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Cinder

Marie

Sexton

from me. "It's easy for you to joke. It's not your life!"

He didn't believe me. Of course he didn't. Why

would he? It was utterly absurd.

I opened my mouth to speak. I could convince him.

I could recount that evening, and the dance, and the conversation we'd had. That's all it would take.

But then I thought forward to what would come

once he
did
believe me.

He could not marry me. The girl he longed for

would still be gone. Jessalyn was right about one thing: if he chose not to marry her, we'd likely both be sent away, and he'd be forever out of my reach. I'd never see him again. The thought caused my breath to catch in my throat.

I couldn't bear to leave him now.

If he married Jess, I'd at least be with him. I'd still have his friendship. My temporary resolve to tell him the truth died in my chest. Being with him in any capacity was more important to me.

"I'm sorry, sire," I said, deliberately using a title instead of his name. "I shouldn't have made light of the situation. I was only trying to make you laugh."

He took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. His shoulders fell, and when he turned to look at me, he was almost smiling. "Don't call me 'sire'."

"Yes, sire."

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He laughed sheepishly. "You won't tell her what I've said, will you?"

He could have ordered me not to speak of it.

Instead, he was asking for my silence. Asking me to keep his secret, as if we were equals. Asking as my friend. "I would never betray you." I wondered if he could hear my love for him in those few words.

He crossed the room to put his hand on my

shoulder. He looked down into my eyes. "You're a good friend, Eldon," he said. "It will be worth marrying your cousin to keep you near."

I ducked my head so he wouldn't see how his words affected me. I didn't know if the feeling welling up inside my chest was joy or anguish. I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. My eyes ached with unshed tears, and I shut them tight in an effort to keep them at bay.

It would be worth seeing her married to him, if it allowed me moments like this.

* * * *

We arrived at the palace the next day. Jessalyn and I were each assigned rooms. I was surprised to find that mine wasn't in the servant quarters as I'd expected, but in the main wing. It was vast and sumptuous. The curtains were 87

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velvet and the sheets were made of silk. It was luxurious to the extreme. Jessalyn was outraged when she found out, mostly because I was closer to Xavier than she was. I knew it annoyed it her to no end. The entirety of my worldly possessions only filled one drawer of the massive armoire. I felt completely out of place.

My assumption that the prince had peers at the

palace was quickly dispelled. True, there was a large group of young men and women who attempted to follow him and dote on him and catch his attention, but he managed to avoid them more often than not.

"They're not my friends," he told me when I referred to them as such. "They'd each throw me to the wolves in a minute, if I wasn't my father's son."

For his part, Xavier seemed to have resigned

himself to marriage. He spent most of his time with Jessalyn, planning the wedding.

Jessalyn's resolve to keep me away from the prince was stronger than ever. For four days, she kept me busy from dawn until dusk. She sent me on errands that kept me running from one end of the palace to the other. She sent me to town, sometimes three times in a day. She sent servants to find me and issue orders. Several times the orders were to undo what I'd just spent the whole morning doing. There was no rhyme or reason to her instructions,
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save one: keep me from Xavier. And at that, she succeeded, for the better part of four days.

Late on the fourth day, I returned from town with a new shawl Jessalyn had commissioned just as she and Xavier were finishing dinner.

"It's absolutely the wrong size," she said when I showed it to her. "And I specifically told her to use the green, not the blue. You'll have to return it tomorrow."

I barely even heard her. I couldn't take my eyes off the prince.

He was smiling at me, that bright infectious smile that made me feel like I could fly.

"It's good to finally see you, Eldon. How have you been? Are you adjusting to palace life?"

"You too, sire. I mean, Xavier. Of course." I was stammering like a fool. I took a deep breath and said, "I'm good."

"You look well."

"Thank you, sire. You look…" I wasn't sure how to finish. The common platitudes were all wrong. He
didn't
look well. His eyes were dull. Although the smile he gave me appeared to be genuine, the one he turned on Jessalyn was fake. I could see the strain of the impending marriage in the slowness of his movements and the tightness around his eyes.

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He looked miserable.

He raised his eyebrow at me. "Don't call me 'sire'."

"Yes, sire."

The corner of his mouth twitched, as if another true smile were trying to break free.

"Cinder," Jessalyn said, shoving the shawl back into my hands, "this is unacceptable. Take it back now. Tell her I won't put up with shoddy work. If she can't do it right, I'll take my business someplace else."

Did she see the way the prince looked at her? Did she see the way he suppressed a frown?

"Surely it can wait until morning," he said.

She shook her head. "I intended to wear this to the engagement party the day after tomorrow," she said. "It's her own fault for getting it wrong."

And so I took myself back to town to inform the

poor seamstress that my cousin had changed her mind about both the size and color, but was too arrogant to admit it.

The next day, I had a plan. I scheduled my tasks

well. I timed everything perfectly. I picked up the new shawl early, but waited until the prince's dinner with Jessalyn was ending to present it. I let myself quietly through the dining room door. They were talking, and neither of them seemed to notice me.

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"I can't believe they served us fish," Jessalyn complained.

Xavier blinked at her, clearly trying to maintain an expression of polite interest. "I requested it," he said. "I was under the impression you liked it."

"Certainly not. Your father's right. It's peasant food."

"But I thought you liked fishing?" he said. "At the ball, you said—"

"I have your new shawl," I said, stepping forward and cutting off the disastrous conversation. Jessalyn looked up at me with obvious annoyance. And Xavier?

He smiled at me again, as he had the day before. It seemed to warm me, all the way to my toes.

"Two days in a row, Eldon," he said. "We might make a habit out of this."

Jessalyn snatched the shawl from my hands and

inspected it. "I suppose it will do," she said.

