Charm (14 page)

‘I want to watch you,’ he breathed into her neck. He held her tight against him and she was sure if he’d let go, her legs would give way beneath her. ‘I want
you
to watch you. See the woman you are.’ Their eyes locked in the mirror and he lowered his mouth, tracing his lips against her neck as one hand undid the laces at the front of her dress. She moaned and her head tilted sideways, as he breathed on her, barely touching her with his lips and tongue, as his fingers expertly sought out her nipple, teasing it, all the time his dark eyes watching her reactions from beneath the hood of his soft, dark hair. She pressed back into him feeling the hardness there and she reached a hand behind her to touch him. He grabbed her wrist firmly and stopped her, smiling at her reflection.

‘Slowly, princess,’ he whispered.

‘I want you to kiss me,’ she said, breaking his hold and twisting round to face him. Her dress was falling free, and he stared at her for a moment and then pushed her up against the mirror. Her arms slid round his waist and she ran her fingers up his naked spine. She could feel scar tissue breaking the smoothness of his skin and her stomach tingled all the more for it. This was no spoilt prince. This was a man who’d fought a monster because she asked him for help. He ran one hand up over her breast and to her neck, pinning her firmly against the glass. As their lips moved so close together she could feel the warmth of his breath and the strength of his hand and she thought she would explode. She gripped his back, the strange skin of the long scar on his back heightening her excitement and then, out of nowhere, her head was filled with the image of brown fur. A twitching nose.

Scar tissue. On his back. The troll.

Oh no. Oh no, it couldn’t be. Could it?

‘Wait just one minute.’ Just as his lips had been about to brush hers, she pushed him away, the pressure of her hand touching his bandaged side enough to make him gasp and pull back.

‘What? What’s the matter?’

She stared at him as the realisation dawned on her. ‘You’ve got a scar on your back.’

‘So what?’

‘Just like the mouse. The one you insisted I give Buttons.’ Surely it couldn’t be? But the mouse had always been so odd, following first Buttons and then her. What kind of field mouse did that? She raised one shaking finger at him. ‘You’re the mouse, aren’t you? That’s how you got to the troll.’

He stared at her and then shrugged. ‘She cursed me. And then when she needed me, she half-lifted it. Man by night, mouse by day.’

‘The fairy godmother?’ Cinderella’s eyes widened.

‘If that’s what you want to call her. She’s a queen, and she can be a bitch.’

‘But why? I mean . . . what did you do? And . . .’ Her head was filled with questions which were abruptly crushed by the sudden weight of memories. ‘Oh god,’ she wheezed, suddenly almost unable to breathe with the horror of it. ‘You’ve seen me naked. You watched me in the bath.’ Her eyes widened. ‘I put you down my top!’ She stared at him. ‘You bastard.’

She turned away and covered her mouth as another memory dawned. Buttons. The mouse had been there when Buttons . . . . ‘My kitchen. You
saw
. . . you watched . . .’

‘What was I supposed to do?’ he said, the start of a smile twinkling in his eyes.

‘Close your eyes at least? Run away.’

‘I’m a hot blooded man,’ he grinned, a lop-sided, infuriatingly handsome expression. ‘To be fair, inside your dress it was too dark to see anything. But the bath, and Buttons well, that was amazing . . . what could I do?’

She let out some sound halfway between a growl and a shriek and slapped him hard across the face. He was unbelievable! How could she even have thought about kissing him? Had she forgotten how much he irritated her? She stormed to the door and unlocked it with shaking hands. ‘Get out,’ she said. ‘And get me the other slipper back from that witch.’

‘What do you need the slipper for?’ He frowned slightly.

‘Just get it. Then she can have her prize and then we can both be free of that woman’s meddling.’ She glowered at him. ‘And of each other.’

‘Fine,’ he strode towards her, his jaw locked. She wasn’t sure if it was in pain or anger or lust and she didn’t care. He was impossible. He was uncouth. What had she been thinking? She had almost kissed him! He stopped before her, in the doorway, and her heart started racing again despite herself. ‘If that’s what you want,’ he said. ‘Next time you need someone saving from a troll do it yourself.’

She pushed him out of the door and locked it again, her breathing loud and angry, before throwing herself down on the bed like she used to as a teenager. She wanted to cry with the shame of it. How could he have just sat on the side of the bath and watched her doing
that
? He must have been laughing at her. God, she’d been so stupid. She punched the pillow and then buried her face in it. She hated him. She really, really did.

S
he’d covered the mirrors over, for once wanting some complete quiet so she could think. There was nothing to see anyway. Black ice and slush filling the roads. The occasional tradesman heading to work early; bakers and butchers determined to catch what trade they could. She needed to lift the winter spell soon, but it came from a dark place in her soul that had a life of its own and was difficult to manage. But the people would need to eat and there was only so much ore the exhausted dwarves could mine in order to trade for grain. The kingdom – her kingdom – needed to thrive again and she had to make it happen. Yet she couldn’t make the ice inside herself melt, so how was she supposed to save the land?

