called to his people, “Tonight, be merry, for your crown prince will be.”
He’d done it. He’d actually done it.
Jubilant cheers went on and on and on. When they finally died down a thousand years later, Saxon dished out compliments to his men about doing their jobs well, then said, “Adriel. A word.”
Scorch my roses. The wicked prince had actually left me behind to listen and wonder and dream about what could be. His cruelty knew no bounds.
This? This was classic evil stepmother behavior. And if he wasn’t the evil stepmother, Leonora had to be, since she was equally responsible for my incarceration; I must be Cinder, our similarities literal rather than symbolic. For that matter, “strong of heart” could be symbolic rather than literal.
A person’s heart...their essence. Strong of heart—strong of character?
The thought hit me, and I hissed in a breath. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. I knew I’d just found the right road. I was Cinder, strong of character. Saxon was the prince or the stepmother. Leonora was the stepmother or a stepsister. If she was a phantom, and I was possessed by her, we were forced family.
In my dream, the first Leonora had been part of “The Little Cinder Girl,” too, a fairy tale that had not been fulfilled back then. Could it have twisted...me? What did it mean that I was “as fast as wind”? How could I become a warrior set apart, unwilling to bend?
Become. The word echoed in my mind. That’s right. I wasn’t fast as wind or unwilling to bend—yet. But I could become so. One day I could be both gloriously fast and amazingly strong. One day I would be. The prophecy had spoken of the future, not the past or the present.
I almost couldn’t process my good fortune. The things I had to look forward to!
Dazed, I made my way to the furs and plopped down. “I am Cinder,” I whispered, pressing a hand to my chest. Then, knowing no one outside the tent could hear me, I shouted, “I am Cinder.”
The part of me I’d denied for so long had been right. I was the girl unwanted by her family and tormented at every turn. In my case, the obvious choice had been the most unexpected one.
As Cinder, I would get a happily-ever-after. The only way to be truly happy, though? Attend that celebration party.
In the fairy tale, Cinder always found a way to attend the festivities without being found out. So, I would, too.
Determined, I climbed to my feet. A thought occurred to me. Before I found a way past the border spell, I should craft a weapon, just in case I ran into Trio or any other vengeful avian.
Though I’d been so protective of my new dress before, I accepted that my safety came before my appearance and dropped to my knees to dig up my sticks and nails.
I cut discreet pockets into my skirt...as discreet as possible, anyway, then used one of my new hair ribbons to anchor the sticks to my outer thighs. I used a second ribbon to create my own nail-knuckles. I pushed the nails through the material, tied the ribbon around my knuckles.
Now, to escape. I was humble enough to admit I would need help. A powerful witch, perhaps, who had created the border spell in the first place. Surely she of all people would be able to hear me. “Ophelia,” I called. “Ophelia, I need your help and I’m willing to pay everything I have...which is nothing.” Would Noel have a vision of me, if I called for her? “Noel?”
“Hello, hello. Did someone summon a fairy godwitch?”
Startled, I swung around. Ophelia and Noel stood roughly ten feet away, grinning at me. “It worked.”
Noel waved a hand through the air. “Sorry for the delay. I heard your cry for help hours ago, but I only just now got bored enough to find out what’s going on.”
Hours ago? “What are you—”
“Before we get too far into this conversation,” Ophelia interrupted, “you should probably know that I won’t be removing the border spell. Saxon paid good money for it, and my reputation as a quality spellitician is on the line.”
Fair point. “Maybe you can magically transport me past the boundary? He paid you to create the spell, not to keep me locked up, correct?”
Noel hiked her thumb in my direction, saying to Ophelia, “I knew I’d like this one.”
“One thing,” I rushed to add. “I have no means to pay you for this service.”
“And I rescind my