CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A/N: Sorry for the long wait for this chapter, but I'm trying to work on some other projects. Anyway, here is a January present in the form of another chapter for you wonderful readers! Til next time, have a Happy New Year.

I also want to thank Prince Fire and Music, and those others who made suggestions on how I could improve my characters, most especially the Stepmother and the Prince. I may not use every idea, but I do plan on incorporating some. Thanks, and Bless You All!

This is an edited chapter, dear readers!

Prince Edward John Henry III and the squire rode to the thirty fifth house that eve, hoping in vain to find the maiden who would fit the glass slipper the royal suitor had in his pocket. They had searched for at least four days, but to no avail. It seemed that every woman's foot was too large, and try as they might, they could not fit inside the shoes.

Edward yawned and stretched his arms. Yes, it was an exhaustive search, and yes, he was tired, but he knew that the maid destined to become his bride was out there somewhere. There were still several hamlets to cover. Because of that, and his unwillingness to give up, Edward would continue searching, even if it took months.

He pictured his angel stroking his hair and telling him that she loved him. Somehow, though, the Prince had trouble dreaming about her. Edward concentrated some more and saw a pair of light blue eyes in an oval face with a thin, yet comely frame. In the most honeyed of tones, and the sweetest of voices, the woman of his dreams told the junior ruler that he was the only one for her, and that she loved him beyond anything.

Edward stopped his horse and threw down his sack. He started opening it and he selected a burlap bag that had various materials therein. His servant mimicked his master's actions.

"We shall camp here," the Prince commanded. "Our search can resume in the morning." He pulled out a scroll with etchings on it. Looking at the position of the moon overhead, the junior ruler smiled.

"I shall catch something for dinner. You go with me and fetch us water," he told his aide. The servant got some supplies for fishing and gathering water and followed close behind.

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Cinderella put a elderberry pie into the oven that night for the next day's desert and started cleaning the floor in her dungeon dwelling. She wiped her head to get rid of the dust she had stirred up when she became aware of a figure watching her: Griselda.

"Griselda!" the younger girl said. "I was not aware you were standing there. Is there anything you need?"

The fat, older stepsister looked at Cinderella with cold, dark eyes. "Yes, there is a service you can perform," she said.

"What is it?" the Little Cinder Girl asked.

"You will keep silent when the Prince comes to visit," the eldest girl said. Cinderella's eyes were confused.

"Prince Edward is coming here?" Cinderella asked, willing herself not to say anything further. She forced back the apprehension she felt. The Girl of Cinder and Ash wanted desperately to reveal who she was to the Prince, but not with all of her family being present so that they could deny her words or use other manipulative means to complicate things.

Oh, she remembered her talk with Magdalena, in which her stepsister told her to confess Cinderella's love, but if push actually came to shove, the youngest of the three girls knew what would happen more than likely: Magdalena would deny ever having advised Cinderella so that Edward's hand in marriage would be the flaxen haired beauty's.

There was also Trillion to consider. Although she was not happy that he had been rough with her the last time they'd met, she knew that he at least had some affection for her, and she had no doubt that given time, he would tell her he loved her. She needed to straighten things with him permanently before she could accept another's offer. Griselda cleared her throat loudly. The Little Cinder Girl regarded her usually red faced stepsibling.

"Why is he coming? Why did no one tell me so that I could make the cottage sparkle for him?" Cinderella asked, almost vexed at her family.

Griselda stormed over to the other girl and gripped her arm painfully. "Now, look here!" she yelled. "I do not have to tell you anything! You are little more than a servant, and not worth my concern."

"Then why are you here?" Cinderella asked calmly, not wanting to further incur Grissy's wrath.

Griselda leaned into where her stepsister was and fixed her with a venomous, damning stare as she uttered her next words slowly so that Cinderella would hear and recall every word.

"Because I know it all!" she told the dark blonde haired girl. "I know that you were the maiden who danced with the Prince at the ball. I know that you are the one he called, 'Angel'. I know that this—"

She pulled out Cinderella's glass slipper from her right pocket, continuing. "—is yours!" she finished.

Cinderella was calm, but inside she was feeling trapped. She wondered if Griselda knew not only about the Prince, but about Trillion somehow. Above all else, the girl knew that she had to protect her fairy love and her possible human beau from Griselda's machinations until she could figure a way out of the pickle she was in.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked her stepsister breathlessly. Grissy smiled.

"I want you to reveal nothing to his majesty about yourself. As far as he knows, you never attended the balls, and as for any resemblance you have to the girl he danced with, it is entirely superficial," Griselda instructed, adding, "if you do not do what I tell you, I will say that you attended the balls under false pretenses; that you only were there so that you could secure the Prince's favors and affections, and secure a place in his palace for his gold coins and his bed!" Cinderella gasped, her hand flying toward her heart.

"You wouldn't dare!" she cried. Griselda grabbed a handful of her foe's hair until the other girl yelped with pain.

"I would dare anything!" she said. "Not only that, I'll also say that you approached mother to have her figure out a way to get your father killed!"

"No!" Cinderella wailed. "No one could doubt that I loved my father! No one!"

