed for it, with her pearls and her wide, poufy skirt, but she didn't want to back and change again for the moment.
"Of course, princess," the oldest of the stablehands said. "We were just finished here, but one of us can stay her until you're finished, if you'd like."
"No, I'm sure I'll be all right on my own," Cinderella said. "You can go."
"As you wish, your highness," the stablehand said, and then they all bowed once more and left her alone in the stable, with the horses.
The stable was a large, spacious building of two storeys, though the top storey only covered half the building, was accessible only by a single wooden ladder, and seemed to chiefly be used to store things. All the horses were kept in gated bays, locked in with hay to lie on, though they all poked their heads out and looked at her, the sole human in their presence. Heaps of hay lay everywhere, leaving only the occasional bit of floor space that was not covered in it, along with sacks of apples. Aside from the open door, sunlight was let in through a window large enough for a person to squeeze through set moderately high in the wall beside the doorway, and a much smaller window set even higher up in the back wall.
Cinderella's heels clicked on the stone floor as she walked past the row of horses, pausing to pet one or two, or to murmur some greeting to them, until she reached her own beloved Major, who whinnied in happiness to see her again.
"I know, I should have come to see you before now," Cinderella said as she rubbed his face. "Next time I'll bring you some sugar lumps, how about that?"
Major whinnied.
"I knew you'd like that," Cinderella said. "Are they feeding you well? Are you still hungry?" She picked an apple out of a nearby sack, and Major took a bite out of it contentedly.
"I see you still had room for more," Cinderella said.
Cinderella heard the sounds of rushing footsteps outside.
"Hello?" she called. "Hello? Who's there?"
There was no answer but the abrupt slamming shut of the stable door. Cinderella heard the bolt being drawn.
"Hello?" Cinderella called out. "Hello? Can you hear me? I'm still inside. Could you unlock the door please?"
There was no answer. Cinderella frowned as she walked back to the now-closed doorway and tugged on it. It was stuck fast, it barely quivered as she yanked at it.
"Hello?" Cinderella cried out. "Is anybody there? It's Princess Cinderella, I've been locked in. Could somebody please let me out?"
No one answered, let alone opened the door.
"Hello?" Cinderella shouted. "Whoever locked this door, I'm still inside. Please let me out."
Still there was no response. Major snorted.
"Oh, I'm sure it was just a simple mistake," Cinderella said. "Somebody probably saw that the stable hands had left and thought one of them had forgotten to lock the door."
Major snorted again.
"Well, they might have been too busy to stop and listen to see if they'd locked anyone in," Cinderella said. "Why would anyone lock me in here on purpose? No, it was a mistake." She sat down demurely upon a pile of hay, with her legs crossed and her hands resting on her knee. "Someone will come and let me out soon, you'll see. Eugene will wonder where I am, and it won't take him very long to find me."
"Your Highness?" a young voice called out.
"There, you see," Cinderella said. "Who is it?"
"Never you mind," the young man said. "Do you want to get out of here?"
"Yes," Cinderella said. "Have you come to let me out?"
"That depends," he said. "You've got a lot of nice jewellery on. Expensive jewellery. I want it."
"What?" Cinderella cried.
"You heard," he snapped. "Take off your necklace, your earrings, all of it, and slide them under the door. Then I'll open the door and let you out."
Cinderella frowned. "I don't know who you are, but you're mistake if you think I need to buy my way out of here. My husband will find me soon, and he'll let me out. And I can wait until then, I'm quite comfortable until he finds me."
"Are you now?" the young man said. "We'll see about that."
"They got Cinderelly trapped in there!" Jaq yelled in outrage as the big fellow ran around to the back of the stables, leaving only his smaller friend out front where he had locked the door on Cinderelly.
"What we gonna do?" Gus asked.
"We gotta tell somebody, tell da prince maybe," Jaq said. "We gotta get help."
"But da prince don't know who we are," said Gus.
"Then we tell him!" Jaq said. "We can't just turn our back on Cinderelly! We gotta-"
Gus yelled as a shadow blocked out the sun overhead. With a roar like a storm breaking over them Nightshade, the one-eyed monster cat who patrolled the palace as his fiefdom, descended upon them both. And there was no room to think of anything but the scramble for survival.
Cinderella had not been waiting long when a hand tossed a burning torch through the small window in the back wall. It fell upon a pile of straw and immediately set it ablaze.
"Oh no!" Cinderella cried as the horses began to shriek and whinny as they smelled the smoke.
