VI

The Importance of Knowledge

Lady Serena Montcalm stood in the corner of the princess' bedroom as the maids bustled here and there, helping the dishmaid princess get ready. She watched as Cinderella sat at her vanity, eyes closed, a look of contentment on her face as one of the servant girls - Serena didn't bother to remember there names - brushed her hair.

It rankled. It rankled very badly. It wasn't just the fact that she, a daughter of the Montcalm family, who could trace their lineage back to the old Bretons who had fought against the Franks, was being forced to stand in the corner like a naughty schoolgirl waiting upon the needs of one who ought by rights to have been scrubbing floors. It wasn't just that she had curtsey who a girl who ought to have been honoured by a mere glance from the scion of so many high lords. It wasn't just that Serena was not allowed to wear her finest dresses, or any of her jewellery, because a lady in waiting was not allowed to even attempt to outshine the princess she served. It wasn't just the fact that Serena knew herself to be a rare beauty on the level of Helen of Troy, while Cinderella was merely pretty in the way that peasant girls often where before life spoiled them. It wasn't just that the view from the window was wonderful and yet this insipid nobody had it instead of her.

No, it was all of those things, and it was enough to make Serena want to scream.

Fortunately for her reputation, she was a Montcalm. She had been raised at Castle Dorigen, the ancient windswept stronghold of her family upon the storm-wracked coast, where to bare ones soul was punished with strong words and indiscretion was punished with the rod. She knew well how to present a mask to the world, and she had several to choose from. To the princess she would wear the mask of an obedient companion, perhaps even a friend if she should have need of the girl's trust. To her fellow ladies in waiting she would be what they expected of a high lord's daughter pressed to this service: petulant, scornful, but without any real harm in her.

And then, when the dishmaid princess' guard was lowered - if it had ever been raised - and the suspicions of those around her had been allayed, she would destroy Cinderella and take her place.

She had to. Her family was depending on it.

It had been a chill day when her father had called her in to his study. It was the height of spring, but a storm had broken on the rocks of the bay the night before and the morning was still full of the after-effects in the air. It made Serena shiver a little as she sat down, or perhaps it was the look on her father's face as she stared at her.

Even entering into old age, Lord Montcalm still presented an imposing figure. It was not his height, though he was a tall man, but the air of authority that spread from him like the rays from the sun. The crags and lines on his face made him seem as enduring and as permanent as the rocks on Aurelius' Bay down below them. His hair was blond, but turning to gray, and receding at the front. His eyes were blue, and as pale and cold as rock-hard ice. They fixed Serena on his gaze like lances.

"Serena," he said calmly, with a chill in his voice that almost made Serena shiver again.

"Father," she said quietly.

"You notice that I do not need to refer to you by anything but your name," he said, looking away from her and busying himself with some papers on his desk.

"Should you?" Serena asked uncertainly. "Do you need to refer to your daughter by anything but her name."

"I did not, for instance, call you 'Your Highness'." Father looked up, his gaze accusatory.

"No," Serena said. "No, you didn't."

"No. I did not," Lord Montcalm said, leaning back in his chair. "I did not call you 'Your Highness' because you are not the princess. Some peasant girl has taken the honour."

"I was aware of that, father, but thank you for reminding me," Serena said stiffly.

"I sent you to court to make a royal marriage for our family and you return to me not only empty handed but defeated by...who?" Father demanded. "Who is this girl? Where does she come from? Who are her family? Her name is Cinderella for God's sake, she sounds like a disease."

"A parasite perhaps," Serena said, permitting herself a smirk at her rival's expense.

"And what do you have to look pleased about?" Lord Montcalm asked. His voice, which had risen a little at his torrent of accusations, now receded like the tide to become dangerously quiet. "If she is so very amusing then what does it say about you that she beat you over the finish line? What does it say about our family?"

"Ah, yes, the family," Serena said. "I should have know better than to expect that this had anything to do with my happiness. I expect the family will soldier on without a royal marriage, father, it has done so in the past after all."

"We are not living in the past," Lord Montcalm said. "In the past our family was not teetering on the edge of bankruptcy."

