Fear

Cinderella's married life had, on many occasions, failed to be as happy as she would have liked, but she had never felt as though the palace itself were turning against her until now. Even when she had been angry at and terrified of Eugene, even when she had been afraid that she was about to lose him forever, she had never felt as frightened of the palace as she did now.

That...stated thus it sounded rather unfair. The servants remained very kind to her, and immensely considerate of all her needs. The maids who attended on her had not so much as a hostile glance to send her way. But all the same, Cinderella felt frightened of this place as she had not done before.

It had been three days now since the King had struck Cinderella across the face and arm. With the correct application of makeup, Duchamp was able to conceal the bruise on Cinderella's temple, and long gloves concealed the angry welt upon her arm, but Cinderella could still feel them both throbbing in pain. She had thought he loved her, but apparently it was not and had never been so.

Three days since then. Only two days remained until Vanessa wed his Majesty and became Queen Vanessa of Armorique. Though she was not yet queen, that had not stopped the men she had raised from being called the Queen's Regiment. They wore red coats, in contrast to the usual blue of the Armorican military, and they were a substantial part of Cinderella's fear.

She didn't like them, these new armed men who seemed to prowl in every corridor, stand guard over every door, lurk in every shadow. Cinderella had never known so many guards in the palace before, and Eugene confirmed that such a substantial presence - there must have been hundreds of them - had not occurred in his memory either.

Cinderella had never heard them speak. She had only ever heard them growl wordlessly, or sniff the air like bloodhounds, or bare their teeth at those who came too near. Cinderella didn't know where Vanessa was finding such men, but they were all rough-looking and dishevelled, with hard, almost brutal faces and wicked smiles. Already there were whispers about them, whispers that Cinderella should have hated to believe. It seemed she wasn't the only one who was frightened by these new men.

Yesterday they had caught her alone. Drizella was supposed to be with her - she had been with her, until Cinderella popped in to see Philippe - but when she had come out of the room again her stepsister had disappeared. And so Cinderella, making her way back to her rooms, had been alone when they had caught her.

One red-coated man had blocked her way, standing squarely athwart the corridor so that there was no way for her to pass.

"Excuse me, please," Cinderella murmured, but he did not move.

"Excuse me," Cinderella repeated. "I'd like to get by."

It was only then that other men emerged, seeming to appear from out of the shadows, cutting her off from behind, encircling her. They looked like wolves, and they regarded Cinderella like a doe that had incautiously wandered her way into their den.

"Please," Cinderella said softly, as she turned this way and that, her skirt swirling around her as she looked at all the rough and wicked looking men who now surrounded her.

They growled, the harsh and guttural sounds rising from their throats as they bared their teeth at her.

Cinderella clasped her hands together over her heart as her face became a mask of fright.

Jean? Eugene? Someone please help me.

But no one had come. No saviour had appeared and those men, Vanessa's men, had toyed with her; there was no other way to describe the way that they had snapped at Cinderella like wild dogs, making her reel first in one direction and then the next as she tried to stay away from whichever one of them was lunging at her. They made it a game to grab at her, to hold her painfully by the arms for a moment before letting her go, and all the while they laughed, or made a sound that seemed a little like laughter, but the most horrible laughter Cinderella had ever heard.

Cinderella's princess style had meant less than nothing to them, she had as well been a mouse to a cat for the way they treated her.

It had turned out, when they finally grew tired of tormenting Cinderella and allowed her to flee to her chambers, that Drizella had gotten bored of waiting for her and had demanded that Private Perimon, who was supposed to be guarding Cinderella, escort her back to her room. Jean had screamed at the young soldier so loudly that Cinderella could hear him from three floors up, reminding him that his charge was Cinderella and no one else. Cinderella didn't say anything to Drizella about what she had done; she felt too tired, too frayed by what had happened to her, she had no desire for an argument.

"Are we playing Saturnalia here, that common soldiers may use a princess so?" Christine demanded. "Are misrule and madness to become commonplace? Will there be no punishment for this insolence?"

Cinderella was not hopeful, and when Eugene had come to her and told her, with regret heavy in his voice, that Vanessa and his father had both refused to dismiss or even punish any of the men who had behaved like that to her...Cinderella could no longer say that she was surprised.

"I think we ought to go," Eugene said, as he took her by the hands.

"Go?" Cinderella repeated. "Go where?"

"The Summer Palace, maybe, where we spent our honeymoon," Eugene said. "Or if not, there are other estates we have. I have an estate outside of Nantes if you'd prefer. Somewhere away from here, away from Vanessa and the Queen's Regiment and...and my father. Away from all of them where we can be...where all three of us can be safe." He placed one hand on Cinderella's belly.

