VI

The Muse

Cinderella's eyes opened as the daylight began to filter in through the crack in the curtains.

The red velvet curtains were thick, much thicker than those she had suffered at home, but there was just enough of a gap between the two of them to let in a silver of sunlight, and the sliver had been sufficient to wake her up.

Cinderella lifted her head off the pillow just enough to see that it was very nearly six on the clock.

She began to lift the sheets off her and get up before she remembered that she had absolutely no need to do so. She was not the servant, not here, not any more. There would be others to light the fires, to warm the water, to make the breakfast. There was no call for her to do anything except stay in bed for as long as she wanted.

The prospect of a lie-in, her first in many a year, was enough to put a smile on Cinderella's face as she snuggled herself up under the layers of bedclothes and rolled over, facing her new husband.

Eugene was still asleep. Clearly he had no years of experience conditioning to rise with the lark on the wing and the snail on the thorn. He looked to still be slumbering peacefully in spite of the receding darkness in the bedroom. His eyes were closed, his breathing was gentle, and some of his black bangs were falling across his forehead in an adorably attractive manner.

Asleep, he looked so much younger than he did awake. So much so that looking at him now, leaning on her pillow and gazing at him with a soft smile playing across her features, Cinderella found it hard to believe that he was five years her elder. He had not borne the things that she had, but she supposed that growing up as a prince had taught him different things, things that she would need to learn now that she was his wife.

But that was for the future. For now, they still had what little dark remained, and it was not yet time to wake.

He looked so handsome that Cinderella wanted to kiss him, but she did not want to wake him up, so she refrained. Instead, she simply watched him for a while, her slumbering angel, before she closed her eyes and sought a return into the peace of sleep's country.

She slept on and off, never quite returning to deep slumber, but not lying fitfully awake in bed either, until she felt Eugene stirring beside her, and opened her eyes to see that yes, he was awake, his melting brown eyes staring at her as a grin flashed across his features.

"Good morning," he said.

Cinderella smiled. "A very good morning, to wake and see you."

Eugene leaned over and kissed her three times, once on the forehead, once on the nose - making Cinderella giggle - and once, the longest of the three, upon her lips.

"Your Highness," he whispered.

Cinderella frowned. "I didn't marry you for a crown. You do know that, don't you?"

Eugene nodded. "If I thought you did, I wouldn't have married." He kissed her again, leaving Cinderella out of breath for a moment. "But I did."

"That," Cinderella said. "Is not something I will ever forget." She climbed out of the luxurious bed and padded across the floor - the carpet was soft beneath her feet, and the Persian rug that lay at the foot of the bed was softer still, and flung open the scarlet curtains. She felt a momentary sting of sunlight on her face before her eyes behind the grounds of the summer palace where she and Eugene had gone for their honeymoon. Beyond the carefully tended gardens, awash with shrubs and cultivated evergreens and lawns that were flatter than a washboard, beyond the wall of red stone that hived off grounds and gardens, lay the acres of wild forest which, Eugene had said, the royal family kept unused and untended as a hunting ground. Beyond the woods the hills rolled gently onwards, and what looked like a river glistened softly in the distance.

"Someone would have come in and done that," Eugene said.

"They're only curtains," Cinderella replied. "They hardly require special handling. Besides, the view is so lovely."

"Yes, it is," Eugene said, sitting up with his legs out of bed, looking at her.

Cinderella shook her head at the compliment, and walked back to join him on the side of the bed. Sitting down, their faces were level, or near enough, but while Eugene's feet touched the floor, hers were left dangling a few inches above it as though she were a child.

She placed her hand on his. "So, what happens now?"

Eugene reversed his hand, so that hers was not sitting in his palm and he could squeeze it gently. "Now...there is a lot of work. You will have to attend a great many parties, which sounds fun up until you realise that they're all the same and you have to keep going anyway. Then you'll probably be expected to host some as well, which is more work than the reward is worth, if you ask me. Diplomatic functions, state banquets, not to mention all the things that, forgive me, you will probably have to learn about etiquette, statecraft, foreign affairs and everything else. It will be hard."

"I have had hard before," Cinderella said softly. "I managed that, I will manage this."

"I know," Eugene said. "I'm not saying this to frighten you, Cinderella, just to make sure you know what's coming." He grinned. "But all of that can start when we get back to the palace. Right now there are now hangers on, no ambassadors, no invitations and no lessons. Right now there is just you and me."

"And the staff," Cinderella said.

"Yes," Eugene said. "And the staff. But they won't come in unless they're summoned." He kissed her.

Cinderella realised what he meant. "You're a rascal."

"I know," he said. "Did you not realise."

He kissed her again, and then they did much more.

