When Cinderella met Belle

Isabelle suckled on Cinderella's breast.

She was a greedy girl, drinking deeply; Cinderella's breast was starting to ache a little from the force with which the child in her arms had her mouth around her teat; she might – probably would – need to switch over when the time came to feed Annabelle.

If Isabelle was ever satisfied, that is. Her just-eldest daughter cried far less than her slightly-younger sister, didn't fuss so much, slept more easily; but she was far hungrier, too, when she cried she seemed to be crying out for milk most of the time, while Annabelle seemed to cry for attention as often as not.

As much as it might create some temporary discomfort for Cinderella, she was quite pleased at her daughter's appetite: at least she would grow up healthily, for a while. In fact, she wished that Annabelle would share her sister's voracious appetite.

Annabelle was presently in her father's arms, quiet for now, shaking her little fists back and forth as Eugene rocked her gently, sometimes lifting her up to that she could touch his face – which she did, reaching out with one arm to grab at his nose – and then bringing her back down again.

And all the while she stared up at him with her blue eyes, as if fascinated by the sight of him.

Cinderella could understand why; Eugene had a face that you could stare at for a long time indeed.

She smiled at the thought, before looking down at Isabelle, whose eyes were closed. Not that she was asleep, Cinderella could still feel her suckling, but it was as if the act required so much concentration on her part that she had no energy to look at anything, or if she did she would become distracted.

They were presently in the nursery: Cinderella, Eugene, and His Majesty also, along with the two girls obviously. It was early in the morning, not quite time for the adults to have breakfast, but not too early that Cinderella felt that she had woken them up; at least she very much hoped that she had not. Cinderella sat on the settee, while Eugene and his father had taken chairs, moved so that they sat between her and the babies' crib.

Cinderella looked down at her, her dark-haired daughter, her eldest daughter if only by a little while. The second in line to the throne of Armorique, however strange it was to think of a mere baby at her mother's breast in such a way. Yet it was so, when His Majesty died then Eugene would take his place, and when Eugene died then Isabelle would become queen.

Not for many, many years yet, God willing, but all the same…

The thought made Cinderella's brow furrow, even as her thoughts turned away from Isabelle to another princess, not so much older but, it seemed, far less fortunate.

"Eugene," Cinderella murmured, speaking softly so as not to disturb either Isabelle at breakfast or Annabelle in her contemplation of her father. "Your Majesty?"

Eugene looked up from Annabelle, prompting his daughter to make a somewhat discontented noise, reaching up with both hands as if to urge him to look at her once more.

His Majesty was sat beside his son, like Eugene looking down upon Annabelle. He did not look at Cinderella – Cinderella suspected that he was a little disconcerted by her breastfeeding, something which she hoped that he would come to accept – but cleared his throat, even as he tickled Annabelle lightly on the nose with one finger. "Yes, my dear?" He said, showing that he was paying attention.

"Is something wrong?" Eugene asked. "Do you want to swap?"

"There would scarcely be call to involve me in that," His Majesty muttered.

Cinderella chuckled very lightly. "No, it's not that. It's… it might sound strange, but with Prince Adam of the Franche-Comte, the Imperial envoy, having arrived yesterday, and then looking at Isabelle… I was just thinking about Princess Mary of Burgundy. She is the only daughter of the old king and queen, that's right, isn't it?"

"That's right," Eugene told her. "King Charles only had the one child; of course, he died before his time, so who knows if he and his wife would have had others if they had had the chance."

"Poor girl," Cinderella said. "Losing your parents is hard enough, but losing both of them at once…" After her mother had passed away there had still been time with her father, times that had even been happy, sometimes very happy, times that lived in her memory still as joyful days, as the wounds of Mother's passing had healed for them both. Of course, eventually those wounds had healed to the point where Father had taken another wife, but nevertheless Cinderella was very glad, and very fond, of the extra days that she had gotten to spend with her father. To have lost both Mother and Father at the same time would have been awful beyond words, beyond imagination. She would not trade those days with her father for an escape from all her years under the thumb of her stepmother. "I can't imagine how terrible that must have been for her."

Eugene, who had lost his own mother but had been blessed by having retained his father, glanced towards His Majesty, but said nothing.

"But at the same time," Cinderella went on. "I mean, not 'but', rather… if she is the only child of the late king then she is his heir, by law, no? In the same way that Eugene will be king when…" she trailed off, since it seemed rather unkind to say 'when you die' to His Majesty.

His Majesty almost looked as though he might smile. "Have no fear, my dear, I'm well aware of the proper succession, and of the fact that I am a mortal man. Stating the obvious, that my only son will succeed me when I'm gone, causes me no offence."

"Not for a long time yet, I hope," Eugene said quietly.

"I hope so too," Cinderella said, equally gently. She adjusted slightly the way that she held Isabelle. "I suppose my point is that… perhaps it doesn't matter, with a war going on, and the point of this peace conference is to stop the war nothing else, but I'm struggling to see what grounds Aquitaine has for fighting. The throne belongs to Princess Mary, how can it be anyone else's. Unless Queen Eleanor means to imply that King Charles and his wife weren't properly married or something." After all, that had been what Eugene's cousin Henry had attempted to do to her, invalidating their marriage so that her children – then unborn – would be illegitimate, and he would remain second in line to the throne, with his children after him. But Cinderella had heard nothing and read nothing to suggest that Eleanor of Aquitaine had suggested anything of the sort with regards to the late King of Burgundy.

"You are correct, quite right," His Majesty said. "The law is on the side of the Holy Roman Empire."

"The law, perhaps, on a strict reading," Eugene said. "But the right? I'm not so sure of that. When you kill a girl's father and mother, kidnap her, spirit her away to your stronghold and betroth her to your own son then your claim to be acting lawfully start to feel a little thin."

Cinderella was silent for a moment. She knew about the accusations for as long as she had known what the war was about – the Aquitainians had not been shy in publicising their cause and its justice – but she hadn't Eugene speak so bluntly of them before. "You believe it, then?" she asked. "You believe that the Burgundian King and Queen were murdered?"

Now it was Eugene's turn to frown. He kept on rocking Annabelle from side to side as he spoke. "I knew Charles, a little," he said. "I visited him once or twice – including on my way to and from Prince Adam's wedding, as a matter of fact – and I even hunted with him."

"I've never known you to hunt," Cinderella observed.

