Father

Jean blinked rapidly out of his left eye, the one that had been swathed in bandages until now. It had been closed and trapped in darkness so long that even the candle light in the room was taking a little getting used to, and he had to struggle a little to keep it open.

He was lucky to still have two eyes. That side of his face was scarred, scored by the marks of the bear's claws, and if the creature's paw had swiped him a little up or down he would not have a left eye to see out of. As it was he had two eyes to see the scars that crossed that side of his face, the ugly red lines that marred it. As he fastened his tunic he could see all the scars the bear had left for him: scars covering his chest and arms and shoulders. They ached as he did up the buttons. Even now they throbbed with dull and aching pain.

Gradually, the sealing of his tunic as he fastened one button after another concealed his scars, until they were all hidden beneath the white linen, all save the scars on his face.

Jean was reaching for his jacket as Angelique came in, letting in more light from the corridor outside that made him squint against it from his left eye. He turned away.

"You don't have to hide from me," Angelique said in a soft murmur.

"You haven't seen what I'm hiding yet," Jean replied.

"Then show me."

Jean turned his face towards her, but did not look at her. Rather he looked once more at his own reflection in the full-length mirror, at the red lines that slashed diagonally across one side of his face, deforming it like a portrait slashed to ribbons.

Angelique said nothing, but Jean felt her hands upon him, turning him bodily around to face her.

"Look at me," Angelique said.

Jean looked down, lowering his eyes and even his head too. Her expression was unreadable to him, but she had not recoiled in disgust as she feared she would. Her face was set, neither smiling nor frowning nor seeming shocked or horrified. Her face was set in stillness, save for her lovely eyes which were full of tenderness.

With one gentle hand, she reached up and stroked the marred side of his face, her fingertips running down his scars.

"You're a very brave man," she said. "I love you for that."

"But?"

"No but," she said. "Just love." She tugged his face down towards her, and he put his hands around her waist as he bent down to kiss her.

When the kiss was done her cheeks were red and she looked as though she needed to catch her breath. He felt the same way.

"You don't ever have to hide from me," she said. "Never."

Jean nodded solemnly. He took a step back for her, and picked up his jacket from off the bed. He winced a little at the pain in his joints as he pulled it on.

"Are you sure you should be up?" Angelique asked.

"You told me that this woman Vanessa, who will be queen any day now, means harm upon the princess," Jean said, as he did up the brass buttons of his blue field jacket. "And then you ask if I should be up?"

"Well, yes," Angelique said, as though the connection eluded her.

"How could I idle in bed while the princess has need of me?" Jean asked. He grabbed his belt and sword off a nearby chair; his hand trembled a little at the weight.

"Cinderella wouldn't want you to push yourself too hard on her account."

"I am quite recovered," Jean said, buckling on his belt. "Do you think I should wear a mask?"

"A mask?"

"To cover this side of my face."

"You mean like in Marinette's gothic romances?"

"It would spare the princess from having to behold anything unsightly," Jean explained. "And you. Beauty should not have to behold such ruin. As I am...how could she still desire my service?"

"Alright, now you're just being melodramatic," Angelique said. "In the first place, if Cinderella heard you say that I think she'd probably be very upset to find out how shallow you think she is and in the second place I just told you that you didn't have to hide from me so get a grip! All Cinderella will see when she looks at you is the man who protects her from harm. And besides, wearing a mask would make you look ridiculous."

Jean bowed his head, but a smile crossed his face at the same time. "You always managed to keep me tethered, don't you?"

"Someone has to," Angelique said, but now she sounded more amused than anything. "It's good to see you haven't changed. Are you sure you're ready?"

"I am," Jean said firmly. "Is the princess in her chambers?"

"She was when I came down here," Angelique said.

"Then will you take my arm?" Jean asked, offering it to her.

Angelique looked at the offered arm for a moment, but then she smiled brightly, and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.

They walked to the Queen's Tower, and climbed the many steps up to the princess' rooms, where Private Perimon stood guard upon the door.

He stood to attention as Jean approached. "Welcome back, sir. I'm afraid you've just missed her highness."

"We didn't pass her on the way here," Angelique said.

"Then it must have been a little more than just, ma'am," the private said.

"Has she gone to breakfast?" Jean asked.

"She might have said something about visiting the boy first, sir," said Perimon. "Lady Roux and Mademoiselle du Bois were with her, and Corporal Adragain on guard."

"Right, thank you private," Jean said. "I think if I head to the dining room anyway then I'll-"

He was interrupted by what sounded like someone rushing around in the rooms beyond the door: footsteps running this way and that tapping on the wooden floorboards.

"Actually," he said. "I think I'll take a look inside, first."