"I don't think you can wait for your husband now, can you princess?"
Cinderella ran to the door, and pulled upon it, an exercise that proved as futile as it had the last time. "Open the door! Please, you must open the door! There's not only me, there's all the poor horses as well!"
"If you want to save the horses, and yourself, you know what you need to do," the young man said. "Give me the pearls."
Cinderella, her contorted with fear, looked behind her. The flames were spreading fast. Smoke was seeping through the stables like the heads of a hydra, while the red and yellow flames were dancing higher and higher, spreading from hay pile to hay pile, consuming wood and straw alike. Some of them were starting to reach the roof.
"Let me out!" she cried. "You can't leave me in here, not like this!"
"Why not?" the young man yelled. "Because you're a princess? Because your beautiful? Will your gown protect you from the flames? Will your crown or title? If you want out you know what you have to do."
"All right, all right you can have the pearls," Cinderella said. "Here, I'm giving them to you." She unclasped the princess necklace from around her neck, and slid it under the stable door, where a hand immediately snatched it away. Then she took off her earrings, and rolled them after her necklace. Eugene will understand. He'll see that I didn't have a choice. Then she took off the loose pearl bracelet on her left arm and slid under the door. "There, now please open the door, please let me out."
"What about the other bracelet?"
"Please," Cinderella cried, as the flames leapt higher.
"The other bracelet!"
Cinderella fiddled at the bracelet on her right arm, but it fitted tightly above her wrist, and it had taken Constance both hands to fasten the gilded clasp in the first place. "I can't undo the clasp with one hand. Open the door!"
"Stick your arm out the window."
Cinderella did as she was told, and winced in pain as he ripped the tight pearl bracelet off her arm, then cried out as the window shutter was slammed down upon her, making her recoil back into the stable as her assailant locked the window shutter on her too.
"Now your rings."
Cinderella reflexively clutched at the rings on her finger. "Oh, please, no."
"Do you want to get out of here?"
Cinderella looked at the flames, so menacing, so frightening, then at the horses, all so scared and frightened and helpless.
Forgive me.
She pulled the rings off her finger and shoved them under the door. "That's everything. Now open the door, let us out."
There was no reply but the sound of running feet.
"Hello?" Cinderella cried. "Hello, are you still there?" She wrenched in vain at the locked door. "Help! Please, somebody please let me out! Someone help, I'm trapped in here! Let me out!"
The horses were screaming in terror now, kicking ferociously at the stall doors that held them captive, hurling themselves against the wood in their efforts to get free.
"Easy, now, easy, everyone," Cinderella said, but there was no calming down so many frightened beasts. The first of them burst free from their confinement and, mad with terror, bore down on Cinderella.
Cinderella raised her hands to protect herself.
Major burst out of his stall and threw himself between her and any other horse. With a whinny and a jerk of his head, he gestured to the wooden ladder leading up into the loft.
Cinderella climbed. It was difficult with such a dress, and in such shoes, but she managed to get up into the loft, where she was save from the fear-crazed horses, though not the flames.
Someone will come. Someone will see the smoke, Cinderella told herself as she tried to keep away from any flames that flickered nearby, holding her skirt as close to her as it would go, turning this way and that so that no fire could creep up on her from behind. Eugene will come. He'll save me.
Oh, Eugene, where are you?
Cinderella heard the creek and the crack a moment before the floor gave way beneath her. She screamed as she began to fall, and then everything went black.
Eugene and Etienne wandered through the gardens, Etienne tapping his fingers against the hilt of his sword as Eugene looked away from his friend.
"How is the boy?" Eugene asked. "Have you been to see him recently?"
"A couple of days ago," Etienne replied. "He seems to be over the worst of his chill. He barely sniffles now."
"Good," Eugene said. "That is... that's good. Do you... are you fond of him?"
Etienne frowned. "Yes, I suppose I am. He isn't old enough to be charming yet, but he's a nice boy. And I see him so often, I don't think I could but become fond of him, unless I hated him."
"I'm glad," Eugene said. "He's lucky to have you watching over him."
"I'm hardly a good father to him," Etienne said. "We're not a family, by any means."
"It's better than nothing," Eugene said.
"Is it?" Etienne asked.
Eugene did not reply to that. Instead he said, "So, my friend, what do you think of Cinderella?"
Etienne was silent for a moment. "May I speak freely?"
Eugene frowned. "When have you ever not?"
"You could have done better," Etienne said.
"What?" Eugene said.
"No one has told you that before?" Etienne asked. "I suppose that's why you need me."