They bathed and changed in separate rooms, and Cinderella found that the change to hot water from cold was certainly one that she could enjoy. Clearly, in the days ahead she would have to will herself out of the bath, or she would spend half the day or more wallowing in the hot water, letting it soak her skin and run down her hair while scented shampoos soaked into her strawberry blonde locks and bath salts fizzed around her soaking body.

But she did get out, having spent too long in their already at half an hour, and emerged washed, dressed and with her hair smelling of orange, jasmine and cedarwood. There had been little time to create a wardrobe for her, so her outfit was a little plain: a dark brown skirt that went down to her ankles, an aquamarine blouse and a brown waistcoat, finished off with the brown ribbon tying back her ponytail and the black ribbon tie under her collar. And of course her rings, her golden wedding ring now joining her engagement ring upon her finger, glimmering as Cinderella passed each window in turn, and the sunlight caught on the gold and the gems.

She found Eugene in the dining room, a far more modest room than its equivalent in the main palace, but at the same time brighter and more airy, with French windows leading out into the garden. The varnished table was laden with fruits and pastries, and while a maid and a footman stood silently against the walls Eugene was already sat at the table, his plate empty while he read a newspaper with a frown settling over his face.

"Is something wrong?" Cinderella asked as she walked in.

Eugene put the paper away quickly. "No, not at all darling," he said, a little too hastily to be entirely convincing.

"I'm surprised you could resist starting without me," Cinderella said as she sat down opposite him.

"What kind of ill-mannered boar would I be if I did that?" Eugene asked. "Have whatever you like, I can say with some confidence it will all be delicious."

"It smells it," Cinderella said, beginning to help herself as Eugene did the same. "Was there anything interesting in the paper?"

Eugene glanced guiltily towards the offending article. "No. Nothing at all. A very dull day."

"Really?" Cinderella murmured. "I would have thought that the marriage of the heir to the throne would have merited a mention."

Eugene coughed, and looked absurdly guilty.

Cinderella gave him a knowing look. "Eugene, I'm not a child. I don't need you to coddle me. What did they say?"

Eugene handed her the newspaper, the Breton Gazette. "A lot of very scurrilous nonsense. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Cinderella took it. It did not take her long to find the piece on her wedding, as it was on page three.

"A very pretty girl, although her beauty is marred by a simpering smile," she murmured. Cinderella read on a little further. "We have no doubt that, for all her innocent affect, she is well-versed in using her beauty to get what she wants; it is unfortunate for us that she seems to have wanted all of Armorique."

"I told you so," Eugene said.

Cinderella read on, past the sneering remarks about the size of her feet, and then spotted the cartoon occupying the bottom outside corner of the page. It depicted her as some sort of cross between a siren and an ogre - on the one hand her face had been drawn as attractive, in a harsh, cruel way, but on the other hand her body reminded Cinderella more of Anastasia or Drizella than herself - but with the apparently obligatory tiny feet - leering as she sunk her claws into a very innocent looking Eugene, here drawn with a vacant look and a large codpiece, and cackling of all the wealth that would soon be hers.

Cinderella flung the paper down.

"If it makes you feel any better I'm not presented in the best light either," Eugene said apologetically. "They make me out to be a halfwit led about by... ahem, lured into marriage by a witch."

"That doesn't make me feel better because I'm the witch," Cinderella said.

"Yes, I'm sorry for mentioning it," Eugene murmured.

"No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped," Cinderella replied. "But...it would have been nice if they had waited to see what I did before deciding that I was a gold digging... is that all?"

"There's an editorial later, complaining that this marriage brings Armorique no political advantage. That does not really mention you though, it concentrates instead on my foolishness," Eugene said resignedly. "Don't take it too much to heart, the Gazette has had the knives out for my family for as long as I can remember. They never have anything but insults for my father or for me."

"Then why do you read it?" Cinderella asked.

"Because it also has the highest circulation of any newspaper in Armorique, and I might as well know what is being read of me by the people," Eugene explained. "Whether the readership is a sign of incipient republicanism or simply a sign that even this rag has its good points I don't know. To give them some credit they do manage some actual reporting elsewhere. It appears the Angevins fought another battle on the Loire, and were defeated. The Empire has gained the river crossings."

"I see," Cinderella murmured.

Eugene looked at her. "Having just chided me for lying, Cinderella, you're doing a poor job of it yourself. If there is something you don't know then you have no need to hide it from me."

Cinderella felt herself flushing. "I don't want you to think me foolish."

"I don't," Eugene said. "I know you haven't received the best education. If there's something you don't understand, just tell me."

Cinderella felt the burning in her face intensity. "I...I don't know what you're talking about," she confessed. "Stepmother didn't really care for foreign affairs, and Anastasia and Drizella weren't interested in the least, so I didn't even hear things in passing. About all I know is that Anjou is our neighbour to the south."

"Also the largest state in Gallia," Eugene said. "They control Aquitaine and Gascony as well as Anjou proper."