"Come on, come on," Oscar said, chivvying Penny along. "Pack your stuff and let's go."

This was their best chance. The princess had gone, and so had all of her ladies and her maids as well. There was only the guard on the door to worry about and he probably wouldn't try to stop them. He was here to guard the room, not to keep them prisoner. He might not even ask any questions as they left. With luck they could get clean away before they were missed by anybody.

Penny started towards the princess' jewellery box.

"No," Oscar said firmly.

"We could take a couple of-"

"No!" Oscar repeated, more firmly this time. "We are not stealing jewels or anything else that would make anybody want to come after us. We are leaving with what we came with...and these clothes but we're not taking anything that doesn't belong to us." That was important. If they robbed the place on their way out then the princess and the queen would both have an interest in hunting them down, as superficially attractive as the idea of leaving their service with a reward might be. If they left empty-handed - or even empty-handed of anything that wasn't theirs - then nobody would care. There might be angry mutterings about how faithless they'd been, but nothing more than that. Nothing that could hurt them.

But they needed to leave now while they had the chance, while there was no one-

"What's going on?" Jean asked as he and Angelique walked in.

- No one to see them leave.

Oscar sighed. She stuffed a pair of stockings into a canvas bag and walked out of the sitting room and into the bedroom. "Nice to see you back on your feet," she said, as with one hand she motioned Penny away from the jewellery box. Jean looked different from when she'd seen him last. Of course he did, his face looked...well, it looked a bear had mauled him, didn't it? Oscar tried not to look at it in case he was self-conscious. "I'm afraid you've missed everyone."

"Except you," Angelique said. "What are you doing?"

"Getting out," Oscar said bluntly. "While I still can."

Jean looked confused, an expression that looked more incongruous on him now than it had before. "Why do you want to leave?"

"Because when you asked me to come here and bring Penny with me you didn't tell me that we were going to get caught up in some fight between the princess and the queen! That isn't what I agreed to and it certainly isn't what I agreed to bring Penny into!"

"You were listening to me talk to the prince and princess last night," Angelique said flatly.

"I've got ears," Oscar said. "And this door isn't as thick as you might think when you've got one ear pressed against the keyhole."

Jean's right hand brushed against the hilt of his sword. "I know that things seem more difficult than anyone would have hoped for-"

"That's an understatement," Oscar said.

"But all is not lost," Jean insisted. "If we protect her highness-"

"Then what?" Oscar demanded. "And at what cost? The queen is out to get her but let's say you're right and she isn't doomed to lose. Perhaps she'll even win. My question is, why should I risk mine and Penny's lives to help her do it. This isn't what I agreed to and I don't owe her my undying loyalty. When queens and princesses fight people like me get stepped on. We're better off well out the way."

"You're afraid," Angelique said scornfully.

Oscar grinned. "I haven't survived by being brave, angel eyes."

Jean glanced at Penny. "Do you feel the same way?"

Penny shrugged. "Oscar says it's dangerous. I don't see why we should suffer from the princess' sake."

"We're leaving," Oscar said. "You have my word that we're not taking anything that doesn't belong to us, when the princess gets back she'll find all of her possessions exactly where she left them. But we're leaving. Unless the two of you mean to stop us."

"I'd rather that you wanted to stay," Jean said.

"I bet you would," Oscar said. "But I don't, because I've got no reason to."

Jean was silent for a moment. "Where are you going to go? Back to the alleys?"

"It's not much but it's safer than here."

"It's so safe then why are you and Penny the only ones left of the whole gang?" Jean demanded.

"I didn't say that it was safe," Oscar snapped. "I said that it was safer than here!"

"That's a matter of opinion," Jean said. He took off his hat, and ran one hand through his dark hair. "I really believe that Princess Cinderella can change this country for the better if she's allowed to. She lives in a high tower surrounded by beautiful things, but she still looks down at the problems of those below and tries to fix them. And we can help her with that, if only by protecting her. Being here, serving the princess, it's more than just a job, it's more than just a roof over your head and money in your purse; it's a chance to be a part of something bigger than we are, to be a part of something great and grand and glorious. When the Corn Laws were repealed and the price of bread went down I was part of that. I didn't vote or write law or make speeches but I protected the woman who made it happen. It was right and just and it brought hope to so many and I was a part of it the same way you can be a part of whatever she does next.

"Doesn't that sound grand? Tell me that that doesn't sound amazing."

Oscar scowled as she looked away. "Maybe it does. Maybe. But the risk-"

"There's always risk," Jean said. "If you run back to that alleyway there are risks. The risk of getting arrested, of finding that someone else has moved in and you can't shift them, the risk of starving or freezing or all the other fates we've seen happen to people less lucky than us. The difference here is that these risks are run in the service of doing the right thing.

