“What is she compared to you? The girl is no threat.”
Cinderella pressed one hand against his cheek. “You speak truth. She will not be.” Her voice hardened into a snarl. “Now, go.”
He hissed, pulling away from her, but it was too late. The man faded, and a large crow squawked in his place. His wings beat the air, but Cinderella kept hold of his feet. “To the palace. Whatever it takes.” She released him, and he flew away. She turned to look at the young woman in the mirror, and growled in a low, menacing voice. “Don’t come between me and my prize.”
The image changed from the palace to Cinderella’s bedroom. Her reflection carried the other slipper and hid it in a closet. It then withdrew a suitcase and dowdy clothes and placed them by her foot. Cinderella looked at the floor. The shoe remained where she’d placed it.
She took it with her and moved to her bedroom. Excitement stirred as she opened the closet. The secret compartment held her book of spells, but she wasn’t here for that now. She picked up the suitcase and placed the glass slipper on the shelf in its stead. She pulled the pale dress from her body, letting it fall to the floor where she could step on it. She raised the lid of the case and took a service gown, giving it a shake before slipping it over her head. A kerchief covered the blond curls while pulling her hair away from her face. Nothing of herself remained. Satisfied, she lifted the case by its handles and carried it to the room with the mirror.
She set the trunk in front of it. “I will need the little mirror.” It appeared, resting against the front of the case. She snatched it from the mirror, but this time no pain seared her flesh. Once the hand-held mirror had been placed inside, Cinderella lifted the case and stood ready. “Show me the manor.” Fields illuminated by moonlight sped by until a large country manor with wings on either end came into focus. “Take me to my room.” Images in the mirror shifted as though they reflected the eyes of one who walked the path to the front door. They turned to the left, taking a narrow hall leading to the back of the house. The servant stairs were through an old, battered door. At the top of the stairs, it turned and moved three doors. When they stopped inside a small room, Cinderella closed her eyes and shifted through.
The slight nauseous feeling came and went, just as it had when she traveled to and from the palace. She opened her eyes. After placing the case in a corner, she first removed the small hand-held mirror and affixed it to the wall. The servant’s room was the size of a closet. A simple straw bed pushed against the wall allowed room for a small table with a cracked pot and wash basin. She looked at her smooth hands, then flexed her fingers. Spots of skin darkened. Bruises and callouses rose across her knuckles and on the pads beneath her fingers. Working hands. She grinned. The spell strengthened, she could feel its slivers of thread spreading. All that remained was for the prince to find her.
A knock sounded at the door. “Morning is wasting.”
She looked at the dark window and raised her brows. Morning? She didn’t bother arguing. Life at the manor was an act to be played.
16
The image of blue eyes burned in Robert’s mind. “Find me.” He could hear her voice calling to him. The room around him faded until the cold feel of glass controlled his senses. He hadn’t realized he’d picked it from the table. Need caused his hand to tremble, and he tightened his grip. Dropping the connection between himself and Cinderella—he couldn’t bear the thought.
“This is how I will find her.” He spoke with force, a part of him recognized Marissa standing beside him. “I will find her and return her to our home as the princess she is and the queen she will be.”
“I pray it will be as you will it,” Marissa answered.
Her soft voice washed over him. A memory hovered just beyond Cinderella, but the glass in his hands grew warm.
“Find me.” Her whispers tore at his heart, drenched in desperation. “Please, you must find me before it is too late.”
He rushed from the room, determined to set the search into action.
Anger and hurt warred within Marissa. She