who often accompanied Prince Charles; Pierre wasn’t among them. Cinderella was about to remark on it when one of the guards addressed her with a bow:
“For your safety, milady, we’ve come to escort you from the ball.”
“From the ball?” Cinderella repeated. “I’m waiting for the prince. He’s gone to see his father.”
“Orders.” The guard pushed her toward a side door that she’d never taken before.
“This way,” he said gruffly, leading her into a dim, narrow hallway.
They’re walking too fast, she thought, panicking. “I think I should wait for Charles.” When she tried to turn back, the guards grabbed her shoulders.
“Wh-wh-where are we going?” she asked, her voice thick with apprehension.
“The Grand Duke will explain. He wishes to have a private word with you.”
Cinderella frowned. “I thought he was with the prince.”
The guard eyed her, but instead of responding, he tightened his grip on her shoulders and nudged her to walk faster. The music from the ballroom had grown so faint she couldn’t even hear it anymore.
She bit her lip, unable to shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The windows seemed to be getting smaller, and the halls shorter. They’d made so many turns that she’d lost track of where they were in the palace.
She held her chin high. Whatever the Grand Duke meant to tell her, however he meant to humiliate her and taunt her that she wasn’t good enough to become a princess, he wouldn’t be able to change her mind about marrying Charles.
“The Grand Duke will see you here,” said the guard, gesturing inside the room.
Someone closed the door behind her with a thud. Cinderella glanced back, but none of the guards had accompanied her inside, leaving her alone . . . with the Grand Duke.
A chill settled over her. The room she’d entered was sparsely furnished, with a square wooden table and two velvet-upholstered chairs that seemed out of place amidst the starkness of their surroundings. In the center of it all, framed by two tall candles and comfortably wreathed in shadow, sat the duke.
“My child,” he said in greeting. Ferdinand set down his pen and folded in half the paper on which he had been writing. “Have a seat. I must apologize for taking you away from the ball tonight, but I have an urgent matter to discuss with you.”
Cinderella glanced at the offered seat. “I’d prefer to remain standing, thank you.”
“Very well, very well.”
“You didn’t take Charles to see the king,” she said flatly. “You lied, didn’t you?”
The duke took out his monocle and twirled the chain around his finger. Then he clasped it and curled his fist tight.
“My child,” he repeated, “it is my misfortune to be the conveyor of bad news, but it is my duty to see to the future of this kingdom. You see, a nation is a fragile thing, and in these times . . .” He let his voice drift.
“What are you trying to say?”
“I am afraid there is no delicate way of putting this, but it has come to my attention that you have cast some dark and ancient enchantment upon His Royal Highness, our noble and beloved Prince Charles Maximilian Alexander, to make him fall in love with you.”
Cinderella’s hand shot to her mouth. “That’s a lie. I—”
“Young lady, you may not have been aware of this, but magic is prohibited in Aurelais, and all magical persons are banished and expressly forbidden from practicing their craft. As such, your use of enchantment, and particularly upon a member of the royal family, is an act of high treason. Without further ado, you are under arrest.”
The three guards that had brought her to meet the Grand Duke returned, this time with thick ropes slung over their shoulders.
Cinderella’s eyes widened with alarm. She started for the door, but it was futile. The guards surrounded her. One muffled her mouth with a cloth, and the other two tied her wrists behind her back.
“A moment,” said the duke, his voice cutting through her muffled cries.
Cinderella caught her breath. Maybe this was all a mistake.
But as the Grand Duke turned to address her, her heart sank. There was a gleam in his eye that suggested otherwise.
“Don’t look at me like that, my dear,” he said. “I wish it didn’t have to be so. But the crown prince of Aurelais cannot marry a servant. Order would be disrupted, and centuries of tradition and propriety would be upended. It simply wouldn’t do. You will come to understand in time.”
It sounded like he was