But maybe things would change soon. Perhaps they already were. Outside, the sky was turning from black to blue with hints of purple as dawn bruised the horizon. For once there were no heavy clouds gathering at the start of a new day, as if the shivers of excitement she’d felt had swept them away. She drank more wine and stared out at nothing. She knew she should steel herself for disappointment but she couldn’t help the warmth in the pit of her stomach. Her heart thumped hard against her ribs. It had been doing so for hours, ever since the huntsman arrived, frozen and exhausted, and asked for the slipper. He’d been wounded but wouldn’t say how, and refused help from her medical men. He’d been bandaged well enough, he said. By better hands than anything she could offer. She didn’t argue with him. It would take far more than a flesh wound to kill off the huntsman.

The slipper.

The girl wanted the slipper. Lilith had frozen at that and for a moment all the servants in the castle had inadvertently shivered as if someone had walked over their graves. The huntsman said Cinderella hadn’t told him what her plan was, only that she’d found a secret room and the prince had the key to it. She’d smiled at that. It hadn’t taken the girl too long to realise that if you’re going to hunt for something hidden, you first look for someone who’s hiding something. Her charming prince hadn’t managed to love her for long, it seemed.

She gave the huntsman the slipper and lifted the curse for long enough to send him back with it. He’d get twenty-four hours as a man; then he’d turn back into a mouse again forever. That, however, was his problem not hers.

The minutes were ticking by eternally slowly. She wondered how far he’d got on his journey. She wondered what would happen when he gave her the slipper and Cinderella got into the locked room. Mainly she wondered if this could really be it. The end of her long search. Restless, she got to her feet and wandered into the warmer ante-chamber where all her treasures were laid out. She hoped for the comfort they normally brought her but felt nothing. In the far corner the cabinet door creaked open.

‘She truly is the most beautiful in all the land . . .’

She didn’t bother trying to shut the thing up. It was pointless. Instead, she put down her wine glass and walked with more purpose than she had in a long time to the stairs leading down to the heart of the castle. She would wait for them at the edge of the kingdom. It would be safer that way, depending on the outcome, and it was time she got out into the world. And if the huntsman’s girl really had found the prize after all this time then she’d finish it once and for all.

It was cold and crisp but, for the first time in a long time, the sun shone over the kingdom that day as the queen with no mercy rode into the forest.

I
t was late afternoon and Cinderella had just finished retracing her steps of the previous night, making small marks on the walls with a piece of chalk at regular intervals just to make sure she didn’t take a wrong turn later, when she bumped into Rose in the corridor at the base of the stairs.

‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere,’ Rose said, frowning. ‘You missed lunch with father and mother. They’re worried about you.’ The wooden cane she’d been using had been replaced by a slender silver one but she was barely leaning on it at all. The king had sent for the finest shoe makers in the land and they had worked tirelessly to make her beautiful shoes that helped her balance. It didn’t stop Cinderella feeling guilty whenever she saw her. If she hadn’t been so selfish and stupid then it would be Rose preparing for a royal wedding, her family would be financially secure, and she herself would be free.

‘Sorry,’ she said, trying to nonchalantly edge Rose away from the stairwell. ‘I forgot. How are they?’

‘They’re fine. Surprisingly so. I think what happened with my foot . . . well, it sobered mother up.’ She smiled. ‘Don’t get me wrong, she’s happy to be back at court, but I think she’s more excited about father setting up the newspaper again.’

Cinderella smiled absently, but her mind was already racing ahead. What time would the huntsman be back? Would he have the slipper? But more and more her thoughts were filled with wanting to know exactly what the prince kept behind that locked door. ‘Oh,’ she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. ‘I think Buttons is safe. He’s in the woods.’

‘How do you know?’ Rose’s eyes widened. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, my friend told me.’ Some kind of friend, Cinderella thought. She could still die of shame when she thought about what she’d done so brazenly in front of him. She could only hope that mice didn’t have very good eyesight. She began to walk away knowing that whatever secrets she was involved in she still had a teacher waiting for her in the music room who was determined to force a delicate melody from her fingers, which were proving remarkably defiant. After that it would be poetry recital practice. Both, she’d discovered, bored her to tears. Being a noble woman wasn’t quite the life of love and laughter she’d fantasised about.

‘Cinderella,’ Rose called after her, and she stopped and turned.

‘What?’

‘What is going on? I know all this wedding planning must be overwhelming for you, but what are you hiding from me?’ Rose had one hand on the hip of her plum dress. ‘I went into your room to find you and there was some blood on your rug. And you’ve been in my medical kit.’

‘Don’t go in my room!’ Cinderella snapped. Her skin burned. She hadn’t even checked the carpets for drops of the huntsman’s blood – she’d been too angry with him to think so practically. She’d need to find time to clean that up. The servants wouldn’t say anything, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

‘I’m just worried,’ Rose recoiled slightly. ‘That’s all.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Cinderella said. She didn’t want to upset Rose. She’d done her enough harm already which she would never be able to put right. ‘I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. I’m fine. I really am.’

Rose said nothing but she still looked suspicious. Cinderella turned and headed fast down the corridor before any more questions came. She didn’t want to lie, not if she didn’t have to, but she didn’t want to involve Rose either. This was her problem, she was going to deal with it by herself and she’d do whatever it took to get into that room. She was marrying the man anyway, so she would have to do it at some point, and it wasn’t that long ago that she’d been desperate to be alone with him. Still, her stomach twisted nervously. It all sounded good in theory. But how would it go in practice? She pushed the worry out of her head. If the huntsman didn’t come back with the slipper then it would all amount to nothing in the end.