One of Cinderella's hands joined his there as she placed it on top of his. "That sounds..." she sighed. "I don't want to run away but...but I don't want to stay here either. Yes, yes, take me away from here, that sounds wonderful." She laid her head upon Eugene's chest. "Could Philippe come with us?"

"Yes, they both could," Eugene said. "It's probably for the best they do. We'll leave as soon as the wedding is past."

Maybe it was nothing more than running away, maybe it was conceding that Vanessa had won, maybe it was only putting off their troubles but what if it was? Was that such a bad thing? What were they supposed to do, with the King so firmly on her side. Cinderella had spent nine years, nearly half her life, being treated like dirt; being insulted; punished for things she hadn't done; subject to unreasonable demands; living in a state of constant fear, always wondering what invisible barrier she would transgress next and how she would suffer for it. Cinderella didn't want to live the next nine years of her life the same way; she didn't want to bring up a child that way. If she had to flee to escape it then so be it. She could run away now. She had a husband who would take her away from the pain and the misery. She didn't have to stay and suffer this time.

"I'm sorry that it's come to this," Angelique said. "I'm sorry that...I haven't been able to do more." She bowed her head. "It seems as though every time I set myself the task of keeping you safe I fail at it."

"There's nothing you can do," Cinderella replied. "I'm not sure that there's anything that anyone can do."

"Maybe," Angelique muttered. "But I'd like to try. When you go...I'd like to stay, see if I can find something, anything, to...to make this better."

"Angelique," Cinderella murmured. She folded her hands in her lap. "That could be dangerous."

Angelique grinned, or tried to. "I've survived worse. Don't worry about me, just take care of yourself wherever you go."

The thought that they would be able to leave after the wedding buoyed up Cinderella's thoughts as the wedding day drew ever nearer. It was impossible for them to leave beforehand because the King had commanded that they both play their parts in the ceremony: Eugene was to give away the bride, and Cinderella was to be her bridesmaid. This in spite of the fact that whenever Vanessa saw her she seemed to have nothing to say to Cinderella but insults. Cinderella's belly was starting to show, swelling up with the new life that was growing inside her, and as a result Vanessa never let sight of Cinderella pass without some remark about her weight and the loss of her looks.

With her baby bump starting to appear Cinderella was badly in need of some new dresses, as it turned out that gowns tailored to an hourglass figure was not particularly comfortable once that hourglass started to become less pinched around the middle; but the palace was barred to Lucrecia now, something which His Majesty informed her of personally the one time Cinderella had seen him after he had...struck her.

"We will be glad to see you stripped of all your falsehoods," he declared. "God gave you one face but you have painted yourself another to deceive me with."

"Your majesty," Cinderella replied. "I promise that I have never lied to you."

The King turned away with a snort. "There will be no more gowns beneath which you may conceal your wickedness. And from this day on all your jewels will belong to our future queen, Vanessa. It is not fitting that the princess should shine brighter than the queen."

Vanessa, smiling, had ripped the necklace from off Cinderella's neck right there and then, and the bracelets from her wrists too. That very day Cinderella's jewellery box, with all her rings and necklaces and bracelets, all her diamonds and pearls and sapphires, had been taken away. The next time Cinderella saw Vanessa she was wearing the necklace Eugene had given her for their wedding day, with the sapphire heart glimmering from around her neck.

It had taken great effort for Cinderella to conceal from her face how upset that sight made her, but from the look in Vanessa's eyes it seemed the other woman could guess very well.

Cinderella saw the King very little, and was sad to say the she preferred it that way. She took all her meals in her room, and never went down to dine in the hall. Eugene ate with her more often than not. She was...she was too afraid to go down and suffer more attacks, knowing that even if she escaped a beating she would have to endure hours of insult at least. Plus, Cinderella found herself wearing her old, loose-fitting blue nightgown as if was one of the few things that didn't hug a figure more slender than Cinderella was becoming, and was thus more comfortable than any of hew newer and more lovely gowns; in consequence she was hardly presentable, but she didn't get dressed unless or until she had to.

So she saw very little of the King - she got the impression that Eugene didn't see much more of his father - but Cinderella heard from Christine, via her uncle who wrote to her each day with gossip and news in equal proportion, that the King had angrily refused to even contemplate a morganatic marriage when the idea was put to him. Vanessa would be queen, and her children would be princes and princesses. Cinderella had to hear this from Christine via her uncle because both she and Eugene had been barred from meetings of the Privy Council; physically barred, with guards upon the doors to forbid their entry. All the work which His Majesty had delegated to Eugene he had withdrawn back unto himself; he no longer needed nor wanted their assistance in the government of the kingdom.

