Read Page 23

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.Advertisement

“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 nothing 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.

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

Cinderella dug 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 trying 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.”

“Why 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 rare. 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 making 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. pqdm.com