The Wronged Princess - Book I Page 10

  Prince studied Cinderella’s attire from a peripheral view. He could not deny his attraction for her understated beauty. The soft lilac frock she wore suited her coloring, admirably. With her olive skin, dark hair, and eyes that tilted at the corners, she appeared quite the vision. Her hair was more simply dressed compared to Egrecia and Pricilla’s elaborate twists and draping curls. It suited her, he decided. He could swear a twinge of cinder touched her cheeks, but it only added charm to her overall appeal.

  Her quiet demeanor made him hungry for answers. More so, when he would swear a portion of the bread she’d been nibbling on disappeared beneath the table. He found himself biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning outright. Mayhap she would venture to the gardens for another walk in the crisp morn. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but he could not place its origin.

  Mamán muttered something quickly under her breath drawing his attention and the air seemed to come alive.

  “What is that, my dear?” Papá said. “Dimmer, say you?”

  Two red spots appeared on Mamán’s cheeks, but disappeared quickly enough as she cleared her throat delicately. “Non, my dear,” she murmured.

  Then, he vowed, he detected a crafty glint about her eyes. She, of course, handled the supper conversation with her customary aplomb, tactfulness, diplomacy and grace, no trace of that momentary blush. An excitement radiated from her that had him wondering what more she could have up her little magician-istic sleeve. Ha. ’Twas quite suspicious.

  When she tapped her wine glass with a spoon, a feeling of dread stole over him. The delicate tinkle obtained the occupants rapt attention. His included, though he kept a wary eye. After all, he’d known her the whole of his life.

  “It has been determined the Royal Family should host a ball,” she announced. “I realize so soon on the cusp of the previous affair makes it questionable, but ’tis our duty to introduce your bride-to-be.” Mamán turned a captivating smile on Esperneldi, who swallowed visibly sending her eyes fluttering in cyclonic proportions.

  Well, it certainly explained Mamán’s annoying excitement. Prince will never be sure how he’d held back his groan. A swift wind breezed through the dining chamber. Sympathy rippled for his betrothed almost matching the amount he felt for himself.

  He stole a look at her. She did not look happy. That set him aback, and he glanced around registering responses from the others around the table. An odd glimpse passed between Pricilla and Cinderella, though Cinderella looked as though she might fall ill. While Hilda fought to constrain her joy, her round robust face threatened to explode with the news.

  To one who may not know Mamán so well, she appeared impassive. He narrowed his eyes. Appeared strangely—satisfied. She was definitely up to no good. Mayhap it was time to discern her plans. In no possible conjecture could he concede marriage to Elphaba. He shook his head…mayhap he could engage her assistance in the matter. He risked a glance to her mother. She beamed a smile on him so bright he felt the heat creeping up his neck. Mayhap not.

  He felt that peculiar tingle in the air again, and prayed for the umpteenth time he would not subject to keeling over from the…stress. Though who could blame him? Non. This matter had need to be dealt with posthaste. Elst, he could end up tied to the chit for all of eternity and then where would he be?

  An indulgent smile passed from his father to his mother. Papá boomed, “Oui, oui. A splendid notion, my dear.” Prince had the distinct impression this was the first Papá had any inkling of the impromptu betrothal ball. He’d bet his last gold piece on it. It was an ungrateful thought.

  The gentle smile Mamán bestowed on Papá tightened something in his chest. Mamán addressed the other members of the supper party. “This short notice shall serve to set the events in motion. It was decided the benefit was best for all concerned. I imagine a fortnight should provide sufficient time.”

  His suspicion metamorphosed to certainty when she turned an innocent gaze on him with an indulgent smile he’d not seen since a young child in short pants. “It’s time Chalmers met your intended. Do you not agree, darling?”

  Prince narrowed his eyes toward her as he mulled this over. He could play this game, match wits with the master. He was almost twenty, after all. He shot Elderinda a grin so full of devilish amusement he thought she would take flight. His gaze swung back to his mother. “Of course, Mamán,” he agreed. He added a measure of eager enthusiasm, careful not to overdo it, however. Surprise flickered in her eyes. He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingertips in satisfaction.

  The game was on.