"I don't enjoy it," Eugene explained. "But one doesn't like to be a bad guest. In any case, King Charles was… not an easy man to like, I must admit. Rather proud, rather smug, unable to talk about anything good he enjoyed without putting me or Armorique down. He couldn't introduce me to his daughter without commenting on my childless bachelorhood, he couldn't praise his own country without sneering at mine, I could hardly wait to get away. But Burgundy was undoubtedly a prospering kingdom, and Charles seemed to be a popular king, if only because of the prosperity of the country; certainly the people who lived around the woods where he hunted seemed to hold a great affection for him – and a familiarity. Do I believe that he and Queen Philippe were assassinated by liberals, by revolutionaries?" He shook his head. "No, no, I don't."

"They exist," Cinderella said softly. They had tried to kill her, upon occasion, although Eugene had been away fighting in America on one of those occasions.

"True," Eugene admitted. "But the Bavarian cavalry so close by, the fact that they acted so swiftly, it's all too convenient. It's choreographed, as smooth as a dance."
"Best keep that to yourself, my son," His Majesty said. "It will be a hard thing to host a congress to make peace if you go around accusing Archduchess Maria Theresa of being a murderer."
Eugene made a sort of cough. "Fear not, Father, I know how to bite my tongue when need be."

"I understand that the aim is to stop the war," Cinderella said. "To stop the war and let all of those people go home to their own country; but I would hate to help take away a poor child's inheritance after she's just lost her parents." Then she will have truly lost everything.

"Perhaps you should speak to Prince Adam of these things," His Majesty suggested. "If the Empire mistrusts our neutrality it might be no bad thing to let them know that we understand the… the legality of their cause, if not the justice of it. You are going to call on Prince Adam and his wife, aren't you?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Cinderella said. "I thought I'd let them get settled in yesterday and then go and see them today, welcome them to Armorique, and invite them to tonight's welcoming banquet." She paused for a moment. "Speaking of which, Your Majesty, there's something that I wanted to ask you… Prince Adam's wife is… it's a morganatic marriage, isn't it?"

"Yes," Eugene said. "One of the reasons why his wedding was a little odd. There were guest from the Gallic kingdoms but no one from the Empire turned up; Charles of Burgundy seemed to think it was funny that I was going. It was as though they were all ashamed of the whole business."
"I'm sure that's exactly what they were," Cinderella replied darkly. She might not have been a morganatic wife, she might be Eugene's full and proper wife and princess of Armorique but nevertheless she knew all about people being ashamed, people looking down, people feeling that a prince could have done far better when it came to a bride. Her tone lightened a little, and yet at the same time became a little slower and more cautious, as she said, "That's why I was hoping that, while they're here – Eugene, do you remember the name of Prince Adam's wife?"

Eugene glanced upwards. "Beau- no, not Beau, that's a boy's name in the colonies – Belle, that was it, her name is Belle."
"Belle," Cinderella repeated. "What a pretty name."

Eugene smiled. "I should hope so, we've incorporated it into the names of both our daughters."
Cinderella chuckled. "Yes, I suppose it's popular for a reason." She paused once again, though only for a little while. "What I was going to ask, Your Majesty, and I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to get to the point, was whether it would be possible, while they're here, for Prince Adam's wife, for Belle, to be treated as Prince Adam's true wife, not just as a morganatic bride."

"What?" His Majesty barked out the word loudly enough to make Cinderella start in shock – he did not sound angry, only loud, but that was enough to make Cinderella shrink backwards a touch into the sofa, almost upon instinct, triggered by the memory of what he had done to her whilst under Grace's power. Her motion must have jarred Isabelle, for she opened her eyes and released her grip upon Cinderella's breast a tad. A little milk got on her face as she gurgled.

Annabelle, meanwhile, started crying.

"Father," Eugene muttered in a tone of mild reproach as he began to rock Annabelle a little more vigorously. "There there, my darling, there there. It's alright. It's alright, Papa's here. Papa's here, and you're safe."

His Majesty winced. "I, um, I'm terribly sorry," he muttered, glancing from Eugene to Cinderella. "I really am awfully sorry."

"It's alright, Your Majesty," Cinderella said, in a gentle tone even if she had to raise her voice to be heard over Annabelle. "It's not your fault."

Annabelle, of course, was only a baby, but for Cinderella's part… she knew that His Majesty had not been himself, she knew in her mind that, being himself once again, he would never intentionally hurt her; but all the same, in her… not even in her heart, precisely but in her gut perhaps, in her instincts, she could not help but feel a touch of nervousness in the face of his raised voice, his temper.

It was the same with soldiers. Outside of her own guards, when he came across a large body of soldiers she felt herself become a little… uneasy. She began to suspect, to fear what they might do to her, after Grace's guards had played their game with her.

The fact that they had turned out to be not even men was little help in putting Cinderella's mind at ease.

Eugene lifted the still-crying Annabelle up onto his shoulder, lifting her up and down, up and down, patting her on the back as he did so. "Do you think you should take over?" he asked, and sounding ever so slightly hopeful about the prospect.

"I would, but Isabelle still isn't finished yet," Cinderella replied, for Isabelle had resumed her breakfast with great gusto; Cinderella wondered that there was anything left. "And besides," she added, with a smile that was both encouraging and ever so slightly mischievous, "I think you're doing very well."

Eugene gave her a slightly wry smile.

"Why," His Majesty said. "Why would you want to treat the prince's morganatic wife as though she is an equal? As though she is your equal? What would that even entail, my dear?"

"I mean that she should be seated alongside, or level with perhaps, Prince Adam at the dining table, and not banished to the foot of it below the Guards officers and their wives," Cinderella said. "That should she be treated with a little respect, as befits a prince's wife, and not treated as though she's little more than a glorified mistress. That we should not act as though we're all ashamed of her and her presence, but welcome her as our guest, alongside her husband."

A ruling prince took precedent over a 'mere' crown prince, so on the occasion of tonight's banquet Prince Adam would sit at the King's right hand where Eugene usually sat, and Eugene would sit on the left in the place more commonly occupied by Cinderella; Cinderella herself would, by a strict reading of the protocols involved, sit on Prince Adam's right as the crown princess and, by marriage, highest ranking member of the court after Eugene and the King himself. But if Prince Adam's wife – whose name, in a demonstration of the low regard in which she was commonly held, had not been given to Cinderella yet – had been, like Cinderella herself, a princess by marriage then she would have ranked higher – as a princess consort rather than crown princess, wife to a ruling prince rather than an heir apparent – and so she would have claimed the right hand place and banished Cinderella to a place on Eugene's left. It was this seating arrangement that Cinderella proposed to implement regardless of the exact niceties of Prince Adam's marital status.

