Stepmama turned to her and snarled, "Not you! You shall remain inside."

"B-but, Stepmama-" The crack of Stepmama's open palm stung her cheek. She laid her hand against her heated flesh.

"You dare to spar with me, child?"

Her words dashed all hope.

"To the basement," Stepmama commanded.

"But…"

"But nothing," she spat, hand raised, reinforcing her threat. "Away with you. Quickly." Cinderella dare not disobey. She turned from the window hands clenched, swallowed choking tears, and moved to the basement door. Stepmama cast her one more glare. Cinderella ran. She slipped behind the basement door, but in a fit of rebellion perched herself on the top stair.

A knock, firm and strong, pounded the door. Cinderella peered through the crack. Esmeralda pulled it open with an unnatural and timid reserve, green eyes batting wildly.

A footman, stood ridged and formal, most distinguished in his white pantaloons with their red stripe down one side. Cinderella had ne'er seen the like, awed by his corresponding jacket adorned with gold tassels. Stepmama's preoccupied stupor and grandeur allowed Cinderella's furtive peek to go unnoticed.

Without warning, the footman bellowed in clipped cultured tones, as if they were not standing within touching distance, "His Royal Highness to see the maidens of the house." He clicked the heels of his shiny black boots and offered a sharp formal bow from the waist. A swift movement from another similarly dressed individual pulled a trumpet to his lips. The blaring sound had everyone flinching, even Stepmama. At least Cinderella had the luxury of covering her ears. She choked back a laugh at her family's strained expressions.

Someone spoke softly. It was not Prince. Cinderella would have recognized his deep warm voice anywhere. It had been in her dreams for a week past now. "We shall conduct the business of the slipper trying-on the bench in your lovely garden, Madame."

Stepmama flounced through the door with Esmeralda and Pricilla trailing like little ducklings. Little ugly ducklings, she amended, scowling. The door shut behind them in a resounding slam.

La! This was her chance. Cinderella darted from her post inside the basement door and peered through the curtains. It was a risk worthy of furious wrath.

Prince, her Prince, dismounted from his horse in a graceful drop to the ground. He looked just as she remembered. Hand on her throat, a dreamy sigh escaped. Hair, black as night tied at his nape with a velvet queue, firm determined jaw, strong teeth, and corded muscles. Her fingers tingled remembering how his hand swallowed hers as he'd guided her through the ballroom dance after dance.

"Mew." She lowered her palm for Marcel, without taking her eyes from her beloved.




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