"You can tell me that you're not brave, but I know that you haven't taken in kids and tried to protect them because you're selfish. You're not worried about Penny because you don't care about anyone but yourself. You care about the people who need help, like the princess needs our help. Don't go, Oscar, please. Stay and fight, for the princess and for everyone who has no voice and so looks to her to speak for them. And for yourself, too."

Oscar said nothing. Her thoughts were all turned inwards. Jean was right about the dangers; if they left then they'd be right back where they started at the mercy of everybody more fortunate than them. It was dangerous here too, and dangerous in a way she didn't have the first idea how to navigate, but...she couldn't deny the appeal of what he said. To do more than just live from day to day, even if it was only to play a small part in something great. And who knew, maybe she'd end up a Countess or something when it was all over. Things had certainly worked out well for Angelique.

"Penny," she said softly. "Unpack your things, we're staying."

"Right," Penny said.

Oscar affixed Jean with a stern glare. "You'd better be right about this. I hope you're right about this."

Jean nodded. "I hope so, too."

Cinderella had dressed quickly and left early, keen - one might even say anxious - to check on Philippe and to warn his grandmother about the possible danger to the boy posed by Vanessa. She didn't want to alarm Madame Clairval, but she didn't want to leave her ignorant either. If something happened to Philippe because Cinderella had said nothing...she would never forgive herself, in all her years.

Madame Clairval wouldn't forgive her either.

Eugene would have been with her, but he had been summoned by his father for a discussion, and after that he was going to arrange a guard for Philippe, so they wouldn't see each other again until breakfast. Augustina escorted Cinderella, and Christine joined them both as they descended the stairs. It was a little cramped, the three of them going down the stairs abreast one another in dresses that billowed out around their legs, but they managed. Cinderella, in the middle, held onto the hem of her gown with both hands, while the other two each kept on hand on Cinderella in case she should stumble on the way. Corporal Adragain followed silently behind them.

"Something must be done about this," Christine declared as they walked down the stairs. "The King cannot simply marry whomever he wishes."

"He's the King," Cinderella replied plaintively. "He can do as he pleases."

"Within the bounds of the laws he swore to uphold at his coronation, the precedent set by those who came before him and the bounds of what the opinion of the state will tolerate," Christine said. "Bad enough to make this girl his mistress but at least then he was only outraging morality. To marry her? Without consulting anyone?"

"Eugene asked me to marry him without consulting anyone," Cinderella said.

"Indeed, your highness, and I have to say that had he consulted with anyone he probably would have been told the same thing that His Majesty will hear if he deigns to listen: Armorique doesn't want a Queen Cutie. No offence to your highness."

Cinderella said nothing to that, mostly because she wasn't sure what to say. Christine sometimes said things that were not particularly kind, but as strange as it might seem when she said that she meant no offence Cinderella could almost believe her. Those of her ladies-in-waiting who had turned out to be her enemies in the past, who had hated her, had never been blatant about it in the past; well, Theodora had briefly but Christine's remarks didn't feel hateful in the way that Theodora's had when she took off her mask. It was as if, having stated that she meant no offence, Christine genuinely didn't expect Cinderella to take any.

"I think what Lady Christine is trying to say," Augustina said. "Is that when you were wed to Prince Eugene nobody could have expected what a gift to the realm you would be in the royal role."

"Indeed," Christine said. "Based purely upon your social standing and with no judgement upon your highness' character, the marriage ought to have been a morganatic one if it happened at all."

Cinderella still said nothing, but privately she couldn't help but wonder if a morganatic marriage - in which she would not have become a princess or a queen, and her children would not have been eligible to succeed to the throne - might not have been for the best. Might it not have given her less trouble with Serena and Grace and now Vanessa?

But it would also have meant I couldn't have done anything to help the people of this country. So it's probably quite a selfish thing to wish for.

"You might have enjoyed more untrammelled personal happiness in such a state, I admit," Augustina said, seeming to guess what Cinderella was thinking. "But Armorique would have been much the poorer for it."

Cinderella smiled ever so slightly. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

"You're not particularly difficult to read," Augustina said, softly and without malice or criticism. "And besides...I honestly you would have been bored in a morganatic marriage. With no public role to consume your energies and his highness distracted by his role and obligations...what would you have done?"

"I...you might have a point there, Augustina."

"Of course," Augustina said. "I always have a point."

