Midnight Falls: A Thrilling Retelling of Cinderella (38 page)

On any other occasion, the guards would have dismissed the dazzling woman without hesitation. The king was dead and none of his mourners, least of all his only child, would be privy to entertaining guests (especially since in only minutes, said child would be inheriting his late father’s throne). But that night, Samuel had received a bizarre message from his comrade, a man named Mario who worked closely to the prince, that Leopold was indeed expecting a female guest that evening; that she would be handsome, young, and, oddly enough, wearing
pink
.

The Lady Armitage fulfilled each requirement and was permitted to enter the castle grounds. From there, another guard, obviously abreast of the situation, took her hand and escorted her up the staircase toward Leopold’s private dormitory in the northern wing of the castle.

While that would have been sufficient amusement to keep Samuel and Timothy from succumbing to tedium, it seemed fate had only just begun showcasing its bustle of nightly surprises. For no more than ten minutes after the Lady Armitage, the prince’s special caller, had graced the cobblestone pathway that led through the postern gate into the courtyard, another woman found her way to the guards’ company, requesting admittance. Only this one came by horse. She was far from skilled as a rider, as Timothy had to assist her in dismounting her own horse. Disheveled and out of breath, the maiden was still ravishingly beautiful. She professed to have been summoned by none other than Prince Leopold. She was
young
, she was
handsome
(even with her tangled hair and the dirt that speckled the hem of her gown) and even more oddly to both night guards, she was also wearing pink, with a mismatching wool shawl across her shoulders.

For fear that the were either being overtaken with insanity, faulty vision, or that they might infuriate the prince (the king in but an hour) by sending the true object of his desire away, having prematurely allowed a decoy of sorts into the castle yard, they did not scrutinize the other maiden meticulously.

“You say Prince Leopold sent for you tonight?” Samuel probed.

“Yes,” the woman asserted, “it is vitally important that I speak to him. You must let me pass.”

“But how can His Highness want to see
you
when—” Timothy did not get to complete his own befuddled examination before the woman interrupted him.

“I know, I know,” she countered desperately, unaware until that point how she must have appeared to the guards. “I must look a fright! I am not an avid rider to say the least, gentlemen, but I feared I would be too late if I took the carriage. So I temporarily overcame my indifference and rode Fitzpatrick here as steadily as I could. It was not pretty, as you can plainly see. But I swear to you, I am here at the prince’s bidding. Please, let me in.”

The
second
woman in pink’s request was granted.

“Maybe the prince sent for both of them,” Samuel said to his still-dumbfounded trainee as the second woman in pink disappeared, unescorted, up the castle steps.

“The more the merrier, I say,” Timothy responded with alacrity. “I guess his royal highness is partial to women in pink.”

“Either that or he is partial to pink.”

Both men suppressed their jollity.

Half-Past Eleven o’clock

Samuel and Timothy were still giggling like overgrown teenagers. Only a few more hours and they would be free to squander the rest of the morning at the tavern; to reminisce, delineate, and mock unencumbered. They heard the carriage approaching from the distance before they ever spotted it. It was moving quickly and being that it was black it seemed to materialize ominously from the dark sky.

“Oh, brother!” Samuel exclaimed, wishing he already had his ale. “Looks like Prince Leopold wants to inaugurate his royal promotion with as many as concubines as he can. Lucky son of a bitch.”

“Who do you think
this
is?” Timothy inquired as he watched the coach come to a stop several feet from his post. Samuel did not answer.

The woman who emerged from the carriage was neither young nor donned in pink apparel. Samuel was strangely disappointed.

“State your business, madam,” he said, as perfunctorily as he could.

“I am here to see to it my daughter arrives safely. She should be here soon.”

“Which one was your daughter madam; the lady that arrived ten minutes ago or the one that came twenty minutes ago?” Timothy asked.

Isolda was slightly baffled.

“What?” she entreated. “You mean she is here already? Both of them?”

“They’re both your daughters?” Timothy begged, completely lost and unable to conceal it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Samuel interrupted tersely. “As you were not summoned by a member of the royal family, your ladyship, you may not enter.”

“You cannot prohibit me from seeing my own child!” Isolda declared.

“It is my duty to protect the royal family. If that means dismissing you without prejudice, then so be it.”

“My daughter was summoned and it is
my
duty to look after her. If it is permission you require, speak to Captain Thurlow. He will most certainly vouch for me.”

“Madam,” Samuel spat, “I will not say it again, I—“

“Let her pass!” Thurlow hollered from atop his stallion, directly beside Isolda’s empty coach.

“Sir,” Timothy mewled, “we did not see you there!”

Thurlow gave no reply and descended his horse’s saddle. Isolda was equally alarmed. Thurlow had not ushered her carriage to the castle, or if he did she was unaware. She concluded that the man must have traveled from another direction and was not far behind her. It was of little consequence, but it still puzzled her.

Thurlow was gritty and steel-faced as he marched up, past Isolda, to his subordinates. One was cowering and the other tried to maintain his titular identity in spite of severe trepidation. Even Isolda was apprehensive to be in Thurlow’s presence. He seemed…unpredictable.

“Captain Thurlow,” Samuel appealed, “with all due respect, we were ordered to keep these walls secure and—“

“What do you think, Corporal: that this petite woman here is a threat to the royal family?” Thurlow castigated the guard. “I don’t see a sword hidden on her anywhere, do you? Now get out of my way or I will have you flogged!”

