When Snow White picked up an urn instantly, Cinderella took it from her hands. "We have been trapped in this cabin for days," she said, pressing the urn
against Tater's chest. "I am certain you can endure one afternoon without us."
"Who's gonna clean this water up?" Big Papa questioned.
"Why, Big Papa," Cinderella replied, running persuasive fingers through his scruffy beard. "You know we have deepest faith in your sweeping skills."
Then, without another word, she took Rapunzel's hand and gestured Snow White to follow them from the cabin, which Snow White did with some anxiety,
Rapunzel noted. Every few minutes, Snow White looked back, as if she expected it to be her last morning with the dwarves.
Not entirely sure the dwarves would not kick them out for refusing the chore, Rapunzel looked to Cinderella, having full faith in her ability to convince
the dwarves to take them back with a single meal and a smile, which, she well knew, had already brought all, with the exception of Esteban, under its
spell.
The ground they walked upon a muddy mess, water dripped from the leaves as if it were raining. On another day, it might have made for a gloomy walk, but as
the air grew warmer around them, Rapunzel felt nothing but joy at every drop that touched her cheek or forehead, at the smell of the Earth coming to life,
at the freedom of being somewhere other than the dwarves' tiny cabin or her tower. Mostly, though, her joy came from Cinderella's hand in hers, a reminder
that, as many new things as she longed to see, there were some things she wanted to remain forever as they were.
Hand breaking suddenly free, Cinderella rushed ahead, jumping with both feet into a puddle, splashing her lower half, before turning her face up beneath a
sodden tree.
"You have not had enough of water?" Rapunzel softly asked, watching the beads slide down Cinderella's features, drawn toward her as if Cinderella was one
of the magic orbs she had read about in her books, fabled to possess the power to pull any mortal to her fate.
"I have not had enough of this kingdom." Cinderella walked back, arms closing around Rapunzel's waist as she stepped behind her, her lips warm where they
brushed Rapunzel's ear. "And you, you have had so little of the world. How do you feel about it?"
How Rapunzel felt at that very moment was of a private enough nature, she thought it best not to reply in front of Snow White. Instead, she turned into the
soft press of Cinderella's lips against her cheek, the fleeting intimacy a reminder of how little time they'd had alone since they left Naxos. Not that she
was not grateful for the kindness Snow White and the dwarves had shown them. It was only that, when the secretive touches she shared with Cinderella
beneath the blankets in the mornings after Snow White rose or before she retired to the loft at night were not quite enough, she did wish for a single
door.
"I feel pleasantly overwhelmed," she responded, and it encompassed the whole truth. Overwhelmed was the only way for her to describe the state in which she
had found herself since the moment Cinderella climbed through her window. Away from the tower, she realized, it was still Cinderella who made her feel that
way most. Even when everything else was new, none of it made the impression Cinderella made with the softest of touches.
Sliding out from behind her, Cinderella clasped Rapunzel's hand, and Rapunzel coiled around her arm, as close as she could get, not as close as she wanted
to be. Eyes trailing up Cinderella's face, she watched her eyes shine in the streaks of daylight as she glanced to Snow White.
"So, what was life in the palace like?" Cinderella questioned. "Could you go like this? Were you allowed to leave at your will?"
"Never." Snow White shook her head. "When I left, I had to have a guard or one of the huntsmen with me."
"So, it is just another prison," Cinderella replied duly, and Rapunzel clutched more tightly to her arm.
"What was it like, though?" Rapunzel picked up the line of questioning when both Cinderella and Snow White seemed suddenly morose. "Was it luxurious? I
imagine a palace must burst with luxury."
"There were many luxuries," Snow White nodded.
"So, do you hate it at the dwarves'?" Cinderella questioned. "With all that it is without?"
"No." Snow White shook her head too vehemently, before glancing to them with a more genuine sigh. "I mean, I should not. They did take me in. You hate it,
though," she accused Cinderella. "You and Esteban could have your own war."
"And would if we had the weapons." Cinderella practically swooned at the notion.
