After the duchess left, Cinderella sank onto the plush carpet. She’d gone from “orphan” and “nobody” in her stepmother’s eyes to “this glass slipper maiden” in everyone else’s.
Who was she now? She was still a servant, albeit one for the royal family—and she received wages for her work. It was a respectable job, one many would dream of, one she was proud of, and yet...
“I’m not happy,” she whispered. She said it again, louder this time. “I haven’t been happy, not in a long time.”
What a strange relief it was to finally admit that to herself. After years of wearing a smile for her stepmother and stepsisters, of pretending to be content to work in their household lest Lady Tremaine kick her out onto the streets, her heart couldn’t heal itself over a mere week or two. It would take time.
Meeting the princehadmade her happy, but that happiness had been fleeting. She needed something real for herself. A purpose.
Closing the duchess’s door softly behind her, she allowed herself a long exhale. She had something in mind.
Ferdinand, the Grand Duke of Malloy, straightened the scarlet sash draped over his torso and flicked a speck of dust off his sleeve. Given that this nonsensical search for the maiden with the glass slipper was all but finished, he hoped he could get the prince to listen to reason.
Doubtful. But he would certainly try his best.
The morning was slowly aging, bright white light filtering in from the palace’s arched windows.
After straightening his collar, Ferdinand turned to Charles’s attendant, whose profile bore a striking resemblance to the young prince’s. “What are you waiting for, squire? Announce me.”
The sure-footed young man marched to the side and knocked thrice on the prince’s door before opening it. Then he cried, “Your Royal Highness, the Grand Duke.”
Ferdinand was surprised to find the prince leaning against a marble pillar, his face to the sun-filled window, reading some nonsensical philosophy book. Ferdinand couldn’t make out the title occupying the royal’s attention, but before Prince Charles had left the palace for his studies at the Royal University, he had spent most of his time avoiding his tutors and playing pranks on the staff. To see him absorbed in a scholarly book so early in the morning surprised Ferdinand—and worried him.
The prince’s years away had changed him, his exposure to greater Aurelais clearly giving him ideas about how the monarchy needed to change. Ideas like welcoming commoners in the council, or rewarding merit over class, or taxing the nobles to distribute wealth among the poor. Ideas that Ferdinand knew he wouldn’t agree with.
“Ahem,” began the Grand Duke.
The prince flipped a page, absorbed in his book.
A muscle twitched in Ferdinand’s jaw.These young people are so rude these days,he thought.So easily distracted.
Still, the duke made no motion that he was irritated, and instead plastered on a smile. Heaven knew that any ambitious man who wanted the king’s ear needed to master schooling his features into an expression of placid obsequiousness. And by God, he had.
Besides, he was aware the prince was frustrated with him for failing to find the maiden who could fit the glass slipper. Indeed, after he’d declared to the king that the search was futile and over, Charles’s expression grew so lost and forlorn Ferdinand could hardly imagine the youth as a suitable sovereign. Over the past three days, the prince had become obsessed with finding the girl—so obsessed that he’d ordered the cursed shoe encased in a glass box, to be displayed outside the palace in case the girl should come riding by and see it one day.
A ludicrous idea. Ferdinand had almost laughed aloud when he heard it. The king’s money was obviously better spent building defenses or encouraging relations with the neighboring kingdoms, but upon realizing the prince was serious, Ferdinand did not dare voice his opposition. He was too wise for that.
Let the boy lose credit in the council’s eyes. Let the council see, as Ferdinand did, that Charles was completely unsuited for the throne. In the meantime, the Grand Duke would orchestrate his own schemes.
Beginning with this morning’s visit.
He swept a bow. “Your Royal Highness, thank you for agreeing to this audience with me.”
“What is it?” said the prince, his gloom-ridden eyes only briefly flitting up from his book to meet the Grand Duke’s.
“Your Highness, I understand that you are disappointed in my service.” Ferdinand’s words tasted sour, so he lifted his tone an octave lest the ill flavor seep into his voice. “I wished to apologize for failing to find the maiden with the glass slipper.”
“Apologize?” The prince’s tone was harsh. “Somehow I doubt that’s the only reason you’re here.”
“Come, Your Highness, I realize you are distraught—at me, and at this entirely harrowing episode....” Ferdinand’s voice trailed off. Truth be told, it was most harrowing forhim. Even now, days after his search had concluded, when he closed his eyes, all he could see were ladies’ feet. All he could hear were the strident cries: “It’s my slipper! It’s my slipper!”
Feet everywhere—it was the stuff of nightmares. Big feet, little feet, toes and heels and calluses and ankles...
He broadened his smile. “Can we not let bygones be bygones?”
His plea did little to soften the prince, but Charles at least put down his book. “What is it you want?”
Ferdinand drew a breath, the deep sort he always took before saying something important, something that needed to be said without pause. “Your father and I wanted to impress upon you a reminder that you are the crown prince, Your Highness, the only heir to our luminous kingdom. As such, it is your duty to consider marrying for the good of your country and your people—”