"In any case, this is all by the by now," Christine said. "In the case of your highness, His Majesty decided to allow the union to proceed on an equitable basis, granting you all your husband's titles and your children full rights of inheritance-"

"It must be admitted," Augustina said. "That if only maids of equal standing with his highness were to be considered eligible for non-morganatic unions then most of us who once hoped to be the prince's bride would be right out. I can only think of Princess Frederica of Normandie who would fit the strict criteria in use at some courts."

"But you must admit that there is a world of difference between marrying an aristocrat, or even a gentleman's daughter, and marrying a shepherdess."

Cinderella's brow furrowed. "If I may...I'm not particularly fond of the way that everyone who once called me a servant girl has now started calling me a gentleman's daughter; I was always both, but it only matters now because it's convenient for people."

Augustina squeezed Cinderella's arm affectionately. "It's a dreadful hypocrisy, I know, but support is support. It's better than being hated, you must admit."

"I suppose so," Cinderella conceded. "I'm sorry, Lady Christine, we keep interrupting you."

"Your Highness may interrupt me as she pleases," Christine replied, with no sign of hurt feelings. "Regardless of how fortuitous your highness' arrival on the scene has turned out to be for Armorique and for his highness, Mademoiselle Vanessa is not you. Armorique does not want a Queen Cutie."

I don't want her either. Cinderella thought. She hadn't told either Christine or Augustina about what Angelique had told her, mostly because she wasn't sure how to explain where Angelique had gotten her information from; she still didn't feel entirely comfortable telling Augustina about the mice and she certainly wasn't ready to trust Christine with that. And she couldn't think of how else Angelique could have found out Vanessa's intentions. "She frightens me," she said, because the admission was about all she could say. "I'm worried about what she might do."

"To you?" Augustina asked, with a frown on her face.

"To me, to my husband, my stepson," Cinderella said. "She frightens me."

"I wouldn't go so far, but then I'm not the one that she attacked," Augustina murmured.

"It's an utter disgrace that she is still here after laying hand on you like that," Christine growled. "I thought - as the general opinion was - that His Majesty was rather fond of you but after last night it appears that he possesses neither affection for you nor respect for your position."

"I thought he was fond of me too," Cinderella murmured, because that was almost worse than anything else about this horrible situation; worse than learning that Vanessa hated her - she wasn't the first person to hate Cinderella for no good reason - was the fact that the King apparently hated her too, and suspected her of plotting against him. Was she so hateful that no one could love her? Would all those whom Cinderella dared to believe could or did love her reveal that they had been decieving her in the end? Would Eugene's smile one day turn cruel as he explained how he had used her until, having no further use for someone like her, he was ready to dispose of her now.

No. No, I can't think like that. Eugene loves me even if his father does not, just as Angelique and Jean and Augustina and Marinette all love me. I have to trust them. I have to keep on believing.

My stepmother couldn't shatter my spirit, I can't let anyone else do so either.

Still...it hurt her, to find out that the King had never loved her at all.

It had felt so wonderful to have a father again.

"I'm sorry, Cinderella," Augustina said. "I know this can't be easy on you."

"That woman is no good for the monarchy," Christine declared. "No good at all. The prospect of her as queen...it cannot be. If the marriage must go forward it must go forward morganatically."

"All very well to say," Augustina said. "But nigh-impossible to enforce. You can talk about law and precedent but the fact is that when Prince Eugene wished to marry Cinderella in full then it didn't matter that the opinion of the court was against it, he had the King's leave and that was enough. If the King is desirous to make her queen she will be queen no matter what your or I or anyone else may think."

Christine's mouth tightened. "Then perhaps it is time that His Majesty gave-"

"Christine!" Cinderella cried, her mind whirling. If His Majesty thinks that I'm plotting against him then what would he think to hear Christine finish that sentence? She was so startled, and so alarmed, that she stumbled on the stairs and only the fact that Christine and Augustina both had hold of her saved her from tumbling.

"Your Highness, take care," Christine said. "What's the matter."

"Christine, I mean Lady Christine, I'm sorry," Cinderella said. "You must never say such things, no matter where we are."

Christine frowned. "Your highness, I don't understand? You seem afraid of something."

"I am," Cinderella confessed. "I'm afraid of what people might think if they heard us talking like this. Please, can we drop the subject?"

Christine hesitated for a moment. Then she nodded. "As your highness desires."

They passed the rest of the way uneventfully, albeit somewhat slowly in deference to the fact that Cinderella tired more quickly than normal, and arrived on the floor of the King's Tower - on the other side of the palace - which housed Philippe and his grandmother. There had been no sight of either Vanessa or His Majesty, and Cinderella couldn't help but be thankful for that. As she and her ladies climbed the stairs Cinderella saw that there was already a guard upon the nursery door, a man whose name she didn't know but whom she had seen protecting Eugene once or twice. Obviously Eugene had set him there.

