The Wronged Princess - Book I (2 page)

Flying back on a broomstick
had been
out
of the question—who did she think she was, the Wicked Witch of the West
?

Cinderella paced the floor
from her own little corner
to the cottage door
. 
Back and forth
she wore a path
on gleaming worn-wood floors
, peering through cheerful
red and white gingham-checked curtains with each pass
. 
She needed these few moments
compose
herself
. 
Why, what if they’d somehow
recognized her as the unknown guest
at the ball
?
Stepmamá
was sure to
kill
her
. 

“
Non
.
Non
. 
Stepmamá
would not
kill
me,” she assured Marcel
. 
“Fairy Godmother would surely save me from a fate as dire as death.
”
But
Cinderella frowned, not all
that convinced
.

Still,
’
twould be best if
Stepmamá
, Esmeralda and Pricilla
would hurry
from
the ball
, for
reassure
, if nothing else
. 
T
he vibration of carriage wheels
rattled the window panes, t
rundling down the isolated road in their small corner of Chalmers Kingdom
. 
Knots of trepidation formed in her stomach
. 
Mayhap she was not so ready for them after all
.

Oh, how had she allowed herself into this predicament? Hands twisted in anguish through her apron
. 
She should have
heeded
her lesson
s
, she berated herself.
This
is what came
of believing in fairy tales
. 

Heartbreak and fear.

With deep measured breaths,
Cinderella made a concerted
effort to crush her restive nerves
. 
B
ut
they
failed
to
quell
the
anxiety
that palpitated
through her veins
. 
E
ach passing
second
t
he carriage drew closer
,
and with it
roiling
q
ueasiness
. 
Cheeks warm
with
distress
she rushed to the wool padded-footstool and plopped down
. 
Even that was not enough to
soothe
such apprehension
. 
A place where she’d spent many a day dreaming of being a
young Norwegian princess or a milkmaid
. 

S
he rose and peer
ed
through the parted curtains
unable to remain immobile
. She brushed clammy, trembling hands over her drab
skirts
and waited for the conveyance to
creak to it
s excruciating stop, and inhaling
deeply
, again
.

In silent torture she watched
Stepmamá
sweep from the buggy with the aid of their only footman
. 
Much like a reigning queen
. 
Ha
.
In Stepmamá’s wildest dreams.

Stepmamá’s
nose, long and crooked
,
made for a less than attractive sight
. 
The deep furrows in her forehead reflected blatant, narrow-mindedness
. 
Bitter lines about her
mouth aged her more than her actual years
. 
Mayhap
Stepmamá
was the Wicked Witch of the West and she cast her ugly spell.

Cinderella
pushed the terrible thoughts away
. 
After all,
Papá
must truly have loved her
. 
He’d
married
her
when
Cinderella
was but a wee child of
three
. 
A feat she still struggled to comprehend
. 
Why else would he have married her
?

Anonymity provided decent cover for Cinderella’s true feelings as her eyes followed the procession of her mean and
vicious
stepsisters, less attractive than their evil
mam
á
,
were that even possible
. 
She cast a quick glance to
Marcel
. 
He gave her an encouraging nod.

Having
suffered at their hands for many years
, Cinderella knew when to speak and when to hold her tongue
. 
N
ow that
she and her sisters
were at the marriageable ages of seventeen and eighteen, Cinderella hugged a spark of hope with the advantage of one little secret.

Prince Charming of Chalmers Kingdom was in love with
her
.

In a moment of panic she remembered
Marcel
and gasped
. 
“Hide!” she hissed at him
. 
With a tiny mew he fled beneath
the
baseboard, and w
ith a patience long sensed honed, backed from the window and donned her most earnest and heartfelt expression
as
her family
barged through the door
. 
“Was the ball just wonderful?
”
She was gushing
. 
Ugh
. 
Yet survival remained
vital
in this quaint cottage
. 
So if she must gush, then gush she would.

“Of course,
Cinderella
.
”
Amazing how Pricilla and Esmeralda could spat in unison like
rusted cringing door hinges
. 
Cinderella
strived for
bland and
nonchalant
tones
.

Pricilla bit out, “Until that mysterious princess showed up.”

Cinderella swallowed
. 
Soundlessly, she
prayed
. 
“Mysterious princess?
”
It came out
similar to Marcel’s
squeak but she mustered every ounce of innocence she could manage into the one tiny
question.

“Once
she
showed up, the prince ceased
casting
his
attentions
toward any other marriageable prospect
s
.
”
Esmeralda snarled through thin lips, and sniffed her disdain
, tossing a head of copper curls
.

Cinderella
mustered
her
mask
of practiced blankness
. 
Excruciating as it would be,
she
must
languish through the next unbearable hour if she had any hope of learning what happened after her untimely departure
. 
As expected,
Pricilla and Esmeralda droned on with illustrated mundane descriptions on the varying dresses, and ballroom decorations
. 
A shame she possessed not enough skills to redirect the conversation to Prince and the monopolization of his “mysterious princess.
”

The thought even crossed her mind throughout their incessant
droning
,
she might rather be washing the floors
. 
Instead, she stifled the many urges to roll her eyes
as
they prattled
o
n
. 
Well, she had asked had she not
?
She deserved
the torture
, she supposed with an inward sigh,
having let
curiosity
get
the better of her
. 

Still, she struggled
to
repress the
impulse
to spill her
secret
, b
ut experience had given her the gift of patience
. 
She cheered at the thought.

“What is with you, Cinderella?”
Stepmamá’s
gaze narrowed on her with penetrating suspicion and
undisguised
curiosity
. 

Cinderella, w
ho had been rocking back and fo
rth in soft flat slippers, froze
. 
“No...nothing,
Stepmamá
.”

“You seem almost—giddy,”
Stepmamá
accused
in her
nasal and
high pitched
grate
. 
She
peered closer
,
her beaked nose almost touching
Cinderella
. 
"
S
crap
e those
cobwebs from your hair
. 
If I did
not
know better I would
allege
that
glitter
covered
your
h
ead
.
”
Stepmamá
paused as if considering
such a
possibility before her
loud cackle burst
forth
. 
Cinderella swallow
ed the
overwhelming temptation to tell
her it
was
glitter
in a painful gulp.

"
Oui
,
Stepmam
á
.
”
Cinderella
glanced
round for something, anything to redirect
Stepmamá’s
attention
. 
“
Tea
. 
May I get you tea,
M
adám
?
”

Stepmamá
appeared to consider it for a moment, then, said—
or
hissed, more like, “
Non
. 
My feet desire a soaking
. 
Obtain
the water for my tired and aching
limbs
.
”
Cinderella knew
an escape when one presented itself
. 

“
Oui
,
Stepmamá
. 
Right
away.
”
Stepmamá
dropped her massive frame in
to
the one comfortable chair and
shifted her unnerving consideration to Esmeralda
,
sending shudders down Cinderella’s spine
. 
Stop that incessant blinking at once
. 
How am to I ever marry you off with that repulsive twitch
?
”
Cinderella slipped through the cottage door to fetch the pail of water,
Stepmamá’s
bellowing screech pealing against the walls
.

Once beyond sight Cinderella
bent
and shook
out
her
long dark
hair out where shiny particles, indeed,
floated
like magic dust to the ground
in
a shower of
shimmering sparkles
. 

She found she was unable to
suppress
her
grin.

*****

Prince Charming of Chalmers Kingdom lay reclined on his royal bed atop red velvet coverlets
seemingly unaffected by the
evenings’
catastrophe
. 
One arm folded behind his head,
ankles
crossed, he still wore his shined boots and contemplated the disastrous result
of
the
ball
.