  Chapter 15

  Hilda thought her heart would burst from her chest, it pounded with such violence. Her daughter. Her dear, dear Esmeralda, soon to be introduced to all of Chalmers as the future queen. Why, she could hardly maintain her seat.

  And now, a ball in her honor. It was a dream come true. Soon, she—Hilda—would be mother of the future queen.

  Hilda cast a covert glance to Pricilla’s lovely blond locks. What a breathtaking sight she presented in her soft rose gown and her drawn up curls. Gray eyes flashing set off a brilliance in her one could not help but notice. She hid a frown behind her wine. One would think Royalty had much better vision. Ah, but it had not been vision, had it not? But the size of a foot. Asinine, if one could say. But one could not call the prince an ass, could one? Anyone could see Pricilla was the much more attractive of her two daughters. Still, she gave an inward shrug. An opportunity to marry Pricilla off advantageously could not be ignored.

  She had only one pressing issue to take deal with hereto. Hilda sipped slowly, conscious of the fragility of the glass she held, heart still thumping wildly. She set a thoughtful gaze on Cinderella, hiding her disgust at the light purple dress. Why, that color would appear better on one of her vermin field mouse friends than Cinderella. And where had it come from, pray tell?

  It appeared time for one of her heart-to-heart assemblies with Cinderella. It would have to be discreet, of course. The queen had taken an unnatural interest in her undesirable stepchild. She worried not, however. An opportunity would present itself. She inhaled the fragrance of the dark red wine. It always had.

  With half an ear Hilda listened to the hum of conversation surrounding her while her mind drifted back to her majesty’s sitting room. The tea service trimmed in genuine gold. She struggled to hold back her glee. The luxury and comfort of the palace, the circumstances, left her lightheaded. Soon she would have a suite of her own. Only natural as the mother of the future queen. The idea was exhilarating.

  “…tour throughout the gardens?” she heard Queen Thomasine ask. Deep shades of green and gold velvet covered armchairs of carved, gilded wood. Shimmering draperies hung to the floor in swathes of silk. Hilda smiled. She had an eye for these things.

  “It was lovely. I am especially fond of stories surrounding the Greek gods…” Cinderella’s soft voice snapped her attention back with a vengeance. With a bland eye, Hilda took special care not to let her disgust show, conscious of her efforts in hiding her sneer as Cinderella’s sentence trailed to nothing.

  “Those things cost a fortune to maintain,” King boomed, shoveling away a large portion of his venison.

  Hilda shifted her attention to Queen Thomasine whose expression held a blank mask.

  “The girls did seem to be enjoying themselves quite contentedly,” Prince said smoothly. Hilda caught the queen’s grateful flash, but it disappeared quickly.

  “That’s wonderful,” Hilda murmured, wondering what spell her daughters had fallen under. She’d always leaned toward the possibility that Cinderella was some kind of white witch. Evidenced by her way with the vermin she kept company with in the basement of their previous dwelling. It signaled a prime example. Why, the wretch came away with nary a bite. Hilda let out a frustrated sigh. One small case of rat-bite fever—was that too much to ask?

  She directed another covert glance toward Cinderella. Alas, clearly it was past time for their
little rendezvous.

  She took another sip of her wine and smiled.

  Chapter 16

  A terrible premonition rocked Cinderella. Fleeing to her room, however, did not prove to be an option at the moment. Queen Thomasine’s invitation for the women’s adjournment to the library did little to dispel the pending sense of danger. They removed themselves as the men lingered behind doing whatever it was men did when women were not in attendance.

  She recalled something to do with port, whatever that symbolized. Cinderella shrunk behind Pricilla and Essie hoping to escape Stepmamá’s notice. But Queen Thomasine pulled her arm through hers and gifted her a most benevolent smile.

  “Come along, Cinderella, ma chére.”

  Awestruck, she followed unfailingly. One did not ignore the queen. No matter how frightened one was.

  “How many fountains did you manage to see today?” the queen asked.

  “We counted four, your majesty.”

  “Ah, then you will have to see more in the next few days. Weather permitting, of course. Tell me, dear, which of the four of our infamous Greek fountain gods struck you best?”