"What do you mean?" Eugene demanded.
Etienne shifted on the spot with a touch of unease. "She... Princess Cinderella is a charming young lady, but... she does not strike me as being very clever. I don't see what recommends her to you except a pretty face and a kind manner."
"Isn't a kind heart enough?" Eugene said.
"Katherine had a kind heart," Etienne said softly. "You never proposed to marry her."
"Katherine died," Eugene said, with equal softness.
"But not before you had the chance to propose, and did not."
"We do not speak of Katherine," Eugene snapped. "You know that."
"Do you love Cinderella more?"
"Yes," Eugene said firmly. "Cinderella is the love of my life, I feel complete with her, whole with her. Katherine was... Katherine was..."
"Perfect," Etienne said.
"We do not speak of her," Eugene said. "And Cinderella is perfect, in my eyes."
"Four women, you knew before her, and stayed with for a while," Etienne said. In keeping with Eugene's wishes he did not count Katherine in his list. "Helene and Marie were both more intelligent than Cinderella is; Julia had a sweeter nature; Isabelle was more beautiful."
Eugene frowned. "You really think so?"
"Yes," Etienne said.
"I disagree."
"Clearly," Etienne said. "You wish you hadn't asked me now, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Well you did ask and I answered," Etienne said. "She brings you nothing. I don't understand."
"That's because you are not in love," Eugene said. "When you are, you will realise that arbitrary measurements against past lovers are meaningless. It isn't about how intelligent she is, although I think you do Cinderella a disservice. It is not about how sweet she is, although there again you traduce her. It isn't even about her beauty though she is Helen of Troy reborn in looks if not in morals. It is about how she makes me feel. It is about... it cannot be explained. There is no other for me and never will be."
"Fire in the stables!" someone yelled. "Fire! Get help!"
"A fire," Etienne said. "Who would have set a fire in the stables?"
"Fire in the stables!" the call came again. "It's where the princess was last seen!"
"Cinderella!" Eugene gasped as he broke into a flat run, Etienne following behind him.
They reached the stables in time to see the whole edifice consumed with fire, bleeding smoke like a body spilling blood. The doors were wrenched open and a horde of manic, terrified horses flew out, whinnying and crying in fear and alarm, nearly tramping the crowds who had come to help the horses, to douse the flames.
People were throwing water on the fire, but it was futile. The flames had grown too great now to be put out before the building burnt down.
"Cinderella?" Eugene yelled as he pushed past the hands that tried to hold him back. "Cinderella?"
A horse neighed loudly, and Eugene saw that there was one beast that had not fled the stable; and it was standing over what looked through the smoke to be the form of a woman, lying motionless upon the stable floor.
"No, God, no," Eugene yelled. "Cinderella!" he tried to run in, but the strong hands of Etienne Gerard grabbed him and held him back.
"You can't, it's too dangerous," Etienne said.
"I have too! My wife is in there!"
Etienne looked from Eugene, to Cinderella, to Eugene. "Wait here," he said. And then he hit him.
It was not much more than a tap on the jaw, but it was enough to stagger Eugene sideways, and by the time he recovered Etienne had hurled himself into the burning stables.
The moments stretched with more agony than years. There was too much smoke, Eugene could see nothing. He heard the roof start to give way.
Please, God, please.
Etienne bounded out of the fire, Cinderella held in his arms, and behind them came her horse, a mere second before the burning roof fell in and everything that remained in the stables was buried beneath the burning roof and thatch.
"Cinderella," Eugene said. "Is she alive?"
"She's still breathing," Etienne said. "Someone get a doctor!"
Eugene took her out of his friends arms and into his own. Her eyes were closed, her arms and legs were limp, but he could feel the faint breath from between her pink lips.
"Oh, God," he said, tears springing to his eyes as he kissed her on the forehead. "Hold on, Cinderella, please hold on."
Author's Note: This is certainly the darkest chapter in the fic so far and probably the darkest one yet for a good while.
To the reviewer who thought Wolfe was creepy in the last chapter you really ain't seen nothing yet once you read this one!
Normally I keep you waiting a bit between chapters, but I am going to start writing the next chapter pretty much immediately to resolve some of the cliffhangers here. Originally this chapter was going to go on longer, but I think that this is long enough really, and it's good to leave you hanging for a little while.
If anyone is reading this with art skills, and would like to make me a picture of Cinderella in either of the dresses she wears in this chapter or in chapter seven, drop me a PM and we can talk about commission.