Cinderella Junior Novel Read online

  “I shall endeavor to please, Your Highness,” the artist replied seriously. Then, taking a quick look at Kit, who was doing his best to look awkward and very unmarriageable, he added under his breath, “But I can’t work bloody miracles.” He turned back to a large canvas that stretched at least a dozen feet into the air. Already the beginnings of the portrait could be seen—the prince, astride a beautiful horse, holding a sword high in his hand as though to say, “Onward!” The only thing left to do was the face—if Kit would cooperate.

  The prince begrudgingly climbed onto a saddle on a sawhorse. “So these portraits will be sent abroad?” he asked out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Yes,” King Frederick replied. “If we can convince a princess of sufficient rank that you are not a dunderhead, we may secure a powerful alliance.”

  Kit started to laugh but a stern look from the artist stopped him. “At this ball you and the Grand Duke insist upon?” The ball had been the topic of discussion for far too long in his opinion.

  “At which you will choose a bride,” the king said. Kit shot him a look, and King Frederick went on, his voice stern. “It has always been done; it is how it will be done.”

  “We are a small kingdom amongst great states, Your Highness,” the Grand Duke added. “And it is a dangerous world. We must get what allies we can.”

  Sitting on his fake horse, Kit wanted to scream. He had been born into this life. He had not asked for it, and now he felt as though he were a prized pig being fattened up to sell at market. He knew he was lucky in many ways. But the freedom of the girl in the woods? That was something he could never have.

  “If I must marry,” the prince said aloud, “why could I not wed, say...a good, honest country girl?”

  The Grand Duke scoffed. “How many divisions of infantry would this ‘good, honest country girl’ provide us?”

  Taking a gentler tone, the king tried to make the point clear. “You will be king soon, Son. You know I am not well.” The others began to protest but he hushed them and went on. “For myself, I do not mind. I have had a good life. But I would have you—and the kingdom—safe and secure.”

  Kit felt a wave of remorse for being so stubborn. His father was ill and he meant well. Suddenly, Kit had an idea. Perhaps there was a way to appease his father and get a chance to see the girl from the woods again. He knew that if his father met her, he would see why Kit was so intrigued. “All right, I will agree to the ball.” The Grand Duke began to clap, but Kit went on. “On one condition. The invitations go to everyone, not just the nobility. The wars have brought sorrow enough.” He looked at his father. “If you were in my place, you would do the same.”

  The king shook his head. “But I don’t want to do what I would in your place. I want you to do what I, in my place, tell you, in your place, to do.” Realizing that he was making no sense, the king threw his hands up in the air.

  The Grand Duke, however, seemed pleased with the outcome. “I think we may have struck a bargain,” he said. “A ball for the people, a princess for the prince.”

  In his saddle, Kit tried not to smile too broadly. True, it wasn’t ideal. He would have to meet many girls in whom he had no interest. But with luck, his mystery girl from the woods would be at the ball. And with even greater luck, he would have the chance to get lost in her blue eyes once more. And maybe, just maybe, he’d find a way to convince his father that some traditions were meant to be broken.

  The market was bustling. In several stands, grocers called out their wares, advertising the freshest vegetables, the plumpest fruits. A handsome florist held out a bouquet of bright daisies to a group of girls, causing them to giggle and avert their eyes. At the end of the market, away from the more pleasant smells, the fishmonger put out the day’s catch.

  In the midst of it all was Ella, a basket in one hand, a dreamy look on her face. Ever since her encounter with Kit, she had felt as though she were floating. She knew it was silly. Chances were she’d never see him again. But for that one moment, there in the woods, she had felt as though Kit had seen her for who she was, not as the girl of ashes her stepfamily had turned her into.

  “If it isn’t Miss Ella.” Flora, the household’s onetime cook, strode up to her, smiling warmly.

  “Flora!” Ella pulled her into an embrace. “Are you well? Have you found employment?”

  “Can anyone roast a chicken better, I ask you?” Flora and Ella laughed together. But then Flora’s head cocked and a look of concern crossed her face. “You don’t look well, miss, not at all.”

