Cinderella Spell - Laurie Lee Page 0,34

the thought she might be mistreated. “Take a royal carriage with you. The shoes can be stored in a compartment beneath the seats. Convey Cinderella and her family. Be sure they lack nothing.”

“What of the real glass slipper?” Marissa asked.

“It remains here.” He didn’t want to look away from it.

“Is that wise? Yes, our best craftsmen work to make replicas, but nothing will match the original as well. Even if someone can fit their foot, you won’t know for certain until she tries the real slipper.”

He felt torn. What Mars said was true, and yet the thought of parting with the remaining piece of Cinderella? How could he bare it?

“I agree.” Captain Standish nodded.

“You would have to go with it. Guard it with your life.” Robert wanted him to say it wasn’t possible, then the slipper would have to stay.

Captain Standish tugged on his short beard. King William studied them both. “This is important, not just for my son, but for our country. I think you must go. If we have dire need, the pigeons are trained to cover distances.”

“Cinderella’s glass slipper goes with him?” Marissa seemed a bit too eager.

“Perhaps I should go as well.”

“No.” Standish, Father, and Marissa objected.

Captain Standish took the lead. “This venture is already going to cause a stir in every city and town we visit. Adding you in the mix would make it dangerous.”

“I don’t know that I can wait here and do nothing.” The thought of not knowing … it wasn’t to be born. His breath stuck in his throat.

King William pointed out the window. “You have military training. Our tenants need to be evaluated after winter. There is work for you here.”

Work didn’t appeal. He wanted Marissa. No, he desired Cinderella. He looked at Marissa. Where had the first thought come from? He’d found love, true love. Whatever these stray thoughts about his stepsister were, they needed to stop. He focused on the glass slipper. He focused on Cinderella.

17

Cinderella didn’t need the light of morning to know a week had passed. She stood ready in the open doorway of her room as the wing manager banged a gong, pulling the others from sleep. She trailed with them down the back steps, listening for the squeak which sometimes resulted in the tiny scurry of footsteps behind the wall. Today there was nothing, and she continued down to the lower kitchen. The group sat around a table set with mismatched chairs. A bowl of oatmeal slid in front of her. Weak coffee complimented the tasteless break of fast.

“Oy got sheger.” The girl beside her announced to the quiet group. “Wot yer give fer a pinch?”

“If you got sugar, it’s because you taken it from somewhere. You lose a hand if they get you.”

“Oy not a stealer.” She frowned at the older man. “Gil who stayed, she gave it ter me. I takin’ nothin.”

“What cha want fer it?” The old lady with the keys asked, as she pulled a small satchel from a pocket deep within her dress.

“Not gonna waste sugar on you, old witch.” The large man beside her nabbed the satchel.

“What are ye doin? Thief, thief,” she screeched, reaching across him to try to grasp her bag from his far hand. The bowl of oatmeal in front of him spilled across his lap and onto the floor. He flew from his seat, backhanding the older woman.

Cinderella looked down as chaos erupted around the table. Discord flavored her oatmeal, and she ate while the others bickered and fought.

Breakfast ended, and work began. Cinderella crouched in front of the fireplace. She scooped through the ashes piled against burnt shells of wood.

“Cinder among all the ashes. Seems fitting.” Heavy footsteps were followed by a deep voice and a throaty laugh.

Cinderella glanced up at the man looming over her. His was a full figure, the edges of his face beginning to blur. “I’m working, sir.”

“I have another job in mind for you.” He swept a hand across her hair. Cinderella made to stand but he pushed against her shoulder. “We can do this here. No one will disturb us.”

“I don’t want trouble, sir.” Cinderella lifted the pail, holding it between them.

He knocked it from her hands. “I’m more interested in what I want. Right now, that would be you.” He grabbed at her hair and Cinderella hissed at the feel of a pin scraping against her scalp.

She grabbed his wrist. The blaze of anger on his face soon paled, and his fingers released her. Cinderella stood, keeping