Eugene was bored, and Cinderella found that spending time with her stepson was a balm for her frustrations. Denied anything else to do she sometimes spent whole days with him, and no day passed without her spending several hours with Philippe: he sat in her lap as Cinderella read to him from some of the books she remembered her mother reading to her when she was very young, her arms wrapped around the young boy even as her hands held the book in front of him; she played with him in his room or in the garden, or watched as he played with his toys; she sang to him, and tried as best she could to help him with his lessons. Sometimes Eugene joined them, sometimes not. Most of all Cinderella smiled for him, and pretended that she had not a care or trouble in the world.

And thus the days crawled on towards the making of a new queen.

Eugene had just returned from riding when he found Mademoiselle Tremaine waiting for him in the stables.

He found himself going riding more and more often, if only as something to do. He probably should have followed Cinderella's example and taken advantage of his newfound idleness to spend more time with his son, but the truth was that he needed a way that he could rely on to work off the frustration that he was feeling. He didn't have Cinderella's gentle nature, nor her ability to put her feelings to one side. He could not have kept up for Philippe the facade that everything was fine the way that Cinderella could, not without some way of working off what he really felt.

It was intolerable! Everything about this revolted him. Vanessa revolted him, the way that Cinderella was being treated now revolted him, the way that his father had changed revolted him. And most of all the fact that he was so powerless in the face of all this revolted him. He felt as though he were trapped in one of those dreams where he could not act but only watch helpless as disaster unfolded. He couldn't protect Cinderella, he couldn't stop Vanessa, he couldn't change his father back the way he was. He couldn't do anything but watch as everything he loved was attacked.

It occurred to Eugene - he didn't want it to, but it did - that his father might be mad. It would explain the mood swings, the sudden change in his behaviour, his bizarre decisions. It could be true, but he hoped not. He would rather put all the blame on Vanessa rather than accept that something had stolen the true spirit of his father away from him forever.

And so he rode, and in the riding sought to sweat off all the frustrations that would otherwise have burst out of him in an explosion of unfair rage, possibly even at someone who deserved it least like Cinderella or Philippe.

Having stabled his horse, Eugene was just about to go in search of Cinderella - if she were not in her own chamber then she would be with Philippe in the nursery - when he noticed Mademoiselle Drizella Tremaine lurking in the shadows of the stables.

"What brings you here, Mademoiselle?" he asked, as he slung his saddle over his shoulder.

"I've been waiting for you, your highness," Drizella said as she slunk out of the darkness and into his view. She had a very strange expression on her face, one that Eugene could not comprehend.

"Did Cinderella send you to fetch me?" he asked.

Drizella laughed. It was not a particularly pleasant sound. "Cinderella? No, she's got no clue that I'm here." She took a step towards him, and then another. "I'm here for us."

Eugene was not terribly well-acquainted with his wife's stepsister - nor could he honestly say that he wanted to know her better - but it seemed to him that she was not speaking in her normal voice. She seemed to be trying for a higher pitch than normal, attempt to force a breathlessness into the way she spoke.

Eugene frowned. "Are you well, mademoiselle?"

Drizella licked her finger excessively slowly. "Oh, I am very well, your highness."

Then why are you behaving so strangely? Eugene cleared his throat. "Mademoiselle-"

"Please, Eugene, you must call me Drizella."

"For my part I would prefer your highness," Eugene said softly. It pleased Cinderella to indulge familiarity amongst her companions but that didn't mean he had to do the same, especially not with ones who hadn't yet proven themselves worthy of familiarity from anyone.

Drizella advanced upon him. "All of this must be very frustrating for you, your highness: your wife unable to pleasure you as a wife should."

"I think that's the least of my worries at the moment," Eugene replied. "Mademoiselle, I must say that you seem very odd today."

"I feel very bold today," Drizella replied. She was very close to him now, and began to paw at his shoulder like a cat. "It must be difficult, having a man's needs build up inside you like...like...like something building up inside of you. How you must long for...release."

Eugene's brow furrowed. This conversation was taking a turn that was almost surreal. "I assure you, mademoiselle, that I need no instruction on how to release myself; but I hardly think this is a conversation that I should have with a lady of my wife's household. If you will excuse me-"

Drizella laughed that odd laugh again. "There's no need to be coy, your highness, I know a bed for two is cold when used by one."

Eugene's eyes boggled. "You...Mad...Mademoiselle are you sure that you are not untouched by the heat? Perhaps you should go to bed and lie down."