  Ella wiped at her face and tucked an unruly piece of hair behind her ear. She looked down at her threadbare dress and sighed. Flora wasn’t wrong.

  Flora put a hand on Ella’s shoulder. “Why do you stay there, when they treat you so?”

  Ella smiled and shrugged. “I made Mother and Father a promise to cherish the place where we were so happy. They loved our house, and now that they are gone, I love it for them. So it’s my home, you see.”

  Nearby, an old beggar woman lifted her head, listening to Ella with interest. She smiled and then turned at the sound of a loud commotion from the middle of the square. (Aha! I would remember this poor soul, gentle reader. For sometimes the people most overlooked are the ones who turn out to be most surprising....)

  Ella, too, looked toward the square and raised an eyebrow at the sight of the royal crier holding a large scroll. He stood on the edge of the town fountain, waiting for the people to gather. Curious, Ella moved closer and waited for his announcement.

  “Hear ye! Hear ye!” the man cried, silencing the crowd. “Know that our good King Frederick, fourth of that name; Protector of the Realm; Holy Elector of Thuringia; Sire of the Imperial Purple; Earl of Lambert, Chataway, and Moggan; Companion of the Path of Honor...” The crier’s voice trailed off and he took a deep breath. Then he went on. “Defender of the Faithful; and Scourge of the Heretic, has decided to honor the safe return from the wars of his son...” Once again, the crier took a deep breath, and the crowd began to groan at the thought of another long list of titles. But they all felt quite relieved when the crier simply said, “The prince. On this day, two weeks hence, there shall be held, at the palace, a royal ball.”

  There was silence at the news. After all, what did a royal ball have to do with any of them? They were commoners. They did not dance or attend balls.

  The crier went on. “At said ball, in accordance with ancient custom, the prince shall choose a bride.” And then, with great pomp and circumstance, the crier finished his announcement. “Furthermore, at the behest of the prince, it is hereby declared that every maiden in the kingdom, be she noble or commoner, is invited to attend.”

  As all around her people began to chat excitedly with one another, Ella was silent. But her heart pounded loudly in her ears. A ball? At the palace? And she could attend? That meant she would have a chance to see Kit again! After all, he was an apprentice at the palace! A huge smile spread across her face.

  When she arrived home, Ella shared the news. Instantly, her stepsisters began to chatter excitedly. It was clear they had lofty goals—namely, the prince’s hand in marriage.

  “I shall trick him into loving me,” Drisella said, twirling around the drawing room. “See if I don’t!”

  “This is the most hugeous news!” Anastasia exclaimed.

  Lady Tremaine stood in the middle of the room, watching her daughters with a critical eye. “Calm yourselves,” she finally said. “Listen to me.” It took several moments, but finally Anastasia and Drisella focused. Satisfied she had their attention, Lady Tremaine went on. “One of you must win the heart of the prince. Do that, and we can unwind the debt in which we were ensnared when we came to this backwater.” She turned and narrowed her eyes at Ella, who was standing quietly in the corner, lost in her own thoughts. “Having delivered your news, why are you still here? You must return to town right away and tell that seamstress to run us up three fine ball gowns.”

  “Three?” Ella re
peated, surprised. She hadn’t expected her stepmother to provide her with a dress. Collecting herself, Ella said, “That is...very thoughtful of you.”

  Lady Tremaine raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  “To think of me,” Ella replied.

  “Think of you?” Lady Tremaine repeated, sounding confused.

  On the other side of the room, Drisella let out a cruel laugh. “Mummy!” she cried. “She believes the other dress is for her!” There was a beat as the two sisters and their mother exchanged bemused expressions. “Poor, slow little Cinders. How embarrassing!”

  Lady Tremaine shook her head. “You are too ambitious for your own good.”

  “But I only want to see my friend,” Ella protested. She should have known. Why would her stepmother choose now to show kindness?

  Lady Tremaine went on. “Let me be very clear. One gown for Drisella, one for Anastasia, and one for me. À la mode Parisienne.”