"Your highness," he said, coming to attention as she arrived on the landing. "The madame is within with the boy."

"Thank you," Cinderella said. "Are they alright? There hasn't been any trouble, has there?"

"No, ma'am."

"Were you expecting any?" Christine asked.

"I...I wasn't sure," Cinderella said. "Ladies, if you wouldn't mind waiting here, I promise I won't be long."

"Be as long as you wish, princess, we're at your service," Christine said.

"But don't be so long that you miss breakfast," Augustina added with a smile.

Cinderella managed a small chuckle at that. "I won't. May I go in, please?"

That last was for the guard upon the door, who stepped aside for her and even opened the door. Cinderella stepped into the nursery to see that Philippe was still in bed, albeit his grandmother was pulling a sailor suit out of the wardrobe for him to wear.

Philippe's face brightened at the sight of her. "Stepmother! I mean...good morning, stepmother."

Cinderella smiled. She couldn't, or rather she would not, allow her present fears and misgivings to affect her now. Madame Clairval deserved to know the truth, but Philippe deserved not to know it until it could not be avoided. Hopefully it would never come to that. So she smiled, as brightly as she had ever smiled at him. "Good morning, Philippe." She crossed the room and sat down on the edge of his bed, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Did you sleep well?"

Philippe shook his head. "I had a bad dream."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Cinderella said. She stroked his cheek with the knuckles of one hand. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"A bad man was chasing me," Philippe said. "He wanted to take me away."

"Oh, Philippe," Cinderella said soothingly, as she brushed some of his long, dark hair - though Philippe resembled his father in miniature, he wore his hair so much longer - out of his forehead before she kissed it, and enfolded him in her arms. "You don't need to be afraid of any bad man or anything like that ever happening. If anyone ever tried to take you away, I wouldn't let them."

"You promise?"

"Cross my heart," Cinderella said. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Philippe looked up at her. "Stepmother, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Cinderella said. "You can ask me anything you like."

"Why are you always wearing gloves, even when it's indoors and sunny?"

Cinderella giggled. "Well, because ladies are allowed to wear gloves indoors, even when it isn't cold."

"But why?"

"Because I think they're pretty, and very elegant," Cinderella said, looking at the wrist-length gloves which currently enclosed her hands. "And because...you might not believe this, but when I was a girl I had to work very hard. I had to wash the floors, and do laundry and cook dinner and even go up on a tall ladder and mend the roof sometimes." Cinderella pulled off the glove on her left hand, revealing the hard and calloused skin beneath the silk. "And so, I'm afraid my hands aren't as soft as they should be for me to be a real princess." She brushed her fingers against his cheek. "So I wear gloves, and let the silk be soft for me." She stroked his cheek again. "Can you feel it? Much better."

Philippe smiled. "And is it true that King Grandfather is getting married?"

Cinderella's smile faltered for a moment. "Yes, yes it is. Um, Philippe, I'm sorry but I need to speak to your grandmother." Her smile returned - looking a little forced, but nevertheless - as she got up off his bed and walked to the other side of the room, to where Madame Clairval had been loitering by the wardrobe ever since Cinderella came in.

"Good morning, your highness," she said softly.

"Good morning, Madame," Cinderella said in an equally quiet voice. "Is everything alright with the two of you."

"He woke up from his nightmare, but a little hot milk sent him to sleep again," Madame Clairval said. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," Cinderella said with a sigh. "But I'll manage."

"You don't usually visit this early in the morning."

"I wanted to make sure you were both alright," Cinderella said.

Madame Clairval's eyes narrowed. "What's the matter, princess? You can convince Philippe that you are as bright and joyful as ever but I'm not four going on five."

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "The King's new betrothed...have you met her?"

"No," Madame Clairval said.

"I'm worried about her," Cinderella said. "Worried about what she might do, I mean."

Madame Clairval turned to face the princess. "Is that why there's a guard outside the door?"

"Just...be careful," Cinderella said. "And take care of him."

"Always," Madame Clairval said. She frowned. "There are times I think it was a mistake coming here. He's happy here, true, but he was happy before, and safer. But then..."

"What?"

"Here he has you," Madame Clairval said. "And I'm not sure I could bring myself to take that away from him."

Cinderella's smile lasted only for a moment. "Take care, madame."

"And you, your highness."

"Thank you," Cinderella said. She turned to go, and started for the door. "I have to go now, Philippe," she said. "But you have a good day, listen to your grandmother, and don't go wandering off."

"I won't. Can I have another kiss before you go? Please?"

Cinderella giggled. "Well, since you asked so nicely." She bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek before she walked to the door. She waved to him. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Stepmother," Philippe called, as she closed the door behind her.