"But they do share a mutual, if grudging, respect," Rapunzel interjected. "They have more shared qualities than either will ever admit." A pout sent her
way, Cinderella only proved the point. "Such as a fondness for goading each other, a penchant for terrible quips and, as far as I can tell, for
rule-breaking."
"The quips are terrible?" Cinderella queried with mock concern, and, meeting her gaze, Rapunzel could think of nothing but kissing her so forcefully, she
stole the very smirk from her lips.
"I thought you hated him," Snow White said.
"If I hated him," Cinderella replied. "I would have dunked him when I had the chance. Or buried him in a snow drift that first night. Or put him up in a
tree to see if he could get himself down."
Smile widening with each potential means of Esteban-torture, Cinderella broke from Rapunzel again, walking to a large oak tree to rip a piece of peeling
bark away.
"The dwarves have been good to me," Snow White said, and Cinderella's head whirled around. Rapunzel watched a protest form and linger on her lips, before
Cinderella decided against voicing it. "It is just not the life I expected," Snow White admitted. "The princes of the demi-kingdoms, the high-merchants'
sons, they all asked for my hand, and my father was going to make a decision from amongst them. Whomever he chose, I was to have a very different life."
Shaking her head, Cinderella turned her attention to the tree, and Snow White did not fail to notice, her expression falling in response.
"You think that is wrong?" she asked.
"I think that is how things work in every kingdom," Cinderella returned. "Men do the asking and the answering, no matter the question. You had no say in
where you spent your life, and you seem not to mind that at all. I also think the dwarves have only been as kind to you and to us as what we have given
them. That does not mean they have not grown on me, but calling it goodness when you are earning your way every day is a false understanding of what is
taking place."
Glancing back to Snow White, Rapunzel watched the response worry at her forehead until she feared Snow White might faint from the pressure of it. "You
think I would do better not to marry a prince?" she finally questioned.
"I think you would do best to marry whomever you choose," Cinderella returned, "but you should be the one to do the choosing."
"I should not think to make a proper choice," Snow White replied, and Cinderella sighed so heavily, it weighed upon the entire clearing.
Bark twirling in her hands, she returned to them, concern in her eyes as she looked at Snow White. "Your father chose the woman who ran you from your home,
who left you for dead, and you trust his judgment, but you do not trust your own?"
It was in moments such as this that Rapunzel wondered if her books had taught her anything, for Cinderella seemed to know so much beyond what Rapunzel had
ever read.
"How did you learn to trust yourself?" Snow White questioned.
"It was different for me," Cinderella replied. "I was the only one I could trust."
She tried to walk off then, in one of her sudden tempers, the kind that struck out of nowhere and made Cinderella act as if she were alone in the world,
though they were right there with her. Snatching her arm, Rapunzel pulled Cinderella back to her, refusing to let her flee.
Fresh from a life that required constant hauling and running and fighting back, Cinderella's arm was far stronger than Rapunzel's own, and Rapunzel knew
she could always break free if she wanted, so when Cinderella at last relaxed into her, she dropped her head to a sturdy shoulder in relief.
"But you would not trust a prince?" Snow White could not let the question go, and Rapunzel smiled at the realization of just how prince-prone a girl could
be.
"I have met only two," Cinderella returned with a small laugh.
"But them?" Snow White asked.
"Them, I disliked," Cinderella said firmly.
"What was wrong with those princes?" Snow White sounded terribly bothered.
"He was arrogant," Rapunzel remembered with a tremble, the real Prince Salimen and dream Prince Alluring melding into one in her head.
"Terribly arrogant," Cinderella agreed. "He believed he was doing me a favor by asking for my hand."
"He expected me to accept his hand," Rapunzel added.
"He flaunted false bravery."
"He acted superior."
"He pretended to have wisdom."
"He came in without invitation."
"He told, instead of asking," Cinderella declared. "And when I refused him, he came after me with an envoy, as happy to make me a wife by force as by
choice."
"He tried to imprison my love," Rapunzel whispered, holding tighter to Cinderella's arm, and felt Cinderella's kiss against her hair.
