Love Spell: Book 2 of The Grimm Laws (25 page)

“
I
have never
before beheld this many candles in one place. There must be over a thousand.” Josselyn eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Aye,” Cinderella agreed, “a splendid sight.” Her voice was flat, uninterested.

“You could at least pretend to be enjoying yourself,” Josselyn said, helping herself to a second piece of bread from the tray directly in front of them. She topped it with a thick layer of butter and then took a large bite.

“You might want to slow down on the eating, or you will soon be unable to fit into any of my gowns.”

Josselyn made a face. “Must you be so hateful all of the time? You are just vexed because Edward refused to sit by you.”

Cinderella felt heat rise to her face. “You are mistaken. I chose to sit here with my family.”

Josselyn gave her a sickly, sweet smile. “Sure you did. Be careful, my dear, or I’ll sick Mother on thee. Mother asked me how the two of us were getting along, and to my credit, I lied and told her
well
.”

“Thy magnanimous nature astounds me, dear sister.”

“I will not allow thee to spoil this evening for me,” she said with a huff, but Cinderella noticed that she’d pushed the bread off to the side and was nibbling on berries instead.

Cinderella felt a momentary twinge of satisfaction at having gotten the better of Josselyn who seemed to take a peculiar delight in Cinderella’s misery and insisted on defining herself as being the opposite of her. If Cinderella hated something, she loved it. If Cinderella were miserable, she was jumping for joy.

She shifted in her seat so that she was facing away from Josselyn. For the first time, she looked around at her surroundings. Josselyn was right. The banquet hall was a magnificent sight with the silver platters laden with boar, hens, geese, pheasant, heron, crane, rabbit, and venison. They were now in their second of three courses. The first course had consisted of meat pies, a thick pottage, and sweet tarts filled with dates and honey. The soft glow of the candles added an element of mystery to the evening. Under different circumstances, Cinderella might’ve found it charming, but tonight, the flickering candles cast unnatural shadows over the guests, making them appear sinister and secretive. Her eyes rested on the boar’s head, prominently displayed in the center of the table. A large red apple was stuffed into its mouth, compelling it to wear a macabre smile. Even in death, the boar was forced into submission. She suppressed a shudder and willed her thoughts elsewhere.

There were two long tables running parallel, each seating approximately sixty people, the majority of them being nobility, all arranged according to their affluence or rank. The simple fact that these people had been invited to a royal banquet meant that they were important. Those seated nearest to the king and queen were the most prominent of them all. Her gaze went to the royal table at the head of the room. It ran perpendicular to the two long tables so that its occupants could look out over the guests. The king and queen were seated in the center. Merek, the king’s most trusted advisor, was seated to the left of King Aalexander and then there was Edward, looking especially regal in an emerald green tunic. His blonde hair mimicked gold in the dim light, and she was struck by how royal he looked. Had he been carved out of stone, he wouldn’t have looked more fitting of the title
crown prince
. She studied him dispassionately as if he were part of the elegant furnishings surrounding them. A feeling of loneliness overwhelmed her. He was as much of a stranger to her as was his mother, Queen Loreena, who was sitting unnaturally straight with her tightly coifed hair and layers upon layers of ruffles creeping up her neck.

Despite what she’d told Josselyn about wanting to sit with her family, it was Edward who had distanced himself from her. Cinderella had been more than a little surprised when she learned that she was not to be seated next to Edward. She should’ve suspected it considering how frosty and distant his demeanor had been prior to the banquet. When he escorted her to her seat, he was woodenly polite and made some excuse about needing to sit alone at the royal table for appearance sake. If only she’d been smart enough to mask her expression when Rushton’s name was mentioned in the garden. She’d let her true feelings show, and it was going to cost her. Now it was up to her to placate Edward, a task that was growing impossibly wearisome. As if reading her thoughts, his eyes met hers. He gave her a slight smile before turning his attention elsewhere. Had Edward found Rushton? Was Rushton back in the dungeon? Did he escape? The desire to know his whereabouts and how he was fairing was burning her up inside. Her head began to throb, and she gripped the arms of the chair.