"Your highness seems refreshed," Christine said.

Cinderella shrugged. "I can't allow Philippe to see me upset, and pretending...it makes me feel less upset, if that makes sense."

"I suppose," Christine said. "Although it is a mystery to me that you care so much for that boy possessing, as he does, no extraordinary attributes that would warrant it."

Cinderella folded her arms. She felt the pearl bracelets pressing into her skin. "I don't understand."

"He isn't especially intelligent, charming, precocious, ferocious or even kind," Christine said. "He's a perfectly ordinary small boy, which would be perfectly understandable if he were your own child as mothers across Europe manage to love such ordinary boys when they have brought them into the world; I have a profoundly ordinary brother who has nevertheless managed to be the apple of my mother's eye for as long as I've known him. Not that I'm jealous. But he is not your son, and yet he seems to have managed to endear himself to you despite the lack of any appealing qualities."

Cinderella chuckled. "Lady Christine, I don't know what to say except that choosing who we love - if it is a choice at all - is not as sensible as you seem to think or would like it to be. Honestly, I'm not even sure it's a choice at all."

They took her down to breakfast, stopping just before the dining hall.

"Thank you so much," Cinderella said to them. "I'm sorry that I have to drag you all up and down everywhere like this."

"We are at your service, princess," said Christine.

"Do you want us to wait for you to finish?" Augustina asked.

"No, I'm sure that Eugene will escort me back to my room," Cinderella said. "Thank you, again."

They curtsied, and left her. Cinderella turned to the dining room, clasped her hands together, and took a deep breath.

It's just breakfast. Nothing is going to happen.

I've done nothing wrong, and all her lies are groundless.

I am the princess of Armorique, and my husband loves me very much.

I am perfectly safe.

She took another deep breath, and walked into the dining room.

Cinderella saw at once that she was the last to arrive: Eugene, His Majesty and Vanessa were already seated around the head of the long dining table.

"Good morning, your highness," said one the maids standing by the door.

"Good morning," Cinderella replied.

Eugene was looking rather down and a little dour too, but his face brightened a little as he caught sight of her. He rose to his feet. "Cinderella-"

"And about time, too," the King growled. "You have kept us all waiting."

Cinderella bowed her head a little. "I'm sorry, your majesty, I was just-"

"I'm not interested in your excuses," His Majesty declared. "Sit down at once."

"Of course, your majesty, I'm very sorry."

Eugene drew out a chair next to him. "Here, Cinderella, sit by me."

"What protocol is this?" Vanessa asked. "Till I am queen the princess should sit in her accustomed seat, on Louis' left." She gestured languidly towards a seat between the King, at the head of the table, and herself.

Cinderella hesitated.

"Don't just stand there like a slack-jawed idiot!" the King snapped. "Here, girl, here!" He gestured with one meaty hand towards the chair between Vanessa and himself.

Cinderella walked briskly to it, and tried to control the trepidation that she felt as she pulled out the chair and sat down, feeling a little like a ship sailing a channel between two rocky cliffs uncertain if they might suddenly crash together and crush her between them.

"You look very pretty this morning, your highness," Vanessa said.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle," Cinderella said softly.

"I suppose that's why you were so late."

"Actually, I was visiting my stepson, Mademoiselle," Cinderella said. She noticed that, despite the King's upset at her tardiness there was no food on the table waiting for them.

"Ah, I see," Vanessa said. "All the same, you look very pretty." She reached out and tugged at the string of large pearls clasped tight around Cinderella's neck. "You like pearls, don't you?"

The way she was pulling made a tight necklace feel even tighter around Cinderella's throat. "Yes, mademoiselle."

"You like white things in general, don't you?" Vanessa said. "You must think you're very pure. I'm a little surprised you haven't tried to claim a virgin conception." She laughed at her own wit.

"I would not be so foolish as to deny any of the pleasure that my husband has given to me, mademoiselle," Cinderella said.

Eugene smiled at her, and reached for her hand across the table.

The King's fist descended on her husband's hand like a hammer. "Leave off, for the love of Mary! Holding hands all the time like moonstruck fools."

Eugene rubbed at his hand. "Father, you complained at Cinderella's lateness; yet here she is and still no meal."

The King ignored him. He looked at Cinderella - glowered at her, more like - as he produced a recorder from his pocket and began to play. It was a simple tune, but he played it very well.

"Very good, your majesty," Cinderella said.

He did not look pleased at the compliment. He held out the recorder to her. "Now you try."

