Cinderella and the Colonel (4 page)

A squad of Erlauf soldiers
had stopped them. Some of the soldiers were rattling the poultry cages, and several others were going through the wagon of goods.

A soldier
tore open a sack from the produce wagon, inspected it, and tossed it back into the wagon, untied.

The commoners
protested.

“Please
have some respect,” the driver of the produce wagon said as he reached to tie the sack shut.

“We’ve on
ly come from the market. Whatever you’re looking for, we don’t have it,” an older man—the potter—said.

A baby cried
,. Its mother bounced it up and down to try and cheer it.

“Silence
,” the lieutenant—the leader of the soldiers—said.

Cinderella caught up to the farmer with the wagon and mules. He pulled his team to a
halt a short distance away from the stopped caravan and watched the interchange with stormy eyes.

The two soldiers go
ing through the goods abandoned the cart for the produce wagon.

“Anyth
ing of interest?” they asked the soldier who opened sacks and tossed them back in the wagon.

“Nope
,” the soldier said, helping himself to a handful of peas from the wagon. He bit a pea pod in half and tossed the rest on the road to be stomped into the ground.

The driver of the produce cart—the farmer—scowled deeper as he watched the soldiers ransack his cart
. The baby cried louder in spite of the mother’s best attempts to shush it.

A boy—
perhaps thirteen-years-old or so—climbed off the passenger wagon so he could restore order to the wagon of goods.

One of the soldiers noticed and returned to
that wagon. “We didn’t say we were finished, boy.”

The boy ignored him and tucked a clay jar beneath several blankets.

“I
said
we aren’t finished,” the soldier said, grabbing the boy by the collar of his shirt. He pulled him away from the wagon and pushed him, sending the boy sprawling to the ground.

Two Trieux men sitt
ing in the passenger wagon stood, and the driver of the produce cart leaped from his seat.

Things
were going to get ugly.

“
That’s enough,” Cinderella said, hurrying forward to step between the soldier and the boy. “What is going on?”

“It’s none of your concern
,” the soldier sneered.

“
Lady,” Cinderella said.

“What?”

“It is Lady Lacreux to you,
soldier
,” Cinderella said, using every bit of her manners schooling to stand tall and elegant in a way that demanded respect. “And it
is
my concern as we stand on lands belonging to the Duchy of Aveyron.”

The soldier hunched his neck into his shoulders. “What?” he repeated.

“These lands are
my
lands. So would you be so good as to explain what you are doing on
my
estate?” Cinderella said, folding her arms across her chest as she tipped her head back and looked down her nose at the soldier.

“Um
,” the soldier said.

“I beg your pardon
, Your Ladyship,” the lieutenant, mounted on the only horse, said. He urged the beast a few steps forward so he could address Cinderella without shouting over the wailing baby. “We received information of several armed ruffians traveling through these parts. For the safety of all, we are performing random checks.”

“Of course
,” Cinderella said, magnanimously bowing her head. “When one is searching for ruffians and the like, it is always the wisest course of action to shake down farmers returning home from the capital.”

The lieutenant’s saddle creaked as he leaned. “
Perhaps I allowed my men to be too enthusiastic in their duties.”

“
Perhaps,” Cinderella said. “You have conducted your search. Are they not free to go?” Cinderella said, gesturing liquidly with her right hand. (Since the takeover, Cinderella had been bitter about investing so many years in dancing and fan-work, as fun as it was, and finding herself stupid in the ways of running an estate. But perhaps there were some uses for learned elegance.)

As if test
ing Cinderella, a soldier rattled a chicken cage, making the bird squawk.

“If you are so worried they are secret
ly ruffians, please allow me to vouch for their character,” Cinderella said.

“They are your serfs?” the lieutenant asked.

“No, but they all have stands in the market near Aveyron’s stall. I know them quite well. As a member of nobility, I despise all forms of
thievery
and
bullying
. I can promise you none of the people before you are the kind to delight in such behavior,” Cinderella said, taking care to highlight her noble accent, making her words crisp and clear.

The lieutenant dipped his head to her. “Very well
, Your Ladyship,” he said before wheeling his mount around to face his men. “Back into formation. We return to Werra.”

The soldi
ers left the wagons and formed two lines. They marched back towards the capital, leaving ruffled commoners and peasants in their wake.

“Thank you
, Mademoiselle,” the produce wagon driver said.

“Of course.
Are you all alright?” Cinderella asked, extending a hand to the fallen boy.

He scrambled up without any help and bowed three times to Cinderella
, almost falling again when he tripped on his bare feet. “Yes, Mademoiselle. Thank you, Mademoiselle.

“
Blessings over you, Mademoiselle,” the mother of the howling baby said.

Cinderella smiled. “Thank you
, take care,” she said before continuing ahead, splitting off on a small road that ducked between some of Aveyron’s plowed fields. It was a farming path, but it would cut minutes off the walk.

“Mind you watch out for
that Erlauf officer, Mademoiselle,” the potter said.

Cinderella raised her hand to acknowledge the comment and kept walk
ing home.