Griselda raised a brow, but then smirked as she said, "Oh? I wouldn't bet on that! Think about it! You were angry that your father wanted to remarry, were you not?"

The look in her step sister's eyes told Griselda she had her answer. Cruelly, Grissy pressed on.

"Face it, Cinderella. You and your father had both been together almost six years, and now, he sought to destroy your happy home. So, you said to yourself that if you couldn't have him to yourself, neither should anyone else."

Cinderella started crying. How had Griselda become so vendictive? Grissy added, "But you couldn't do the job yourself. You were only eight years old, and how would you contract a person's services?"

"So I asked my stepmother to do it for me, and she obliged willingly in order to secure a greater fortune for us which didn't have to be divided four ways…" Cinderella finished in a weak voice.

"Now you're getting it," Griselda told her.

The Little Cinder Girl knew she had no choice for the moment except to agree until she could use the whistle Trillion had given her to contact him. She knew that acting rashly might make Griselda take revenge by snatching the whistle, and then, where would Cinderella be? They could possibly make plans at some future date before things got progressively worse; but for now, she had to appear as if she was beaten.

"I agree to your demand," she said to Griselda. "I will say nothing."

Griselda smiled and, satisfied that her work was done, went upstairs to get dressed. She reached her bedroom and put on her pantaloons. This was a masterstroke she had come up with that had even exceeded her mother's designs. Grissy could have just simply locked Cinderella away and secured the door, only letting her out after the Prince had left, but someone was always helping her greatest enemy. The Girl of Cinder and Ash could always escape and then tell her tale. This way, she would be silenced, and Griselda would have what she truly craved: power.

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Trillion and Max boarded the Mystic, a ship that was bound for the enchanted kingdom of Duckland. The younger fae tried to keep his mind on his latest task that lay ahead, but a girl covered with cinder and ash continued to consume him.

I promise this…he thought to whomever was listening, that we shall be together, even if I must fight all the heavens for her hand!

Oblivious to Trillion's vow, Max pointed to the lush, green grass where the fairy kingdom lay beyond and said, "Ah, sailing! Look at the sights one can study, and what lies beyond! I have not been to the true Animal Kingdoms since I was a little boy, younger than you, in fact."

Trillion forced himself to concentrate on Max. He turned, asking, "Were you? What were they like?"

"Quite civilized in comparison to many human kingdoms," Max answered matter-of-factly. "At least, when the animals eat, drink, mate and defend themselves, it is either for sport or for survival, but never for malicious reasons."

Trillion replied thoughtfully, "Then, I wonder, what drove you to become a fairy who looks after humans?"

Max sighed, saying, "Because humans need our help most of all."

The red headed fae nodded in complete agreement. Max said, "Now, young sir, we will have no shenanigans here. The animals are very literal beings, and they don't go in for fairies who are unconventional, understand?"

"Yes, sir!" Trillion said, giving his mentor a mock salute. Max was not amused. He gave Trillion a withering look and admonished him to "control himself" again. Trillion murmured a more suitable reply and stared at the rapidly moving scenery, hoping that nothing would happen to Cinderella.

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King Edward John Henry the Second sat on his horse, thinking about his son, the Third Prince Edward. Through very discrete means, the King had discovered which houses Edward had visited to see which maiden fit the glass slipper he'd found. So far, his son was not having any luck. The King was strangely pleased. If Edward the Third, who had a tremendous head start, found the wrong girl and married her, the kingdom could be ruined.

That was something Edward the Second could not allow.

He signaled for his attendant to stop; then, he started putting the blankets down on the ground to set up camp. Fortunately for both of them, the weather cooperated. The moon shone brightly on a brook nearby, casting a bright light that both men could see by. Even more in their favor was the fact that Edward the Third had left a clear trail of hoof prints that were quite easy to follow.

The King hoped it would not be long before he caught up to his son. As he lay on the blanket, King Edward the Second thought about his only child and how he had been in a similar situation when he was but a young boy of seven years of age.

He remembered how his father, Edward Senior, brought him into the Meeting Room in the spacious palace for the first time. It had looked to Edward the Second like a museum. The paintings, which were encased in elaborate golden frames, were of all of his family on both sides. There were some portraits that went back almost 200 years from their condition and the style of borders surrounding each portrait. He looked at the one of his parents: King Edward the First and his Queen, Jane.

Edward Junior had come to this room on his own and stood at the entryway whenever his father had a meeting with other people, but he'd never come here to meet with his father himself. The young Prince had to admit: he was curious, and wanted to know what his father had in store for him. Was it time, he wondered, to present him with the crown and tell him about the practices one engaged in when they became King? Was it about—Heaven forbid—an engagement to a girl? Or, was it for his continued education in a foreign land where he could learn about different cultures?

Edward the Second allowed his mind to drift, fanaticizing about his rule when he would become King. Would he rule with an iron hand, he wondered as he waved his tiny sword back and forth. Or, perhaps, would he be the smartest ruler, using his brains rather than his brawn?

He also wondered who his Princess would be, since it was often the custom to betroth men of his age. Though the idea of kissing any girl was revolting—he was still a little boy, after all-he wondered if he would like the maid enough to at least play with her.

