Charm (11 page)

The question came so far out of the blue and cut through the pain in her heart so suddenly that she found herself answering without any thought. ‘He was so very beautiful.’ She didn’t think about the past tense. She didn’t think about what that meant.

‘I suppose he is, if you like that kind of thing,’ the huntsman said. ‘But tell me,’ he leaned against the wall in his easy fashion, ‘didn’t you wonder for a moment how foolish and self-absorbed a man must be to only recognise the woman he claims to love from her foot fitting a shoe?’

‘No,’ she said, her face burning. ‘No I didn’t, because I’m a stupid, stupid girl. Is that what you want to hear?’ She spat her anger at him with tears stinging her eyes, and she turned and ran back inside. She wouldn’t cry in front of him. She wouldn’t cry in front of anyone.

‘Cinderella,’ he called softly after her. She turned. He was merely a shadow in the night.

‘I would have recognised you. I’d recognise you always.’ The shadow moved and then he was gone, leaving Cinderella staring after him wondering what exactly he meant.

She was tucked up in her bed, her heart still heavy, when the interconnecting door opened and Rose came in, leaning on her stick.

‘Where have you been?’ she whispered. There was no accusation in the question, only curiosity. She walked towards the bed, and Cinderella noticed how elegantly she moved, even with her limp.

‘I couldn’t sleep.’

‘Were you with the prince?’

The tears came then, she couldn’t help it. She cried for all of them, but mainly for her and Rose and all the trouble her childish dreams had caused. ‘He wasn’t there,’ she whispered.

She leaned against Rose who wrapped her arms around her and rocked her gently back and forth, just like she had done when they were both little girls and Cinderella couldn’t sleep.

‘You put too much importance on love, little sister.’ Rose said. ‘He is a prince and he will be a king and they always do as they please, even if they love their wives as he must love you. There are things you must learn to ignore. You will be the queen and that’s what matters. You’ll be the mother of his children. The rest, well, the rest of it won’t really matter.’ As Cinderella listened, she felt the walls of the castle close in around her. Rose made it sound so easy, this royal life. But how could you live without love? Without passion? She’d rather be dead.

‘I don’t know that I can,’ she whispered.

‘Of course you can. I’ll help you.’ Rose stroked Cinderella’s hair as she talked, her hand running gently over the thick red curls. ‘But it might do you well to love him just a little less. Life will be easier that way. You know, if you play it cleverly, you could do some good for the kingdom. Make life better for people.’

‘I don’t want to play anything,’ Cinderella sobbed. ‘I just wanted to fall in love and live in the castle.’

‘Well, one out of two isn’t that bad,’ Rose said. ‘Life isn’t a fairy tale, Cinderella. I wish it was, but it isn’t. And perhaps he will love you as you love him. Who can tell?’

Rose stayed in her room until she eventually fell asleep, Cinderella relishing the contact and affection. She’d been so lonely. Rose must have been too.

‘I love you, Rose,’ she whispered, as the knot in her stomach finally unfurled and sleep claimed her.

‘I love you too, Cinderella,’ her sister said.

T
he prince continued to be attentive to her but she found it hard to maintain her facade of joy when he was clearly keeping a lover secret from her. She checked his room twice more in the following nights and neither time was he there. She’d asked him how he slept and whether his apartments were comfortable. He always replied yes, and she kept the smile on her face even though she wanted to shout at him and call him a liar. By the third day, she took refuge in her room claiming fatigue at all the wedding preparations and ordered the maids to fill her a hot bath.

It was only when they’d left did she notice the little brown mouse that had followed them in. A scar ran along its back and she was surprised at the sudden surge of affection she felt at the sight of the little familiar creature.

‘How did you get in here?’ she asked. She crouched and held her hand out to it and laughed delightedly as it ran onto her palm, its tiny feet tickling against her skin. ‘You’re quite the little adventurer, aren’t you, Mr Mouse?’ She placed him carefully on a cushion on her bed. ‘Maybe you should be Mrs Mouse, actually,’ she said, undoing the laces of her dress. ‘Women are more reliable.’