Cinderella held up one hand. "I'm afraid I wouldn't very good at it, your majesty. It's been years since I last had a lesson." As a girl - which was to say, as a girl when her father had been alive - she had learned to play the recorder, and had been learning the piano and the violin as well as receiving singing lessons. Nine years of domestic service later, however, and only her singing voice had not atrophied from a lack of use. Augustina had started teaching her the piano and Marinette - who was quite astonishingly talented once she could be persuaded to play anything - the violin but Cinderella was so busy that progress was slow. Of the recorder she remembered practically nothing.

"It isn't difficult," the King said. "You simply cover the holes with your fingers, and blow. A child could do it."

"Father, she said no," Eugene said.

The King ignored him still. "Take the instrument, and play something."

"I'd love to, your majesty," Cinderella said. "But I don't think I can."

"Insolence!" the King bellowed, making Cinderella start in shock. He slammed one hand into the table as he rose to his feet. "Do you think that I am easier to play than this little instrument!" He raised the recorder in the air and like a club he brought it down on Cinderella's head.

Cinderella turned away, and cried out at the pain she felt in her temple as he struck her. She tried to get up, and get away, but Vanessa had hold of Cinderella's arm and was gripping it painfully tight. Cinderella couldn't pull free and so she was trapped, half up from her seat but unable to really move as the recorder rose again.

"No, please, stop!" Cinderella cried as the King struck down again. She raised her free arm to shield herself, and cried out in pain again as it took the blow.

Eugene was on his feet now, and he grappled with his father, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him backwards. "Father, stop this! What in God's name do you think you're doing?"

"You think that you can play me as though I am a pipe or fiddle?" the King yelled. He wrestled against his son, but was unable to match the strength of his son. "You would beat me like a drum, play me as you see fit and then put me away again when you are done? I will not bear it! Unhand me at once! Do you choose this wanton over your own father?"

"Guards!" Vanessa yelled, still holding Cinderella fast. "Defend your king!"

There were four guards in the room; five if you counted Corporal Adragain just outside, but none of them made any move to intervene. They stood frozen by the insanity of what they were witnessing; Cinderella doubted they had ever seen anything like it before.

"This is madness!" Eugene yelled. "Father, what's got into you?"

The King made another futile attempt to break free of Eugene's grip. His face had turned deep scarlet with fury, but then he bowed his head and began to sob. Tears ran freely down his face. "Eugene...Eugene...Cinderella..."

"Father?"

"Eugene," wailed his Majesty, as his legs seemed to give way beneath him and he sank to the floor as far as Eugene's grasp allowed him.

Vanessa released Cinderella's arm as she rode from her seat and rushed to the King. Cinderella rushed too. With her head ringing from the first blow and her arm in such pain from the second, she ran. She stumbled over her chair, falling to her knees, but then she scrambled upright and ran, heedless of Eugene calling her name. She couldn't stay she, she just couldn't, not right now, not after that. Heedless of dignity and grace and all else she ran, fleeing the dining room as fast as her legs would carry her.

Cinderella ran, her skirt flying around her, her slippers tapping a staccato drumbeat on the floors, until she ran headlong into somebody at such speed that they almost fell to the floor together in a heap. He caught her, and though he rocked backwards from the impact he did not fall nor did he let her fall. Cinderella didn't see who it was at first, her head was down and she saw only her dress and the floor beneath her and a pair of polished black boots.

"Your highness? Your highness why do you fly in such a state?"

"Jean?" Cinderella said, looking up into his face. The left side was terribly scarred, and he looked so pale that Cinderella could not believe him to be completely recovered; but all the same the sight of him was such a welcome one, and to have run into him filled Cinderella with such relief that in spite of everything her lips twitched upwards. "Jean? Oh, Jean, is it really you?"

Jean smiled back at her. "I am at your service, your highness."

"Thank you," Cinderella sighed. "Thank you so much, I...I need...I mean I'd like you to escort me back to my room please, Jean. If it isn't too much trouble."

Jean frowned. "It is no trouble at all, princess, but why do-" His face darkened. He reached up and with one hand gently touched Cinderella's temple where the king had struck her.

Cinderella winced, and jerked her head away.

"Your highness, who did this to you?"

"It doesn't matter," Cinderella said. "Please-"

"Your highness, this cannot be allowed-"

"I just want to-"

"Tell me their names and I will-"

"Jean!" Cinderella cried. "Please, Jean, please, I just...I just want to go back to my room. Please, please take me. Please." Her hands trembled on his arms. "Take me home, and stay with me."

Jean stared at her a moment. "As you wish your highness." He put one arm around her as he began to lead her away. "Don't worry, princess, you're safe with me."

"I know," Cinderella murmured. "I'm always safe with you."

