swam two elegant white birds, their long necks curved toward one another.
“Swans!” Cinderella breathed. She leaned against the bridge’s rail and gazed at the pair of swans gliding across the pond.
At her side, Charles rested his elbows on the bridge. “They’re here every evening before sundown. Sometimes, during sunset, you can see the light dapple their feathers. Look.”
Rays of golden light stroked the swans’ wings, which shimmered against the still waters.
“I used to come here whenever I could to watch them,” said Prince Charles. “I’m certain it’s been the very same pair of swans for years. When I saw them, I’d feel a little less lonely.”
“How happy they look,” mused Cinderella, watching as the swans took flight, their feet skidding across the pond before they soared into the sky. “Free to come and go as they please.”
She watched them weave through the clouds until they finally disappeared.
“What are you thinking about?” asked the prince.
“Once they fall in love, they stay in love forever,” Cinderella murmured, repeating what he’d told her at the masquerade. “My parents had a love like that. Always laughing together, telling each other stories, and dancing with me in the middle. My mother was the one who taught me how to waltz. And to sing.”
Cinderella started for one of the trees on the other side of the bridge. “There used to be a swing in the family garden, one hanging from a sturdy oak tree—just like this one. Mama would sit on it and sing about the sweet nightingale perching on the branches above her. Sometimes, she’d put me on her lap and my papa would push the two of us toward the sky. When I got older, birds used to sit outside my window, too. The same ones every day. I’d listen to them before starting my chores.”
“Your chores?”
Cinderella faltered. She hadn’t meant to bring up that aspect of her past, but she trusted him enough to tell him the truth. “Yes . . . after my father passed away, my stepmother dismissed the household staff to help make ends meet. Her stepdaughters took my bedroom and my clothes, and I . . . I became their servant.” She placed her hand on his, anticipating his reaction. “It’s in the past now. I’m happy, and I’m definitely not lonely anymore. I have Louisa—she’s the first friend I’ve had in years, aside from my dog, Bruno, and the mice in my stepmother’s house. And now I have you.”
Charles entwined his fingers with hers. “My parents didn’t have any other children,” he mused, “and Father was always busy in meetings with the council. I didn’t have many friends, but I encountered a few wise professors, and I learned to love my studies—I spent hours every day in the library. Books became my friends because I didn’t have real ones.”
“I loved reading, too,” said Cinderella wistfully. “My parents used to have a beautiful library.” She omitted the fact that her stepmother had sold off many of the books. “There’d be stories about the countries around us. I’d forgotten most of them until now. It’s easy to forget how vast the world is, and how little of it I’ve seen. I’ve . . . I’ve never even been outside the capital.”
“Then I’ll bring you,” Charles promised. “I’ll take you all around the world. We’ll tour all the neighboring kingdoms. Together. But I have to warn you, traveling as royalty isn’t as grand as it looks.”
“You mean, it’s not thirty courses at every meal and servants waiting on you hand and foot?” Cinderella teased.
“Not always. Everything is always planned out for you. You don’t get to choose where you want to go or what you want to do. But you do get to learn more about the world, and see lots of operas and ballets.”
Cinderella covered her mouth, hiding a laugh. “To anyone else, that would sound wonderful. Especially the ballet. I haven’t been to see one since I was a little girl, but I can easily do without the thirty-course meal and the servants.”
Prince Charles grimaced. “I’m sounding spoiled, aren’t I?”
“You grew up being told how to act. What to wear, what to say, where to go, and what to eat. I understand that. . . . It wasn’t so different for me.”
He took her hand. “It is silly feeling sorry for a prince. But up until now, I never had a choice in anything. Before I left for school, the only time I left the palace was when I