  “She doesn’t know what that means,” Anastasia said glibly.

  To their surprise, Ella lifted her head high and pulled her shoulders back, every inch the composed lady. “Mais bien sûr je connais la mode Parisienne et je vais faire mon meilleure à le démissioner,” she replied in fluent French.

  Ella stifled a smile as she watched her stepmother and stepsisters gape at her. They had clearly not expected her to be able to speak French, much less so well. Recovering, Lady Tremaine clapped her hands. “Right. That’s settled, then. Now go! Every bit of baggage in the kingdom will be tilting at the prince. You must get there first, before the seamstress is drowning in work.” Without another word, she turned her back, dismissing Ella.

  Ella left the drawing room. She knew she shouldn’t have shown off like that, but it had felt nice to catch her stepfamily off guard. And the joke was on them, anyway, because she had never expected a dress; she knew what she could wear. Plus, she had no desire to become a princess. All she wanted was to see Kit and, with luck, have an evening during which she could be just a girl enjoying the company of a nice boy.

  Inside a large palace room, the prince’s regiment trained. The sound of clanging metal echoed through the large space. In the center of it all, Kit parried back and forth with the Captain of the Guard. While his movements were clean and precise, he was distracted. Noticing his pupil’s lack of concentration, the Captain struck with his sword, rapping the prince sharply on his arm.

  “Wake up, Your Highness,” he said. “You’re in a daze.”

  Kit looked guiltily at the Captain. “I’m sorry,” he said. Then he thrust his own sword forward, forcing the Captain into a duel.

  As they moved back and forth across the room, they slung not only swords, but words as well. “You’ve been off since the hunt,” the Captain said, bringing down his sword and just missing Kit.

  “It’s the girl,” the prince replied, taking a few quick steps forward and pushing the Captain back. “I’ve never met anyone like her.”

  “There are plenty of girls,” the Captain replied.

  Kit shook his head, his sword faltering. “But her spirit,” he countered. “Her goodness...”

  “I don’t suppose she has a sister,” the Captain said, raising his sword to indicate a time-out. He had to admit that from the way Kit spoke of this girl, she seemed the picture of perfection.

  “I don’t know,” Kit said, shrugging. “I don’t know anything about her.”

  “Well, perhaps your mystery girl will come to the ball. That is why you threw the doors open, is it not?”

  Kit looked at him and feigned indignation. “Captain,” he said as though wounded. “It was for the benefit of the people.”

  “Of course,” the Captain said, hiding a smile. “How shallow of me. And if she comes? Then you will tell her that you are the prince? And the prince may choose whatever bride he wants?”

  The prince let out a bitter laugh. “You know my father and the Grand Duke will only have me marry a princess.”

  “If this girl from the forest is as charming as you say, they may change their minds,” the Captain suggested.

  Kit shook his head. “Father might understand,” he conceded. “But the Grand Duke? Never.”

  As the sounds of swordplay swelled around them, the two men grew silent. The Captain had given his whole life to the kingdom. His duty was, and always had been, to King Frederick, his son, and the land they fought to protect. The only person he had ever come to care about besides his family was Kit. And while the Captain respected the king greatly, he wanted to see his friend happy.

  He raised his sword, and they resumed their fight. “Well, there is always a way,” the Captain finally said, swishing his weapon through the air. “You are a wily young fellow, after all.”

  In response, Kit mimicked the Captain’s move, throwing him off balance. Then he turned and dodged. Over his shoulder he asked, “And the king’s wishes?”

  “He’s a good man, and a good king,” the Captain replied thoughtfully. “If he knows that you will rule the people fairly, and keep the kingdom strong and the people happy, he will approve. I know it.”

  Kit smiled. “Then I pray you are wiser than you look.”

  The day of the ball arrived quickly. As the afternoon sun began to sink, Ella found herself running back and forth between her stepsisters’ and stepmother’s rooms, helping the ladies prepare for the evening. Bows of various colors were thrown about. Curlers sat on the dressing table and a large selection of shoes were on display waiting to be chosen.

