The Wronged Princess - Book I (8 page)

Yes, she, a paragon of virtue
. 
A very wise woman, indeed
. 
She would counsel him; She was quite clever in her way
. 
In most times, wanted or not, she was a fountain of advice
. 
Oui
. 
Now that he had a clear direction, a reasonable tranquility settled over him
. 
He could feel the blood in his veins slow to a more acceptable level
. 
Could feel the panic subside
. 
He let out a steady breath.

“Have you seen
Mamán
,” he thundered, causing his
snoozing
father a violent start to attention
. 
Prince winced
. 
It
was a very childish act, and
he
mumbled a hasty “sorry, Papá.”

“Ahhhhh,”
Papá
stammered
. 
His booming voice filled the room even in
the
throes
of
half
sleep
, drawing a tender smile from Prince. “
Non, non
, son
. 
As you can see I
chose to pass
the time reading.”

“
Oui
, Papá,” he
agreed
, unable to disguise a twitch of sudden amusement
. 
His problem with…ah…he struggled for a moment, Efrata, took temporary leave
as
he studied his father’s rumpled shirt and relaxed position
. 

“Papá?”

“Yes, well.” Papá cleared his throat noisily, readjusted his glasses and said, “She is out.”

Prince let out a resigned sigh at the less than rewarding exchange and made his excuses for escape.

Chapter
4

Thomasine’s repetitive steps were designed to stem an impatience that would stun the masse
s
. 
Reigning queen
s did not pace in deserted chambers that were designed to stay young brides from escaping binding marriage contracts they’d had no say in
. 
Hence, the strategically placed windows near the top of the walls edging an unreachable ceiling
. 
One could only imagine the spectacular view hearing the harsh waters crash against jagged cliffs
. 
The only way out was to fly, if one could squeeze through the small opening, that is.

Stone walls and hard floors echoed
with her steps
soundly against the cold surfaces, even in her light slippers. This portion of the castle had been uninhabited for years
. 
It created the ideal location to meet “Fairy Godmother.
”
Certainly her son could not possibly think to find her here
. 
At times, t
h
at boy
seemed
as clueless as his father, she scowled
. 
It had taken clever maneuvering to
find a locale
where
some overly helpful servant or maid
did not lurk
ready to announce her whereabouts.

On her fifteenth or twentieth turn about the room, a ringlet of shining ripples wafted from the dusty floors, revealing the presence of an angel in pink
. 
Angel, her foot.

“I’m worried for him,” Thomasine declared.

“
Ma chére
,”
she
tsk’d, tsk’d
. 
“You said yourself this task should be carried to fruition; otherwise, the dear boy should never learn
to
concoct a thought of his own
. 
I would remind you that this entire scheme lies directly at your feet.
”

“Oh, what difference would it make, Faustine?” Thomasine
sniffed
with distaste. “Let him find a woman who is able think for him as I have for
Osmond
all these years.
”
She punctuated it with, “You can see from
my own example
it has not hurt a thing.”

“Please refrain from calling me that obscene name
. 
You know how I detest it,” Faustine chastised.

“Well,
’t
i
s your given name, is it not, sister
?
It means
the highest of luck
. 
And what I need now is luck.”

Faustine scrutinized her twin
. 
They had the same dark curling hair, flashing blue eyes and upturned noses
. 
The only difference in the moment was Thomasine's defensive posture, stern expression, and clenched fists
. 
And, w
ell, Thomasine's magnificent dress compared to her own frothy pink tulle
-gown
. 
The diamonds sewn throughout were an especially nice touch
. 

“Well, of course, it doesn’t
hurt
anything,” Faustine agreed
. 
“What of
your
determination that your son take pride in a decision he himself could or should make?
”
She spoke with a gentle softness to her tone
. 
“You have always wanted more for him
. 
You have said so yourself."

"I await your point." Thomasine frowned
,
her impatience
evident
with a tapping foot
. 

Faustine knew Thomasine's irritation hid her true fear
. 
Fear her only son would fall victim to the same weakness of the mind that ravaged their
own
father
. 
Thomasine's fear
s
were real
enough, she allowed
. 
For the very reason she harbored those same fears
for her own son
. 
She also believed as Thomasine that many of their father's traits were in direct relation to a lack of self-discipline,
self-worth
and strong values
. 

But Thomasine's resolve had weakened and
Faustine felt
her
duty in
set
ting
thi
ngs back on their
righted
path
. 
She
drew herself up and met Thomasine nose to nose, hands on her hips
. 

