So This is Love (Disney Twisted Tales) - Elizabeth Lim Page 0,1

meet the . . . to meet new people?”

“I came to the ball mostly to watch. To listen to the music and see the palace. But I have to say, it’s even more beautiful out here than it is in there.”

“It’s certainly not as stuffy.”

They laughed together, and Cinderella felt that flutter in her stomach again.

“I want to remember everything about tonight,” she said. “The waltz, the flowers, the fountains—”

“And me?” her companion teased.

She smiled, but she was too shy to answer. Yes, she wanted to remember everything about him. The way he held her hand, gentle yet firm—as if he never wanted to let go. The way his shoulders lifted when she smiled at him, the tenderness in his voice when he spoke to her.

But she didn’t even know his name. She should have asked when they first met, except her mind had been—and still was—in such a whirlwind. Besides, now that they had danced together and escaped the ballroom to this beautiful garden, it felt like they had gone on a grand adventure together, and she didn’t want to take a step back with pleasantries.

And, if she was honest, she was also afraid he would ask where she was from.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, sensing her thoughts had escaped the present.

“Simply that I don’t want tonight to end,” she replied.

He leaned closer, and Cinderella tilted her head, waiting for him to say something. But he closed his lips and cleared his throat, an odd flush coming over his cheeks.

“I don’t, either.” He hesitated. “I’ve been away from Valors for years. Didn’t think I wanted to come home, but now I’m starting to change my mind.”

“Oh? Where were you?”

He blinked, as if surprised she didn’t know the answer, but he quickly recovered. “Away at school. It’s not a very interesting story. Come, would you like to walk more?”

She nodded. “I love it out here. Strange that there aren’t more people in the gardens. Are we the only ones?”

“Everyone’s inside,” he responded.

“Dancing?”

“That . . . or looking to meet the prince.”

“I see. Well, I’m glad to be out here. We used to keep a garden . . . not as magnificent as this, of course, but . . . oh!” Cinderella spied a path of rosebushes not far ahead.

“You like roses?”

“Who doesn’t?” Cinderella knelt, careful that her skirts did not snag on the thorns. “My mother used to grow roses in her garden. We’d pick them together every morning.”

She fell silent, remembering how she’d carried on the tradition with her papa after her mother died. One by one they’d cut the flowers, each still so fresh that dew glistened on its petals and trickled down her trembling fingers.

“Eight pink roses, seven white ones, and three sprigs of myrtle,” she murmured, pointing at the pink and white roses in the line of bushes.

“What is that?”

“It’s what I would always bring Mama—the same arrangement my father presented to her when he’d asked her to marry him.”

The story of their courtship had been her favorite, one Papa had told her over and over. She’d never tired of it, never stopped asking him to tell it to her.

Before her mother had died, he’d always ended the story with a smile, saying, “Your mother is my true love.”

Once she was gone, his expression became solemn, shadows sinking into the lines of his brow, his teeth clenched tight to keep from grimacing. Then he would say, “Your mother was my true love.”

So Cinderella had learned how one word could change everything. And she had stopped asking her father for the story.

“I’d nearly forgotten about it,” she said softly, a strain in her voice. “It’s been so long. . . .”

“Eight pink roses, seven white ones, and three sprigs of myrtle,” he repeated. “I’ll help you remember.”

She looked up at him, a rush of warmth flooding her heart. How could it be that someone she’d known for only a handful of hours could already feel so dear to her?

By the time they had strolled across the gardens, past the marble pavilions and sparkling ponds, taking a rest by the stairs—she’d completely lost track of time.

“There’s a part of the garden you haven’t seen that I know will make you smile. It’s a little far—are you tired?”

“No, not at all.”

He started to lead her toward it, but as she followed, Cinderella glanced behind her. “Wait, I want to take a moment to admire how beautiful this is.”

He tilted his head. “What is there to admire?”

“Everything. The towers,

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