Serena's eyes widened. "Bankrupt? But...but just last year, you-"

"I've been borrowing money to maintain the pretence of wealth," Lord Montcalm said. "From bankers in Antwerp and Florence and Genoa. The rents from our lands are just sufficient to keep abreast of the interest, for now. But the rents are decreasing; more and more people are leaving the land and heading into the cities. The war to the south has closed off some of our best markets. And several of the commercial enterprises I was backing have failed. Disastrously. None of which would have mattered if you had made a royal match and gained the support of the crown."

"But I didn't," Serena whispered.

"No," Father said. "You didn't." He looked down and signed some document or other. "Which is why I have written to His Majesty the King, offering to send you to court as a lady in waiting for the new princess. I do not doubt he will accept, I suspect that many families will hold their noses against the prospect until they have accepted the new princess."

"So that is to be my punishment, for failing you?" Serena asked. "To be sent to wait upon the girl who beat me."

"I am sending you to court to advance the interests of our family," Lord Montcalm said carefully. "To gain support, to gain money, to gain more, if possible. After all, Princess Cinderella may not last very long in her lofty station. Many things may befall one who plays the game without first learning the rules."

"So you want me to-"

"To do what must be done," Lord Montcalm said. "For the family."

Serena smiled. "Of course, father. For the family."

Serena's thoughts were interrupted by someone bumping into her, pushing her one side until she struck the wall with a thump.

Someone, Serena noted, who turned out to be one of the serving maids, a mousy girl with equally mousy hair and weakness visible in her blue eyes. The wretch had gone even paler than usual, quivering a little. Serena scowled as she saw that she was carrying a teapot in her hands, and she checked her dress to see if anything had been spilled out on it. Nothing had, the fact that anything could have been was enough to arouse her ire.

"I- I beg your pardon, m'lady," the maid stammered.

"I should think so," Serena hissed. "What where your going in future, you clumsy oaf."

The maid nodded frantically. "Yes, m'lady, I will."

Serena stalked towards her. "And if you ever spill anything on me, then you can rest assured that I will have you dismissed. But not before I've had you flogged first."

"Is everything all right?" Cinderella asked, turning around to look at them both. "Constance, Serena, what's going on?"

The mere fact that she had referred to them both by name as though they were equals was enough to set Serena's teeth on edge, but it also told her not to make an issue of the maid clumsiness, unforgiveable though it was. As a servant herself, the princess probably had some sympathy for those of her own class, and as much as society might disapprove of her choosing the maid over Serena Montcalm, the very fact of the choice would damage Serena's reputation. So she put on a smile and said, "Nothing, Your Highness, merely a trifle. I simply reminded darling..." what was the name, what was the name? "Constance here to be careful with hot tea."

The maid nodded again, bobbing up and down like a leaf caught on the wind. "Yes Your Highness, it's as m'lady says. And here's your tea, your highness."

"Oh, thank you, Constance," Cinderella said as the maid poured her a cup. "Please, have one yourself."

"I don't think so, your highness," the maid said nervously.

Cinderella looked uncertain for a moment as she realised she had made a fool of herself. "Oh, of course, sorry. Um, will you have one, Serena? I find a cup before breakfast cleanses the palate before I go out in public."

"Fascinating, your highness, but I won't, thank you," Serena said. Perhaps you'll ask me first, next time.

Cinderella drained her cup. "So, Serena, what happens today?"

What happened turned out to be the beginning of a lot of lessons. Life as a servant had not done a great deal to prepare Cinderella for royalty, either in terms of the manners and customs she would have to observe, the people with whom she would be dealing, or the history of Armorique which she was now a part of. She did not even know how to ride a horse properly, though as that made Cinderella rather nervous they did not start on that yet.

Instead, the morning passed in a blizzard of names: kings and queens - from King Galahad Franksbane, who had fought off the Franks and founded Armorique, to King Louis IX, father to the present king, and his queen, Charlotte of England - lords, ministers, representatives, generals and admirals and colonial proconsuls. Lists of the historical monarchs of Armorique were set before her, along with the present composition of the King's privy council, and the monarchs and their families of the other nations of Gallia. It was, to say the least, a lot to take in, and it was only long experience of memorising every chore she was expected to do, and every thing she was expected to buy for her stepmother and stepsisters on her trips into town, that was enabling Cinderella to keep her head above water. But she still felt like a disappointment because she was only memorising lists, not achieving any understanding of what those lists meant. She knew that Sieur Robert de Longville was the First Minister, that Lord Philip Weygand was the Minister of the Interior and that Monsieur Danjou was the Minister of Finance, but she could not have told anyone what those men did, where they worked, who they were or what separated them from one another.