"I would like the same
. 
He is my nephew after all.
”
She waved her wand threateningly.

Thomasine’s whole body sagged with abject misery, she dropped her face in the palms of her hands
. 
“But what if it goes too far and he actually
marries
the wrong one?”

“Trust, my dear, trust.”

"
Oui, oui
. 
I suppose you are right.
”
Thomasine lifted her head
. 

Relief assailed Faustine at Thomasine’s renewed determination
. 
She
was
right, Thomasine just needed reassurance they were following the
set
course for the
ir
future leadership of king and country
. 

"And put that stick away
. 
You are going to poke someone's eye out with it."
Thomasine
spun on her heel and quit the chamber stirring a streak of dust in her wake
, ever the regal queen.

Faustine scowled at her retreating form.

Chapter
5

In a blink, the unwelcome fortnight had passed with the same haste the tower clock struck midnight two weeks past
. 
And now, here she sat imprisoned with her evil
stepmamá
and two vicious sisters, encapsulated in a cramped, albeit, plush cage
. 
Cinderella focused on the dark paneled walls with the lovely sconces
. 
Brocaded silk draped the interior for added insulation
. 
She huddled deep in her thin wool pelisse using
one
tight fist in place of missing buttons
and slid the other into the pocket of her apron
. 
Her fingers sought the comforting presence of
Marcel
. 
Her
smuggled companion warming her more than the h
eated bricks
used to offset
cool fall air
. 
It was the
frigid company
she rode in
of which she had no choice
.

He nudged her calloused fingers as if offering his reassurance.

Cinderella
swallowed
. She
could only pray she did not cast up her accounts in the confines of the luxuriant Royal contraption
, that or cry
. 
She
focused on the
smooth the heavy curtains of deep red rich velvet trimmed with thick gold tatting
; c
oncentrate
d
on the bounce of perfect matching horses as they trotted closer to a more pressing concern.

The ultimate nightmare of Esmeralda marrying Prince Charming
. 
Her
Prince
. 
She had to bite back the bitter tears clogging her throat
. 
She looked unseeing out the carriage window.

“
My
daughter, the Princess of Chalmer
s.”
Stepmamá’s
elation in the very
words
running through her head
chilled Cinderella to her bones
. 
She prayed
, yet again, for a sustaining stomach
. 
It shouldn’t prove difficult since she’d not
had
much in the way of sustenance
. 
She tugged her gaze from the passing landscape of bright colored foliage to risk a glance to her arch enemy, Esmeralda. The effort to keep her face bland and free of expression, lips relaxed, was excruciating.

“
Mamá
,
s’il vous plait
.” Esmeralda breathed
. 

Esmeralda did seem rather terrified but Cinderella knew it was just an act
. 
She’d seen it time and time
again
through the years;
from
both
Pricilla and Esmeralda
. 
Consummate actresses—both of them
. 
Cinderella’s
resentments ran too deep to har
bor much in the way of sympathy
.

Esmeralda’s eyes were downcast but her lashes beat as rapid as the wings of a…a…flying monkey
!
Cinderella bit back a derisive snort that would have more than likely earned her being bodily cast from the carriage
. 
She
could just make out a pale strain of white around
Esmeralda’s
mouth. Esmeralda certainly had no trouble playing up the fear.

Stepmamá
reclined on the leather upholstered bench across from Cinderella with all her heated focus on Esmeralda.
Unfortunate
ly
for Esmeralda,
Stepmamá
did not like
her
battering eyes one bit
. 
Poor
little Essie
. 
If she had not taken to snatching Prince from under her nose, Cinderella might have been inclined to feel more empathy towards her
. 
After all, Cinderella knew all too well the detriment of Esmeralda’s current position
. 
In any event,
Stepmamá
had never treated her own daughters with anything less than pampered favor.

“Please
what
? Pray tell, Essie,” Pricilla hissed
. 

Cinderella flinched at the animosity spewing from Pricilla and pressed herself deeper into the space of her own little corner
clenching the fabric deep inside her pocket
. 
A mewed sound reached her ears and she loosened her hand quickly
. 
The bench she shared with Pricilla vibrated with Pricilla’s fierce anger
, making Cinderella
grateful in t
his instant Pricilla’s anger was not directed at
her
. 
The atmosphere so thick in tension indicated no one had heard her
Marcel
’s
cry.