"That may be difficult when the congress itself begins," Eugene warned. "I can't imagine Maria Theresa being thrilled to have a morganatic wife seated near her at the dining table. I'm not sure Eleanor will be much more sanguine about it."

"Perhaps not," Cinderella admitted. "And then… maybe there will be no way around it, but they're not here yet, and the congress hasn't begun and it's just us and Prince Adam and Belle – and Princess Frederica, I suppose, who I'm sure won't mind."

"But why, my dear?" asked His Majesty.

"Because I remember so well how I felt when His Grace, Duke Henry, tried to demote me to a mere morganatic wife," Cinderella said. "I remember how much I… I hated the idea, of being separated from Eugene, of being treated as so much less than you, of being forced to sit down at the foot of the table, knowing that everyone up above was sniggering or sneering at me. And I remember how, even though I'm Eugene's full and true wife, there was still enough sniggering and sneering to go around. I don't want to inflict that on someone else, and I can't help but think that Belle must have gone through an awful lot of that already. I don't want to add to that, in fact I'd like to offer her some relief from it, if I can."

"Hmm, well-" His Majesty.

"I don't see any reason why we can't accommodate her, at least before the congress proper begins and all the other crowned heads and dignitaries arrive," Eugene said quickly, before His Majesty could demur in any way. "Your compassion does you great credit, Cinderella."

Cinderella felt her cheeks flush a little, but when she said, "Thank you," it was not for the compliment that she was grateful, but for Eugene's support. He had not always supported her as she might have wished, but she was very glad that he had chosen to do so now, and she hoped – she believed – that her tone conveyed that point.

His Majesty glanced at Eugene. "I will not seat some morganatic wife above the true wife of my own son and heir, the mother of my grandchildren." He took a breath, his large stomach rising and falling. "But, with that said, I suppose that some exceptions to the usual rules can be made, some courtesy and consideration applied. She may sit below Cinderella but above the peers and privy councillors – I will leave you to discuss with Princess Frederica whether she consents to have this woman seated above her, and if the princess does not content then Prince Adam's wife must sit below, but still above the lords and councillors."

Cinderella bowed her head. "Thank you, your majesty, I appreciate your generosity and I'm sure that Prince Adam and Belle will appreciate it too."

His Majesty nodded idly. "When will you call upon the prince and his wife?"

"At ten o'clock, I thought, your majesty," Cinderella replied. "That way I won't catch them before it's reasonable to expect them to be ready to receive visitors."

His Majesty nodded. "You can make a brief report on your visit to the Privy Council at the meeting today, what they were like, their thoughts, that sort of thing."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Cinderella said. "Although, Eugene, you must know them already."

"I met them once," Eugene explained. "Only once, and we didn't really talk. I think I said some very ordinary congratulations to Prince Adam, I was there for the dinner, it was no great acquaintance. Mostly what I remember is what an odd duck he seemed."
"Odd?" Cinderella repeated.

"It's hard to explain," Eugene said. "He was… there were times when he would grab his food, even a whole chop, covered in gravy, with his bare hands, and lift it to his mouth as though he was going to devour it whole; then he seemed to think better of it, or realise that everyone was staring at him, and he put it down very shamefacedly. He kept looking down the table at his wife."

"He probably wished she was beside him," Cinderella said.

"Most likely," Eugene said. "When they were dancing together it was the only time he really seemed entirely comfortable in his own skin. Belle herself, as I recall, was… tolerable, but not handsome enough to have tempted me if she hadn't already been another man's wife-"

"I'm very glad to hear it," Cinderella said lightly.

Eugene smiled. "But, when they were together, they made a pretty pair, as best I can recollect. But Prince Adam himself… he disappeared for years, and all manner of wild stories about him turning into a monster and suchlike."

"My goodness!" Cinderella exclaimed. "By magic?"

"I'm not saying it's true," Eugene said.

"But it could be," Cinderella replied. "Haven't we seen enough magic not to discount stories of it?"

Eugene sighed. "You're right. I wish you were wrong, but in this instance I'm afraid you're quite correct." He shook his head. "Of course, none of that really helps you at all, does it?"

"I know to be prepared for some odd behaviour from Prince Adam?" Cinderella suggested. "And I suppose it doesn't matter if you don't recall very much about them, that just means I can find out for myself, when I meet them both this morning."

Cinderella was going to visit Prince Adam and Belle to welcome them informally to Amorique, but also to invite them to a far more formal welcome to be held tonight: a great banquet in honour of Prince Adam, the Imperial envoy to the court of Armorique, and a ball to follow the meal. This would be his – and his wife's – welcome to Armorique before the entire court. This was obviously a matter of some importance, and Cinderella spent an hour or so supervising the preparations, talking with the cooks on the progress of dinner, with the servants on the plans for the layout of the dining hall and the ballroom, generally making sure that there were no imminent problems that posed the risk of embarrassing His Majesty or Eugene before their visitors. With that done, and satisfied that everything was proceeding properly and in the right direction, Cinderella went back up to her room to change.

As Duchamp helped her to undress, Cinderella said, "Duchamp, may I ask you something?"

"You may ask as much as you wish, ma'am," Duchamp replied calmly. "You're the princess, after all."

"What - if anything at all, I suppose – are they saying about all of this below stairs, amongst the servants?" Cinderella asked. "About what His Majesty is hoping to achieve, about the congress, that sort of thing?"

"Would you like an honest answer, ma'am?"

"Yes," Cinderella replied. "Although you make it sound like I won't like it."

"Most who speak of it are mostly concerned it will mean more work, ma'am," Duchamp said. "What with a host of kings and queens and princes descending upon the palace. There will be balls and banquets a-plenty, no doubt, and that means more work for many."

Cinderella laughed lightly. "Yes, I suppose that's true." I shall speak to His Majesty about raising everyone's salaries somewhat. "Thank you, Duchamp, that's… quite helpful to know. And you?"

"Me, ma'am?"

"Do you have any thoughts about all this?"

Duchamp was silent for a moment, and then a moment more beyond that, her fingers working silently to unfasten Cinderella's dress from behind. "This has a reputation as a peaceful country, ma'am, and I daresay I'm not the only one who would like to stay that way. That's why I worry about His Majesty getting involved in a war."

"His Majesty is trying to make peace, Duchamp," Cinderella said gently.

"And what if peace isn't what they want, ma'am?" Duchamp asked. "I'm not saying His Majesty wants a war, I'm sure he doesn't, but it may be that… I don't know, I'm probably wrong, but we seemed to be doing alright staying well out of it, as well as having enough troubles of our own without inviting all of Christendom to bring their troubles to our door."

