So This is Love (Disney Twisted Tales) - Elizabeth Lim Page 0,79
he allowed. “But after word spread at school that I was the prince, everyone began asking me for favors for their family or avoiding me. Some of the students even hated me.”
“Hated you? For being the prince?”
Charles’s jaw clenched, and he nodded. “I don’t blame them. Many people think the nobility holds too much power, too much wealth. Things have changed, Cinderella, but not enough. And they won’t, not when men like Ferdinand are in charge.”
“I thought your father was in charge.”
“My father cares deeply for the people, and the country . . . but as he’s gotten older, I think he’s lost sight of how to rule Aurelais. Too much time with the Royal Council, listening to men who eat with golden spoons and sleep on goose-feather pillows. It was different when my mother was still alive.”
“How so?”
“He loved her dearly, but they didn’t always get along. Father has an explosive temper, you see, and he’s stubborn as a bull. He and my mother would argue fiercely over how to govern Aurelais. She wanted him to focus more on the people rather than on pleasing the council. I remember during one argument she called him a child for letting Ferdinand and the council influence his decisions instead of listening to his heart. I want to be a king who listens to his heart.” He sighed. “There I go, talking about politics when we should be talking about you.”
“I want to hear it,” Cinderella said, gazing at the city below them. Thousands of lamplights glittered beneath the hill, twinkling like a constellation of stars. “Aurelais is my home, too. I’ve spent too many years trapped inside my stepmother’s home, not knowing what’s been happening around me.”
“Then you will,” promised the prince. “But tonight is for us.”
Along the outskirts of Valors, Charles stopped their coach before an open-air theater. “Here we are,” he said nervously, tethering the horses to a nearby tree. “It’s just a rehearsal, but I’ve heard the dancers are even better than the Royal Ballet’s. I thought you might like it.”
“I do.” Cinderella marveled at the stage, a simple wooden platform surrounded by a crown of oak trees adorned with hundreds of candles. Half a dozen wagons and coaches were scattered across the field: other patrons who’d known about that night’s rehearsal. Closer to the stage were benches and makeshift chairs, each seat filled by someone raptly anxious for the ballet to begin. The orchestra was much smaller than the one that had played at the masquerade the night before, but its music sailed on the wind, carrying clear and true to Cinderella’s ears.
“The ballet tonight is Dancing Princesses,” announced the conductor, before the overture began in earnest.
“Ohh,” she breathed.
“You know the story?”
“You don’t?” When the prince shook his head, she smiled. “It’s about twelve princesses who sneak out to dance in a magical fairyland. Their father is so distressed about it he offers one princess’s hand in marriage to anyone who will discover where they go each night.”
Charles raised an eyebrow. “Is anyone able to solve the mystery?”
“You’ll have to watch the ballet to find out,” Cinderella replied mischievously. “It was one of my favorite stories growing up.”
“Not anymore?”
“No. When I was a child, I loved pretending to be a princess in a castle, waiting for some curse to befall me and a handsome prince to break it. But as I got older, the feeling of being trapped was all too real. . . .” Her voice drifted. “After Mama and Papa died, things changed. I realized that real life isn’t a fairy tale.” She threaded her arm through his. “Sometimes, it’s for the better.”
“It’s funny. I used to pretend to be sick so I wouldn’t have to go to the ballet. And when I did go, I’d fall asleep. My mother would laugh to see me going willingly.”
A flood of warmth radiated inside Cinderella’s chest, and she teased, “Are you going to fall asleep tonight?”
“I have a wild guess the company will make a difference.” He spread a blanket over their laps. Under the moonlight, their hands brushed against each other. “Besides, Father’s royal box always smelled of stale cedar and politics. Both were very conducive to falling asleep.”
A gentle breeze tickled Cinderella’s nape, and she shivered as she inhaled the fresh air. No stale cedar here, nor the sweet undertone of perfume that usually pervaded the palace. She did catch a whiff of sugared nuts from a vendor closer to the stage, and the smell