his fiancé caused shivers down her back. It felt good to leave, and yet, here she sat wanting to cry.
Trees whipped past the open windows as they entered the wooded route of the king’s land.
“I remember when you were twelve,” Mrs. Boyde drew Marissa from her musings with a chuckle. “Bouncing from window to window.”
The memories made her smile. “Driving Mother mad.”
“Now here you are a young woman. I would have chosen different circumstances for your first visit into the world on your own.”
“Last night you thought the idea ill, yet here we are today. I have never prepared for anything so quickly.”
“She did magistrate the endeavor with speed.” Mrs. Boyde offered a wry grin. “I wonder at her purpose.”
“Cinderella?” Marissa grew serious when she noticed Mrs. Boyde flinch. “You do not believe she is what she appears?”
“I do not.” Mrs. Boyde dropped the knitting needle into her bag, and Marissa felt her full attention.
“How do you know?”
“Because I am not what I seem.”
“Not?” Marissa couldn’t help but laugh. “I have known you my entire life. You are as dear to me as my own mother. How could you be naught but my Mrs. Boyde?”
“Your father called on me to protect you. Now, do not misunderstand. I love you as a daughter and will give my life for yours if need be. Within the confines of the palace there has never been a need to reveal more of my story. But the world is dangerous.” She leaned closer. "Cinderella is dangerous.”
Marissa wrapped her arms around herself to ward off a sudden chill. “She remains in the palace.”
“Her reach stretches beyond the walls of Monmoore. To what purpose, I know not, but my heart trembles with the knowledge that she seeks to destroy you.”
“Destroy?” Her eyes widened. “You mean kill? Me? But why? What harm am I?”
“There is more to her need for Robert than love, and you distract his affections.”
Marissa shook her head. “But I have never sought Robert’s affection.”
“Would you deny your feelings for him? Allow that woman victory without a fight?”
Marissa turned to the window, but the whirl of passing trees wouldn’t distract the question now reverberating within her mind. “I swore to my mother in this very carriage all those years ago that I would never fall in love with the prince. I would not marry him.”
“Words of a precocious child. Will you allow the child to control your heart now?”
“Robert chose Cinderella.” Her voice sounded harsher than she intended. Unexpected anger gave her pause. She looked down at her clenched fists.
Mrs. Boyde placed a hand on her arm. “He did not choose. It is by witchcraft and evil design he has been forced to play her puppet. But he struggles against her. Because of you, Marissa. That is why we are leaving. There is something between you and Robert that Cinderella cannot control. It is by your death that Robert will be completely in her power.”
Fear clenched her throat. “Can you protect Robert?”
Mrs. Boyde shook her head with a frown. “It is not within my power to do so.”
“Then I shall make it my purpose to protect him. We will learn the truth about Cinderella and find a way to release her hold on Robert for good.” Marissa wanted the vestiges of sadness and anger to fall away, but how was she to discover the truth? And how could she release Robert from Cinderella’s spell?
The clack of wheels along the well-used path lulled Marissa into a dream state. The trees parted, allowing them access to an ancient path. Deeper and deeper into the forest they journeyed, the afternoon passing into dusk and darkness drawing around them. Lights flickered beyond the open windows of the carriage. Some grew brighter as they drew near, while others flared then disappeared among the twisted trunks. A wing covered with glossy black feathers flapped through the nearest light, creating a shower of sparks that sprinkled through the air. The stench of rotted meat wafted through the window as the wing stretched toward her like fingers.
She jerked awake, heart pounding. Mrs. Boyde glared out the window and then looked to her. Marissa gulped. Afternoon light filled the carriage.
“What is it, Child?”
Her heart continued to thud as she rubbed her arms and shrugged. “A dream. A silly dream.” She shook herself. “Too much time sitting here without form or focus.”
Mrs. Boyde offered a sweet smile, calming the lingering feel of anxiety. “You have grown in grace and beauty, my dear, but you are