  “Apollo was spectacular,” Cinderella reflected. The queen was so warm and sincere in her efforts, Cinderella allowed a moment of tranquility to settle over her before answering. She reveled in the touch of an absent mother she’d never known. The silence drew out and her cheeks heated as if the queen could read her very private thoughts. “The depiction with his golden lyre is brilliant.” Cinderella answered quickly, breathlessly.

  “But?” Queen Thomasine’s patience reigned so true, Cinderella let her guard slacken.

  “And Zeus. He is so strong and fierce. I wonder at the artist’s ability to carve such vivid thunderbolts about him…” she trailed off shaking her head still shocked by the intricate detail she still could picture. She lowered her voice. “But I suppose of the four, I could not help but be most singularly impressed by Poseidon. How did they create all those elaborate sea creatures encircling him?”

  Queen Thomasine’s laugh burst forth drawing Stepmamá’s sudden undivided attention. Venom spewed from her and Cinderella flinched under the silent assault.

  “I am pleased you like him, my dear. He happens to be one of my favorites, as well. As I said, you shall see more tomorrow.” The queen moved forward indicating the women to sit. Cinderella moved to the outset of the circle, well beyond Stepmamá’s reach.

  Small talk from Pricilla and Esmeralda and their view of the gardens and grounds ensued until the king and Prince joined them a short time later. Prince’s manservant followed them into the library. He seemed to be everywhere. Cinderella only noticed because Pricilla’s cheeks pinkened so prettily at his arrival, surprising Cinderella at the sudden change in her manner.

  “Ah, Arnald, my nephew. How nice you could join us, my dear,” Queen Thomasine said. There was a twist to her lips that Cinderella might have described as acerbic. It did not comport with her earlier demeanor.

  From there it was all torture. Sheer torture.

  Cinderella felt like a bug under a large magnifier. Not just by Stepmamá. She caught several covert glances from Prince, which only flooded her cheeks with an uncomfortable warmth. He could not know who she was, could he? Non, non. Impossible.

  There were also worried perusals from Essie though she failed to grasp the underlying reasons.

  “It was the strangest thing, it just flew up out of the air like….like magic,” Pricilla demurred with a soft laugh, reveling in the sudden attention.

  Cinderella forced her consideration to Pricilla’s less than animated version of the afternoon’s wind; however, the smug look Pricilla shot Essie was not very nice. She clearly laid blame of the wind on Essie’s unfortunate affliction. Cinderella pressed her lips together, irritated with Pricilla’s self-satisfied complacency.

  The wrath of Athena. Well, she supposed it took time for some things to change.

  “I’m sorry, dear?” Queen Thomasine inquired.

  Oh, no. She’d said it aloud? There was no hiding the fire in her cheeks with everyone’s eyes bearing down on her.

  “Who’s Athena?” Essie asked quickly, plainly grateful for Cinderella’s untimely words. Pricilla, on the other end of the spectrum, gnashed her teeth.

  “The Greek goddess of wisdom, Esmeralda, dear,” the queen told her. The moment smoothed over. “You’ll find her pond on the further most southern area of the gardens. Another of my favorites.”

  “One of Zeus’s favorite daughters,” Cinderella squeaked.

  “Ah, oui. The embodiment of strategy and justice.” Prince intervened. It drew the attention away from Essie, and she, thanked the heavens. Cinderella let out a slow breath and gave him a shy smile of thanks.

  Pricilla shook her head, light blond curls brushing her cheek. It gave off a decided feminine delicacy any man in his right mind would be hard-pressed to resist. Cinderella watched in amazement as a slight smile touched Pricilla’s lips making her appear, quite…irritatingly so…beautiful. She stifled a groan. She didn’t want Pricilla to be beautiful too. She would never stand a chance against the both of them.

  But Pricilla marched on, recounting how the air shimmered with sparkles. The full sharpness of her wit sunk Cinderella. The more she talked the lower she fell. Fortunately, nothing was said regarding their uncontrollable giggles that had them sounding like a gaggle of geese. Small mercy, that, under Stepmamá’s fierce perusal.