"If we do nothing the war may still spread to us," Cinderella pointed out. "In some ways it already has, think of the refugees outside the city? And they say that to the south, near the border, you can hear the cannon fire. I understand, Duchamp, but I would do a great deal to make sure the guns fall silent, while at the same time, I… if I have any choice in the matter I won't let this country become embroiled in this war; fighting, I mean. That's not what I want at all. I want to make the word safer for Isabelle, Annabelle and Philippe, not more dangerous."

Duchamp looked into the mirror, the reflection of her gaze meeting Cinderella's eyes through the medium of the mirror. "I'm sure not, ma'am, nor did I nor would I suggest otherwise." She smiled somewhat as she helped Cinderella out of her dress. "Now, ma'am, have you any thoughts on what to wear?"

"That's quite the change of subject, Duchamp?"

"A more important one, right now, ma'am, than something that neither of us can do much about no matter what we might think."

"Perhaps you're right," Cinderella admitted. She hesitated for a moment, looking at her reflection in the large mirror, dressed only in her corset and undergarments, with her wardrobe behind her, full of dresses that she could wear if only she could decide on any one of them.

"Hmm, I… the truth is, Duchamp, I'm not entirely sure how I want to present myself to Prince Adam, and especially to his wife," Cinderella said. She bowed her head a little. "I don't want her to think that I'm flaunting my good fortune over her. I can only imagine what she's had to put up with." Belle must love Prince Adam very much indeed for her to willingly accept such a fate as a morganatic marriage in return for the joy that being his wife brought to her. Cinderella could only hope that, while they were her guests in Armorique, she could help them to be happy together and not be instead another person adding to the misery of Belle's morganatic position. It was for that reason that she was wary of turning up at their door in too fancy a frock, wearing a large amount of jewellery; she was afraid that she would seem like the worst sort of snob in their eyes. "But, at the same time, I want to be myself. If we're going to be spending a lot of time together, and I hope that we will, then I don't want to have to spend all that time pretending to be someone I'm not; I'm sure I wouldn't manage it anyway." Cinderella very much hoped that they would become friends, not only because she wished to make a great success of her first time hosting visiting foreign royals in Armorique, but also because if she was right, if this other woman's experiences were anything like Cinderella's own at all, then she could probably use a friend while she was here.

Duchamp took pause for a moment. "I think, ma'am, that you have no cause to be ashamed of the pretty things that you have, nor to hide them away because others lack so many. And besides, morganatic need not mean poor; it may well be that this lady of the Franche-Comte has had as much bestowed on her by her husband as you have, if it is a wealthy place."

"Yes, I suppose that is always possible," Cinderella said. And perhaps even likely to, for they must love each other very much, as much as Eugene loved her or perhaps…perhaps even more. "Thank you, Duchamp, I shall be myself. The lady of the Franche-Comte will take me as I am, I hope, and if not…then I suppose we shall have a slightly less comfortable time together then I would have liked.

"Very good, ma'am."

Cinderella dressed, as was her habit, in a white gown with a full, pouffy ballgown skirt with fell to the floor and whose width was accentuated by several layers of petticoat underneath. The collar – as white as the bodice – descended off her shoulders, swooping down the neckline by way of her breasts before rising again to slip around the other shoulder, but a splash of colour was provided by the presence – one at each shoulder and the third in the centre of the neckline, over her cleavage – of three pink roses. Her arms were bare, but as was her wont Cinderella covered her hands, somewhat callused and hardened from years of manual labour, with a pair of white silk gloves that concealed everything until the wrist from view. The peplum of her gown was pink and long, falling just past the level of Cinderella's hips, and a sash of slightly darker pink was tied around her waist into a giant bow behind her.

Cinderella decided not to be quite so completely herself as to cover her otherwise bare arms in jewellery as she sometimes did but restrained herself to a single bracelet upon each arm: on the right, a double-strand pearl bracelet fastened tightly around her wrist, and on the left a single string of pearls, also fastened tightly but a little further up her arm. Around her neck Cinderella wore a necklace of large pearls, each the size of her thumb, which fastened snugly around her throat, while a pair of pearl earrings peaked out from underneath her strawberry blonde hair, which she wore down behind her shoulders, with her favourite white bow hairband to secure it. As a final touch, Cinderella picked a white rose from the vase of red and white roses that sat on the bedside table – Eugene was always sending her roses - and wove it carefully into her hair just ahead of her hairband.

"Thank you, Duchamp," Cinderella said, as she slipped her feet into her white slippers with the pink bows upon the toes, and turned first this way and then the other in front of the mirror. "That looks absolutely wonderful."

"I'm glad you think so, ma'am," Duchamp said.

And with that, it was time for Cinderella to go – although since she hadn't actually made an appointment with Prince Adam and his wife at least she couldn't actually be late. Nevertheless, it was approaching the time that Cinderella had set for herself to go and call upon them and since she was ready to go then there was really no excuse not to be going.

She descended the many stairs that separated her rooms at the very top of the Queen's Tower from the ground alone, grateful that she no longer needed to be chaperoned absolutely everywhere for fear that she would fall as had been the case when she was carrying the girls.

Eugene and Jean were both waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, along with Jean's soon-to-be replacement Richard L'Escroc.

Cinderella was rather glad of the way that Eugene's face lit up at the sight of her descending the stairs, and she was not ashamed to admit it, at least not to herself.

Eugene took her gently by the hand, and raised it to his lips. "You look absolutely lovely. Adam will be enchanted."

"I hope not, for his wife's sake," Cinderella replied, as she stood on tiptoes to kiss Eugene on the lips. "I'll see you later?"

"Of course," Eugene said. "Have a good time."

"I will, I hope," Cinderella said. Eugene kissed her goodbye upon each cheek, and then walked her out to where an open-topped carriage – the weather really was warming up, and it was such a lovely day with the sky so blue and so untroubled by any clouds that it would have been a pity to have shut herself up within a closed coach – was waiting to take her away. Eugene helped her up into the carriage even if he did not mount himself. It was Jean who got in with her, seating himself opposite her but not looking at her, rather he cast his eyes in every direction other than at Cinderella as though he was afraid that there might be assassins lurking in the bushes of the palace grounds waiting to spring out at any moment.

Although, even if there wasn't anything for him to be alarmed about, Cinderella couldn't deny that his vigilant attentiveness made her feel safe. He had saved her from so many enemies already that it almost seemed as though his mere presence would suffice to protect her.

