Microsoft Word - Cinder-Marie_Sexton.doc (6 page)

He broke the kiss, still holding me close. He was as breathless as I was.

"That was amazing," he gasped.

I could only cling to him and nod.

"Why do you seem so familiar?"

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I shook my head, not wanting to let him think about it. Not wanting to think about how I should answer. I pulled his head down so I could kiss him again, but he stopped just before his lips met mine.

"What's your name?"

My name. What
was
my name? All that time I'd spent waiting my turn to dance with him, and it hadn't once occurred to me he might ask me such a simple question. I had no idea what to say. I couldn't think of anything except my
real
name. I couldn't give him that.

"Umm…" I said stupidly.

But I was saved from answering by a sound. A

terrible, heartbreaking sound. The sound of the bells in the clock tower striking midnight.

I fled. I ran from the ballroom, Xavier's voice

calling after me, first asking and then ordering me to wait.

I had no choice but to disobey.

Faces with wide eyes and gaping mouths turned as I sped past. I was vaguely aware of making such a ridiculous spectacle of myself, but it would be far worse if they saw me without the magic.

Somewhere on the stairs, the first of the spells gave way. One moment I was running in the ornate slippers, and
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the next I was tripping. The tall heels of the shoes threw my balance too far forward. My ankles wobbled. The

movement of my hips became my own. "Plodding, clumsy men," the witch had said, and in the space of a few seconds, I'd become one again, albeit still hidden within the body of a woman. I fell halfway down the stairs, tearing my dress in the process.

How in the world did women manage?

Behind me, I could hear voices calling. Somebody

was coming after me. I pulled the ridiculous sandals from my feet and ran. I ducked behind the row of waiting carriages. I was vaguely aware of coachmen and drivers, their eyes wide with shock, as I bolted past them.

"Guess that one's dance didn't end well," one of them laughed.

I ran all the way home, gasping for air against the constraints of the corset I wore, wishing I could tear the damn thing off, but the coachmen might do more than stare if the woman flying past them was bare-breasted.

Finally, I stumbled through our gate and up the

front stairs. I stopped short on the porch. The light was on in the parlor. Aunt Cecile was waiting up, anxious for word from her daughters.

I couldn't let her see me—the specter of her dead sister, dress torn, feet bare and caked with mud. I could go 53

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in the back door, but even that seemed risky. What if she called to me to bring her tea or stoke the fire?

With a moan, I went back down the stairs. I went to the only place I could think of. The only place that was mine: the clearing in the woods. The place I'd first met Xavier. The place where I'd met the witch.

The meadow was empty, of course. I fell to the

ground in a graceless heap, glad to finally be able to sit. My side ached from running. My feet hurt. One lacy sandal remained clutched in my sweaty fist, but I'd lost the other somewhere along the way. I felt a bit bad about it. I hoped the witch wouldn't be mad.

I took a few minutes to catch my breath. The

crickets had stopped their songs as I passed, but now they began again. Something skittered away unseen in the woods. It was quiet and peaceful. Moonlight shone through the trees, dappling the forest floor.

I tried to reach behind myself to undo the dress and loosen the corset, but the buttons were too high up my back. I couldn't reach. After a minute of stretching and straining, I gave up. One more reason I was glad to not be a woman.

I leaned back against the fallen log Xavier had left his gift on. I'd traded that gift away for two spells, and a few short hours, but it had been worth it.

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I thought about Xavier. I relived the dance. I

remembered the feeling of him holding me close. The taste of him. The hardness of his erection against me. Heat kindled again in my groin, so familiar, and yet so strange. I remembered the soaring joy in my heart when he'd asked if he could kiss me.

I curled up on the soft leaves of the forest floor.

And I thought again, as I drifted off to sleep,
It was worth
it.

* * * *

I slept fitfully at first, but at some point, the constriction around my chest ceased, the itchiness of the lace went away, and I fell into a comfortable slumber, at home in my own body.

I woke well after dawn. I was myself again, wearing my usual patched clothes. My feet were bare. My worn boots lay on the ground next to me.

On any other morning, I would have been up at

dawn. I wondered if Aunt Cecile and my cousins were looking for me. Would they wonder where I'd gone? Would they care? I could only hope that after the late night, they'd all slept in.

I stopped by the well behind the house to clean

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myself off. My feet were scratched and dirty from my barefoot sprint home. I washed away the dried mud and pulled my boots on before heading inside.

I knew right away something was amiss. I could

hear Jessalyn and Penelope in the living room, talking frantically over each other. Deidre turned to glare at me.

"Fine morning for you to be off missing," she said.

"They're in a right uproar."

"Over what?"

She waved her hand at me dismissively as she

turned back to her stove. "Something about the prince and the ball."

I had work to do. I had no reason to get involved.

No reason at all.

Except she'd mentioned the prince. Whatever had

my cousins in a "right uproar," it involved Xavier. Just the thought of him made my heart skip a beat. I knew I'd get nothing done until I discovered what was going on.

Penelope and Aunt Cecile were rushing busily

around the living room, dusting and straightening. It was something they usually left for Deidre and me to do.

Jessalyn sat in her favorite chair, glaring at them as they worked.

"I don't know why you're bothering," she said. "We know he won't come here."

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"We know no such thing," Aunt Cecile said. "They say he picked a bride, and he'll call on her today."

He'd picked a bride?

A sad knot of jealousy clenched inside my chest. Of course he'd picked a bride. That had been the entire purpose of the ball. Still, after the way he'd held me, and the kiss…

"Who is she?" I asked.

They all turned to me. They hadn't noticed me enter, and now they all stared at me as if I'd asked them who hung the moon.