She could memorise that the King of Anjou was named Henri the Fourth and that his only child was Princess Eleanor. She could even learn that Princess Eleanor was sometimes called the Winter Lioness. But she still had no idea what Anjou was like, what kind of people King Henri and Princess Eleanor were, or why she had the nickname that she did. Was it an insult or a compliment? Did it mean anything at all? Had Eleanor given it to herself or had it thrust on her.

It set her wondering for a moment, if she would ever achieve a name like that, if she could persuade the people to see her as something other than a witch who had ensorcelled her way into a place that she did not belong. Could she ever be so good a princess, so good a queen, that she would live on in men's hearts and in men's memories long after she was gone? Did it matter if she did, since she would be gone by the time it happened? Cinderella thought it did, if only vaguely. It would be nice to be remembered fondly. Certainly it would be better than the alternative.

Looking around the library were she sat, however, Cinderella found it hard not to understand the reactions of the newspaper to her rise. She was surrounded by portraits of old monarchs staring down at her, hemmed in on every side by tomes of history stretching from the ancient to the present. What right had she to occupy a place in this rich tapestry? Surely it belonged to higher births, and nobler bloodlines?

And yet...even Armorique had started somewhere. Even the line of the king had been, at one time, composed of farming stock. There was time yet. She would earn her place, and prove her detractors wrong.

Which meant, to start with, bending her back to attend to her lessons.

Luncheon offered the promise of a break but not, unfortunately, of any time to spend with Eugene, who had been busy assisting his father while Cinderella memorised her lists and dates. She had been invited for lunch by Princess Frederica of Normandie, who had arrived in Rennes for the royal ball and had, for some reason, decided to stay on in the city since and showed no signs of leaving. And, having invited Cinderella to sup with her there was no way that Cinderella could refuse, and so at the stroke of twelve she rose from the desk in the library where she had been pouring over dusty tomes and began to walk through the palace corridors to where a carriage waited for her outside.

Serena walked beside her, her arms clasped in front of her waist.

"You're doing quite well, your highness," Serena said.

"Thank you, Serena."

"Especially considering your background," Serena added.

Cinderella nodded. "I suppose you know all of this already."

"Yes," Serena said simply. "And more. I had to learn it when I was a child."

"Was it hard?" Cinderella asked.

Serena shrugged. "I don't really remember. All that I remember is that my father wanted me to learn everything that a young lady would need to learn and so I learnt it. I don't remember whether it was difficult or easy to learn, I only remember that I learned it, because my father willed it so. My father always gets what he wants."

Cinderella smiled. "Not all the time, surely."

"No, not absolutely all the time," Serena said, with a smile like a knife. "He did want me to be a princess, after all."

Cinderella's smile faltered for a moment.

Serena chuckled. "Oh, please, your highness, you mustn't think that I resent you."

"You don't?" Cinderella asked.

"Not at all," Serena said, sounding hurt. "Why should I? I barely know His Highness. For all I know we might have been horribly unhappy. We probably would have been. You have freed me from that, and now I can find my own path in life. I can find a man of my own choosing, and be happy with him."

Cinderella's smile brightened. "Oh, I'm so glad. I wouldn't want this to come between us. I have had so few friends in my life, I very much hope that you and I can become good ones."

Serena grinned. "Of course, your highness, the very best of friends."

Cinderella reached out and took Serena's hands. "I hope, I'm sure, that you will be very happy one day."

Serena's smile broadened. "Oh so am I, your highness, very happy, very soon."

They walked into the garden, approaching the drive from around the palace rather than going through it. Cinderella was glad to be getting out for a while, with the spring sun on her face and the spring breeze through her hair and the fountains babbling and the birds singing.

"This must all be very new to you, isn't it?" Serena asked solicitously. "Everything about this life... you must feel like you've stepped into a whole new world."

Cinderella looked down for a moment. "Am I that obvious?"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, princess," Serena said. "It would be stranger if you weren't a little blown away by everything that's happened to you."

