Cinderella (Faerie Tale Collection) (16 page)
Read Cinderella (Faerie Tale Collection) Online
Authors: Jenni James
Tags: #YA, #fairy tale, #clean fiction, #young adult
The months that followed were not happy ones for Lady Dashlund and Jillian. It was decreed by the king and queen of the land that they were to live in their home, but not in their fine rooms—they were to live in the attics, like they had done with Ella.
She was more generous than they were, as she did not make them live as servants and they could have nicer furniture in their rooms. But, as housekeepers of the queen’s country estate, they were to manage and oversee the whole, but never truly live as if they owned it again.
When Anthony’s mother learned it was Jillian behind the disastrous mishaps Lacey had caused, she brought Jillian up to the castle once a week for a year to tend the garden and earn back the cost of all she had ruined. As was decreed, had it been an accident, it may have been overlooked, but because it was done in spite—punishment was given.
Jillian eventually married a farmer. She was pretty enough in her simple wedding gown, holding the hand of her new husband, though her beauty soon began to fade once the first of her children arrived.
Lacey and the duke finally married as well. After the ball, when he could see her without the catastrophes caused by her jealous sister, he soon began to enjoy her very much. Once it was revealed they both loved chess as much as the other—and not just love it, but were equally matched in the game—it was soon decided a wedding would be imminent. For who could not resist being married to the perfect opponent for life?
Ella and Anthony had four sons, all just as tall and handsome as their father, and caring and loving as their mother, and as sharp witted as their grandmother. And they had a beautiful spitfire daughter, who could outride all the boys on any horse she chose. The royal children were truly the joy of the kingdom.
Anthony never could outride Ella, though he tried several times to best her, she was simply the superior horseman—or horsewoman. The king soon stepped fully into the legacy his father had left him and eventually went on to rule greater than his good father had—though, Anthony would never have believed it if you had told him so. Ella eventually got used to the gowns and dancing and events and all that was expected of her. She found that inner strength and became a remarkable queen.
Together they ruled the kingdom in happiness with many failures and laughter along the way. For this is the tale of how a young lost prince and a neglected girl learned to overcome all their doubts and fears to become the greatest king and queen of their kingdom.
THE END
HANSEL AND GRETEL
CHAPTER ONE
THE CHILD’S CRIES WERE loud and strong—strong enough to be heard through the torrential rain and roaring wind. It had been one of the worst summer storms the region had in years—just simply breathtakingly horrid. The farmer hunched down within his thin saturated coat and wrapped his useless soaking scarf tighter around his head and mouth. Though it was rain and not snow, it was a fierce, biting rain. A rain that was not forgiving or kind.
It brutally pelted his face and hands, stinging them with every slash of the drops as they flew through the air to bite into his covered flesh. The clouds had come so quickly and forcefully that though it was just past four, you would have believed it to be nigh on midnight. So dark and cold it was.
The farmer heard the shriek again, and turned in the direction, skirting the old forest.
“Hello?” he shouted into the sleeting rain. “Hello?”
The answering cries were louder this time and the farmer knew he was very close to the child. In fact, it was most likely tucked within the rock crevice. Attempting to climb a large boulder next to him, he slipped and banged his knee. No doubt there would be a hefty bruise in the morning. Mumbling a curse under his breath, the man attempted again to scale the sheer rock and this time managed to grip well enough to haul his wet body up and on its ledge. Peering over the other side, he flinched as a great strike of lightning lit up the sky—its jagged lines spearing every which way.
The loud crash of thunder that followed immediately after shook the whole slick rock wall he was on. When another bolt of lightning enraged the sky, he looked down and saw the shuddering boy about ten feet below him, right within the crevice as he had assumed.
He was drenched, his arms wrapped around himself.
“Come here, boy!” he shouted to the child. “Come! And quickly too! This lightning is getting dangerously close.”
He held out his hand and the boy stood up just as another crash of thunder exploded all around them. “Hurry!” he shouted again. “Grab my hand!” The farmer’s other hand was slipping from bracing himself in such an awkward position upon the boulder. “Now, boy!”
The trembling child clutched his gloved fingers just as the farmer began to slide back down the sheer boulder between them. Another flash of lightning tore into the rain as it poured all around them and then the bang of the thunder immediately descended. In a show of superhuman strength, he hauled the boy up and over the rock as he slid down the other side.
He balanced the small child against the boulder above them and continued to slip to his feet. Once he regained his footing, he quickly glided the child the last yard or so into his arms.
The sky boomed and lit again as the farmer ran as fast has he dared in such a downpour. He clutched the boy to his chest and thankfully made it the fifty yards or so, into the waiting cottage without mishap. His young son met him at the door, and stared in great shock at the whimpering child in his arms.
“How did you hear him over this storm?” he asked.
“The Gods, son. They led me to him. They must have.” The farmer shook his wet hair as he set the boy on the table and removed his overcoat, handing it to his son. “Hansel, will you hang my coat up for me?” He slipped off his gloves and scarf and tossed them into a bucket near the door. They would need to be wrung out later. His clothes were soaked through. One look at the sopping boy and he knew this would be a rough night.
