So This is Love (Disney Twisted Tales) - Elizabeth Lim Page 0,81
thoughts inside her, Cinderella fell quiet. All this time, what had kept her from readily accepting Charles’s proposal? Fear that she wouldn’t be accepted, fear that he had fallen in love with the idea of the girl at the ball, not her. Fear that she wasn’t ready to make such a life-altering decision, not so soon after finally escaping her stepmother.
But perhaps she was ready. If she listened to the strongest emotions bubbling around her heart, they urged her to be happy. Wasn’t that what Lenore had taught her? Wasn’t that the point of it all? There were so many things they had no control over—the pride and machinations of others, disease, death. Shouldn’t they hold on to happiness when they had it? Already in these past few days, she’d been happier with Charles than she had in years. The answer was simple.
“I’m ready,” she whispered, her stomach fluttering as soon as the words left her.
Charles looked at her, the light in his eyes wavering. “Then—”
“Yes,” she spoke over him. “I accept.”
He drew her close, holding both her hands and bringing them to his lips.
Wishing this moment could last forever, she leaned against the prince’s shoulder. At last, she knew.
So this was love.
To his dismay, Ferdinand was not invited to dinner. He blamed Genevieve.
Brimming with the information that magic had returned to Aurelais, he waited for the king to return to his chambers. But when the opportunity finally arrived, the guards at the door stopped him from entering.
“The king is asleep, Your Grace. He is not to be disturbed.”
The duke sniffed. “I have important—urgent—news for His Majesty.”
“We were given specific orders, Your Grace. I’m afraid I cannot let you pass—”
“This is important!” Ferdinand wedged himself between the guards, ignoring their protests and attempts to stop him, and barged through into the king’s bedchambers.
“Your Majesty, Your Majesty,” he cried, drawing the long velvet curtains that bathed the king’s bedroom in darkness. He shook George’s arm, hovering over him as the king stirred. “Sire, I have urgent news.”
King George rolled over in his bed, then threw a pillow over his head. “Ferdinand? Confounded man, I asked not to be disturbed! Go away. That’s an order!”
“But Your Majesty, the prince has found the mysterious maiden.”
At the news, the king shot up on his bed. “This is cause for celebration. Quick, quick, the—”
“You’d best listen to my report, first,” interrupted the Grand Duke, lighting the candle at the king’s bedside.
“What is it? I don’t have all day.”
“It’s the girl,” said Ferdinand curtly. “It appears that your son, the prince, has uncovered her identity, and . . .” He paused for effect.
“And?” repeated the king. “From your tone, I’ll take it you aren’t pleased. Let me guess, she’s a baroness. No, a merchant’s daughter. A mysterious heiress?”
“She’s a servant,” Ferdinand said flatly.
“A servant.” George leaned back, stroking his chin. A dry hacking sound escaped him, and Ferdinand couldn’t tell whether it was a laugh or a cough. “Now that is unexpected.”
Ferdinand struggled to conceal his frustration. The king was beginning to sound increasingly like his sister. “My question to you, sire, is what do we do about it? The prince is intent on marrying her, but as you know, this cannot be. She’s not only a servant, but also an orphan.”
“Why should that matter?”
Ferdinand threw up his arms. “Because the prince plans to ask for your permission to marry her.”
“He has it.”
Ferdinand’s jaw went slack. That was wholly unexpected. “B-b-b-but . . .”
“Enough, Ferdinand. You wrote the proclamation yourself, didn’t you?” King George shoved a copy of it in the duke’s face.
“Said noble prince will, upon bended knee, beg, request, or if need be, implore said maiden that he be granted her hand in marriage. Whereupon should the aforementioned maiden look with favor upon his suit, then shall the happy couple pledge their troth . . .”
“ ‘And in due course,’ ” finished Ferdinand, “ ‘upon the inevitable demise of His Most Gracious and August Majesty, the King, succeed to the throne, there to rule over all the land, as king and queen of our beloved kingdom.’ ”
The inevitable demise.
Ferdinand’s thoughts lingered on the phrase, and he recalled how he’d ignored it. It was a standard line, one that normally concluded decrees of such nature. Besides, reports from Dr. Coste always stated that though George’s health was weaker than before, it was in no perilous state. Nothing was amiss. That had been as Ferdinand had wanted it.