But in their exhilaration, she and the prince made one mistake. Neither of them saw the Grand Duke hiding in the opposite corner, taking in every word of their romantic interlude.
Ferdinand was most perturbed by what he had witnessed. All this time, the maiden with the glass slipper had beenher.
Cinderella.
Ferdinand hadthoughtshe looked familiar. What an idiot he’d been to recruit her to spy on Genevieve. Now the girl knew far too much. And if Charles had his way, she would become princess of Aurelais—and then, one day, queen.
“The servant becoming a royal,” he muttered to himself, hardly able to believe it. “This is even worse than I feared. It will doom the kingdom.”
Displeasure darkening his expression, he twirled his monocle. The prince couldn’t possibly marry a servant. The people were already getting ideas; the youth especially no longer had the same respect for rank and breeding—just yesterday, in the western countryside, there had been a riot against the local lord, a riot Ferdinand had worked hard to conceal from the king. And in the east, a band of young revolutionaries had demanded that the king allow commoners to serve on his council—imagine!
If Charles married Cinderella, who knew what the people might do?
Who knew whether the monarchy would survive?
Straightening his back, he tidied the folds of his jacket, dusting imaginary dirt off his sleeves out of habit. He was about to return to his duty at the king’s side when he stole another glimpse at the prince and his newfound bride.
They were still talking, their heads bent close like a pair of purring lovebirds. The public display of Charles’s affection nauseated him, and normally he would have turned away from the sight in distaste. But then the maid’s pale knuckles twisted at the cloth of her apron, even while she smiled at the prince.
A clear sign something was amiss. Given Ferdinand’s long experience working with subterfuge and deceit, he was positive she was hiding something, something she desperately wanted to confess to the prince.
Ferdinand frowned. Could it be that she felt guilty for working with him, the Grand Duke?
No, in the height of romantic love, court intrigue and the machinations of espionage wouldn’t be on this simple peasant girl’s mind. It had to be something else.
The duke had always had a strong sense of intuition; it was what had gotten him so far in his position. He had a feeling that whatever the prince and his bride were discussing, it would be useful to hear.
He inched closer to the couple, tilting his head to catch what they were saying.
“I didn’t mean to leave,” Cinderella began. “But well, you see, I didn’t have a choice. I... I had to go because...” Her voice trailed off, and the duke leaned forward, nearly tripping over his own shoes.
“Because of what?” asked Charles.
Yes, because of what?Ferdinand echoed in his thoughts.
“Because of my fairy godmother. It was her magic that helped me to the ball, and she warned that at the stroke of midnight, everything would be as it was before.”
“You have a fairy godmother?”
Fairy godmother!Confounded by the possibility that magic was involved, Ferdinand knit his thick brows. No, it couldn’t be—all magical beings had been banished from Aurelais years ago. His father had seen to that. Magic had brought chaos to every kingdom it touched, what with uncontrolled and uncontrollable fairies casting spells and curses. That magic might have somehow returned to Aurelais was terrifying news.
“Strange,” murmured Charles, “I haven’t heard anyone talk about magic in a long, long time. I’d almost forgotten about it.”
Ferdinand crouched, tiptoeing yet closer to the corner of the wall. Fearing he might have misheard the girl, he held his breath. He needed to listen closely to what she said next.
“Yes,” replied Cinderella, staring nervously at her hands. She looked up at the prince. “All of it was magic—the dress, the carriage, the horses. It all vanished.”
“But not the slippers.”
“No, not the slippers.”
“And not you.”
“Not me.” A pause. “You see, that’s why I was in such a hurry to leave. It sounds silly now, but I didn’t want... I didn’t want you to know that everything you saw was a spell cast by my fairy godmother. That my carriage was really a pumpkin, the horses really four mice. And my gown, nothing but rags.”
“I wouldn’t have cared.”
“I suppose I was afraid.” Cinderella swallowed. “It’d been so long since I had actually talked to someone—I was afraid you wouldn’t accept me. I was afraid that if I stayed, I’d care about you too much, and it’d make going back to my old life impossible.”