Her dress slid away to the ground and as she peeled off her undergarments it was good to feel the air on her skin. Even though it was warm, she shivered slightly with the pleasant sensation. The mouse stood up on its hind legs, its dark eyes studying her. It was a strange little thing, but she was glad of its company.

‘Where do you think he goes every night?’ she said, softly, lowering her naked body into the hot bath, and closing her eyes. ‘Am I so terribly unlovable?’ She sighed and then opened her eyes to pick up the sponge and soap. The little mouse was sitting on the edge at the other end of the large tub. It really was a remarkable little thing. She soaped the sponge and ran it over her small firm breasts and flat stomach. Her skin tingled. The prince had awoken something in her at the ball and although she was realising that love was elusive, that fire of lust still burned. ‘Was it all just the shoes? Really? Why would she do that to me?’ Her voice grew softer as her body responded to her own touch. ‘Some fairy godmother,’ she murmured as she grew lost in her fantasy.

She closed her eyes and shut out the little mouse and the castle around her and she was back on the balcony at the Bride Ball and the prince’s hands were exploring her. Her hands moved across her body. In her mind, his hands were tanned this time, however, and rougher, and when he kissed her she could feel rough stubble rubbing her cheeks. She gasped as her fingers worked, imagining his mouth down between her legs, and then him moving up and inside her, and as she moved towards a climax she was surrounded by the scents of the forest.

The shouts of ‘Thief! Thief! The thief has been caught!’ woke her suddenly from her fantasy and, barely noticing the mouse scurrying away, she got out of the bath and wrapped a robe around her wet body before padding to the window, pulling back the thick rich curtain and looking down on the courtyard below. Castle life was kept relatively quiet at the request of the queen who was always suffering from some headache or ailment or another. But this morning there was a huge amount of fuss outside as an Earl’s carriage, identifiable by the blue flag hanging from the front, drew up and a fat man with impossibly thin stockinged legs climbed down awkwardly. Behind the carriage was a cart carrying what looked like a wooden cage. Cinderella frowned. Was that the prisoner? She was sure there was someone inside it.

As the Earl was escorted inside, four footmen ran down the stairs and lifted the cage down. Several of the ordinary servants and merchants who had loitered nearby rushed forward as soon as the Earl had disappeared inside. ‘Thief!’ one shouted at whoever was locked in the box, jabbing a stick in between the bars. ‘They’ll send you to the Troll Road!’ The footmen shooed them back, but still the jeers and catcalls continued.

Cold flooded Cinderella’s stomach. A thief. Her nerves jangled. It couldn’t be, could it? There must be hundreds of thieves in the city? She pushed the window open and leaned out into the cold morning air.

‘Buttons?’ she called down, not caring about the heads that all tilted upwards, staring at her in her clingy robe. ‘Buttons? Is that you?’

From between two bars, a pale hand appeared and waved weakly.

‘Oh no,’ Cinderella muttered, stumbling backwards into her room. ‘Oh, no.’ She grabbed at her clothes. ‘Rose!’ she shouted. ‘Rose! Something terrible’s happened!’

T
he evidence against Buttons, or Robin as it turned out was his real name, was overwhelming. Caught red-handed stealing two of the earl’s silver spoons – from a collection of one hundred and twenty three which should have been a collection of one hundred and thirty – it did not take long for the masters of various households to marry up visits from the castle boy with small items going missing. It was true in the castle itself, too, where the kitchen staff confirmed that there had been many instances of fresh loaves and cheeses vanishing along with occasional bottles of wine from the cellar. Even those items that had simply been mislaid were being added to the list of Buttons’ crimes.

There was no trial to speak of. He was, after all, accused of crimes against the king. Although judges did exist for the common people – albeit the trials were always a speedy and rather haphazard affair – in this instance Buttons was dealt with behind closed doors in the presence of the king, the prince and the council of nobles. It was no surprise when he was declared guilty and sentenced to take the Troll Road.