Chapter 3

When the Erlauf officer strolled up to the market stand
, Cinderella pretended not to notice him. Her back was to him as she sorted through a basket of onions, but she knew he was there because the market went quiet in the way it did only when he was around.

It
was earlier than usual. Some of the market vendors hadn’t arrived yet. Vitore was gone with the milkmaid stand-neighbor, fetching water for the day. The maid’s absence made Cinderella uneasy.

She
was reassured when the baker started humming—sounding much closer than the location of his stand warranted—and the ropemaker nonchalantly sidled up to the milkmaid’s goats and started petting them.

“I heard you ran into some trouble yesterday
, Cinderella,” the officer said.

Cinderella stopped sort
ing and reluctantly turned to face the high-ranking soldier. Based on the quirk of his lips he knew very well she was Lady Lacreux, the Duchess of Aveyron. “Trouble?” Cinderella said, widening her eyes. “I have no idea to what you are referring.”

“I
was told you came upon some soldiers as they were in the process of conducting random searches,” the officer said, tugging on his black eye patch. He was alone this time, although he still wore his army uniform.

“Oh
, yes,” Cinderella said. “That is true, but I have no recollection of there being any trouble.” Normally she would ornament such a statement with her brightest smile, but she did not want to encourage this officer in any way.

The officer studied Cinderella
, his face blank and emotionless for the first time since he started coming to the market.

His scrutiny
was unnerving, so Cinderella busied herself with the carrots. “The usual?” she asked.

“No.”

Shocked, Cinderella looked back to the officer. “I beg your pardon?”

“Today I
have a different offer in mind,” the officer said. “But first, my mother would tell me introductions must be made. Cinderella-who-has-no-curiosity, allow me to introduce myself. I am Colonel Friedrich of First Regiment of the Dragon Army.”

Cinderella almost dropped the carrots
. She immediately fixing her reaction, casually brushing her fringe of bangs out of her eyes. “Colonel?” she said, as if enquiring after the weather.

“Quite so
,” the-no-longer-nameless-officer said.

Oh dear
.
I should have listened to everyone
, Cinderella thought. Although she was able to keep herself schooled, the baker came down with a coughing fit and the ropemaker froze—he didn’t even notice when one of the milkmaid’s goats started nibbling his shirt.

A
colonel was one of the highest offices an Erlauf soldier could achieve. A colonel ran a regiment of over 600 soldiers and served directly under a general. There were only a handful of them in existence, and the rank was a
great
honor.

As a conquered noble
, it was safe to say Colonel Friedrich’s rank was considered higher than Cinderella’s—even though Cinderella had more assets and a higher monetary worth. Such was the value Erlauf placed on the Army.

What this meant
was Cinderella could not safely disregard the Colonel. If he was so inclined, he could make her life a misery. In the span of a few heartbeats, the Erlauf officer had gone from an irritation to a danger Cinderella could not flee.

“I am honored to make your acquaintance
, Colonel Friedrich,” Cinderella said.

“I’m sure
,” the Colonel dryly said.

“What can I do for you
, sir?” Cinderella asked.

“I would like to spend the day with you.”

Cinderella twisted her fingers together. “I am afraid I must respectfully decline, sir.”

“Oh?” the C
olonel said, his voice weighted with his displeasure.

“Yes
, I have…prior engagements,” Cinderella said.

“T
hen tomorrow?” the Colonel said, tapping his fingers on the rough wood of a beam that supported Aveyron’s stand.

Cinderella almost winced. He
was going to be persistent, was he? Perhaps it was better to bore him into giving up. “I may be able to accompany you today if…”

“If?”

“If my time was properly compensated,” Cinderella said.

The C
olonel went very still. His eye was neither friendly nor amused as he studied Cinderella. She could almost feel the power and danger radiating from him as he asked, “You want to be a paid woman then?”

As a proper lady
, Cinderella didn’t know exactly what kind of work the colonel referred to, but she knew it was a kind of work no lady would do. Cinderella’s anger burst past the walls of decorum. “
WHAT
?” she shrieked, stepping back from the Colonel.

“You
were the one who said it,” the Colonel said, his stance once again relaxed and liquid.

“I said
compensated
. I
work
in Werra in the afternoon, and I cannot afford to miss the pay! I meant as long as you expected me to trail behind you, I had better get a pay equal to my job—or I will
never
be able to accompany you,” Cinderella said, the words rushing from her mouth before she was aware she thought them. When she realized what she said, she almost clamped her hands to her mouth, but settled for stiffly awaiting the Colonel’s anger.

To Cinderella’
s surprise, the man seemed amused. “You work? Why?” he said, his familiar smirk flashing on his lips.

“Why not?
Have
you
something to say about working for a living?” Cinderella said, pointedly staring at the medals pinned to the Colonel’s uniform.

“No
, nothing at all,” the Colonel said, chuckling with a maddening confidence. “I would be happy to pay you for your missed wages. I shall return in an hour then to pick you up.”

“Are you so sure you can cover my pay?” Cinderella asked.

