So This is Love (Disney Twisted Tales) - Elizabeth Lim Page 0,96
that Charles did not like at all.
“Stop!” cried Prince Charles. “Father, what are you doing?”
At the sound of his voice, the king’s mouth bent into a feeble smile. “Charles, my boy. Is that you?”
The prince rushed to his father’s bedside and tried to seize the scroll from the Grand Duke. “Father, did you sign—”
“Best not to upset your father,” interrupted Ferdinand.
Charles glared at the Grand Duke. In his iciest tone, he said, “Get out.”
Ferdinand blinked, pretending to look bewildered. “Your Highness, your manner is most uncouth, and certainly not befitting of—”
“Get out,” repeated Charles. “I will not say it again. And give me that scroll.”
The duke’s smirk returned. “I’m afraid you do not have the privilege, Your Highness,” he said calmly, tying the scroll with a green ribbon. “As your father’s adviser, it is my duty to bring this to the council. Rest assured, I am merely trying to preserve the sanctity of this nation and protect—”
“You are trying to protect your own interests.”
“He . . . he is not,” wheezed the king. “Listen to what he has to say, Charles.”
Startled, the prince knelt beside his father. “Aunt Genevieve said you called for me. That it was urgent.”
“Your father is unwell.” Ferdinand straightened his collar. “He has appointed me to discuss with you the kingdom’s future. Your future.”
Charles struggled to remain calm. He did not like the sound of this.
“It appears that the young maiden named Cinderella was seen leaving the palace yesterday evening, renouncing Your Royal Highness’s admirable intention to marry her and publicly humiliating our noble prince before the entire court—”
“I don’t need you to recount last night’s events,” said Charles through his teeth. “What is your point?”
“The point is, the lack of a bride also leaves in question Aurelais’s line of succession,” said Ferdinand. “His Majesty and I both agree that, as a matter of principle, Your Highness must consider an alliance with a princess from a neighboring kingdom.”
“I have already made my choice.”
“And your choice has abandoned you,” rejoined the duke smoothly. “For the third time.”
“I have kept an open mind regarding your choice of a bride, Charles,” said the king. “But the girl . . . Cinderella is not suitable.”
“Father . . .”
“Perhaps you should take your leave now, Ferdinand,” said the king. “I’ll continue this discussion alone with my son.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” said Ferdinand, hiding a smug smile.
When the door closed, Charles sat at the king’s bedside. He couldn’t believe how weak his father looked. His skin was sallow and his eyes bloodshot and sunken. Just yesterday, the king had seemed fine. What had happened?
“My boy, I know your heart was set on Cinderella. I wanted her to be the one for you. I wanted to live to see you two married, to bounce your child on my knee.” The king’s voice trembled. He sank deeper into his blankets, the bed’s massive headboard dwarfing his shrunken frame.
“Unfortunately, given last night’s events, I do not think she is right for you.”
“Father, I know it looks like she fled the ball—”
“Not just one time, but three. The girl fled three times, and vanished three times.” The king shook his head. “If she loved you, she wouldn’t have left.”
The words thudded in Charles’s ears, and he swallowed, not wanting to believe them.
Please don’t look for me, her note had ended.
No goodbye, no apology, no hint at all of where she was going or why she had suddenly changed her mind. That stung.
He’d seen how uncomfortable she’d looked being the center of attention. His aunt had told him how, when she’d asked Cinderella what she wished to wear for the ball, she’d replied, “Something blue. It was my mother’s favorite color, and I wish with all my heart she could have met Charles and seen us together.”
Other young women in the kingdom would have asked for a gown fit for a princess, for satin gloves rimmed with crystals, a tiara studded with rubies. Cinderella had asked for none of these things.
That was why he loved her. For the earnest way she thought of her words before she spoke, or how her eyebrows danced when she smiled, or how her voice became singsong when she teased him.
That was why he missed her.
His father reached for his hand. “I’m not well, my boy.”
The prince’s attention snapped to his father. “You will be. Dr. Coste will—”
“Dr. Coste can’t figure out what’s wrong with me. I don’t know how much time I have, and there’s no point in beating around