Edward the Second stood where his father pointed. "Wait here," Edward the First had said.

Presently, Edward Junior found he had more questions when his father arrived with someone he'd never seen before. The other man had totally grey hair, with white at his temples. On his long face were a beard resembling a goatee, and several lines and wrinkles. The stranger's robes were very stately, not those resembling his father's more simple attire despite his royal status. Apparently, this man stood very much on ceremony, in his fur covered, rich ruby red robes and gold covered breastplate beneath. A crown, very richly appointed, lay upon his head, with ruby red jewels and diamonds.

"Edward," his father bade him, "sit down." The other king's hand lifted up.

"No…" he said in a deep voice. "I would like to have a look at you." Edward Junior was a little afraid of this stranger. Just who was he, and why did he want a look at him?

"Go on," his father instructed with a much kinder voice.

When Edward did as he was told, for he could not refuse his father who he loved more than anything, the other King looked at the little boy turning around. He seemed to be appraising everything about Edward the Second, from his straight carriage to his hazel eyes; from his small chest to his dark, sable colored hair.

"He'll do," the stranger finally said. With a heavy sigh, his father and the other King shook hands.

"It is arranged, then," the other King had said.

Leaning into the other King's ear, Edward Senior said: "You know how I feel about this…" he told the other King hesitantly. Edward Junior heard his father as clear as a bell.

"You have no choice," the red robed King reminded Edward Senior. When his father turned his head away in shame, not wanting to face Edward Junior, the Prince had heard enough.

"What is this all about?" Edward the Second asked, his voice starting to rise. The richly garbed Monarch gave no indication of having heard him.

When the other King started walking away with a satisfied grin on his face, Edward the Second ran to him. Despite his father's command to stop, Edward Junior took out his smaller sword and pressed it to the other King's back.

By this time, his father was running and repeating, "Edward Junior, stop! I command it!"

"He will not tell me what I wish to know, father!" Edward Junior shouted, while, simultaneously, the other King spoke. "This does not amuse! Tell him that if he harms me in any way that is a direct declaration of war!"

"Junior, let him go," King Edward Senior said.

Edward slowly lowered his sword, saying, "But…".

His father had caught up to him, saying, "Now, my son." Edward lowered his weapon and sheathed it. The other King exited, softly laughing as he boldly strode out of the room.

Frowning, Edward Junior said, "I am sorry, father. I did not like him! Who was he?"

Sighing, his father told him, "At the moment, this kingdom's benefactor."

Edward Junior could not believe his ears. "What?" He said. Now his father met Edward Junior's eyes.

"We are on the brink of war," his father replied. "And our kingdom of Aramathea is so small. We are nothing in size and resources to Gotelhurst. They have been our peaceful neighbors for a long time, but now, they want more."

His father walked over to a decanter and poured himself some port. Drinking it—and coughing, for he was not a drinker—Edward Senior said, "They wanted to buy our land and end our kingdom as we know it."

Edward ran over to his father and shook him. "But why, father?!" He cried in an anguished voice. "Why?!"

"Because some people are very avaricious," Edward Senior said. "They are not content to leave things be, they want more for their coffers. When his brother, King Marvin, was still alive, Gothelhurst was friendly and he was on good terms with us. But, when his brother became King upon his sudden death, he wanted more kingdoms to rule. This land lies between Phonecia and Casterborus, as well as several other places rich with materials. So, to keep the peace, I had to make a deal and think not of us, but of our subjects."

Edward Junior could have thrown a tantrum, but even at his young age, he knew he had been raised to be above some things. "Of course, father," Edward Junior said, meaning every word. "I understand, and I agree."

Edward Senior stroked his son's fine, brown hair. "I am glad you understand," he said. "Because, in order to secure our future as a kingdom, I have offered your hand in marriage to Princess Annibel of Gothelhurst."

Edward Junior blinked several times. So that was what they'd shaken hands on! This had to be happening to someone else! His father was lying, and Edward the Second was dreaming…that was it. No father, who had told him often of marrying for love, and who had assured him that his parentage had been the result of a love match, could agree to this!

"I will not, father," Edward Junior said, his little voice deadly serious. When the King did not respond, Edward said more forcefully, "I say I will not!"

"But, son, you just said that you would, and anyway, I have seen the portraits," the King told him. "She is quite beautiful!"

"Beautiful or not, I will not marry her!" His son said.

But his father grabbed him and in quiet words insisted that that was what he must do.

And so, the courtship began when both seven year olds were presented to each other the following week….

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Edward Junior's mind returned to the present as he held a paper in his hand. Yet again, Aramathea was threatened—this time, from the Eastern kingdom of Calderon. And, hating himself as his father had, the King knew where his duty lay.

"In the morn, we will reunite with my son, and we will persuade him to return with the right woman that he will marry," the King said with a confidence he didn't quite feel.

"Your Majesty, if I may be so bold…" his servant ventured as he settled down inside his blanket.

"What is it?" The King questioned.

"What if he refuses to do his duty?" The servant asked. The King read the paper again and closed it with its black seal.

"He must," the King breathed, "or there will be Hell to pay!" They both settled down to an uneasy sleep.