Jean led her back to her room at the top of the tower, and as Cinderella had asked he stayed with her, on guard, as her ladies-in-waiting fussed over her and Cinderella's personal chef prepared a breakfast for her to eat in her chambers.

She was almost finished by the time Eugene arrived, his steps heavy and leaden. He didn't look at her. He looked ashamed of himself.

"I'm so sorry," he said, not taking a seat in the sitting room even though Marinette had gotten up to offer him one. "I never imagined that he would ever do such a thing to you."

"It's not your fault," Cinderella said.

"I should have stopped him sooner."

"You did your best."

"Your highnesses, if I may," Jean said. "Am I to understand...His Majesty assaulted the princess?"

Eugene hesitated. Cinderella said nothing, if Eugene didn't want to admit it she wasn't going to. She hadn't told any of her ladies precisely what had happened, just that something had.

"Yes," Eugene said hoarsely. "He struck her twice."

Jean's jaw tightened, and his hands clenched into fists, but he said nothing.

Angelique closed her eyes and she seemed to be muttering something like a prayer.

"Would your highness object if I were to challenge him, on behalf of the princess' honour?"

"Oh God," Angelique muttered, putting her head in her hands.

"Yes, I would actually," Eugene said acidly. "He is...the King is not himself. One moment he was raging like a tempest and the next he wept like a baby."

"He is mad," Christine said. "It is the only explanation. And a mad king-"

"Lady Christine, don't," Cinderella said. "Please don't."

Christine frowned. "As your highness wishes, but...I am sure that I don't have to state the case in order for everyone here to recognise it."

Indeed she did not. The words she had not spoken hung in the air, more pregnant than Cinderella herself.

Etienne Gerard shivered a little in the cold cellar beneath the headquarters of the city garrison, the cellar where the bodies were kept until any relatives they might have claimed them, or it was time to cast them into a pauper's grave.

Underground, there was no light but candle light, and flickering flames cast long shadows in this place of death.

His shivering was not wholly due to the cold.

With one hand he motioned for the cloth to be drawn back from the body they had found. He had set men to digging up the field where he had found the girl and they had found someone else as well: a man in his middle years, his dark hair turning to grey, a beard covering his face, dressed in rough and somewhat dirty garments. He looked, as far as Etienne could tell from the description that had been provided to him, like the missing shepherd who had disappeared at the same time as his daughter, Vanessa.

The man's neck had been snapped. The look frozen on his lifeless face was one of shock, one might even call it horror.

His wife had died some time ago, and in the absence of his daughter - or perhaps his daughter's unwillingness to have anything to do with the investigation - Etienne had asked the man's latest employer to come in and identify the body. With God's grace he might even offer to pay some for some sort of burial.

Etienne motioned for the man to be covered up again, then turned away from the body as he frowned in thought. He could see two possibilities. Either the Vanessa in the palace was telling the truth, and she was not the same woman as the missing shepherdess. In that case it would be a fair assumption that the dead woman buried in the same field as the late Monsieur Barere was the missing Mademoiselle Vanessa, and the question was not only why they had been killed - he could believe that they might have come across their flock being robbed and been killed for it, or they had been killed preparatory to their flock being robbed - but then the wildly different causes of death remained to be explained.

Or the Vanessa who would shortly be Queen of Armorique was lying to him and this was her father lying on the slab in this cold cellar. Her manner certainly suggested a woman with something to hide. But what, and for what purpose? Did she know something, but she was afraid that the people who had killed her father would come after her? He might believe that if she were still a humble shepherdess but now? She was to be queen, with all the power and resource of the state to call upon, she had only to name names and they would be hurled into the dungeons, she had only to say 'I am in danger' and men would be placed at her disposal. No, Etienne did not believe that she was in fear for her life. Was she involved then, in some way? She could not have killed her father, not like that; her father had been a grown man, active and fit, to subdue him and break his neck like this would have required at least one strong man, probably more. If she was not the murderer she could be a co-conspirator with the murder but why or for what purpose? And if the missing Vanessa was in the palace then who was the dead girl?

Etienne rubbed the bridge of his nose. He felt as though every answer raised more questions.

He considered his next step for a moment. What did he have: a missing shepherd who was dead; a missing shepherdess who was still missing; a shepherdess who moved in gowns as though she had been born to them; a dead girl who looked as though she had been drained. And to these should he add a king who appeared to have taken leave of his senses?

He would go to the hut where Prince Eugene had found the King and Vanessa together. If the sheep were still there, and it could be proven that they were the sheep stolen at around the time the shepherd and his daughter went missing, that would prove a connection between Vanessa and the missing shepherds. And then? Then he would have to question her again.

The King cannot marry a woman connected to a murder investigation.

But I'm running out of time to stop it