A large sudden wind shear marked the air.
And then there was the other matter. Holding back a sigh, Prince lifted his head and stood.
*****
"Your Highness? May we assist you somehow?" The sight Prince's bedraggled appearance had Cinderella ready to abandon all propriety and smother him with attention. Or perhaps tear off screaming in the opposite direction. His hair was in desperate need of a comb, his chin a shave. "Are you ill, Sir?" She marveled at how calm she sounded.
"Ill?" he choked out.
"Essie, my arm," Cinderella whispered, attempting to pry Essie's whitened knuckles from their vice-like grip. But Essie held tight.
Cinderella glanced at her face. Essie's confused, then surprised expression teetered on seeing the very thing Cinderella desperately wanted to hide - that Cinderella loved Prince. Once Essie's batting lashes slowed to a normal pace, Cinderella had no illusions that that was exactly what she would see.
She swung back to Prince. Stilled the tremor in her voice. "You…look…" The words stuck in her throat. "Je suis désolée. I am sorry." She was appalled by her forthrightness.
"Ill? Fatigued? Frustrated?" he muttered.
He was jesting, of course, though, he did look extremely fatigued. Not at all princely. The edge to his voice was raspy, bleak, hopeless. Her heart ached for him.
"Cinde! We must go," Essie hissed in her ear.
Cinderella ignored her never taking her eyes from Prince.
"Do not worry for me, ladies," he said. He bowed. "Shall I see you at supper then?"
"Oui, oui," Essie stammered.
Cinderella's only opportunity to further her acquaintance with Prince slipped from her grasp. He mounted his horse before she could utter another word.
They watched him set off in a cantor.
"Are you mad?" Essie scolded her.
"Obviously," Cinderella said under her breath irritated. One must gather one's wits when one adopts a new sister, she supposed.
*****
Preparations for the betrothal ball were in full bloom, forcing Prince to maneuver carefully on the way to his chamber. Rolled up rugs had been were carried out and beaten and were in the process of being rolled back onto the dark wood floors. It seemed he couldn't traipse anywhere without running into some frenzy of readying. He'd never seen the like.
Mayhap he should consult a physician for the ailments plaguing him. This near fainting was not natural for a man of his healthy aptitude. It was ludicrous, he smirked. He should be bled.
On the one hand, if he perished 'twould save him an appearance at a life sentence of his own making. The shoe. Trying it on every maiden in the kingdom had been a terrible idea. There must be another way to find her. He needed to speak with Maman, urgently. Beg her to reconsider this mad plan of a betrothal ball.