The child was merely dressed in knee breeches and a simple shirt, with a worn wool hat atop his head. His shivers alerted the farmer to the great urgency needed to help him. “Hansel, fetch me a blanket for the lad now.” His son was quick to place the coat atop of the peg by the door and run to the bedroom.
The father pulled the dripping hat off the child and gasped when a long golden braid plopped out. Its end tied with a battered green velvet ribbon.
“You are no boy at all, child! You are a girl.”
She nodded and looked away, her arms going tighter around her trembling legs.
“Where did you come from? How are you to be out in a storm like this?”
“I,” the little girl opened her quivering mouth to speak, and then her eyes darted to Hansel as he came back in the room carrying a thick blanket.
“Yes?” asked the farmer as he took the blanket from his son and wrapped it tightly around her. “Who are you? How did you come here?”
Her voice stuttered through her shivers, but he finally made out, “My home—it is gone. Th—they took it.”
“Who took it? Who are you? Why is such a small girl left all alone in the woods?”
“Father, let her speak. You ask too many questions at once. Cannot you see she is frightened?” Hansel smiled at the girl and asked simply, “Where do you live?”
She took a deep breath and tried again, this time not so unsteadily. “I do not know where it is from here, or I would point it out to you. I became lost.” Her voice had a distinct accent.
The farmer hissed and stepped back. “You are from the Larkein kingdom?”
“Yes.” She smiled, not realizing what danger she put herself in by uttering such words in this house. “Yes. My father was the king.”
“Your father was the—” Hansel gasped and looked at his father. “My word! What have we done?” he asked him.
“If they knew we had the Larkein princess in this cottage, we would be hanged.”
They both looked back at the little girl, her bright blue eyes blinked back at them. She was a very pretty child and clearly terrified. Hansel asked, “How old are you?”
She put on a brave smile and sat up straighter. “I am six! How old are you?”
“Ten.” He turned toward his father. “What should we do, Father? We cannot toss her back out, surely? She is too young.”
His father stumbled back a few more steps and then slammed his palm forcefully upon the rocking chair. “We cannot keep her here! We cannot! Not with the king’s men invading her home this very day. If they knew—if they knew she was with us.”
“What if they never found out?”
His father nearly fell to the wooden floor. “What?! Never found out? Are you mad? How can we keep a child—a female child—with a distinct Larkein voice in our home without anyone being the wiser? Hansel! No. I must take her back into the night and allow the Gods to decide what is best to do with her.”
“Father, please! I know they are a wicked kingdom, but please! It is not saying the girl will be too. We can hide her. We can. And she can learn how to speak properly. We will say that she is my cousin, an orphan—from your sister Claudine. Everyone knows she has just passed on and left a score of children. They will not think anything of it. Please, father. You cannot send her out there. She will die.”
“Hansel! It better she die than us!” He pointed at the girl and she began to cry. “Take her outside this instant.”
“No! I will not. For it is not right. She is a child, Father. She can be trained to be good. Let us keep her, please.”
The farmer walked around and collapsed upon the rocking chair. “My heart is too soft,” he muttered into his hand. “It is too soft by half. Now what will we get ourselves into?”
“I promise I will take full responsibility for her. I will see that she is safe and teach her our ways. Just do not let her go back out to meet her fate. Perhaps her fate was that she was meant to come to us? You, yourself, said it was the Gods who led you to her. It can only be good that she brings.”
His father groaned and hunched over in his chair. “I hope you are right, my son. I hope you are right.” He folded his wet arms. “Fine. She may stay. Though it is with great trepidation and folly I agree to this.”
“Thank you, father.” Hansel walked up to the little girl. He peered into her bright eyes and asked, “What is your name? What is it they call you in the castle?”
She looked at him for a long time, her eyes full of tears, and then suddenly smiled big, showing a missing top tooth. “Gretel. My name is Gretel.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JENNI JAMES IS THE busy mom of seven rambunctious children ranging from the ages of 2 to 16. When she isn’t chasing them around her house in sunny New Mexico, she is dreaming of new books to write. She loves to hear from her readers and can be contacted at:
[email protected]
, or written to: Jenni James PO Box 514, Farmington, NM 87499. Jenni has several clean books for teens already published and many more to come, including:
Faerie Tale Collection:
Beauty and the Beast
Sleeping
Beauty Rumplestiltskin
Hansel and Gretel
The Jane Austen Diaries:
Pride & Popularity
Persuaded
Northanger Alibi
Emmalee
Mansfield Ranch
Prince Tennyson
Cinderella
Jenni James © copyright 2013
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
StoneHouse Ink 2013
StoneHouse Ink
Boise ID 83713
http://www.stonehouseink.net
First eBook Edition: 2013
First Paperback Edition: 2013
Cover design by Phatpuppy Art
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published in the United States of America
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