Cinderella Spell - Laurie Lee Page 0,85

he should.” Cinderella gave him a brief kiss. “You know where your rooms are, I’m sure you can make your way there.”

Already taking control? Where are the king and Mother? Marissa harrumphed and plodded across the lawn, Mrs. Boyde in her wake. Captain Standish followed, arms loaded with their traveling boxes.

48

“I’m not sure what you plan to achieve, returning.” Cinderella stood in the doorway of the library.

Marissa turned from the window. “Achieve?”

“Is it so horrible,” Cinderella asked as she stepped into the room, “to want love? To desire security?”

Marissa shook her head. “Not when those things come naturally, in the course of one’s life.”

She wrapped a blond curl around her finger, tilting her head. “You don’t think my love for the prince natural?”

“Birds come to the lake after winter’s chill.” Marissa nodded at the window. “Spring is upon us, and yet the lake remains undisturbed.”

Cinderella laughed, “You think I have power to keep birds from their natural habits?”

“The palace is not as it should be. Silence weighs upon it, as though something smothers us.”

“An insect caught in a web?” Her eyes sparkled, chilling Marissa. “Why return? Why not remain free?”

“Love doesn’t allow that. If there are foul works afoot, our duty is to fend them off.”

“Indeed.” Cinderella stretched her arm forward, moving her hand back and forth so that the large diamond-crusted ruby glittered in the light. “It is a good thing the forty days are coming to an end and we can wed. Once you see our happiness, perhaps your fears will fade.” Her tiny smile and sparkling eyes chilled Marissa. “Or not.”

“Why not allow him to choose?”

“But he has chosen. The ring is on my finger, not yours.”

“I’ve not wanted his ring on my hand…”

Cinderella interrupted, pulling closer. “Haven’t you? Isn’t that what this is about?”

“There you are, Marissa.” Mrs. Boyde burst into the library. “The housekeeper is in a dither. You must show her where the trunks are meant to be stored in the attic.”

Though the smile remained the same, Cinderella lowered her voice. “Robert is mine. Your Guardian cannot save him, neither can you.”

Marissa walked across the room, then paused at the open door. She turned around, facing her enemy. Cinderella stood, a smile of victory on her face. Marissa shook her head. “You’re wrong. I can save him. Love can save him.” She stiffened her back against Cinderella’s icy glare.

Mrs. Boyde pulled her into the hallway. “Now, now. No point giving too much away.”

She shivered. “She’s evil.”

Mrs. Boyde nodded. “Tomorrow is the final day of the engagement. They can be wed after the stroke of midnight.”

Marissa hurried her way down the corridor. “I must find Robert, break the spell before that can happen.”

“He spars with Captain Standish in the morning. Find him there. But first, there is something else you must retrieve.” Mrs. Boyde handed Marissa a sack woven with gold and lavender linen. “Find the slipper.”

Marissa shook the bag. Something was already inside. “What are these?”

“Extra copies the prince made. No need to let Cinderella know what you are up to before tomorrow.”

“She would keep it near him. I can check his offices and quarters.”

“You have to get her to leave the palace first. It would not do to try something while she is near.”

Marissa thought for a moment, then smiled. “I have a plan.”

The day crawled. Cinderella managed to cross Marissa’s path often, Robert at her side. He kept an arm around her. Pressed kisses against her blonde curls. Lunch brought them together at the smaller dining room. Marissa gasped at her first sight of King William and her mother. The king’s hair had turned gray. His pale cheeks were no longer smooth, but wrinkled, deep shadows beneath his eyes. Lady DeGanne’s hair, also more gray than not, had been pulled into a loose French twist with strands jutting unevenly. Her eyes had dulled. She glanced at Marissa but said nothing.

“Do you not care for the soup?” Cinderella asked.

Marissa moved her spoon through the butternut squash brulee. She didn’t bother to respond. Defeat pressed against her shoulders. If she closed her eyes, she’d feel the sweep of webs across her skin. But then she noticed Robert held one hand fisted on the table beside him as they waited for the change in course. It wasn’t a gentle fist; his knuckles were white. He struggled, and so must she.

Marissa straightened in her seat. “Do you have plans for the afternoon?”

“Why do you ask?” Cinderella placed her spoon beside her empty soup bowl.

Marissa shrugged. “There