Thurlow did not delay to greet Isolda when he pushed his way through the entrance, almost knocking Samuel over. He walked briskly through the courtyard, around the steps and toward the outer exterior of the keep. Isolda glowered at the guards briefly and scuttled as quickly as she could behind Thurlow. She truly did not have a legitimate reason to linger at the castle while Aislinn was engaged with the prince but she could hardly be expected to sit around at home when, in just minutes, her own daughter could very well become queen!

Would
become queen. There was no way in hell Isolda would miss the show.

“What are you doing here?” Thurlow said as he noted Isolda in his wake. He did not slow his step.

“What do you imagine I am doing here?” Isolda objected, trying with all her might to keep pace with the man. “I am here to see to it you have stood up to your side of the bargain. Aislinn should be meeting with Prince Leopold in a few short minutes, I presume.”

“Yes, Baroness,” Thurlow said, impatiently. “I’ve done as I said I would. Now leave me.”

Isolda halted her steps, grateful for the respite. Her temper was unprovoked by Thurlow’s rude dismissal. She did not care. Thurlow was a means to an end and would see to it Ella was taken care of. Isolda turned and made her way back to the winding staircase, searching out a guard or staff member of some sort that would chaperone her to the dormitory of the northern wing and Aislinn and Leopold’s private tryst.

Thurlow almost collided at full speed with Halsty, who had been pacing back and forth in front of the exterior entrance to the dungeon, where the Gypsy was being prepared for his debut performance in the Hussars’ exhibition.

“There you are!” Halsty shouted but quickly caught himself and diminished his voracity. “There is less than a half an hour until more than a year’s worth of planning explodes with fireworks or goes up in smoke!”

“Like I told you before, Halsty,” Thurlow said before entering the dungeon, what had once been an
oubliette
, “everything will go on as planned. There is no need for dramatics or hysterics.”

“Hysterics?” Halsty responded furiously, trying his damnedest to remain calm. “Is that what you call this? I thought it was patriotism; zealousness for the new world we are creating. Our revolution. Have you forgotten that?”

Thurlow blinked. He should have taken Halsty’s thick neck in his hands and slammed the man’s body against the wall until it fell limp to the ground. How dare his inferior speak to him like that! How dare the very man that had been plucked from obscurity to become his apprentice imply that Thurlow was any less driven to change the world that he’d been before he’d even organized the Hussars. James Halsty believed himself to be a leader of rebels because he’d had a cruel father, because sackcloth and ashes had been shoved down his throat since when he was a child. That was nothing. Thurlow had been a fatherless child. He’d never known the warm touch of a loving mother in the vulnerable years when he needed it the most. He would have settled for
any
touch. The only thing forced upon him in his youth was condemnation he did nothing to earn and could never escape. Sergeant Halsty believed himself a victim but Thurlow knew the truest victims were the ones that, for their own survival, endeavored to prove each and every day of their life that they were no such thing.

“You were my first protégé, Halsty,” Thurlow declared, as serenely as the loose soil of the earth in the path of an impending storm. “And for that, I will not kill you where you stand for your impudence. Instead, I will give you one last chance to demonstrate that
you
are the one who has not forgotten. I have laid out more than my life on the altar of this insurrection. I have sacrificed the only chance I ever had to stare into the eyes of my greatest enemy and declare that he is worse than Satan himself. As you know, Sergeant, the truest villains are the cowards. My enemy was a coward, the worst kind, and by not confronting him as I could have, I must bear some of his shame myself. But I did it willingly. For this revolution. You would never know such sacrifice. What I am about to command, Halsty, might be menial and banal to you, but do not doubt for a moment that it is not for the greater good of our revolution.
I
am the revolution. I conduct this masterpiece. As midnight falls upon us and the dawn of a new day creeps up along the bluff, I will be standing as more than just the King of Gwent. I will stand purged of the cowardice that now tears my flesh from my bones! Don’t dare ask me to forgo any more chances to get just a taste of that redemption even if those chances fall in close proximity to our ultimate feast. Don’t ask me and
don’t,
Sergeant Halsty, ever question again my resolve to see each and every villain I know quake in defeat.”

Halsty, silent as the earth below the sea, examined his superior, his hero. “And what is this ‘menial’ thing you command of me?” he insisted, unshaken. “What chance at redemption may I render unto you, my captain?”

Thurlow leaned forward and whispered into Halsty’s ear. The exchange between the two men was so still, so ceremonial that even those fellow Hussars who had flocked to the scene were impressed that nothing had gone awry between their two superior officers.

Halsty nodded and watched as Captain Wilhelm Thurlow DeGent entered the oubliette swiftly. The other Hussars followed him in, leaving Halsty to contemplate. Alone. He had only minutes remaining but it did not take a great deal of time to determine his actions, his fate. His heart and mind were so exacerbated with emotion and passion, he could not declare his absolution only in his head. He was compelled to utter it in hollow tones to the only audience he had: his self.

“I will do this for you Captain Thurlow,” he exhorted. “I will perform this final task in your honor because it was you that rescued me from the throes of mediocrity, of uselessness. You gave my life meaning and I am in your debt. But what you ask of me now has no meaning. So it will be the last thing I do in your name that is not completely and unquestionably for the sake of the Hussars and their mission. For the sake of our revolution. From here on out, you must prove yourself to
me
.”