Richard also got into the carriage, seating himself opposite Jean and next to her – although he tried to avoid sitting on any part of Cinderella's somewhat sprawling skirt.

"Begging your highness' pardon," Jean said. "But Lieutenant L'Escroc is going to accompany us to see what his new charge entails."

Richard made a gesture that was halfway between nodding amiably and bowing his head. "Your highness."

"Of course," Cinderella said. She started to gather up her skirt, bunching it up in order to give Richard a little more room. "I beg your pardon for taking up so much room."

"It's alright, your highness," Richard said. He smiled. He had a rather nasty scar on his face, a scar that, for all that it might be less than the bite marks that poor Jean had been left with from when he had defended her from that awful bear, nevertheless made a larger impact on his face. He looked as though he had a permanent smirk upon his face, although the whole world and everyone in it was a source of great, if cynical, amusement to him. Until he smiled. When he smiled his scar became much, much less noticeable, to the point that one could almost forget that he had one.

Cinderella found herself rather glad that none of her ladies in waiting were very impressionable sorts of girls; Richard might have been a dangerously handsome man to have around otherwise.

Eugene waved her goodbye as the carriage bore her out of the gates and into the streets of the capital. Cinderella opened up a parasol, which threw a thin film of shadow over her to protect her from the sun and held onto it with one hand as, with her other hand, she waved to the people on the streets who waved to her, who called her name, who wished God's blessings upon her and her children.

Even Jean's suspicions seemed softened by the affection that was heaped upon her from every side as they travelled through the streets. "You are so very loved, your highness."

"And I am so very grateful," Cinderella murmured, as she waved. Not the least of which cause for gratitude was the proof that, despite the worries of Frederica and others, her connection to the Aquitainian refugees had not completely shredded her popularity and undone the memory of all her efforts on behalf of the people of Armorique.

Cinderella felt somewhat entitled to think that she had come a long way since her engagement to Eugene a little more than two years ago now. Those who had sought to destroy her – the Serenas, the Graces, the Henrys – were all gone now, and while she had no doubt that there were still some who looked down on her for having once been a servant girl, they kept it to themselves and Cinderella could walk without hearing whispers behind her back, or enduring open mockery at the ball or the gala. She still did not have many friends, beyond her faithful ladies in waiting, but at least she had no more enemies, or at least those that she had were harmless. Serena remained in genteel custody, Cinderella hadn't heard anything out of her since she had departed to the estate where, to this day, she remained; Lucien Gerard was in America, he wrote to Cinderella from time to time but Cinderella burned the letters unopened, that is when Angelique or Marinette didn't get hold of them first and burn them for her; there were a few members of the du Villeroi family still unaccounted for, but they were wanted throughout the length and breadth of Armorique and all their lands and wealth had been forfeited to the crown.

Cinderella's stepmother and stepsisters remained in the chateau that Cinderella had once called home, declining ever further into poverty and incurring ever greater debts, from what Cinderella heard, to maintain themselves in the standard to which they had become accustomed. She sometimes felt guilty that she was allowing that to happen to them…but she reminded herself that she had given them a chance and Drizella had betrayed her; she couldn't be blamed, surely, for having run out of patience with those who had proved time and time again that they held nothing but hatred for her in their hearts.

They should think themselves fortunate that she allowed them to continue living in her father's house. But her stepmother had been Father's wife for a while, and Cinderella felt… perhaps he would have hated what they had done to Cinderella sufficiently to countenance it, but she felt as though he wouldn't have wanted her to throw his wife out into the streets to beg, or crawl to the workhouse for a bed to lie in. Let them keep the chateau; they had little enough else.

No, Cinderella's enemies were all gone now or toothless, and if she did not have many friends then at least she had the love of the people, for all that they might not love the Aquitainians, or love her for assisting them, still – it seemed – they loved Cinderella nonetheless. Of course Cinderella had to earn that affection each day by working on their behalf, but they worked every day on behalf of Armorique to keep Cinderella and Eugene and the whole family in state and luxury – something that the republican commentators who still spoke out against her and the entire royal family in the pages of the radical newspapers never tired of pointing out – so the effort was not something Cinderella begrudged them.

These ruminations carried Cinderella – almost as much as the carriage itself – to the house that Prince Adam's messenger had given as the address at which he and his wife and household would be staying for the duration; Cinderella noticed that it was not far at all from the house that Frederica of Normandie was renting, the area must have a lot of vacant houses of a scale and luxury attractive to visiting royals – if Frederica could still be called a visitor given that she had no intention of leaving any time soon.

Jean dismounted from the carriage first, followed by Richard swiftly after, and there was a moment of silent pause between the two of them before Jean helped Cinderella out of the carriage and down to the street. He glanced at something, and Cinderella followed his gaze to see that he was looking at a rather scruffy officer in a white uniform, and a young woman in the garb of the outdoors, both of whom had just emerged from the stables beside the house and were watching Cinderella.

"I'm sure they don't mean any harm, Jean," Cinderella murmured.

"They don't look the type to see princesses very often," Richard suggested, amusement in his voice.

Cinderella smiled slightly. "Yes, I'm sure you're right." Although to be here they must have seen a prince.

Jean bowed his head to her. "As you say, your highness." He turned away and mounted the stone steps leading up the red front door of the rented house. He grasped the brass doorknocker and brought it down hard three times.

After a moment, the door was answered by a pretty maid in a black dress that – like most of those owned by Cinderella – left her arms bare. Her eyes flickered from Jean to Cinderella, and she seemed to decide that the uniform young man at her door was only a herald for the gowned and bejewelled lady behind him because it was to Cinderella that she curtsied. "Can I help you, madame?"

"Her Royal Highness Cinderella, Princess of Rennes and Crown Princess of Armorique, wishes to speak to His Highness Prince Adam of the Franche-Comte," Jean said, with only a slight hesitation when it came to pronouncing 'Franche-Comte'.

The maid looked surprised, but to her credit she didn't hesitate. "Of course. Please come in, your highness."

"Shall we wait out here, princess?" Jean asked.

Cinderella considered it for a moment. A part of her wanted to take Jean inside with her, but that might make it seem to Prince Adam and his wife that she didn't trust them; and besides, it wasn't as if they had come all this way just to do her harm. "Are you sure you'll be alright out here? Will you comfortable waiting for me?"

"We will be quite alright, your highness," Jean assured her.

"Alright then," Cinderella said, and hoped that he was being sincere and not just saying what he thought she wanted to hear. The carriage was comfortable enough, she supposed, but would they be bored? She hoped not.

