The Wronged Princess - Book I (9 page)

She blew out a soft
relieved yet
irritated breath
. 
Pricilla wasn’t even the one who was wronged
. 
Resentment burned through her gut
. 
S
he hid it by
shifting
her gaze out the window to the mountainous view
once more
. 
The rising majestic splendor against the afternoon sky had little calming affect
. 
Nor did the lush trees or stalks of soft pink heather lining the hillsides. It was a façade
, just like her bland demeanor
.

“You know that shoe was not mine,
Mamá
.
”
Esmeralda’s voice was soft, determined.

The quick whiplash of a resounding crack crashed through the interior of the carriage
. 
Cinderella whirled in her seat to see
a
stark imprint of
Stepmamá’s
hand already forming on Esmeralda’s bloodless cheek
. 
She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from gasping
. 
Even Pricilla cowered deeper into the fold
. 
Shock filled the
enclosure from Cinderella and her stepsisters
. 
Stepmamá
had never once in Cinderella’s memory raised her hand to Esmeralda or Pricilla.

“
Never
speak those words aloud henceforth, child.
”
Stepmamá
snarled
. 
Her eyes burned
with maniacal
fierce
ness
over each occupant in the confined space that grew smaller with each passing kilometer. “Am I
quite
clear?” She asked with a sudden calm, tugging a kerchief from the reticule in her lap.

Cinderella saw Pricilla’s sharp nod from the corner of her eye and matched a quick one of her own, then dropped her eyes
. 
She could only remain unscathed if she remained invisible
. 
Purely a matter of survival, she justified.

In the blink of an eye Cinderella's heart reached out to Esmeralda
. 
How could it not
?
Just as quickly she shoved
away
the tender sentiment
. 
Only more heartache lay in that direction.

“We seem to be slowing,”
Stepmamá
announced with a feral smile.

*****

Prince stood rooted in the Grand Hall awaiting the dreaded sound of coach wheels that would propel his nightmare into broad daylight.

In t
he last
fortnight
he'd suffered dreams of a ticking clock pound
ing in deafening fervor pulsating
in
his ears
. 
S
treams of whit
e satin whipped
in violent gusts behind
a
vanishing specter he chased
, a
ll leading to a trail of glittering jewels that stopped cold before an empty glass shoe
. 
The velvet brown eyes that squeezed the strings of his heart fluttered in a vehement frenzy
, s
econds later, fleeing
for her
very
life, a cyclone in her wake
. 

The dream, so
brilliant and
vivid
,
startled him to full awareness
, h
eart pounding and
body
drenched in sweat
. 
He fought
his way to an open window
,
gulping the cold night air.

The hopelessness of the situation weighed heavily
. 
She was the wrong girl
. 
Prince wanted to bellow to the heavens at the injustice
. 
He would w
illing
ly
reap the consequences,
come
what may, when he made
his
deal with his devil
. 
A deal
to set himself free
to find
her
, his midnight ghost
.

Inhaling deeply, he pulled
his mind to the present
and
glanced toward his father
. 
He stood in regal magnificence hands clasped at his lower back, donning a customary absent expression on his worn and cheerful face
. 
No need to wonder what he was thinking
. 
The book he’d been
so
engrossed came to mind
. 

Prince flinched at his ungracious thoughts
. 
This whole situation was a dilemma of his own making, he
admitted
,
not
with
out
disgust
. 
He had no one but himself to blame
—
it
s
till bode disaster for his future
. 
An acknowledgement that offered no lasting comfort no matter what angle he tried peering from.

“Where’s Arnald?” he asked, shifting
his gaze to
M
amán
. 
He should not have to suffer this insanity alone
. 
Something about her expression—or rather, lack of one, caught his attention
. 
He
studied
her carefully
from hooded eyes
. 

Stately, noble
. 
True, she
was
the queen
. 
Her stature required composure in any situation however awkward
. 
And this one certainly qualified
. 
He hid his grimace
behind
his own
blank façade
and studied her cool dignified poise.

“Hmm?” was her dignified response
. 
Unruffled and utterly calm
. 

Strange for a mother on the brink of meeting the future bride of her only son
. 
His gaze dropped to hands gently clasped in her lap as she too awaited the arrival of the dreaded carriage
. 

