Cinderella and the Colonel (8 page)

“She gave no indication why she needed to see you, Mademoiselle,” Jeanne said as they hurried out of Cinderella’s bedroom.

Curse
me, it’s as if my ponderings from yesterday brought her attention to me. What does she want now?
Cinderella thought.

When they reached the private parlor situated
against Lady Klara’s rooms, they stopped.

Cinderella tried to shake the worst of the wrinkles from her dress and smoothed her short hair into place.

Jeanne curtsied to her before she knocked on the door.

“Come in
,” Lady Klara said, her voice its usual tone of ice and snow.

Jeanne opened the door. “
Your Ladyship. Mademoiselle Cinderella,” she said, her voice faltering before she curtsied again.

When Cinderella entered the parlor
, Jeanne fled, shutting the door behind her.

“You wanted to see me
, Step-Mother?” Cinderella asked, performing a curtsey of courtesy.

“Cinderella.
I have been told a young soldier from Erlauf has been paying you a particular amount of attention,” Lady Klara said.

“I bet he’s noth
ing but a common squad soldier,” Silla—the oldest of Cinderella’s two step-sisters—sneered.

Mariska
, the younger daughter and the kinder of the two, dropped the book of poetry she was reading on her sister’s foot. “I am sorry, Silla. Did that hurt?”

“You!
Why do you protect her? She’s nothing but a—,” Silla started.

Lady Klara
shifted in her wooden arm chair, making it creak.

Both of her daughters fell silent.

Lady Klara continued, “I am aware you have turned seventeen, making you eligible for marriage. As a result, I caution you to be careful of whom you choose to associate with—a lesson my daughter would be wise to learn as well.”

“Of course
, Step-Mother,” Cinderella said.

“I would not want you to br
ing shame upon your father’s name, after all,” Lady Klara smirked.

Cinderella d
ug her chipped fingernails into the palms of her hands. “Yes, Step-Mother,” Cinderella said, her voice shaking.

“
That is all. Good night, Cinderella.”

“Good night Step-mother
, Silla, Mariska,” Cinderella said, curtseying before she rushed from the room. When she got outside of the poisonous room she leaned against the wall, her shoulders heaving with silent sobs.

How
dare
she. How dare this Erlauf Widow who hated Papa stand there and use him to judge me
!

“I hate them
,” Cinderella whispered. “I
hate
Erlauf.”

Cinderella frowned as she
wrestled thin willow branches into place, trying her hand at making a wicker basket. One of the maids left her with a sample basket and pattern as well as several started bases, but Cinderella’s basket was lopsided, and the branch ends poked out like twigs in a bird’s nest.

“Are you try
ing to make it look like that, or is it supposed to resemble this one?” the Colonel asked, holding up the sample basket.

Cinderella glared at the Colonel. “Don’t you
have work to do?” she asked, savagely stabbing the willow in the weaving pattern.

“I’ve
made my afternoons clear for most of the week. More time to spend with you, Pet.”

“Don’t call me
that.”

“Why not?
It’s endearing.”

“It’s improper and implies a closer relationship than we
have.”

“W
hy don’t we fix that?” the Colonel asked, sitting in the shade of the tent with Cinderella. They were positioned behind Aveyron’s market stall, separated from the hustle and bustle by canvas drop cloths and tents.

“Or
perhaps we should
not
,” Cinderella said.

Summer
was starting to sweep through Erlauf and its colonies—Trieux included. The temperatures were rising, and all of the spring flowers had bloomed.

Cinderella
was grateful for the shade as she tried bending the willow branch and was whacked in the face for her efforts. “It is beyond me how a
Colonel
can find so much time to waste,” Cinderella muttered.

“It is ra
re. You and I just happen to be lucky,” the Colonel said.

“I feel so blessed
,” Cinderella said through gritted teeth. The branch she tried to ease into place cracked. Cinderella plucked the branch out of the basket. “Blast this thing!”

“What are you mak
ing baskets for?” the Colonel asked, picking up one of the started bases.

“We use them in the market stand
, and for collecting crops.”

“Yes
, but why are
you
making baskets?”

“
Because it is better to attempt to be useful than to sit around like a worthless ornament,” Cinderella said.

“
Is that an implication to your resentment of the ban I have placed on your little historical tours?” the Colonel asked, studying the basket pattern.

“I would never say
that, sir.”

“It’s Friedrich
,” the Colonel said as he selected a willow branch and started weaving it around the base. “And it’s for your safety.”

“You
have mentioned that before.”

“And
yet you still don’t sound convinced.”

“You
were growing tired of history,” Cinderella said, rotating her lopsided basket.

“I
was, but my worry is legitimate. If someone makes another attempt against me they will aim to take you down as well,” the Colonel said, comparing his weaving to the sample basket.

“And why would they do
that?”

“Because you helped me flee.
They think you support me.”

