So This is Love (Disney Twisted Tales) - Elizabeth Lim Page 0,68
Though I have to confess, I don’t get a chance to visit the center of the city much. It is not easy to go around without being recognized.”
“But you have Pierre,” Cinderella joked.
“Pierre can only fool so many. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have much luck with my father or the Grand Duke.” He gently guided her away from the fountain. “There’s something else I want to show you.”
They walked through the gardens, the lilting music from the ballroom growing softer and farther away. Whenever he thought she wasn’t looking, he stole a glimpse of her, his lips parted.
“It’s been a long time since I could talk to anyone this way,” he confessed. “Without feeling like I was . . . different.”
“What about at the Royal University?” As soon as the question left her lips, Cinderella blushed, realizing she’d revealed how much she’d asked about him. “I mean, I heard that you’d been studying away from the palace for several years.”
A grin widened on Charles’s face, his eyes brightening so much Cinderella swore they shone. He took a deep breath. “Even when I was a child, I never had many friends at school. All the boys were ordered not to offend me and to always agree with what I said. I used to beg my father to send me abroad and give me a different name, but he always refused.
“He didn’t understand that I simply wanted to fit in. When I arrived at the university, I tried enrolling under a false name, but it was no use. I could have said my name were Peter the Pauper and everyone would have still known who I was. I could have never set foot in the classroom or opened one of my textbooks and still have passed every course with honors.”
“So you made no friends?”
“I had a few,” he said. “But even then, we weren’t close.” His gaze met hers, and there was such tenderness in his warm brown eyes that Cinderella wished time could stop so she could memorize the way he was looking at her. “I don’t feel that way with you. I feel like I’ve been looking for you my entire life.”
His confession sang in Cinderella’s ears, the intensity of his words arresting her in her place. “I know the feeling,” she whispered.
A chime punctuated the end of her words, and she instinctively looked up the clock tower. It was midnight.
She lurched, giving in to a momentary flare of panic before remembering that the time didn’t matter. She didn’t have a magical curfew—no coach that would turn into a pumpkin, no horses that would turn back into mice, and no glittering ball gown that would turn into rags at the stroke of twelve. She could stay out all night if she wished.
Finally, they arrived at the end of the garden, and not far from the entrance of the palace, a glittering glass box atop a marble pedestal awaited.
“This is what I wanted to show you,” Charles said, unlocking the box and lifting her lost glass slipper. “I believe this belongs to you.”
Cinderella held the shoe close, treasuring it. “I wanted to bring the other slipper to the duke when he was searching for me, but it shattered, and I worried . . . I worried I’d lost the only keepsake I had of the most wonderful night of my life in years. I thought I’d never see it again. I thought I’d never see you again.”
“You’ll never have to worry about finding me ever again. I promise.” Charles gestured at the slipper, then at a nearby bench. “May I?”
With a shy nod, Cinderella returned the slipper to him. A soft breeze swept past her mask, and she lifted it, letting the cool wind temper the heat in her cheeks.
Neither of them had made a move toward the bench, and Cinderella, ignoring the sudden swoop in her stomach as she realized Charles was staring tenderly at her, sprang onto her toes and kissed his cheek.
When she let him go, the prince rocked back on his heels dazedly, clutching the glass slipper against him as if he feared he’d drop it. “What was that for?”
“A thank-you,” replied Cinderella, smiling at the confused but happy-looking prince. “For reminding me that not all miracles have to end at midnight. I’ll explain—”
Charles drew her close, and her voice drifted.
“I’ll explain . . . later . . .”
As he bent forward to kiss her, trees rustled, and the click-clack of heeled shoes stomped nearby. Cinderella lifted her