  The king bellowed. “And, you son? How did you and Arnald spend your day?” His voice startled her in its blast. The library was just not large enough for a sound such as his, she decided. Apparently, he knew only one volume.

  From the corner of her eye, Cinderella could see both Essie and Pricilla struggling to contain sudden grins. Surely they would not burst into fits of giggles now.

  “Arnald and I supervised repairs on the western perimeter wall,” Prince answered. When it became apparent that Prince and his cousin struggled in their efforts to hide grins too, Cinderella sat very still, fought to remain invisible.

  “Tomorrow, my dears, we shall host a picnic on the northern reaches of the estate. There is a small lake, a lovely area.” Without so much as a blink of her eye, Queen Thomasine also added, “Prince shall be accompanying the entourage as well. New guests arrived from Torino, Italy this afternoon. Conte de Marco Lecce and his sons, Alessandro and Niccolò will also join the outing.”

  “Conte de Lecce is here? In Chalmers?” Prince’s sharp tone had Cinderella’s quick notice.

  “I regret they were unable to attend supper this evening due to the length of their journey. Suffice to say, they should be as good as new on the morrow,” the queen smiled.

  Cinderella detected a slight tightening of Prince’s lips, though he managed his signature smile, nonetheless. Stepmamá practically twittered in her seat at the mention of an Italian Conte. She supposed Stepmamá would now be hoping for a fine match for Pricilla since Prince was thus betrothed to Essie. The situation became more unbearable by the moment.

  To make matters worse, Stepmamá announced that young women indeed needed their beauty sleep. Prickles rose along Cinderella’s skin, heightening her alarm.

  “If you’ll excuse us, your majesties?” Stepmamá said and stood.

  Prince, Arnald and the king stood, bowing their acceptance.

  “Come along girls. You too, Cinderella.” The sweetness of Stepmamá’s tone might have well been poison.

  Her stomach dropped.

  Cinderella had no recourse. What else was she to do but follow? A palace such as this had eyes everywhere, she reassured herself. Surely Stepmamá would dare not convey her displeasure with physicality where someone might see. It was far too risky.

  Cinderella lagged behind Essie and Pricilla into the foyer with just the sound of their rustling skirts echoing though the great hallway. Stepmamá moved with a purposed stride toward the west wing. At the fork they would separate. Only a few steps more to safety. Head down,
Cinderella dare not draw the slightest amount of attention, dare not make a sound.

  Luck was not with her, however.

  They rounded the corner and Stepmamá whipped about, fury writhing from her. Gray eyes so similar to Pricilla’s glittered with something maniacal and dangerous.

  Cinderella stilled, terrified at the revulsion in her glare. The path between them parted. Cinderella took an allotted step back, fear threatening to buckle her knees. If she collapsed, all was lost. Stepmamá would stomp her into oblivion. She had to keep her head…literally.

  Fleeting thoughts as the dream day of a lifetime, possibly her last, passed through her mind. Panic clogged her throat. Palms damp, and heart pounding furiously, a sudden calm came over her. She lifted her chin. Let Stepmamá turn this into a nightmare, she could not steal what was in her heart.

  “Mamá,” Pricilla smiled, stepping between them. “We did not tell you how the prince happened by our carriage this afternoon. It was really quite exciting,” she gushed. Pricilla did not gush.

  Stepmamá looked at Pricilla as if surprised to see her. Cinderella had an inclination her own expression matched. “It was?” Stepmamá asked. Confusion tinted her voice.

  Pricilla encircled Stepmamá’s arm sashaying her expertly down the great hall. Cinderella, too terrified to move, felt faint.

  Essie darted over and snagged her arm as well, nudging her into motion. “Breathe, Cinde,” she hissed. “Breathe.”

  Cinderella licked dry lips. If she was not mistaken, Pricilla had just saved her a very violent thrashing.

  *****

  Prince watched the foursome disappear through the door with narrowed eyes. He did not have a good feeling about the situation. His future mother-in-law struck him as a ruthless monster. ’Twas obvious she cared naught for Cinderella. He directed a gaze toward his mother who met his eyes. He could see at once her thoughts mirrored his. It was there in the worried frown drawn across her brow.