As they all did.

T
he son-to-mother discourse he’d strived for had never come to pass
. 
For his every approach had met with some untimely crisis demanding her attention
. 

“
Sir
Arnald
?
Your nephew?”

Prince leaned in and scrutinized her more closely, eyes narrowing
. 
Did he detect a fraction
of tension about her mouth
?
Her composure was perfect, of course, hands stoic and relaxed
. 

Her eyes lifted to pierce his, unwavering
. 
He tossed her an uncaring smirk
. 
The one he'd used as a lad of no more than four and ten
. 
A handy little thing that kept him out of
myriad
scrapes at the time
. 
An incontrovertible blush tinged her cheeks
. 
He released a sigh
. 
Without fail, something was amiss
. 
She had not been able to fool him for years now.

Clipped footsteps coincided with t
he sound of rei
n
ing hooves jerked his attention
to the forefront
. 
His cousin’s appearance just beyond Papá’s shoulder answered, he turned to the daunting position ahead
. 
His inhalation stuck in his throat, almost strangling him
. 
With one further glance to
M
amán
as
she rose
and smooth
ed
graceful hands down her rich cerulean blue silken skirts
, he decided t
here would be no help from those quarters
. 
Her expression, while mild
, held an undercurrent of smugness
. 
Most puzzling
. 

He tried another
deep
,
careful breath
. 
Squaring
his shoulders
he
set out to meet his uncertain future.

The sun
in an
overly bright sky,
Prince
could not help
but wonder
if the wind speed had not increased upon the footman’s release of the carriage door
. 

Commotion
seemed to ensue
as to
whom
should
first
step forward
. 

Mystery solved as curling, c
opper tresses reflected the sun's beams, but for the saints he could not grasp the color of her eyes in all their rapid flurry
. 
It was his future bride
. 

It happened in an instant
. 

The suffrage of fatigue and lack of appetite this two weeks past
finally
took their toll
. 
The unstoppable fiasco of ‘the shoe fitting someone other than his intended,’ the constant analyses, examinations, scrutiny of dissecting the entire egregious scenario…well, was it any wonder he felt such an irregular tingle in the air
?
A clutch in his chest
?
A weakness in his knees?

It suddenly became too much to bear
. 
The officious wind, the blinding sun, the horror of a marriage he may have inflicted upon himself—
for the rest of his life
—had him gasping for oxygen
. 
Odd, when the air seemed to surge about him in great gusting gales.

The atmosphere took on a shimmering quality
similar to wavering heat waves of an open
flame
. 
A scintillating radiance
. 
Without warning the perfect escape rose up to meet him, in his scandalous surrender to the flagstones.

I
n a dead faint
.

Chapter
6

The i
nterminable hours
that
dragged by before the lumbering carriage drew to its final agonizing halt
were enough to send a girl mad
.
Even one accustomed to
long bouts of silence
. 
‘Twas
n
ot that the wheels
moaned
or contrived anything else so undignified
. 
Just a long and trying drive
entrapped with a maniacal stepmother and two cruel stepsisters
.

Cinderella detected t
he sound of rustling of skirts beyond the door
; the shift in
weight
indicated
the
driver
’s movements left the carriage
rocking
softly
, amid excited murmurs
. 
A scrape denoted the step placement to allow their descent
. 
The door swung open flooding the inside with sudden light
. 
Cinderella squint
ed and
only just plucked her foot from harm
’
s way in
Stepmamá’s
haste to alight.

An eerie inclination swept through her body
. 
An instinct that were she to remain behind her absence might go unnoticed for hours, days even
. 
A wistful sigh escaped at the fantasy
. 
She knew she was much too much of a coward to carry off such a daring scheme
. 
So it was with great resolve that forced her exit behind
Stepmamá’s
generous form and grandiose cascade, thus affirming Cinderella’s invisibility.

A collective gasp sounded upon Cinderella’s descent
. 
She did not believe for one inkling of a second
that the group's notion would be cheering
Stepmamá
. 
They were at Chalmers Palace—a place where she was not so grand, excepting in body mass
perhaps
. 
Another ungrateful thought, she winced
.