"I think it's lovely," Xavier said to her. "The color suits you."

She smiled coyly at him, batting her eyes. I

envisioned ripping her hair out of her pretty head. "Thank you, Xavier."

He winced when she said his name, although he hid it by wiping his face with his napkin. "Well," he said, 91

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putting the linen down and pushing his chair back. "I think I'll bid you good night." He stood. She held her hand out to him, and he took it, dutifully kissing the back of it.

Then he turned to me.

"Eldon, will you join me for a drink?"

I bit my lip to keep from smiling too big. This was what I'd hoped for. This was the reason I'd planned my day so carefully, waiting until after dinner to find him. I'd hoped he'd have a few moments to spend with me. "I'd love to—" I started to say. But of course Jessalyn cut me off.

"He can't," she said. "I need him to prepare my bath."

She was still seated at the table, and when Xavier turned to look down at her, I could see how little patience he had left for her.

"I'm sure somebody else can assist you."

"You know how I feel about letting strangers into my room."

"This is your home now," he said. "They're not strangers. They're servants, and they're paid to serve."

"I don't know whom to ask—"

"Find. Somebody. Else."

"Yes, but Cinder is
my
servant."

His jaw clenched. He took a deep breath and said

with the still calmness of barely controlled rage, "He's more
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than your servant. He's your cousin. And he's
my
friend."

"Surely you have other friends—"

She might have slapped him, his reaction was so

sudden and so strong. He pulled himself up to his full height and looked down at her with disdain. "I am your future husband," he said, his voice like ice. "More than that, I am your prince! I desire an hour or two with your
servant
.

Is that
really
too much to ask? It costs you nothing. Are you truly unable to grant me such a simple request?"

She stared up at him with wide eyes. She had

gambled, and she had lost, and now she had pushed him too far. I could see her sorting through her options, trying to decide how to appease him. But whatever she was to do, he had no interest in hearing it.

"With me, Eldon," he said.

It wasn't a request. It was an order. Possibly the first he'd ever given me. I had no choice but to follow. He was a river, and I was a leaf caught in his current. I let him carry me out the door. Down the hall.

Away from Jessalyn.

His anger faded quickly once we were in the hall.

He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he said.

"I'm sorry you have to be involved."

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"It's not your fault."

"It feels like it is. This whole damn mess is because of me."

"I could say the same thing about myself," I said.

Or Jessalyn.

He smiled over at me. "I've missed you."

It wasn't sentimental. It wasn't shy. It was said with the same casual sincerity he might use to say, "The sky is blue," or "The sun is bright." There was no embarrassment and no apology. Only a simple statement of fact.

"I've missed you, too," I said. And I knew I'd failed to sound as casual as he.

We reached his room and he led me inside. Milton

jumped off the bed with a howl and launched himself at me. His massive forepaws landed on my chest, and I fell back against the door as he tried to lick my face.

"Milton, off!" Xavier scolded.

Milton sighed and dropped dutifully to all four

paws. I scratched his ears as a reward.

"I guess he missed you, too," Xavier said as he removed his dinner jacket and tossed it onto his bed. He gestured at a sumptuous armchair near the door. "Have a seat. Relax."

I followed the first order, and attempted to follow the second. The chair was deep and soft, and I could almost
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have slept in it. Milton turned and disappeared through a door into what must have been Xavier's closet.

"I should have brought some champagne," Xavier said. "Or some wine."

"It's fine. I don't usually drink."

"You keep saying that. I intend to change it." He ran his hands through his hair and looked at me with a grimace.

"Frankly, I'd love to get drunk enough to forget this impending marriage, if only for a night."

I wasn't sure there was enough alcohol in the world for that, but I didn't answer. He didn't seem to be in the mood for jokes.

Milton came back out of the closet. He had

something in his mouth. He looked quite determined, even for a dog. He came straight over to me and dropped his prize in my lap.

It was the shoe.

"Milton!" Xavier said with obvious exasperation.

"What is it with you and that slipper?"

Milton cocked his head at his master, as if to say,

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, that damn thing!" Xavier swore, turning away to put his head in his hands. "If I hadn't found it, I wouldn't be in this mess."

"You'd still be getting married."

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He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. "I suppose you're right, but at least it would have been a girl of my choosing. But now…"

"You still doubt she's the right girl."

He reached down and took the shoe from me,

staring at it as if it held the answer. "I don't just 'doubt,'

Eldon. I
know
. Everything about her is wrong—the way she laughs and the way she tries to flatter me and the way she bats her eyelashes and the things she says, and the way she—" He stopped short, and I knew there was something else.

"Yes?" I prompted. "And what?"

He turned to look at me. His cheeks were red. "The way she tastes," he said, his voice quiet. "I know that sounds crude, but I kissed her. I wanted to see if it felt like it did that night."

"But it didn't?"

"No. Not even close."

I didn't know what to say. All the questions that had plagued me since the day Jessalyn had slipped her foot into the shoe were running circles in my mind. Should I try once again to tell him? Would he believe me? What good could it possibly do anyway?

"Damn it all!" he swore in frustration, throwing himself backward onto his bed. He looked again at the
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slipper in his hand. "How could this have happened, Eldon?

How could it have gone so wrong?" He sat up and pointed the shoe at me. "She ran, as if the devil himself were after her. I chased her out the door, and I found this. I gave it to Milton." He looked down at Milton, who glared at him with barely disguised disgust. "He's supposed to be the finest tracking dog in the kingdom. When I gave it to him, he gave all the signs of having the trail, but…" He stopped, staring down forlornly at the shoe. "He led me straight to your house, Eldon. Straight to Jessalyn."