She turned to Seraphina, who was seated to her left. “I am feeling rather poorly. I think I will retire to my chamber.” She pushed her seat back to rise, but Seraphina gripped her arm, the coldness of her touch seeping through the fabric and onto her bare skin.

“Attendance at this banquet is mandatory.” She offered a tight smile. “Sit down,” she growled through clenched teeth. “I’ll not have thee embarrassing the family.”

Stunned, Cinderella complied.

Seraphina’s voice became soothing, and she started rubbing Cinderella’s back. “Drink some ale, my dear. It will help thee to feel more at ease.”

Cinderella nodded and reached for the goblet, her hand shaking.

Seraphina summoned a servant with the flick of her hand. “The princess would like some wine.”

Nay, she didn’t want wine. She didn’t want ale, and she certainly didn’t want to endure a third course. A goblet of wine was placed before her.

“There. Drink it, and you will feel better,” Seraphina cooed. Her voice was syrupy but her eyes were cold. “Drink it,” she demanded.

Cinderella nodded numbly and drank. The wine felt like fire going down her throat, but she swallowed it down nevertheless. She looked at the boar’s head. Its vacant eyes mocked her.
You and I are not that different
, it seemed to say.
I’m dead and so are you … you just don’t know it yet.

King Aalexander stood and held up his arms. “My loyal subjects. The queen and I are honored to have thee in our presence.”

A rustle went through the guests.

The man across from her stood. She recognized him as a duke from a neighboring manor. He raised his goblet. “To the King … Aalexander the Just.”

Goblets were raised all around.

“Long live the king!”

“Long live the king!” came the repeated phrase, almost simultaneously throughout the banquet hall.

King Aalexander seemed pleased. He motioned for the group to be silent. “We will now enjoy some entertainment.”

All eyes turned to the minstrels’ gallery, an elevated platform adjacent to the royal table where the musician’s and other entertainers performed. Right on cue, a jester stepped out from behind the brocade, velvet curtain. His exaggerated movements and bright clothes reminded her of a colorful bird. His funny antics elicited bursts of laughter from the guests. The laughter was infectious and by the time the third course was underway, there was an overall sense of merriment in the hall.

The fire breathers came next.
Oohs
and
ahs
murmured throughout the hall as everyone craned their necks to see the men that ate the fire and then breathed it back out in large, flaming bursts. Even Cinderella found herself becoming enthralled at the spectacle. So much so, that for one small moment, she forgot her troubles.

The feast was winding down when the minstrels took their honored place on the platform. One held a lute and the other a harp. They began with a fanciful tune that reminded Cinderella of butterflies dancing in a meadow and the clear, fresh waters of the stream where she used to play. A handful of graceful dancers emerged from behind the curtain. Their merry laughter floated through the air as they swayed back and forth to the gentle rhythm. Then the tune deepened, becoming more dramatic. The curtain parted to reveal a dancer dressed in a rich, purple gown. Cinderella never would’ve given her a second glance had she not looked over and seen Edward’s face. He was mesmerized by the dancer, leaning forward in his seat as if he were trying to close the distance between them. Her body was slender and lithe, and there was something feline about her soft, precise steps. She might’ve been beautiful, but it was impossible to tell because her face was obscured by two large peacock feathers that added to her allure. The dancer made her way over to the royal table, where she began dancing directly in front of Edward. Her movements were slow and hypnotic, drawing Edward in. In fluid movements, she unwound the long fabric that was woven into her braid, releasing hair so ebony that it seemed alive against the flickering candlelight. Cinderella’s breath caught when the girl held out the ribbon to Edward. He accepted the offering, raised it to his nose, and sniffed. This brought a round of applause from the guests. The music grew more intense, and the girl started dancing wildly. Someone near the back of the hall started clapping. Others joined in until nearly the entire room was clapping feverishly to the beat of the music. Then without warning, the music stopped. The hall drew in a collective breath, suspended by the intensity of it. The next event happened so quickly that Cinderella thought for a moment that she’d imagined it. The girl leaned over the table and kissed Edward full on the lips. Before he could react, she scampered away and disappeared behind the curtain. Murmurs ran through the crowd. The music began again, as if nothing had happened, but all eyes turned to Cinderella. She wasn’t prepared for the jealousy that burned hot through her veins or the way her face stung.