But if he said it was alright then she would have to trust him, and so Cinderella left both her protectors outside as she climbed the three stone steps and, picking up her pouffy skirt with both hands, stepped over the threshold and into the hall of the house. It was sparsely decorated, which was understandable enough, with a bare wooden floor uncovered by any carpet, and little decoration on the walls either.

The maid curtsied to her. "I'll go and tell the master that you're here, if you'll please wait, your highness." And then she retreated, leaving Cinderella standing alone in the hallway.

Cinderella clasped her hands together and waited, looking around slightly aimlessly at the almost undecorated hallway. With little to do she began to imagine what Prince Adam and his wife might be like. His wife, especially. Would they get on with one another? Would they like each other, as Cinderella hoped, or would the woman who had thrown herself upon the mercy of the court for the sake of love despise Cinderella as a spoilt princess who had everything that she, as a morganatic wife, could not have? Would she envy Cinderella? Might she even hate her?

Cinderella's wild imaginings were interrupted before they spin too wildly out of control by the sound of whispering from not too far away.

"What do you mean you just left her there?" said a man's voice.

"So? There's no need to say it like that," the maid who had invited Cinderella in said defensively.

"But you can't just leave a princess standing in the hallway!" The man sighed. "Tell the master, I'll take care of this."

A moment later a man, middle-aged or thereabouts, emerged into the hallway. He had a slightly long nose and light brown hair tied back into a queue. He bowed extravagantly before her. "Please forgive us, your highness, we weren't expecting visitors, and certainly not a visitor so grand as your good self."

"Oh, I'm sure I'm the one who should be apologising," Cinderella said. "After all, I didn't tell you that I was coming."

"Not at all, your highness, not at all," the man declared. "Now, the master will be down in just a moment-"

"And his wife?" Cinderella said. "I'm really rather keen to meet her."

That seemed to surprise the man, but he rallied very well. "I'm sure that she will down shortly also, just like that." He snapped his fingers. "But if you will kindly follow me, you will find the parlour far more suitable to wait than standing 'ere, I'm sure."

Cinderella was shown into an airy parlour room at the back of the house, where there were several large windows almost the length of the wall to let in the sunlight. The room was a little better appointed that the practically unfurnished hallway that she had just left; in that there was a settee and two chairs to sit on, tables on which to set any refreshments, and a clock on the wall in addition to a couple of paintings of what experience of society had taught Cinderella to recognise as pastoral scenes, even if the exact content or context still eluded her. It was not what she would have called fully furnished – you could spot the places on the wall where other paintings had been hung before being taken down by somebody – but it was not quite bare either. A statue of a young man in the classical style – nearly naked, in other words, with only a loincloth to cover his modesty – stood in the corner.

"Forgive us, your highness," the gentleman said as he led her in. "The master had wished to rent a fully furnished home and I tried to oblige him, but at short notice…it seems that for some in this country fully furnished does not mean what it means for us back home. I hope to secure a little more furniture in time."

"Please, monsieur, you don't need to keep apologising to me," Cinderella said. "As long as there are enough places to sit I'm sure that we'll be fine. May I sit anywhere?"

"Of course, princess, of course" the man, which Cinderella took as an invitation to sit down upon the faded red settee. "Would you care for some tea while you wait?"

"That would be very nice, thank you monsieur," Cinderella said.

"But of course," he said, and he bowed to her before he left.

Cinderella was left alone again, although at least this time she had somewhere to sit. She looked down at her hands in her lap: the sunlight was making the diamond in the centre of her engagement ring sparkle. She idly fingered her wedding ring, turning the band of gold around and round upon her finger, until the pretty maid brought the tea which Cinderella sipped idly while she waited for Prince Adam and his wife to put in an appearance.

"I apologise if we've kept you waiting, highness."

Cinderella looked up from the cup of tea into which she had been staring, in time to see a man walk into the parlour with a lady upon his arm. She hastily put down the willow-patterned tea cup – it rattled a little upon the saucer – and got to her feet. "Not at all, your highness, I realise now that I perhaps shouldn't have called upon you without sending some word in advance; but I was simply so anxious to meet you both that I just couldn't help myself." She sidled around the table and took a few steps towards the couple, extending one white-gloved hand out towards the gentleman. "My name is Cinderella, well, Princess Cinderella of Armorique but I don't think there's any need to be that formal. You must be Prince Adam, of the Franche-Comte, I presume?"

To be perfectly honest, the thing that stood out most to Cinderella about Prince Adam of the Franche-Comte was his size; the man was a giant, not only tall but broad in shoulder too, he towered over both Cinderella and his wife and would have loomed over Eugene too, if he had been there. His Majesty would certainly be dwarfed by the visiting prince in their every meeting. And yet, despite his size and the width of his shoulders and the fact that he looked as though he could almost have picked up Cinderella and his wife both at the same time, there was very little that was brutish about the prince's appearance; in fact in some ways his features struck her as softer than those of Eugene, lacking her husband's firm, square jaw line; the fact that his golden hair was so long as to require a queue to tie it back added to the impression of a certain gentleness about him. In fact, for all that Jean was probably about half the prince's size with his hat on there was more of a sense of pugnacity about Cinderella's guard than she was getting from the visiting prince before her.

Prince Adam took Cinderella's had with a deft softness that spoke of an awareness of his own strength, and a desire not to demonstrate it unless it could not be avoided, and though he raised her hand to his lips he did not kiss it, but simply ran his lips close to, but not touching, her silk-embraced knuckles.

"Enchanted, your highness," he said, politely but without any warmth; in fact if Cinderella had to describe what she heard in his voice she might have gone so far as to call it wariness. "Allow me to introduce my wife, Belle."

What was it Eugene called her?

Tolerable, but not handsome enough to have tempted me even if she had been another man's wife.

I don't know if I should be grateful to be married to a blind man or outraged that my husband is such a shameless liar.

Belle was… well, there was no other way to put it, she was beautiful. As beautiful as her name proclaimed and more. She was a little taller than Cinderella, although probably by no more than an inch or so, and she was comparatively plainly dressed in a pink day dress with a thin skirt that barely spread out around her, and sleeves that descended to just below her elbows, ending in frilly lace sleeves. But she had soft, beguiling doe eyes set in a heart-shaped face accentuated by the way she wore the bangs of her light brown hair; she had lithe arms and slender fingers, a fair complexion and, although she wasn't wearing any make-up that Cinderella could make out, she nevertheless had what seemed to be a natural blush upon her cheeks and a glow to her skin that made Cinderella – who required expensive artifice and the services of a skilled lady's maid in order to achieve the same effect – feel at once rather envious and put to shame.