Cinderella nodded. "And they're at war with...the Empire? Who are they?"

"The Holy Roman Empire," Eugene said. "Germans, essentially, and some Italians and a few other peoples from the east. They've been at war with Anjou for a few years now, over Burgundy."

"Are we at war?" Cinderella asked nervously.

"No," Eugene said. "Father has kept us well out of this, it's just the Angevins and the Flemish versus the Germans. Anjou tries, they try very hard, to bring us into it, but Father has resisted them until now."

He leaned back in his chair. "People underestimate my father. They assume that because he blusters occasionally that that must make him an oaf. But he understands the interests of Armorique better than anyone. Better than I do. The country will be poorer once I take the throne."

Cinderella reached out and took his hand. "Not for many years yet. There is still time."

Eugene smiled sadly. "Not as much time as I would like I fear. But enough sad talk, or this will be a very miserable honeymoon. What would you like to do after breakfast?"

Cinderella hesitated. "I...I really don't know. I have never had a lot of time to myself."

"I don't suppose you paint?" Eugene asked.

"I've been a maid for the last ten years," Cinderella reminded him gently.

"Yes, of course," Eugene said. "Well, as it happens, I do, I find it relaxing. Although I am without a model at the moment. And I cannot think of a better subject than the one before me."

Cinderella chuckled. "You can tell me if you still think so after I have fidgeted and fussed until you are driven to distraction. Would you like me to change?"

Eugene's face assumed a pensive look. "I would like to paint you in your wedding dress, but I think we can leave that for now. What you're wearing will be fine."

Cinderella smoothed a fold out of her skirt. "I hope the muse pays you a visit."

"She already has," Eugene replied. "I married her."

Cinderella spent the morning with the sun on her face, sitting on a bench of white stone, while a fountain burbled happily nearby and a statue of Aphrodite loomed over her, casting a shadow over half her face. Eugene kept up a lively conversation while he worked, though at first Cinderella was afraid to respond for fear of spoiling the composition by her shifting expressions, but Eugene explained that if she answered him then the very movement of her face, her eyes, would enable him to capture more of her life upon the canvas.

"Sometimes," he said. "When the press of royalty rests too heavily upon my shoulders, I like to ride out onto the moors somewhere and dash off a quick landscape. There are very scenic vistas around here. But I must confess, that my true artistic passion is for people."

"I think I would probably enjoy seeing other work you've done more than pictures of myself," Cinderella said.

Eugene looked around the canvas. "You are aware of what a beautiful woman you are?"

"Beautiful I may be, in the eyes of my beholders," Cinderella said. "But I am not vain, and I do not enjoy my own reflection." That was a lie, at least in part. Cinderella knew very well that she did have a streak of vanity within her. She did consider herself fair to look on, and she did enjoy the sight of her own reflection. What separated her from Anastasia or Drizella, or so she told herself, was that she was aware of her vanity and aware it was a flaw in her, a flaw she tried not to indulge.

Eugene was finished before lunchtime, and Cinderella rose from her seat and walked across the perfectly maintained lawn to behold what he had wrought.

What she saw astonished her. She could not speak for a moment. Her eyes widened.

"This...this is how you see me?" she asked.

Cinderella could barely recognise herself. The individual details were there: blue eyes, fair skin, strawberry blonde hair worn to just below the shoulder - she was wondering whether, now she was a great lady, she should grow it out more, but to be honest Cinderella rather liked it the length it was - but the combination of them, the art itself, barely seemed like her at all. The woman that Eugene had painted had a smile that was shy but vivacious, that shone from between her full, pink lips. Her eyes shone and sparkled and her face glowed and her figure...the statue of Aphrodite beside her paled by comparison.

"That isn't me," Cinderella murmured.

Eugene smiled. "If you think so, darling, then I am afraid we will have to disagree. That does not do half the justice to what I see when I look at you."

"I...I..." Cinderella stammered. "I feel like the most fortunate woman in the world."

"Then I am the most blessed of men," Eugene said. "And, speaking of good fortune, I have something for you." He produced a narrow, leather-bound case out of one of his pockets. "The first drop of a great flood to come."

Cinderella opened the box, to see a complete set of pearl jewellery awaiting her within: twin pearl earrings, each about as large as Cinderella's thumb, a long necklace of medium-sized pearls, long enough to hang from Cinderella's throat without grasping about it, and two bracelets, one longer and so a looser fit than the other, which looked as if it would clasp tight around her wrist.

"Oh, they're lovely," Cinderella said.

"Would you like to try them on?" Eugene asked.

"Of course," Cinderella said, and she turned around and lifted her hair out of the way while Eugene fastened the necklace around her neck.

"You know," Cinderella said. "If the man from the Gazette could see this all his worst suspicions would be confirmed."

"Right now, Cinderella, I really couldn't care less what he thinks," Eugene replied.