Cinderella nodded. "There are times when I still can't believe it's true. That I live in this place, that I wear these clothes, that I have such a husband. It's just...it's just so wonderful. I only hope that I can please him."

"His Highness?" Serena asked lightly. "Do you mean..."

"All of it," Cinderella said. "I mean, I don't know anything about being a princess. But also, I'm not sure that you really want to know this but...I don't feel as though I know much about being a woman either."

"Well," Serena said easily. "If you were not a virgin then you would not be fit to be the prince's bride. It may not be right but it is the way of the world."

"Yes, I know that, but..." Cinderella hesitated.

"You don't have much experience with men at all, do you?" Serena asked.

Cinderella shook her head. "I've not really known any since my father, until Eugene."

Serena chuckled. "Your like a little bird, aren't you? Kept in a cage for so long, and now you don't know how to fly."

"I suppose that's true," Cinderella admitted. "But I want to learn, if I can."

"Of course you can," Serena said enthusiastically. "All of it. With my help, of course."

Serena restrained herself from smirking until the princess' carriage had started down the road into town. Then she not only smirked, but let loose a triumphant laugh as well.

The fool has delivered herself into my hands. With this I shall destroy her.

She turned around, and started to walk back through the gardens, heedless of the singing of the birds or the rushing of the ornamental river, paying no attention to the sweet smells of the flowers or the buzzing of the bees, not seeing the many bright and beautiful colours that lay all around her. Her mind was wholly upon her plots and plans, her schemes to bring about the downfall of Princess Cinderella and renew the ascendancy of the Montcalm family.

Father will be so proud of me.

She was astonished at how simple it had turned out to be, to learn the dishmaid's weakness and how to turn it against her. But of course she was a guileless girl with nothing but air behind those pretty blue eyes, and she was so ready to believe that she had found a friend in Serena, and so ready to tell her friend everything.

The little dove knows nothing of the ways of men. Most likely she married the first man to ever look at her twice. No doubt she will fall into other arms just as easily, and never realise what is really going on until it is far too late.

And why should she? After all, many a wiser maiden had fallen for the charms of some young gallant, taken his protestations of love at face value, only to come to their senses too late and find themselves ruined beyond redemption. And for a wife, and a princess, the fall would be all the greater for being from such a summit.

Serena would rather have seen her fall literally off her own balcony, but she would take what she could get.

She strolled through the gardens until she found what she was looking for: a group of officers and young gentlemen fencing near one of the fountains. His Highness was among them this morning, fortunately, nor any of his close companions like Etienne Gerard. Serena would not have been able to start her plan if she had thought that word of it might get back to Prince Eugene; if he even suspected that his wife had been deceived then it would all be for nought.

Thankfully, looking at the group clashing blades over the green, that was not the case. Serena waited for them to finish, and then made her way over to one of the young men in particular, catching him as she was putting on his red uniform coat. Captain Wolfe Kilpatrick was an officer in the Irish Regiment, his family in exile from British rule over the Emerald Isle, but that was of less concern and interest to Serena than the fact that he was startlingly handsome. His emerald eyes shone and twinkled, his dark hair was worn long down the back, tied up in a queue, while in front it flopped in carefully arrayed chaos across his face, waving enticingly in the midday breeze. His face was that such as Achilles might have possessed, devoid of any flaw, pretty and delicate but strong at the same time. He wore a smile upon his face that said exactly how attractive he was, and as he put on his coat Serena was treated to a glimpse of his very robust collarbone.

"Captain Kilpatrick," Serena said. "A word with you, if I may."

He flashed a smile at her. "I am at m'lady's service." His accent was a mixture of Ireland, the home he had never seen, and Spain where he had been born, combining to give his voice a lilting, melodic edge that, Serena had no doubt, a great many women found appealing. Yes. This one will do very nicely.

"Walk with me," Serena commanding, leading him away from the other fencers to a secluded place in the shadow of a rosebush, not far from an alcove in the palace wall. They would not, Serena was sure, be seen, now was there anyone nearby to overhear.

"May I ask, m'lady, just what your business is that requires such a degree of privacy?" Kilpatrick asked, flashing his eyes at her. "It must surely be a matter of great delicacy."

Serena rolled her eyes. "Save your charms for the unwary, captain, I'm not some servant girl who you can roll into your bed with a smile and a few pretty words."

