Cinderella and the Colonel (22 page)

“Do not take this as a personal affront
, Cinderella,” Friedrich said. “Our people have chosen this path of destruction. It isn’t your fault.”

“Of course
,” Cinderella said, her smile growing stronger.

Chapter 14

In the early evening hours, Cinderella listlessly sat in what used to be Aveyron’s gardens. She leaned against a functioning bird bath and stared at a blooming wild rose bush that had grown to impressive new heights since the gardener was recruited to supervise crop fields.

What do I do? Aveyron is saved…
but if we
are
attacked…

Cinderella cut the thought off.

“Cinderella?”

“Over here
,” Cinderella called.

Mariska
, Lady Klara’s youngest daughter, minced her way around the overgrown rose bush. “Mama said to tell you we are leaving for the ball. Our friends have come to pick us up,” she said, smoothing the skirts of her saffron dress. The orange-yellow color complimented her dark hair.

“You look beautiful
,” Cinderella said.

Mariska smiled. “Thank you
. I have a mask, see?” she said, slipping a mask of the same saffron hue of her dress over her face. It covered her nose, circled her eyes, and was edged with gold beads. “It is to be a masquerade ball.”

“How charm
ing,” Cinderella said.

“Silla insists it is a stupid idea
, but I think it is romantic,” Mariska said, removing her mask.

“I am sure you will
have a fine time.”

“Thank you
, I do hope so,” Mariska said. She awkwardly clasped her mask. “You are certain you don’t want to come?”

Cinderella held in a harsh bark o
f laughter. “I am certain. Even if I wished to, it is too late now. I don’t have anything to wear.”

“You could borrow someth
ing,” Mariska offered. “Although I think your hair would clash with all of my clothes, and I am rather tall…”

“I thank you for your kindness
, but I shall have to refuse,” Cinderella said. “Enjoy your evening, Mariska.”

“Thank you. Good bye
,” Mariska said, saluting Cinderella with her mask before she hurried out of the gardens.

Cinderella listened to the clip-clop of horse hooves as the carriage Lady Klara’s friends arrived in started on its way.

Cinderella rested her head against the bird bath. “It’s so bleak. This is a war, but our soldiers can’t even see the enemy and have no choice but to remain defensive…”

Cinderella sighed.
“And this country…Even if I wish we didn’t hate each other, both sides still exchange insults. Queen Freja strangles money out of us, and then we fester with hate and snarl at her soldiers who then smash us to prevent unrest. The searches, the constant patrols. They wouldn’t be performed if they weren’t necessary. Both sides hate each other too much. I don’t think it can be breeched.”

Cinderella shifted and recalled a conversation she
had with Friedrich. It felt like years ago, but it took place only two or three weeks prior.

“
You can conquer a country with forgiveness
.” He said.

“Erlauf won’t forgive. Queen Freja
has proven she will not forgive,” Cinderella said. She looked over her shoulder at the immense chateau. “I have enough trouble as it is. I don’t need to go solving our country’s problems as well.”

Cinderella’s mind
was assaulted with the memory of the mage holding the poor, defenseless Erlauf woman above his head, his hands covered with black magic.

“Blast
,” Cinderella muttered. “BLAST!” she shouted, making the goats—that were still loose on the lawn—look up at her in wonder.

“Father… what would you
have done? Oh, I know—you would have run to Loire,” Cinderella said, her heart still smarting from that revelation. “…Or would you?”

Cinderella sat up
, her thoughts racing. Her father bought Windtop Manor in the chaotic month before Erlauf swallowed Trieux into their country. Shortly after the takeover, the mass murdering of the Trieux nobles took place. There was then a few months’ gap before Queen Freja ordered Cinderella’s father to marry Lady Klara.

If her father meant to flee
, why didn’t he?

“He bought the manor before our servants saved us. After
, maybe he decided to stay,” Cinderella said, excited. Her hopeful smile fell from her face. “Or maybe he just didn’t get the chance to leave,” she said.

Cinderella closed her eyes and recalled her father’s face
, his warm smile, and soothing laughter. “Papa wouldn’t have spread hate,” she whispered. “Even when everyone else was taken captive, he said it was our fault for going after Erlauf first.”

Cinderella scrambled to her feet. “I will never know if my father meant for us to flee to Loire and leave our servants behind
, or if he had another plan entirely. What I
do
know is that he wouldn’t want me to stand by and watch everyone be destroyed.”

Cinderella shifted her eyes from the great chateau to the distant city lights. “And if
that mage meant to murder me, it must mean that I can challenge this shared hatred.”

Cinderella’s mind buzzed like a humm
ing bird as she stalked to the front of her property. There were a million things she had to do, and she had to do them
immediately
.

As much as the finances pained her
, it was time to hire a few Erlauf servants—perhaps people who knew something of flowers and could assist Cinderella’s poor, over-worked gardener with future flower crops.

She needed to start host
ing again—not the elaborate parties of ages past, but simple and tasteful dinners. She could invite Julien and his Erlauf miss, and Marie and Armel, and whatever officers Friedrich could rustle up. The separation had to end.

Worst of all
, she would have to face Queen Freja and her family. “If we have to forgive, that means
I
must forgive,” Cinderella said through clenched teeth. “This desire, it’s too big for me. How can I change a country when my reach is only to Werra?”

“You should
have dropped your illusion and attacked her with your regular magic—regulations or not,” a cheerful, grandmother-y voice said.

“I’m already in trouble for us
ing magic in Arcainia. The last thing I need is another broken rule for the Conclave to wave in my face,” said another voice, which was far more youthful and slightly lower pitched.