"Oh, your highness!" Drizella beamed with delight. "Yes, I'll go to bed. Come, we'll go at once while Cinderella is preoccupied with that boy-"

She grabbed at Eugene but he pulled away from her. "Are you expecting me to go to bed with you?"

Drizella stared at him. "Isn't that what you meant?"

"No!" Eugene shouted. "Why would even assume such a thing?"

"Well you're father took a mistress so I don't see what's taking you so long!"

Eugene stared at her. "You...is this what this has been about? Are you...were you trying to seduce me? Do you really believe that I would betray Cinderella...with you?"

A look of hurt crossed Drizella's face but he didn't care, at this point he only cared about getting across to her how ridiculous this was and how little he desired to see this show repeated. He scowled at her. "I will say this once and thank you for remembering it: I am a married man and my wife's happiness is precious with me; I am not going to betray my vows with you or anyone else and quite frankly there is too much happening at the moment for me to have any patience with these ridiculous games! If Cinderella didn't have so much else to worry about I would tell her all about this and let her decide what to do with you, but as I don't want to upset her further I'm going to let it go. This time. Don't let it happen again."

And with that he strode past, not giving her a chance to reply.

Drizella fled through the palace in tears.

It wasn't fair! It wasn't her fault that she'd been born this way, while Cinderella had been born with beauty enough for all three sisters! Why should she have to suffer for something that wasn't her fault? Didn't her personality count for anything?

It wasn't fair! No one would ever look past her...looks and see her worth. Not even her own mother, maybe.

It wasn't fair...but there was nothing she could do about it.

Drizella stumbled her way into a sitting room, dark with the curtains drawn and no candles lit, with only a sliver of light getting in to chase away the gloom. She flung herself down upon the nearest settee and sobbed out her misfortune into a cushion.

It wasn't fair, what had Cinderella ever done to deserve to all of her good fortune. She was only a maid, and she was vain and spoiled and spiteful and she was such a show-off too. She'd always been like that, ever since they were girls. She'd thought she was better than Drizella and her sister because she was prettier than them, and could walk more gracefully than them; and everyone told her how pretty she was, and how graceful and charming and everything else and she lapped it up. She loved to be told how wonderful she was. Perfect precious princess Cinderella. Was it any wonder she and Anastasia had tried to drown the insufferable little brat in a pond the first chance they got?

And she was still showing off, rubbing Drizella's nose in everything she had. And she wouldn't even share her husband while she was pregnant.

It wasn't fair. Cinderella didn't deserve all her good fortune, and Drizella didn't deserve to be so miserable. It wasn't fair.

"The world is a cruel place for an ugly girl, isn't it?"

Drizella looked up from the cushion she'd been crying into. "Who said that? Who's there?"

"I am," Vanessa said, her voice soft as she emerged from out of the darkness and into the sliver of light coming in from the gap in the curtains.

Drizella's eyes widened. "Well...who are you calling ugly, anyway?"

Vanessa folded her arms. "You're not a foolish girl. You know the truth of what you are as well as I do."

"Doesn't mean you have to say it," Drizella muttered. "What do you want, anyway?"

Vanessa laughed. "What do I want? What do I want? I want the world and all its marvels, Drizella Tremaine. I want to see my son upon his father's throne. I want to see lords and common alike bow down before him. And I want to see Cinderella pay for all that she has done to me. That last, at least, should appeal to you, no?"

Drizella stared at her, and said nothing. Is this a trick? Why is she telling me this?

"What..." she hesitated. "What do you have against Cinderella?"

"She stole from me once, and when I tried to take what was rightfully mine she bested me and stole from me a second time." Vanessa said. "The third time we cross paths will pay for all."

"And why are you telling me this? If I tell-"

"Cinderella already knows the hate I bear for her," Vanessa said. "She would have to be more foolish than even I once thought her not to realise by now. You could tell her again, and she might even thank you, but her gratitude will not extend to a place in the prince's bed, nor will it stretch to land or income or even a good marriage. She made the little street rat Angelique a countess, and gave rich lands meek Marinette Gerard, but she will never grant you what you desire."

"But you can?"

"I cannot give Prince Eugene to you, he is marked for death," Vanessa said. "While he lives my own son would never be safe or secure upon the throne. But I can give you a grand title, wide estates, even a good marriage if you wish it. And I can give you something you want more than any of that: the chance to see Cinderella stripped of all her unearned glories, with all her pride and arrogance beaten out of her, laid low and destroyed. Isn't that what you want, Drizella Tremaine? Isn't that your heart's desire?"

Drizella nodded.

Vanessa's smile broadened. "I think that you and I are going to be very good friends."

The sheep, having eaten all of the grass in the little paddock in which they were corralled, were hungry. Etienne could hear them bleating in distress as he rode closer to the little hut on the moor.