He frowned. "I'm offended, m'lady, I can charm more than servant girls."

Serena smiled invitingly. "How high can you go? A princess, perhaps."

Kilpatrick took a step back, suddenly wary. "What is m'lady suggesting?"

"I am one of Princess Cinderella's ladies in waiting. I am in her confidence," Serena said. "And I can tell you, though perhaps I should not, that she talks of you often."

"Really?" Wolfe Kilpatrick perked up visibly. He probably would have started preening himself if he had been alone. "I did not know Her Highness knew me."

"She has seen you, though she will pretend not to in public, for appearance sake," Serena said. "But she talks of your fighting prowess, of your good looks, of your smooth tongue."

Kilpatrick licked his lips with that very same tongue. "The princess is a married woman."

Serena gave him a look. "Has that stopped you before?"

"No," he said. "In fact it makes the game more fun. Most husbands are not princes, though."

"Doesn't that make it even more fun than all the rest?" Serena asked.

Kilpatrick hesitated, and then he grinned. "Are you hear to...bring about our meetings."

Serena chuckled, stepping closer to him. "Alas, no. Cinderella is a sweet girl, and a romantic. She would like for you to woo her, if you can."

Kilpatrick laughed. "If I can? I could woo a block of ice, m'lady, and she isn't that."

"You are interested then?"

"Who wouldn't be?" Kilpatrick said. "She's a beauty and no mistake. Chasing her down will be well worth it for the prize at the end."

"Quite," Serena said with a smile. She stepped closer to him. "And you know, if you should ever find that the chase starts to become wearisome, her highness isn't the only woman who finds you devilishly handsome."

"Is she not?"

"No," Serena whispered, putting one hand on his leg and moving it upwards until he moaned with pleasure. "And I do not require wooing."

"Are you sure that this is a good idea, Your Highness?"

"I want to meet her," Frederica said. "See what she's like. Father often says you have to know your enemy in order to destroy them, but what he forgets is that you always have to know your enemy before you can know if they deserve to be destroyed or not. I have to see for myself."

She sat in the parlour of the house she had rented, light shining in through the windows and a table set for luncheon before her, albeit no food had yet been set out. Anton, dressed in a servant's livery, stood beside her, his face creased with concern.

"And if you decide that she doesn't deserve it?" he asked. "How will you explain that to the king?"

"Maybe I won't," Frederica said. "Maybe I shall never go home. Maybe I shall flee to Anjou."

Anton made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat.

Frederica laughed. "Fear not, Anton, I did not mean it. In truth there is very little chance that one luncheon will persuade me to abandon my task. She would have to be a veritable madonna to accomplish such a sea change in me." She sighed. "Truth be told I would rather she were a monster. I always find it easier to work towards the downfall of the wicked than the just. I sleep better afterwards. Speaking of sleep, do we have someone in her chambers yet?"

"No," Anton admitted. "Our spies in the palace are still compiling information on the maids. Once they report, we will know who the best choice is to approach."

"If they do not report soon then hurry them," Frederica commanded. "It is a pity we could not place one of our loyal agents in her service, but spilled water cannot be put back into a cup. We shall have to resort to blackmail or bribery instead."

Anton said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes.

Frederica sighed. "What is it?"

"I said nothing."

"No," Frederica said. "That's the point."

Anton sighed. "This is a mistake, your highness. You do not need to know the girl. Perhaps it is better that you do not. You know what must be done."

"Do I?"

"You know what your father will do if you return home a failure."

"I will not fail," Frederica murmured.

"But why torment yourself, princess? Meet this girl, befriend her, and then what? You must injure her regardless? Is it not better to remain ignorant of who she is, and imagine her an ogre to be overcome."

Frederica smiled. "Yes, that would be easier wouldn't it. Simpler, too. But the world is not simple, and a woman in my position and my trade cannot pretend that it is merely because she might wish it so upon occasion. I am not Eleanor, to salve my conscience with empty words like 'the glory of the realm' or 'the good of the nation'. Whether Cinderella is an angel or a demon I shall treat her just the same, and live with the consequences."

Anton bowed his head. "As you say, your highness."

Another servant entered the room, bowing at the waist. "Your Highness. Princess Cinderella is here."

