Cinderella Spell - Laurie Lee Page 0,40

feet. He didn’t retreat, and they stood together. He lifted her mask with his other hand. Her heart pounded as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He still wore his mask, preventing her from seeing his face. She couldn’t read his expression.

“This is a fine blade,” the fencing master called from somewhere. “Let’s test it in a match.” Robert pulled away from her and Marissa allowed a soldier to help her over the wall. She remained, watching the two men thrust and parry. Her breathing didn’t improve. She could see Robert’s muscles moving beneath his sweat-coated white shirt. Grunts, shuffling feet, murmurs of the growing crowd…they filled the air around her, and Marissa shook her head. What was she thinking?

Horse hooves thundered into the yard. “My Lord, a message has arrived.” The announcement had Marissa running for the palace. There wouldn’t be time for a bath.

22

Cinderella followed the other women from the manor as they entered the town square. A large tent had been set up near the well. King’s soldiers and messengers hurried about their tasks. A line of women from the Belton Province snaked its way around the corner of the smithy. Rather than wait in the lengthy line, Cinderella pushed her way through the crowd to watch the proceedings under the tent. A narrow table stood near the entrance. A soldier sat, with vellum paper and gall ink with feather pen at the ready to record the name of each female. A heavy chair had been set in the shade of the tent. Its ornate mahogany wood carvings and rich velvet seat cushion intimidated the scullery maid perched at its edge. The frightened woman looked at her master standing nearby and then at the soldier kneeling at her feet. She smiled with delight when the shoe would not fit. She thanked the man who tied her leather boots and fled. The next woman screeched in anger as the slipper pressed against her toes and would go no further. Her angry squeal, along with a harsh kick to the soldier, cracked the glass. Two soldiers grabbed her, tossing her into the dirt as she screamed a flurry of foul words.

“The Prince was wise to have so many casts forged. Don’t know how many slippers have been broken by this bevy of women.” A soldier dropped the broken glass shoe into a box and drew a new one from the wagon. Cinderella smiled. So much effort and madness by her design. Pleasure in the day filled her.

Snickering and snorts from the huge crowd gathered around the tent rose as another lady was thrown from the chair screaming. The line dwindled as the sun crossed the sky. Mugs of ale rose and fell as each new candidate sat and failed.

“Is that all?” a messenger shouted from the corner of the tent. The roped section meant for the line had emptied. Cinderella stepped forward, dropping the hood of her blue cape.

“There is one more.” She stepped to the man.

“You’re supposed to stay behind the rope. Should have been in line with the others.”

“I was detained, and only now managed to escape.” Cinderella lied with ease.

With disbelief clear in his face, he moved the rope and allowed her to enter the tent anyway.

“Name?” A soldier at a table didn’t bother to look up as he waited with pen poised above the paper. A single drop of ink fell, splashing on the paper as he waited her response.

“Cinderella.” She spoke with a soft voice.

He snorted. “Yeah, I’ve heard that a time or two today. Word travels quick, don’t it? You could have saved us this trouble by mentioning it first thing this morning.” He tipped his head at the seat, indicating she should move.

“I’m not certain that would have been a safe thing to do,” Cinderella replied. “The ladies in that line would have demanded their own opportunity to try on the glass slipper.”

The messenger looked at her and nodded. She made her blue eyes as innocent as possible, her blond curls fetching in their disarray. She could see his interest in her growing.

“If you are the prince’s Cinderella, this should be an easy move.” He picked up the slipper as she removed her leather shoe, revealing her slim foot. Those closest to the tent silenced as her toes slipped through the opening. The soldier looked up at her with surprise as the rest of her foot went into the glass shoe. The cast fit perfectly.

“Look, it fits.”

“Her foot, the