"Nobody knows," Penelope said at last.

"She ran away," Jessalyn said.

"They say the prince was calling after her, but she didn't stop, and—"

"Yes," Jessalyn said, cutting her off. "And that's how we know it won't be one of us. We weren't fools enough to run away!"

My heart began to race. Yes, I'd run away, because I'd had no other choice. Was there any possibility another girl had fled as well? Could he be looking for somebody other than me?

It seemed unlikely.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "But he knows who she is?" I asked.

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way to find her," Penelope said. "Everybody's talking about it."

A way to find her.

A way to find
me
?

I couldn't help myself. I burst out laughing.

Of course he was wrong. He couldn't find her,

because she didn't exist. The woman he sought had disappeared in the night, nothing more than a spell. He could hunt, but he'd never catch his prey.

They were all staring at me in shock, and I realized I was still laughing. More than laughing. I was bordering on hysterical, holding my stomach, trying to use the laughter to keep my tears at bay.

He wanted to marry me.

"Cinder,
what
is so funny?" Aunt Cecile asked.

"Nothing," I said, gasping for air, trying to regain my composure. It was true. There was nothing funny about what was happening. "I'm sorry." They were all still staring at me. Aunt Cecile looked disgusted. My cousins looked confused. "How will he find her?" I asked.

But before they could reply, I received my answer: the familiar baying of a dog. Everybody turned toward the front window. Penelope rushed over to pull the curtains aside. She peeked out.

I didn't need to look. I knew what she would see.

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Milton.

"Oh no," I moaned.

They all turned again to stare at me in surprise, but before they could ask what was wrong, there was a great, loud knock at the door.

Penelope's pale hand fluttered to her mouth, her

eyes wide with excitement and fear. Aunt Cecile practically bounced in her shoes. Jessalyn rushed to the door and pulled it open.

A massive, hairy shape raced through the opening, barking and drooling. Milton flew at me, knocking me over backward onto the floor. His paws landed on my abdomen.

His weight drove the air from my lungs as I hit the ground.

His massive, quivering jaws loomed over my face.

"Milton, you hairy oaf!" a voice I recognized as Xavier's cried. "What's come over you?"

Milton moved off of my chest, and then the prince was looming over me, his face lit by his handsome smile.

"Eldon!" he cried happily. He reached down and grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet. "I didn't expect to find you here!"

Milton had knocked the wind out of me. I was too

busy trying to breathe to answer. My stomach was

cramped, my brain screaming for oxygen and apparently not comprehending that it needed only to inhale. I was 59

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vaguely aware of the room around me—my aunt and

cousins, Deidre, who had come in from the kitchen, the two men who'd entered with Xavier. All of them wore shocked expressions, clearly wondering at the prince's familiar attitude toward a servant.

What wasn't vague at all was the gentle firmness of his hand on my back, so similar to the night before.

"Eldon," he said, "are you all right?"

I finally managed to take a short breath. And then a second. "I'm fine," I gasped, although I still couldn't quite stand up straight.

"I can't think why he bowled you over like that," he said. "He's always liked you, but still." He looked over at Milton, who was sitting by the fireplace, staring back. His wagging tail thumped against the wooden floor. It seemed unusually loud in the otherwise quiet room. My aunt and cousins were all watching us, obviously baffled and wondering how Xavier knew my name.

I made myself stand tall, although my stomach still hurt. I turned to him and said, "Sire?" He lowered his eyebrows, glaring at me, and I knew he wanted to tell me not to call him that. I rushed on, before he could. "Perhaps you should tell us why you've honored us with a visit today?"

He glanced away from me to take in our audience.

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His eyes swept quickly over my aunt and my cousins, and Deidre. He looked hopefully around the room, toward the stairs.

"I'm looking for somebody," he said. "Is there anybody else here? Upstairs, maybe?"

"No," I said. Of course I knew who he was looking for, but it seemed he was waiting for me to say more, so I asked, "Who were you expecting?"

He smiled at me. "A girl." He reached into his coat and pulled something from his pocket. He held it up for me to see.

It was my lost shoe.

"I gave it to Milton," he said, "and Milton led me here."

He turned again to eye my cousins with unabashed

curiosity, trying to determine if one of them was the girl he sought. He was confused, I could tell. I had looked similar to them both and yet, he seemed to not recognize them at all.

"Perhaps Milton was confused," I said.

Xavier didn't look at me, but he shook his head in response. "Impossible. You know he's the best tracker in the kingdom."

Yes. So good he'd managed to track me through a

magical sex-change.

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Xavier held the shoe up for my cousins to see. In the bright light of day, it looked sad. Wilted. The ornate lace straps seemed wretched. "Does this belong to either of you?"

The room was deathly silent, still as a tomb.

Everybody was looking at the shoe.

Penelope spoke first. "No, sire," she started to say.

"It's not ours—"

Jessalyn cut her off. She stepped forward. Her twin sister looked confused. Their mother looked elated. I felt my heart sink in my chest.

She wouldn't be so low, would she? She wouldn't

lie!

But I knew I was being a fool.

Of course she would.

She smiled at the prince and said, "Yes, Highness.

It's mine."

Nobody moved. Xavier still held the shoe aloft as he eyed Jessalyn appraisingly.

Something stirred in my chest—an angry rebellion.

A hurt and jealous beast. How dare she?

"It's not your shoe," I said.

Xavier turned to look at me, one of his eyebrows

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up. Jessalyn's dark eyes fixed on me as well, demanding my silence.

"Of course it is."

Xavier looked between us, obviously unsure how to proceed. "Perhaps," he said to Jessalyn, "if you could produce the other one?"