“What is there to support?
You were a target because you are a colonel in the Erlauf Army. We have nothing to do with each other.”

“
That’s not entirely true,” the Colonel said with a sly smile.

Cinderella
tried to smooth the uneven lumps in her weaving. “Yes, it is,” she firmly said.

“They won’t see it
that way. As far as assassins are concerned, keeping them from their target is as good as throwing your lot in with their target. I am a soldier, but you are undefended. I worry about you,” the Colonel said, leaning close enough to Cinderella so he could slide his hand under her chin.

“I thank you for your concern
, but I assure it is not necessary,” Cinderella said, inching away from the Colonel.

The Colonel grinned and returned to basket weav
ing.

Several moments later
, the curtain dividing the back of the tent from the front stand was thrown aside.

“Cinderella I heard about—” Marie cut herself off with a gasp. She stared at Cinderella and the Colonel
, who were both sitting on the ground, surrounded by baskets. “Oh my,” she said, snapping a fan open to fan herself.

Cinderella considered stand
ing to introduce the Colonel before deciding it would give him too much worth. “Marie, I present to you Colonel Friedrich of the First Regiment in the Dragon Army. Colonel Friedrich, this is Madame Marie Raffin, my dearest friend and long-time companion,” Cinderella said, frowning when she realized the Colonel’s basket was more even and round than hers.

The Colonel
stood and set his basket aside to remove his army hat and give Marie a sweeping bow. “The pleasure is all mine,” he said before taking his spot on the ground again.

“Thank you
,” Marie said, uncertain.

“Madame Raffin
, your husband is a merchant, is he not?” the Colonel asked, taking Cinderella’s basket from her and passing her his.

Cinderella
accepted the exchange and started weaving willow branches into his neater basket as the Colonel set about fixing hers.

“He is. His name is
Armel Raffin.”

“I
have heard good things of your wares. How is business?” the Colonel asked.

“Well enough
,” Marie said, brushing her fan through the air.

“I’ve been try
ing to convince Cinderella she needs to plant flowers,” the Colonel said.

“Why?” Marie
cautiously asked, as if the Colonel were a rabid bear.

“Citizens of Erlauf are enthusiastic about nature
, but we are especially amorous of flowers. One could make a fine profit on flowers in this area as it is an untapped market,” the Colonel said, his eyebrows furrowing as he studied the basket pattern.

“It’s the wrong season
,” Cinderella said.

“F
or spring flowers, yes. However, if you planted summer flowers now you would have enough time for them to grow, I should think,” the Colonel said. “Do you want me to visit Aveyron to point out proper places to grow flowers? I’ve been reading up on the subject.”

“No
, thank you, sir,” Cinderella said.

“Friedrich
,” the Colonel countered.

“
Marie, what brought you to Aveyron’s stand?” Cinderella asked, ignoring the Colonel’s wriggling eyebrows.

“The usual.
Werra gossip and such,” Marie said.

When it
was obvious the Colonel’s gaze was attached to his basket weaving, Marie flapped her fan and bugged her eyes at Cinderella before jabbing her fan at the Colonel.

Cinderella shrugged and shook her head.

“The weather has been quite nice, hasn’t it?” Marie hastily said when the Colonel glanced up.

“It
has. I hope it is just as pleasant in Loire,” Cinderella said.

“Why?” the Colonel blinked.

“For the royal wedding,” Marie said. “Prince Severin has married a merchant’s daughter.”

“Prince Severin?
The cursed prince?” the Colonel said.

“Yes. His bride broke the curse
, I gather,” Cinderella said. “I imagine their wedding was lovely.”

“Yes
, if not slightly unusual,” Marie said.

“What do you mean?” the Colonel asked.

“It is abnormal for a nobleman, much less royalty, in Loire to marry below their station,” Marie said.

“You don’t approve of the union?” the Colonel said.

“I cannot fault the Prince or his lady love, or I would be a hypocrite. However, even I must admit it seems…unusual for the Prince of such a grand country to introduce merchant blood to the line,” Marie said.

The Colonel shrugged. “I forgot
, you Trieux folk always modeled yourselves after Loire. It always seemed to me they put on airs. Besides, isn’t Prince Severin illegitimate? For all we know his wife’s blood could be better than his.”

“
Friedrich
!” Cinderella gasped.

The Colonel smiled in delight
, softening the stark black of his eye patch. “Yes?”

Cinderella
was aware of her slip-up, but she was still aghast at his terrible manners. “You may have forgotten but Marie and I are still
ladies
!”

“Do not worry about it. I will forgive you
,” the Colonel soothed.

“You
are being indecent,” Cinderella said, bending a willow branch in her anger.

“Very well
, then. Strike the second part of my argument and allow me to amend it with this: isn’t marrying the peasant class vogue right now? King Henrik of Arcainia just married a commoner not four weeks ago, or so,” the Colonel said.

“True
,” Marie acknowledged.