Frederica rose to her feet. "Show her in, Guy. Anton, have the food ready to be brought out."

Both men bowed, and left her alone. Frederica turned away from the door, facing the windows and the sunlight streaming in through them.

I do what I must.

I cannot afford to fail.

Guy cleared his throat and announced, "Her Royal Highness Cinderella, Princess of Rennes."

Frederica turned, her green dress swishing around her as she took in her Armorican counterpart standing in the doorway. Cinderella was wearing a simple blue dress, a moderate shade that matched her eyes, with long sleeves ending in loose lace cuffs. Her hair hung loosely down behind her, restrained by a blue hairband as simple as her dress. A blue choker was fastened around her neck. Frederica, who was wearing a green gown with no sleeves that left her arms bare and the beginnings of her cleavage exposed, suddenly felt a little under-dressed.

Still, she was less embarrassed than she was curious as to how much of it had been intentional on Cinderella's part, and it would never do to let the girl think that she had scored a point, so Frederica smiled. "Your Highness. How delightful to meet you."

Cinderella smiled; a shy smile, if Frederica was any judge, but just how genuine was that shyness? "I'm pleased to meet you as well, your highness, thank you for having me here."

"Not at all, not at all," Frederica said. "Although, really, this is going to get awfully confusing if we keep batting 'Your Highness' back and forth between us. Please, call me Frederica."

"Oh, thank you," Cinderella said. "And you can call me Cinderella, of course."

"Of course," Frederica said with a smile. "Please, sit down. The refreshments will be along presently."

Anton quickly led a trio of servants - all Norman agents, equally able to perform a host of other offices in Frederica's service - out bearing silver platters of steaming meats, fresh-baked pastries, butters, jams, fruits, vegetables. It was not quite a feast, but it was certainly a more than adequate spread, accompanied by some very fine vintage wines to cleanse the palate and loosen the tongue.

Cinderella looked at the wine a little askance. "Could I have some tea please?"

Frederica raised one eyebrow. "You don't imbibe?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You don't drink?" Frederica clarified.

"Not so early no," Cinderella said. "Oh, I don't mean to suggest that-"

Frederica laughed. "Fear not, Cinderella, I'm not offended. And you may well be right. Anton, we shall save the 1643 Sauvignon for another time, bring us a pot of tea."

Anton bowed. "At once, your highness."

"After all," Frederica continued. "Drinking alone is so terribly gauche." And I'll not cloud my mind with drink while you keep all your faculties clear and sharp.

While the tea was prepared, Frederica started helping herself to the food, if only to show that it was not poisoned. Cinderella appeared to have been waiting for an invitation to start, although she did not pile her plate high but simply nibbled on the fringes of the large platters, taking a little of this, a little of that, hardly enough in all to cover even the surface of her plate.

"You aren't hungry?" Frederica asked. "Or do you not like what is available? I'm sure the chef can prepare something more appealing to you."

"Oh, no, it all looks lovely," Cinderella said quickly. "I just don't like to eat too much."

Frederica smiled. "Are you afraid Prince Eugene will tire of you if you do not keep your figure?"

Cinderella's face reddened a little and she looked down at the napkin laid upon her lap.

"You are, aren't you?" Frederica said, a note of surprise creeping into her voice. "Is he so cruel to you already?"

"No! Oh no, not at all," Cinderella said loudly. "Eugene is the kindest man I've ever met; he's so sweet to me that I scarcely believe it myself."

"Then what are you afraid of?" Frederica asked.

"Spoiling it," Cinderella said. "He painted a portrait of me, and the girl in the picture was so beautiful...I don't ever want him to look at me and not see that girl any more."

Frederica was silent for a moment. "Do you love him?"

"Of course," Cinderella said. "He is my husband."

Frederica smiled. "If you really think that is an answer you are, forgive me, very naive."

Cinderella blinked. "I adore him," she said. "I could do nothing but watch him, listen to him, for days on end. When he takes me in his arms it feels right, as nothing in my life has ever felt so right before. When I'm with him, when he takes my hand, when we dance...I feel I know my place in the world, and it's by his side. I never felt that until I met him. When Eugene is with me I'm not afraid, I can do anything I want because he's there."

A sad smile played across Frederica's lips. "Yes. You really do love him."