This was the place, he was sure of it. He had followed the directions where Eugene had gone, and he had come to a place like that which his old friend had described: a shepherd's hut, with a score of sheep being kept nearby.

Judging by the hunger-induced distress of said sheep it didn't seem that anyone had been looking after them. Indeed, he couldn't see anyone nearby.

Etienne was starved of human companionship, but in deference to the fact that there was still a bear on the loose - albeit there had been no sightings since the attack on the princess that had started all of this insanity - he was accompanied by a pair of Irish wolfhounds with long, wiry grey coats. They padded along by the sides of his horse, their tongues hanging out of their mouths even as they sniffed the air. He was lucky to still have them; there were reports of dogs going missing all over the city. Mostly strays, and so not something he needed to look into urgently, but odd nonetheless.

No stranger than everything else that's been going on around here, I suppose, Etienne thought to himself.

He also had a hunting rifle slung from his saddle, in case he did come across the bear. Or anyone else who might mean him harm.

Etienne nudged his horse with his knees, urging the mare towards the sheep paddock.

"Hello?" he called. "Hello? Is there anyone here?"

The only answer was the bleating of the sheep as they milled about listlessly.

Etienne's dogs sniffed the air, but the wind was coming in from behind them, blowing their scent away from them rather than carrying any smells in their direction.

From atop his horse, Etienne leaned out slightly and opened up the gate keeping the sheep confined. The sheep spilled out, eager for fresh grass to feed on. At the very least he wouldn't starve to death, and he could let their rightful owner know where they were.

However, finding lost sheep wouldn't help him solve this business. He needed to find something that would-

Etienne stopped himself. He couldn't let his own feelings, or even the feelings of Lucrecia, get in the way of his search for the truth. It would certainly be convenient - if, as Lucrecia believed and as Etienne was inclined to believe too, Vanessa was behind the shutting of the palace gates in Lucrecia's face - if Vanessa turned out to be involved in a series of murders. But he was here to find the truth, not prove things that he already wanted to believe.

He cried out again, to as little response as before. There was no sound but the sheep, and the yapping of one of his hounds as it worried them.

Etienne called the dog to heel, and he was about to dismount from his horse when the wind changed.

The dogs began to growl at something, baring their teeth in the direction of the wooden hut. They had a scent, and they did not like it.

Etienne reached for his rifle.

The entire front of the shepherd's hut disintegrated as, with a roar, a great black bear charged out, smashing through the wall as it did so. It was still roaring as it charged straight for him, loping across the grass on all fours.

Etienne's eyes widened as he pulled his rifle from its rest. His horse whinnied in panic as the bear came closer. Etienne chose to ignore the horse for now as he pulled back the hammer on the rifle and pressed it to his shoulder. The sound of the rifle's report drowned out the pounding of his heart for a moment. The bear was half-obscured by smoke, he couldn't tell if he'd hit it or not. But it did not go down.

The bear's roar was answered by the barking of his wolfhounds as they assailed the bear from both sides, biting at its legs and sides. The bear, moving more slowly and sluggishly now, turned this way and then that to face them, but the dogs retreated out of danger and let their comrade attack the creature from the rear.

Etienne pulled out his pistol, took aim, and fired.

The bear moaned in pain, and staggered under the assault of shot and hound. For a moment it stood, like an old tree buffeted by strong wind. And then it fell, collapsing onto one side with a heavy thud.

The sheep continued to bleat in panic, but all the rest was silence.

Etienne reloaded his pistol just in case as the two wolfhounds circled around the body.

He watched carefully, but the bear did not move. He had heard that some bears would pretend to be dead and then, when the trophy hunter approached, rise up roaring and snarling and try and maul the offending huntsman. But this bear made no moves at all. It appeared perfectly still, and perfectly slain.

Before Etienne could contemplate whether a bearskin rug would look handsome on the floor of his drawing room, however, or even wonder why a bear would be hiding inside a shepherd's hut and not have eaten the sheep locked in a pen not far away, the strangest thing happened. The bear began to change. An inner light began to shine from the body, and his two dogs retreated away from it. The light burned, and the body transformed. The fur and claws and ursine form of the bear were shed and in its place, like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, there was a man.

A dead man. He had been shot three times, stabbed through the chest and savaged by a pair of Irish wolfhounds - there was no doubt in Etienne's mind that this was the same...thing that had mauled Lieutenant Taurillion as he defended the princess. Had he been a man at that time either shot or sabre would have been enough to finish him.

Etienne dismounted, and approached the body.

"My God," he gasped. For he recognised the dead man as Anatole du Montcalm.