“I assume it isn’t more than a handful or two of copper coins?”

“A day’s work is one silver coin
,” Cinderella said, giving herself an outrageous raise.

The one-eyed C
olonel shrugged. “Hardly more than spare change. In one hour, then,” he said before setting off.

Cinderella angri
ly gawked at his back as he left the market. A silver coin was
spare change
? “Filthy-rich dandy,” Cinderella scoffed, angrily stuffing carrots back into the basket.

“Mademoiselle?” the ropemaker ventured.

“What?” Cinderella hissed.

It rankled her
that an
army officer
could treat such a sum like it was nothing when Cinderella—a
duchess
—clambered for every copper coin she could get.

The ropemaker winced. “Are you
well?”

“I’m fine
,” Cinderella said, calming as the officer slinked out of sight. “Just…irritated.”

The ropemaker hesitated. “Are you go
ing to be alright?”

The anger left Cinderella like a cloud on a windy day. “I think so
,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “He doesn’t seem…terrible.”

“None of them do
, until they reveal their true colors, Mademoiselle,” the ropemaker said.

“I know
,” Cinderella said. “But he’s a Colonel. I dare not offend him; the risk isn’t worth it. I can only try to bore him in hopes that he will move on.”

“Here
lie the remains of the Sanct Pavilion, which saw the signing of the Griford Agreement. The Griford Agreement, as you may recall, was the third piece of the Glitter Accords, the articles that gave jurisdiction over magical matters to the Veneno Conclave,” Cinderella said, indicating to a pile of rock and rubble. “Trieux, Erlauf, Kozlovka, and Loire were the first countries to agree to the Glitter Accords.”

“Hey
,” the Colonel said.

Cinderella ignored him and
pointed the white flap of cloth she fixed on the end of a thin, whip-like willow branch to a beautiful but abandoned stone building. “Next door is the historic Lutenau. Most recently, it was used as the capital offices for Trieux nobles when conducting governmental business. It was built over two hundred years ago, however, as a summer home for an Erlauf lord who was madly in love with a Trieux princess.”

“Cinderella
,” the Colonel said.

“The Lord
, Lord Worgl, built it as close to the Trieux Royal Palace as he could,” Cinderella said, spearing her makeshift flag in the direction of the palace. The prism-like points of the palace towers could be seen from just about anywhere in Werra, but they were especially close now. “He desired to be close to his lady love, although the princess scorned him. One day when he approached her in the public gardens, the princess’s dog bit him. The bite grew infected, and Lord Worgl was rushed home to his manor in Erlauf. He nearly died from the bite, and he lost a finger in the process. It was not all in vain, for he fell in love with and married the woman who nursed him back to health, earning him the nick-name One-Less-Worgl—the man who is credited with inventing the Erlauf tricorner hat, which can be adjusted without a thumb.”

“Do you plan on d
oing this the whole time?” the Colonel said, his head lolling to the side.

“I beg your pardon?”

The Colonel indicated to Cinderella’s flag. “The history lesson. You cannot possibly mean to take me on a guided
tour
all afternoon.”

Cinderella batted her eyes. “I only want you to get your money’s worth, sir.”

“So this is your part
-time job? Historic tours?”

“Historic Tours of locations from Erlauf Lore
, yes,” Cinderella said.

“So if I pay you another silver coin
, can we stop the tour, discard the chaperon, and go eat?” Friedrich said, turning to stare at the Aveyron housemaid that trailed approximately five feet behind him.

Oh yes
. I
really
hate him for being rich
, Cinderella thought as the housemaid sniffed and fanned herself with a paper fan.

Cinderella
kept her expression pleasant as she spoke. “Forgive me, sir, but it would be improper for us to be without a chaperone, and I could not stand to see you overpay me so.”

It
was amazing how intensely the Colonel could stare with one eye. “I see,” he said, the two words dripped with sarcasm. (He must have known she overcharged him a great deal for the “tour,” and that her maid was no proper chaperone, but was there to ensure he did nothing…untoward. Even if it was a little late, Cinderella would try to mind the wisdom of her fellow market stall sellers.) “Is there any way I can convince you this history lesson is unnecessary?”

“No
ne whatsoever,” Cinderella said, her voice sunny and bright. “If you look to your left, you will see the Reflective Pool of Serenity. It is empty now, but previously it held a family of gold-scaled fish. Those fish, or their ancestors more correctly, were gifts from the Erlauf King Cristoph II.”

The C
olonel didn’t try to mask his impatient sigh, but he trailed behind Cinderella with remarkable perseverance. After the first hour, Cinderella thought she would have shaken him off, but the persistent Erlauf officer stayed with Cinderella until her voice died just before sunset.

“
And that was why pointed shoes went out of fashion,” Cinderella said, her voice rough like sandpaper. She gave the Aveyron maid a grateful smile when the woman offered her a water skin.

The Colonel squinted at the red horizon. “Are you done now?”
he asked as Cinderella drank her fill.

“Yes
, I think so,” Cinderella said, handing the water skin back to the maid.

“You sound like a camel.”