“Yes
, but that wretched queen would be safely dead, and the princes wouldn’t be flapping about as barnyard fowl.”

“
But I didn’t, so our hope rests in Princess Elise. You are sure there is no easy test I can use to sense the strength of her magic?”

“Not with
that magic type, dearie. It would take a powerful enchanter to probe her limitations. Your master could do it.”

“Sybilla.”

“I know, I know. Well here is how I see it: Send Elise to face this Queen Clotilde and stand in reserve. If it looks like she will lose, step in, and use your real magic. Sooner or later, you will have to face it anyway.”

“As you say so.
What are we doing here?”

“We’re here to see a girl. My sources tell me the lady of the house
had a nasty run in with a mage.”

“A black mage?”

“You betcha. I would like to question her to see what more we can learn.”

The two speakers rounded the corner of shrubbery
that shielded them from Cinderella’s sight, and Cinderella felt her breath leave her.

The first speaker—the grandmother-y voice—
was a short, squat woman who wore golden wire eyeglasses. She had salt and pepper hair, but it was soft and shiny like a housecat’s fur. She wore a friendly smile, and every part of her plump person leaked comfort and joy.

Her companion
was a stark contrast.

The lower pitched speaker
was also female, but she was young like a blooming flower and was beautiful enough to steal Cinderella’s breath. Her eyes glittered like brightly polished jewels, her hair looked softer than silk, and she wore an iridescent blue dress, which seemed to turn purple as Cinderella gaped.

“Hello there
, dearie,” the grandmother-woman said, flapping a hand at Cinderella.

“You did not tell me you
were here to see Duchess Lacreux,” the beautiful woman said.

“I am. How did you know?”

“The Duchess is famous for her scarlet-colored hair.”

“You’ve been tramp
ing across the earth for how long on your doomed quest, and you
still
can remember that the Trieux Duchess has red hair?”

“It’s a fact I recent
ly learned while I was looking for these,” the beautiful lady said as held a pair of sparkling glass slippers at her companion.

“Seems impractical.”

“I was looking for a mirror. I was told of a ‘magic glass’ in Werra and thought to give it a try. The rumor never added the last word: slippers.”

“I’m sorry
, dearie.”

The beautiful woman shrugged. “What can on
e do? But I am being rude. Duchess Lacreux, please forgive our discourtesy and allow us to introduce ourselves.”

“I am a
Sybilla, a
F
irst
A
ppraised
I
solator
R
ank
Y
ellow, charged with childcare and development: a fairy godmother.”

“And I am
Angelique, an Enchantress-in-training.”

It took every bit of Cinderella’s pre-war train
ing to shut her mouth and curtsey. “Welcome, madams,” she said, her voice calm even though she wanted to scream.

A
fairy godmother
and an
enchantress
were standing on Aveyron soil.

Enchanters
were the highest magic rank one could achieve, and a fairy godmother was right below it.

“How can I help you?” Cinderella asked.

The fairy godmother adjusted her spectacles and pulled a length of parchment and a full-sized quill out of a pouch the size of Cinderella’s palm. “I was told this afternoon you had an encounter with a black mage. Could you describe him for me—oh dear,” the woman said when Cinderella’s legs buckled, and she sat down hard on the ground.

“I-I’m sorry
,” Cinderella said, trying to push herself to her feet. “Please forgive my—,” Cinderella cast around for the right word in her brain, but she grew distracted when she realized her cheeks were wet with tears.

Horrified with herself
, Cinderella almost leaped out of her skin when the Lady Enchantress knelt before her. “Do not be alarmed; it is sometimes difficult for a person to be in the presence of magic as powerful as Sybilla’s, even if she is not using it.”

“Speak for yourself
, dearie,” the fairy godmother chortled.

“I can tell your heart is pained. What troubles you
, Duchess Lacreux?” Angelique asked.

It
was the Enchantress’s sympathetic eyes that did Cinderella in.

Cinderella burst into tears. Not soft
, quiet, beautiful tears, but loud, snotty ones that made her face red and splotchy. Somewhere between the sobs and hiccups, Sybilla the fairy godmother joined Cinderella and Angelique on the ground.

“There
, there, dearie. A good cry is just what a girl needs, sometimes,” she said, patting Cinderella with a plump hand.

When Cinderella’s tears slowed to the occasional trickle
, she reluctantly accepted a white lace handkerchief from the Lady Enchantress.

“Now
, what has you so upset?” Sybilla asked.

Cinderella swallowed with some difficulty and stared at the h
andkerchief. “It is as you said. Today I was attacked by a black mage.”

Sybilla nodded. “A run in with one of those brutes is enough to make any lady cry.”

“But that’s not it. I-I didn’t know—or maybe I didn’t
see
—how Trieux’s hatred for Erlauf and Erlauf’s hatred for Trieux is ruining us. The black mage said we would destroy ourselves, and darkness would rule here. I talked to someone, and he said if we want to survive, our attitudes must change, and our people must change. But I don’t know
how
.”

“Are you not the on
ly Trieux Duchess, the highest ranked of all remaining nobles?” Angelique asked.

“Yes
, but what can I do?”

“My dear lady
, forgive me for being blunt, but what
can’t
you do?” Sybilla kindly asked. “Every person in your beloved country is born with potential to change the world. But you, who desire to spark the change, have been dealt an incredible hand to play. You are a
duchess
. I have been in Erlauf for just a few days, and even I have heard how you string the Erlauf First Regiment along like a girl leading a lamb.”