As much to the point Belle made her feel rather over-dressed and over-ornamented; Cinderella had declared that she would be herself, and yet Belle was being far more herself in her lack of artifice and she was still outshining Cinderella handily (at least in Cinderella's impression).

Cinderella spent her life surrounded by pretty women: Frederica of Normandie was beautiful, Augustina was china-doll pretty, Angelique was cute, Marinette was lovely, Lady Christine possessed a graceful elegance; but Belle… Cinderella wondered if this was how her stepsisters had felt.

Unlike her stepsisters, however, Cinderella mentally resolved that she would not succumb to jealousy. After all, what did she have to be jealous of? She had a husband who loved her, good friends, a son and two daughters whom she adored, an altogether wonderful life. While Belle… Cinderella could see the wedding ring gleaming on her left hand, a constant reminder of the limbo in which she lived. She might deserve Cinderella's respect for choosing and enduring the life she had, but she did not and could never deserve Cinderella's envy even if she had been the type to succumb to it.

So she smiled, and said, "Good morning, Belle; it's so good to meet you."

Belle's mouth was tight, and her voice was as wary as that of her husband as she said, "Likewise, your highness."

"Oh, please, there's no need for that, either of you," Cinderella said. "All of my friends call me Cinderella; or, well, almost all of them at least. There are one or two I haven't been able to persuade." Not only Angelique – it was slightly ironic that her dearest lady-in-waiting was the one who should still address her so remotely – and Jean but also the ever-proper Lady Christine continued to stand on ceremony with her.

Belle's eyebrows rose. "And are we friends?"

Cinderella blinked. "Well…perhaps not yet," she admitted. "But I certainly hope that we can be, and I think that would be easiest if we didn't have titles standing between us." She saw – or thought that she saw – in Belle's eyes that the other woman wasn't convinced, and she had to admit that she could understand why. She didn't know how much, if anything, Belle knew about her or her background, but she could imagine that after a while in Belle's position it must become quite hard to trust the good intentions of people in Cinderella's position. Now it occurred to Cinderella that she had perhaps moved a little too quickly.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Please forgive me, I… I've never done anything quite like this before; I mean with foreign dignitaries such as yourself, and I was so keen for this to go well. Perhaps we could sit down, or…" No, Cinderella decided that it would be best to remain standing, at least at first. She covered her mouth with one gloved hand as she cleared it. "Ahem. Prince Adam, Belle, on behalf of His Majesty Louis the Twelfth, King of Armorique; of my husband Eugene, Prince of Rennes; and of myself I bid you welcome to Armorique," as she spoke, Cinderella spread her arms out on either side of her. "And hope that your stay here will be both pleasant and profitable."

Belle looked at her for a moment, before her lips twitched upwards in the beginnings of a pretty smile. "Did you prepare that, by any chance?"

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "Yes," she said. "I may even have practiced once or twice in front of the mirror. I really do mean it, though; please believe me. I… I'm your hostess here, and I really do want your stay to be the best that I can make it. If you need anything from me please, don't hesitate to call upon my help, day or night, except for when I'm with my children; that time is precious to me, I hope you understand."

"I do," Belle said, her voice emerging softly from between her lips. "My mother used to tell me that our time together was sacrosanct; even when I was too young to understand what that word meant I understood that there was something special in those hours."

Adam sounded both a little amused and, at the same time, a little sad as he said, "For myself, my father was never not too busy to spend time with me… and I can't help but wonder if that's one of the reasons why… never mind. You may be certain, high- Cinderella, that I completely respect the sanctity of those hours."

"We both do," Belle said. "We may be your guests but we have no claim upon your whole life, body and soul." She paused for a moment. "May I ask how many children you have?"

"Three," Cinderella said, smiling. "A so- stepson and two daughters."

Belle frowned slightly. "A stepson, but then you only have-"

"Three," Cinderella said, not unkindly but quite firmly nevertheless. "I may not have brought Philippe into this world but he is still my child, and I am the only mother he has."

Belle's frown lifted, and her eyes brightened a little. "I see. I'm sorry if I upset you."

"No, please, don't apologise. And you? Do you have any children of your own?"

Belle's expression fell, and she looked down at the wooden floor. "No. I'm afraid we haven't been so blessed."

"Oh," Cinderella said, her own feelings falling much like the look of Belle's face. "I am sorry, and sorry to have brought it up."

"Don't worry, its fine," Belle said quickly. "After all, there's still plenty of time."

"Perhaps we should sit down," Adam said. "And try some of the tea before it gets cold."

Cinderella gratefully returned to her seat on the settee, while Adam and Belle sat side by side in the twin armchairs on the other side of the table. Cinderella picked up her cup and found that, while it had cooled a little, it was still perfectly drinkable.

Belle added a couple of lumps of sugar to her tea. "Pri- Cinderella," she corrected herself with a smile. "Did you really come all this way just to welcome us to your country?"

Cinderella covered her mouth with one hand to hide a chuckle. "It really isn't all that far from the palace, I assure you."

"Some princesses would have found it too far anyway," Belle pointed out.

Cinderella pursed her lips together. "I… I know that I can't really imagine what your life has been like, Belle… but I was just a servant when Prince Eugene asked me to be his wife, and only last year his cousin tried to have our marriage rendered morganatic because someone of my background wasn't fit to be the princess of this country. He didn't succeed, but… I know that this might sound like bragging or vanity but I hope I'm not like other princesses that you've met. I… I don't intend to treat you as anything less than myself for as long as you're here. That's another reason why I came here this morning: on behalf of His Majesty, Prince Eugene and myself I would like to invite you both personally to a banquet and a ball to be held in your honour, to celebrate your arrival in Armorique; and at this banquet, Belle, I would be honoured if you would sit across the table from me." It occurred to Cinderella then that after she was finished here she should probably call on Frederica – who would be sitting next to Cinderella on her right but just below Belle – to soothe in advance any ruffled feathers that she might have about this; Frederica was a dear friend but Cinderella didn't know exactly how she'd react to this, and she didn't want her to be rude to Belle tonight.

Belle looked shocked, her eyes widened and her eyebrows rose towards her bangs and her mouth formed a started square in the bottom of her face. "You… you want me to sit next to you?"

"Yes," Cinderella said. "I would have had you sitting next to Prince Adam, but I'm afraid his majesty wouldn't allow me to go quite that far."

"At the head of the table?" Adam asked. His voice rose a little as he demanded, "Is this a joke?"

