“Pri—” Cinderella sucked in a breath. “I mean, Charles.”
Charles.The name settled on her tongue, and Cinderella’s cheeks warmed. How easy it was to call him by his name, and what a difference it made.
“Cinderella,” he said, smiling. “ ‘Equal in step, equal in heart. For always.’ ”
“That’s beautiful.”
“It was my parents’ promise to each other. And now, mine to you. If you’ll have me.”
If you’ll have me.Cinderella could hardly believe it. The prince was asking her to be his bride. His bride! She tried to find any trace of uncertainty in his eyes, but all she saw was warmth and sweet promise. It certainly did not look as though he were being forced to ask for her hand.
Happiness bloomed inside her, warming her from head to toe. Being with him, that ache of loneliness she had suffered for so many years would ease away. She’d have a new family, a new home.
Still, she hesitated. It was one thing to hope for someone who’d love her. For years, she had closed herself off from the idea of a new family in order to protect herself. But now that the chance had come... Cinderella wrestled with it. With all of it. Marrying the prince meant she’d become a princess. She wouldn’t just join any new family—it’d be theroyalfamily.
She’d spent so much of her life pretending: in her father’s chateau, that she was content to be her stepmother’s servant, that she could live the rest of her life there and be happy simply dreaming and wishing. Even at the ball, she’d pretended to be someone she wasn’t. Would she be pretending again if she married Charles—pretending to be a princess?
“People wouldn’t accept me as your bride,” she whispered.
“They’ll accept you if I tell them to.” He took a deep breath. “Trust me.”
“I do, but...” She lingered on her words, wondering how she’d tell him about her fairy godmother and how she had come to the first ball. Wondering how she could explain the confusion and uncertainty knotting inside her now.
“But?”
“I think I need some time.” She took his hand, covering it with hers. “It isn’t a no, Charles, but I’ve only just left my home.... There’s so much I’m still learning. And there’s someone—a friend who needs my help.” Her voice drifted. She wanted to ask him about Lenore, and whether he could help bring magic back to Aurelais, but she wasn’t sure how to put it into words.
“I understand,” said the prince. If she’d disappointed him, he hid it well. “Take a few days. Take as much time as you need. In the meantime, I’ll ask my aunt to release you from your duties—”
“No, don’t do that.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t want your aunt to know just yet,” she explained. “I’ll tell her when I’m ready. Besides, if I leave, Madame Irmina will have to send a new girl to attend her. Your aunt won’t be pleased that she’ll have to train yet another attendant, and all the servants will have to draw straws....”
“Then I will not speak to her.” Charles looked down at their clasped hands. “But while you’re making up your mind about me, may I come find you? I want to get to know you better, and you to know me.” His eyes wavered, so hopeful Cinderella couldn’t help hiding a smile back.
“All right, but...”
“What is it?” he asked.
The prince was close enough that she could see the stray crumbs of his breakfast still on his lips, and a smudge of marmalade on the side of his mouth. Holding up the corner of her apron, she dabbed at his lips.
“It wouldn’t do for a prince to return to breakfast with jam on his face,” she said, wiping away the marmalade. The tips of her fingers accidentally brushed against the bend of his lips, and a shiver raced down her spine.
She darted her fingers away, forgetting she was holding her apron. Its folds landed over Charles’s chest, and she instinctively reached out to fix it. But as her hand hovered just over the prince’s heart, so close she could feel his pulse beating unsteadily against her fingertips, she flattened her palm against his chest.
And, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she brought her mouth to his.
It was a kiss even sweeter than their first, and Cinderella was glad she had set down her tray, for she surely would have dropped it this time. She stood on her toes, gently pushing Charles a hair’s breadth away, so she could whisper:
“This isn’t a dream, is it? You, here with me... that we’ve found each other?”
“The sound of my heart in my ears would have woken me up by now if it were.” Charles kissed her fingertips, holding them close to him. “I thought it was you—that time in the portrait gallery—when I first saw you wearing Aunt Genevieve’s sash. I should have known. I should have found you then.”
Cinderella held her breath. “You’ll never have to worry about finding me ever again,” she said softly, quoting him. “I promise.”
They kissed again.