Her humiliation was complete when Seraphina whispered in her ear. “See what thy self absorption has caused? You have been outdone by some traveling minstrel. You have spent one too many nights nursing thy broken heart when you should have been focusing on thy relationship with the prince. Do not think that his love for thee will never wax cold. The summer always gives way to autumn. The kingdom is in thy grasp, and you are throwing it away over some peasant!”

Tears welled in her eyes.

“Do not dare fall apart here in front of these people,” Seraphina hissed. “Lift up thy chin and pretend to be the princess that they think you are.”

Cinderella squared her jaw and merely nodded. Eyes were still watching her. She didn’t know how much more scrutiny she could endure in one evening. Thankfully, all attention was whisked away from her in the next moment.

A rustle of excitement, as tangible as rushing winds, fluttered through the room. All turned to see the final performer—Wisteria. Her long, silk gown was the color of deep-blue water, and a crown of sapphires shimmered in the elaborate braid that wound around the top of her wavy hair. She walked to the platform with such a commanding presence that all eyes were fixed upon her. Cinderella’s pulse quickened. Wisteria didn’t look at all like a broken-down woman whose son was locked away in the dungeon. In fact, she carried herself triumphantly, as if she’d somehow won. Did that mean that Rushton had escaped? Hope fluttered in her breast.

The minstrels began to play a melancholy tune. Wisteria took a deep breath that appeared to draw the energy in the room to her. Her arresting voice started low at first and then increased in volume. She sang of a friendless traveler in a far-away land, searching for a warm fire by which to warm his bones, a bowl of pottage to ease his hunger, clean straw on which to lay his head. It struck Cinderella how similar to the friendless traveler she was. She was a prisoner in this friendless place, forced to play a part she did not want, and all because of what? Wealth? Prestige? Caught up in her thoughts, Cinderella scarcely realized the song was over until she heard Wisteria speak.

“This next song is for my son, Rushton.”

Cinderella gasped.

“This is outrageous!” she heard Seraphina say.

“Wherever you are, wherever you go, I hope you will find happiness and that which you most desire.”

A thrill of elation ran over Cinderella. Rushton had escaped! She felt giddy and a little dizzy. No wonder Wisteria looked triumphant. He had escaped!

She looked at the royal table. Queen Loreena’s face was cherry red, and she looked furious. King Aalexander had his hand on her arm and was whispering in her ear. It looked like he was trying to calm her down, trying to prevent her from causing a scene. She looked at Edward. He seemed equally distressed.

Cinderella’s gaze went back to Wisteria, and she was shocked to see Wisteria staring at her. In some inexplicable way that she didn’t understand, Wisteria seemed to be stripping all of her carefully crafted pretense away. She was gazing into her soul—weighing it out and finding her lacking. The condemnation emanating from her knowing eyes was so tangible that it almost burned. Cinderella met the gaze full on, jutting out her chin. Wisteria had been the cause of all of the trouble—the reason that she and Rushton would be forced to live separate lives—lives of desperation and loneliness. The resentment that boiled up inside of her left her feeling nauseous.

“This next song is entitled,
My Daisy
,” Wisteria said, her piercing eyes never leaving Cinderella’s.

The music began to flow. Wisteria’s voice was rich and haunting. The lyrics were invisible hands that reached out in one fell swoop and carved out Cinderella’s heart.

T
he music trailed off
, leaving a melancholy ember smoldering in the evening air. Princess or not, Cinderella could no longer control her emotions. She sat there, looking straight ahead, seeing nothing, tears rolling unabashed down her face.