Cinderella and Rose had waited in the corridor outside, clasping each other’s hands, until the nobles in all their fur-trimmed finery filed out, already discussing the fine lunch that awaited them and Buttons’ fate forgotten. The two girls looked at each other and knew what had to be done. Rose would try and talk to the king; Cinderella would tackle the prince.

Cinderella’s heart was beating fast when she knocked on the apartment door and stepped inside. She was used to seeing the main bedroom at night and in the dark, merely shapes in the gloom, but the vast space was beautifully decorated in creams and whites with trim in blues and purples. She noticed her diamond shoe had been tossed carelessly on top of a wardrobe so high that it could barely be seen. She wondered when it had no longer merited the velvet cushion.

‘What are you doing here?’ The prince asked, surprised to see her. He was changing out of his formal clothes, and was stripped to his waist. ‘Excited about the Troll Road?’ He clearly was, his eyes bright and face flushed. ‘Have you ever been?’

Cinderella shook her head and stared at his chest; broad and smooth and exactly how she’d imagined it in her fantasies. A silver chain glinted against his skin. She swallowed and tried to focus her thoughts. ‘No, I’m not excited. I’m here to plead for mercy for the servant boy.’

‘What?’ he frowned. ‘You are joking, aren’t you? He’s a thief. What does he matter to you?

‘He’s just a boy,’ she said. ‘And he didn’t steal anything too terrible.’

‘How would you know?’

‘I . . . well, I knew him. Sort of.’ A flush crept up her face. ‘He sometimes brought me things. Coal when it was cold. He gave other people things too.’

‘I didn’t realise your mother’s marriage had taken her so low that you were relying on gifts from dishonest servants.’

‘I don’t think he thought he was doing any harm. He’s a good . . .’

‘Shut up.’ The prince’s face hardened as he cut her off, his mouth tightening into a thin line. He didn’t look so handsome anymore. ‘He stole from
us
. He will go to the Troll Road and you will sit beside me as he drops. And you will never say another word about him to me. Do you understand?’

‘But—’

‘You need to stop behaving like a commoner,’ he muttered, pulling a fresh shirt over his head. ‘And talking like one. Your voice – it’s very coarse. Concentrate on the elocution lessons and leave matters of royal justice to my father and I.’

His words stung. She hadn’t thought he could hurt her any more than his cooling affections had done, but seeing his avoidance of her writ large on his face and hearing his words made her want to weep all over again.

‘Why are you marrying me?’ she asked, quietly. ‘You don’t love me.’

‘I have to.’ He looked at her and she saw sadness in his eyes, and she wondered who exactly it was for. ‘The whole kingdom is expecting it. If I put you aside now I will look heartless and fickle.’

‘Maybe I should leave,’ Cinderella said. She found that, after all her childish dreams of living in the castle, the idea of returning to her old home wasn’t so terrible after all. Even with the cold and the meagre amounts of food.

‘You can’t. I’m the prince and you’re a commoner. How much more foolish would I look if you were to go?’

‘I thought you wanted me,’ she said, and a tear slipped down her cheek. She didn’t know what to do. How was this going to be any kind of life?

‘I don’t know what happened on those nights of the Bride Ball.’ The prince slumped into a chair as Cinderella sat on the edge of the bed and they looked at each other, this time as honest strangers rather than supposed lovebirds. ‘I wasn’t looking for love. I was done with beauty. I wanted to find a practical wife; someone my father would approve of. Someone who understood what being a queen would entail.’ He looked over at Cinderella. ‘My mother was a noble and she still finds it difficult.’

Cinderella thought once again of Rose, her cool head and warm heart and sense of distance from the world. Rose had never talked of boys or crushes or hung the prince’s picture on the wall.

‘And then there you were,’ he said, and shrugged. ‘And from the moment I saw you until the moment they found you, I was driven with a desire I’ve never known. I thought I loved you. I would have died for you. But then when you arrived here, it was all different.’