"No!" Cinderella cried. "Do you think that this is a trick of some kind, I would never do such a thing?"

"No, you wouldn't, would you?" Belle asked. "You really mean it."

It was not phrased as a question, but Cinderella answered nevertheless. "Yes," she said. "I really mean it."

Belle let out a little gasp of shock. "I would sit opposite, and just one place down from Adam?"

"On the other side of the table, yes," Cinderella confirmed.

A joyous laugh escaped from Prince Adam's lips, and Belle smiled as brightly as the sun outside. "That…" she began, halting after a single word. "That would be wonderful! Thank you!"

"Yes," Adam said. "Thank you so much! You can't have any idea what this means to both of us."

Cinderella didn't contest that point, although she had imagined – more than once – the consequences if the Duke of Cherbourg had had his way and she had been reduced to just Cinderella, her royal tiara stripped away from her: condemned to watch Eugene from afar, to strain her ears to catch the slightest echo of his words, to stand in the corner of the ballroom while he danced with other women, to bring children into the world who would be seen as little better than illegitimate.

Perhaps Cinderella could not imagine what this meant for Adam, and especially for Belle… but she could imagine enough, and know enough, to know without a doubt that she was doing the right thing.

Belle looked, absurdly, a little guilty. "I feel as though we owe you an apology," she said. "We were a little suspicious of you, and now it seems so rude, but I hope you can understand: you really aren't like most people of your position that I've met since I married Adam."

Cinderella held up one hand. "Please, there's no need to apologise, no need at all." She smiled sadly. "I may be a princess, but believe me I've had no shortage of people look down on me for where I came from; I completely understand that you thought I would do the same. You weren't rude, I was too forward, rushing in expecting that we could be friends immediately as though you wouldn't wonder why." She let out a little, slightly melancholy laugh. "As a matter of fact, I might even prefer that you were honest about the way you felt at first; a lot of people have been very nice to me from the very moment I met them…and a lot of those people have turned out not to have my best interests at heart." Lucien Gerard had been so warm and charming when she first met him, Cinderella had felt as though he was a friend that she could always rely on… but that had only been a ruse to get money and favours out of her; his true face had been the one that persecuted Cinderella night and day with declarations of love until eventually he tried to take her love by force. Serena and Grace had been the only two ladies in the court to offer her friendship from the first, but both of them had been her enemies, vipers who wanted her to hold them to her bosom before they bit her. Compared to that, perhaps there was something to be said for the honest suspicion of Belle and Adam, especially since it could hardly be said to be unwarranted in their circumstances. Her smile brightened. "But all of that is behind us now, and I do hope that we can go forwards to something better."

Belle smiled back at her. "I trust you, although I still don't really understand why you're taking so much trouble. What does a princess need with friends like… well…"

"I don't think it's possible to have too many friends," Cinderella said. Especially when I had so few growing up. "And besides, I would hate for any guests of ours to be unhappy here, and I really do want this congress to proceed and proceed successfully."

"In that case, you may be wasting your time with us," Adam said, with a touch of regret in his voice. "Queen Maria Theresa will not be persuaded of your good intentions by the fact that you were kind and considerate to Belle."

"No, I suppose not," Cinderella allowed. "But if you write to her and tell her that we will be completely fair in our dealings… that's what she's worried about, isn't it?"

"She's worried that this is a cover for a plot to take away the spoils of her victories," Adam murmured.

"There is no plot," Cinderella insisted. "Our only desire is to see this dreadful war over."

"Really?" Belle murmured, with a touch of archness in her tone. "I…I think I believe you, but all of you? The Queen believes that you want the glory that will come from hosting all the crowns of Europe and arbitrating their disputes, and I can believe that, too."

"I don't care about that," Cinderella said. "Perhaps His Majesty does; perhaps the King's ministers care about such things, but I don't. This is not our war, but all I can do is remember how we went to war two years ago against some of our American colonists; my husband, Prince Eugene, went across the sea to lead our forces." And with him had gone Etienne Gerard, who had asked Cinderella's dressmaker Lucrecia to marry him not long before; it was only blind luck or his position as Cinderella's guard that meant that Jean had not been called upon to board a ship and put Angelique through the same agony that had engulfed Cinderella and Lucrecia. Augustina's father and one of her brothers had gone to war, and the beau of Constance, one of Cinderella's chambermaids. There was scarcely anyone in the palace who didn't have at least a friend going off to fight in the American war, and many had a father or brother or a lover; the boy who had asked to marry them, the boy they hoped would ask, the boy the kissed in empty corridors where there was nobody to see. And they had all gone off to war, boarding the great ships with horses and guns, and left their families and their beaus desperate and distraught; the high and low alike of Armorique united in their prayers for the boys far from home.

"I remember," Cinderella said. "How I spent every day worrying about Eugene, always at the back of my day. I wrote him a letter every day, even though most of them were thoroughly boring, because I missed him so much and when he wrote to me… it was like sunlight coming through the clouds. I think that's how so many families across Armorique felt, and when I think about how many families across all of Europe must be feeling the same way right now… I want to help bring their boys back home, if I can." She might have mentioned the Aquitainian refugees, also, but she wasn't sure how much, if any, ice that would cut with two people who were, after all, on the opposite side of the war.

Belle stared into Cinderella's eyes as she leaned forwards. "The things that you say…I'm not sure that I'd believe them from everyone, but I believe you. They're the reason I was so glad that Adam didn't send any men to join the Empire's war."

"They're the reason I didn't send any men, although please don't mention that outside of this room," Adam said. He sighed. "The truth is that we could have spared some men from the harvest, not many but a few…men my age, with wives Belle's age. It would have been selfish of me to have sent them away from their wives and not gone myself and…" he reached across, and ran one hand through Belle's soft brown hair, a gesture that made her close her eyes and smile contentedly. "I couldn't bring myself to go."

"I should hope not," Belle said sharply, opening her eyes once more. "Two nights of violence in our lives was quite enough, don't you think?"

"Then we're all agreed?" Cinderella asked. "This war should end."

"It should," Adam agreed. "But you have to understand, that we cannot simply write to Queen Maria Theresa immediately and tell her that all is well; she'll suspect that we haven't been as diligent as she would like, and even if she comes and doesn't like what she finds…I must serve her well, for Belle's sake."

Belle pursed her lips together slightly but said nothing.

Cinderella smiled. "Well then," she said brightly. "In that case, I shall just have to convince you, shan't I? And through you the queen."

Belle nodded, slowly and thoughtfully. "I hope," she began. "No, I think, that you will do just that."