Cinderella leaned forwards. "You sound as though you know the feeling."

"There was someone, once," Frederica said. "But that was some time ago, and it's all in the past now."

Cinderella took the hint, and I did not ask any further questions on that score. "I must admit, Frederica, when I came here I was a little worried."

"Worried?" Frederica asked. "Worried that I would be, what...bitter?"

Cinderella shrugged her shoulders slightly. "You were at the ball."

Frederica shook her head. "There are, no doubt, maidens of this land cursing your name for marrying Prince Eugene, seeking out hedge witches to put hexes on you or plotting elaborate schemes of revenge. I am not one of them. I came to the ball because it was expected of me, not because the sight of your husband's jaw so excites my loins that they are turned to fire in his presence. He is a handsome man, to be sure, but so are many others. He holds no especial interest for me."

"I see," Cinderella said. "If I may ask, why have you stayed in Amorique?"

"And not gone home, you mean?" Frederica said. "Truth to tell I spend very little time in Normandie. I spent last year in Monte Carlo, the year before that in Toulon, and Valencia before that. This year I shall spend in Armorique. After that I may leave these shores behind and sojourn in England."

"Why don't you want to go home?" Cinderella asked.

"Because it bores me," Frederica said simply. "Now, here I am, spilling all of my secrets when I asked you here so that I could get to know you better. Now, Cinderella, you must forgive me if my question sounds blunt: is it true that you were a servant?"

"Yes," Cinderella replied. "I worked for my Stepmother and stepsisters?"

"You washed their dishes?"

"And their clothes, and scrubbed the floors, and made the meals, and did whatever else needed to be done," Cinderella said. "I did my work well, I think."

"That must have been very hard," Frederica said. "Working for your family, bending your back for them, getting nothing in return." Yes, I wonder what that would be like?

"You make it sound so awful," Cinderella said. "I mean, I wouldn't go back to it now for anything, but at the time it didn't seem so bad. Stepmother could have her moments when she was angry, or upset, and so could Anastasia and Drizella, but they could have been much crueller to me than they were. I think, in the end, that Stepmother was very unhappy. And, although I don't like to spend a lot of time with them, I would like to see them all find happiness of some kind."

Frederica snorted. "In your position a great many people would choose to give them the block or the rope."

"If I were that sort of person I wouldn't be worthy to be in my position now, would I?" Cinderella said.

Frederica hesitated. "That is an interesting way of seeing it."

"Is there another way of seeing it?"

Don't let Eleanor hear you say that, she'll make a tyrant of you before you know it. Frederica said, "You have a hidden strength, I think. Thank you for showing it to me."

"Not so strong, I'm afraid, and very well hidden," Cinderella said.

Frederica leaned forward. "A piece of advice, if I may, from one princess to another."

"Go on."

"The world won't give you anything you aren't willing to take for yourself," Frederica said. "The meek may inherit the world, but modesty is a bane upon the ballroom floor, and in the parlour or the drawing room. At best it will be seen as a kind of self-conceit, at worst people will take your low opinion of yourself as reality.

"I could not scrub a floor, I could not wash clothes. I could not live as you have lived. Take pride in what you have endured, what you have done. Lord knows that no one else will."

Cinderella leaned back. "That is an interesting way of looking at it."

"Is there another way of looking at it?" Frederica asked impishly. "And now, if I may, I'm dying to know how a servant girl got her hands on the most glamorous gown at the ball."

Cinderella laughed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

After a couple of hours, Cinderella left, and Frederica was left alone again.

"That was enlightening," Frederica murmured. "And...surprisingly enjoyable."

"Was it worthwhile, Princess?" Anton asked.

"Oh, absolutely," Frederica replied. "I half expected she would be a gold digger, but she really is in love. It reminds me of how I felt...in Toulon. And she has a strength to her. One I am not sure that I possess."

"You meant that?"

"Do you think me a liar, Anton?" Frederica asked in affront.

Anton gave her a look.

Frederica laughed. "Yes I know. But I try to avoid it when unnecessary, and I did not lie then."

"So what will you do?"

"I don't quite know yet," Frederica murmured. "But an approach to her would be unlikely to yield results. I shall have to try Prince Eugene again, and hope that he is not so besotted with his wife as she clearly is with him."