So This is Love (Disney Twisted Tales) - Elizabeth Lim Page 0,15

world. How would she make a life for herself?

It’s better than being stuck with Mr. Laverre, she reminded herself. Anything is better than that.

She glanced up, taking in the moon, still luminous even as the storm unfolded. Shielding her eyes from the rain, she craned her head north. There, at the edge of the city, sat the king’s palace.

Her father had once told her that one could see the king’s palace from any point in the city. Her view now was different from the one she’d had at home, but the palace was no less resplendent. How many hours had she spent staring at it, dreaming about how grand it would be to go inside, how wonderful it would be to dance within its marble halls?

Well, now she had.

She felt no regret about how eagerly she’d wanted to go to the ball. What she regretted was how naive she’d been, and that flicker of longing that had sprung up inside her when she realized the Grand Duke’s quest was to find her. For an instant, she’d fooled herself into thinking reuniting with the prince was the ticket to happiness and a better life for herself.

But no longer.

So where did she go from here?

Despair gnawed at her. She could try to call for her fairy godmother again, but . . . Lenore had said her magic was forbidden. Cinderella wouldn’t put her fairy godmother in danger.

I’ll figure this out on my own, Cinderella thought grimly. I cannot always depend on someone to save me.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered aloud, stroking Bruno’s head. “Beginning tomorrow, I’m never going to feel this helpless again. Once the storm ends, we make a new life. You and me.”

With that promise heavy in her heart, she hugged Bruno close, shifting them both deeper under the awning and away from the cold, relentless rain.

It was a long time before she finally fell asleep.

The sound of Bruno barking, loudly, woke Cinderella from her dreams.

She started to rise, but the morning’s bright light made her pinch her eyes tight. The sun was usually never this harsh in her room.

“Stop following me!” someone cried in the distance, sounding more distressed than irritated.

Strange, thought Cinderella blearily, that doesn’t sound like Anastasia or Drizella.

“No, no, I can’t go that way. I’m going to be late for work if I—stop chewing on my skirt. Stop that!”

Certain she was still dreaming, Cinderella covered her eyes with her arm, cherishing every minute of sleep before she had to get up and prepare breakfast for her stepsisters again. As she stifled a yawn and stretched, her knuckles brushed against hard gravel instead of the stiff cotton over her mattress.

With a jolt, Cinderella sat up and tried to make sense of her surroundings. The sun still glared at her; all she could see was the sky, bright and cloudless, an ocean of seamless blue. Everything else was blurred, freckled by dancing white sunspots.

“Bruno?” she called out. Where had he gone? She raised her tone an anxious note. “Bruno?”

Behind her, someone let out a gasp. “Oh, my! Miss! Miss, are you all right?”

Cinderella perked up, recognizing the voice of the young woman she had heard earlier.

Bruno appeared from behind the girl’s skirts and scampered to Cinderella’s side.

“Oh, what a relief—he’s yours! I worried he was a stray, he was barking so much.” The girl knelt beside her, setting down a basket brimming with neat piles of fabric, spools of thread, and a pair of scissors. A seamstress, Cinderella deduced.

“He grabbed on to my skirt and wouldn’t let me go until I followed him. Now I see why, clever dog.” The seamstress viewed Cinderella, her hazel eyes flaring with concern. “Are you all right? Can you stand?”

Cinderella’s back ached from sleeping on the street, and her head still throbbed from hitting the side of Mr. Laverre’s carriage, but already the pain was subsiding. “Yes, I’m fine.”

The young seamstress lent Cinderella her arm, yanking her to her feet. “You’re lucky I was running late to work. Otherwise, who knows who might have found you!”

“Thank you,” said Cinderella, staggering back.

The seamstress’s eyebrows suddenly flew up, and she pulled Cinderella off the street and onto the sidewalk before a carriage rushed past, its wheels spinning alarmingly fast.

“I guess I spoke too fast,” Cinderella said, catching her breath. “I didn’t even know I was on the street.”

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings,” the seamstress chided. “You could have gotten trampled!” She furrowed her brow. “What’s a girl like you doing sleeping out