"All that," Snow White uttered, face blanching as if her illusion of a perfect prince had just been irreparably shattered.
"That is only in our experiences," Rapunzel assured her.
"Yes," Cinderella agreed. "If you should like to marry a prince, I see no reason you should not."
"They sound a mess," Snow White said.
"They mustn't all be the same," Cinderella returned.
"But they come in such short supply," Snow White declared. "There are only the other... No, wait. There were only the four other demi-kingdoms. But now..."
"Now, who knows?" Cinderella managed to coax a smile from Snow White as they walked through a thicket so dense, they were cast temporarily into darkness.
Listening to their conversation cross back and forth over her, Rapunzel raised her hand to her forehead, wiping at the perspiration that beaded suddenly
above her brow. As they stepped from the cover of the trees, she felt a last water droplet hit her arm before sunlight poured down upon them.
Blinking against the sudden assault, Rapunzel glanced back, pulling Cinderella to an abrupt stop, but the conversation continued as if neither Cinderella
nor Snow White noticed anything amiss.
"What is that smell?" Cinderella finally asked.
Rapunzel should have guessed the aroma of sweets on the air would be the first thing to catch Cinderella's attention.
"It does smell good," Snow White agreed, turning her nose to the air.
"Uh..." Rapunzel uttered weakly, and both Cinderella and Snow White looked to her. Motioning to the trees through which they had come, damp and dark behind
them, she then raised her eyes to the branches hanging dry and healthy above, pleased when she succeeded, for once, at putting surprise into Cinderella's
eyes. "I think we are in another kingdom."
T
he grass was vibrant green, and there was not a single
splish-splosh
as the girls turned in circles, taking in the sudden changes. Overhead, branches bore
tiny leaves, making their first appearances in the world, while, at their feet, buds of flowers pushed up in tufts around the clearing, awaiting bloom.
Somewhere out of sight, a mother bird chirped to her babies and the soft peeps of reply made Cinderella smile at their impatience.
It was true spring, in the land where Cinderella, Rapunzel and Snow White were standing, at least. In the land from which they had come, still within
stones-throwing distance, the forest floor remained sodden, giant puddles pooling about, remnants of melted snow falling from leafless branches in a
constant drizzle. Between the two lay an invisible, but observable, boundary, butted against the edge of the thicket.
Trees caught in the middle wore sprigs of green growth and new-form white buds on one side, and jutted empty branches on the other. Blades of grass that
curved into the boundary shown green at their roots and brown at their tips. Puddles stopped midway, water frozen in the air, as if a wall of glass held
them in place.
It was that extraordinary feature that drew Cinderella back toward the unseen partition. Unable to contain her curiosity, she knelt at the edge of dry
ground and watched droplets fall into the half puddle before her. Tentatively reaching out, her fingertips glided into the wall of water, and she cupped
her hand, pulling it back into the dry world and watching the water evaporate until it filled only the front half of her palm.
"But we simply walked right through it," Rapunzel whispered in astonishment, stepping up beside Cinderella and reaching a hesitant hand back into Aulis to
catch a few drops that fell from the trees.
"It does appear that way," Cinderella returned.
Realizing she and Rapunzel were alone in their close inspection of the barrier, Cinderella glanced back for Snow White, and found her sitting in the grass
behind them in a sprawled manner, as if she had simply fallen back that way. Staring at the intangible boundary, her mouth hung slightly agape, her eyes
bouncing unnaturally about their sockets. Slowly rising to her feet, Cinderella nudged Rapunzel and, taking great care not to further impair her, they
approached Snow White.
"Are you all right?" Cinderella waved her hand before Snow White's eyes, worried she might get stuck in one of her strange dazes.
"This cannot be real," Snow White uttered.
"I assure you it is as real as you or I," Cinderella declared. "Would you like to see for yourself?"
At the vehement shake of Snow White's head, Cinderella wondered if Snow White realized she would have to pass back through the barrier to return to her own
kingdom.
"All right then," Cinderella stated. "Let us get you up."