  Standing in their bright and shiny new gowns, Anastasia and Drisella pretended to admire each other. The sisters had gotten dresses that matched in every way besides color. Anastasia’s was a bright pink, Drisella’s a loud blue. Both had elaborate corsets that Ella had been forced to tie as tightly as possible.

  “A vision, Sister,” Anastasia said, her breathing labored. “Truly.”

  Drisella nodded. “Likewise.”

  “We must compete for the prince’s hand,” Anastasia went on, picking up a fan that matched her dress. “Let it not mean we harbor dark thoughts against each other.”

  “Of course, dear sister,” Drisella replied. “I would not dream of poisoning you before we leave for the ball.”

  “Or I of pushing you from the moving carriage on the way there,” Anastasia countered.

  As they continued slinging thinly veiled barbs at each other, Ella moved about the room, picking up discarded accessories and putting them away. She was eager to be done so that she, too, could get ready. Yet all the talk of the prince had made Ella curious.

  “What will he be like, I wonder?” Ella asked.

  “Like?” Anastasia laughed. “What does it matter what he’s like? He’s rich beyond reason!”

  “Would you not like to know a bit about him before you marry him?” Ella asked, thinking of Kit and the way his dark brown hair had waved gently about his face. The way he had smiled and the way he had stuttered when she flustered him. She wanted to know more. She wanted to know everything about him.

  Her sisters, it seemed, were not of the same opinion. “Certainly not!” Drisella cried. “It might change my mind.”

  “I bet you’ve never even spoken to a man,” Anastasia sneered.

  “I have,” Ella said, Kit’s face flashing in front of her again. “Once. To a gentleman.”

  “Some menial, no doubt,” Anastasia countered. “Some prentice.”

  Ella was unashamed. “He was an apprentice, yes.”

  “All men are fools,” Drisella said, parroting something her mother had said once. “The sooner you learn that, the better.”

  Ella did not bother to reply. Instead, she simply went back to cleaning. Not for the first time, Ella felt pity for her stepsisters. No matter how shiny or bright their dresses, it would be difficult for them to ever know happiness with such ugly outlooks on life.

  (A remarkable child, truly wise beyond her years. But I suppose I’m interrupting again. Go on, gentle reader, go on.)

&nb
sp; A short while later, Lady Tremaine made her appearance at the top of the stairs. Unlike her daughters, whose bright dresses seemed garish and tacky, Lady Tremaine was the picture of refined elegance. Her emerald-green gown complemented her red hair, which was stylishly coiffed.

  She gracefully descended the staircase and came to a stop in front of her daughters. Looking them up and down, she appraised them with a critical eye. “My dear girls,” she said, “to see you like this...it makes me believe that one of you may just snare the prince. And to think I have two horses in the race...” She kissed each of them on the cheek, then added, “I daresay no one in the kingdom will outshine my daughters.”

  Then, from the landing at the top of the stairs, there came a rustle. As Lady Tremaine turned, her eyes grew narrow and her face flushed. Standing there, in a gown that was old-fashioned but infinitely more elegant than her daughters’ new gowns, was Ella. Her face glowed with excitement, her eyes sparkling and her hair falling about her shoulders in perfect waves. She was, in a word, stunning.

  Smiling nervously, Ella walked down the stairs. “It cost you nothing,” she explained. “It’s my mother’s old dress, you see. And I took it up myself.” She lifted the skirt of the dress to prove her point. She had spent every evening after her chores were done laboring over the dress. It had been painstaking work, but when she had finally seen herself in the small looking glass in her room, she had known it was worth it. She had only wished at that moment that her mother could have been there.

  Lady Tremaine took a deep breath and collected herself. The girl was far too beautiful. She needed to make sure Ella did not attend the ball under any circumstances, or Ella would undoubtedly outshine her daughters. After living with Ella for some time, she was not so foolish as to think anger would get through to the girl. No, she needed to manipulate Ella. Bringing a hand to her heart, Lady Tremaine said, “After all I’ve done—feeding you, clothing you, resisting every impulse to turn you out of doors, you try to...to embarrass me in front of the court?”