Cinderella and the Colonel (2 page)

“…Mademoiselle?” Vitore said when Cinderella didn’t finish the sentence.

Cinderella nodded her head at a group of Erlauf soldiers who strolled into the market. There were too many to be on patrol, but they were in uniform, so it was likely they were still on duty. They all wore the burgundy Erlauf uniform covered by charcoal-gray chest armor, gloves, boots, and helm.

A man at the front of the
herd wore the garb of a ranking officer. He had a long, burgundy coat that fell past his knees and was slit from behind like a swallow’s tail. Medals were pinned over his heart; his undershirt, the hem of the jacket, and his breeches were Erlauf gray. His most striking feature was the black patch covering his right eye. It was secured to his head with two black bands that stretched across his face and ran through his messy, dark brown hair that poked out from underneath his military hat. The brim of the hat was wide and drooping, and, following Erlauf custom, the left brim was pinned to the side of the crown. Based on all the medals pinned to his chest, he had to be at least a captain, perhaps even a major.

Cinderella clenched her sweaty hands into fists. It
was unusual to see a ranking officer, especially one so young. He couldn’t be much older than twenty.

The mark
et went quiet as the officer and his men strolled down the lane, stopping at Cinderella’s stand.

“Can I help you?” Cinderella said
, keeping her voice polite but cool as Vitore retreated to the back of the stall.

The officer studied Cinderella as a few of his men prodded the produce.
He said nothing as his eye traced Cinderella’s body.

Cinderella swallowed hard and kept herself schooled
in spite of the revulsion that curled in her stomach. “Sir?” she said.

The officer returned his attention to Cinderella’s face
, his eye taking in her short hair.

“Didya
have a tangle with someone?” a soldier at the officer’s right shoulder asked, gesturing to Cinderella’s hair.

Cinderella stared at him for a moment before
she shaped her lips into a fake smile. “How could I with all of you fine sirs patrolling this city and keeping us safe?”

A few of the soldiers g
uffawed.

The officer reached into a pouch
that hung from his black belt. “How much are the carrots?” he asked. His voice was low-pitched, like a cat’s growl.

“
Five cooper coins for a bundle, ten for a basket,” Cinderella said, overcharging the market price by two copper coins.

The officer tossed ten copper coins on the stand. “One basket
,” he said, his eye fixed on Cinderella.

Cinderella felt his gaze as she tucked the coins away and dumped a basket of carrots in a sack and offered it to the officer. “Thank you for the business.”

As she held the vegetables out, a smirk spread across the officer’s lips. “Until tomorrow,” he said, touching the brim of his hat.

Cinderella shoved her hands behind the stand after the officer took the carrots
, shielding her shaking fists from the soldiers’ notice. She pressed her lips into a thin line as she watched them go.

“Animals
,” Vitore muttered in the back corner as she folded burlap sacks.

“Yes
,” Cinderella grimly agreed.

Cinderella shivered
, as if she could shake off the feeling of the officer’s eye on her. “I’m off. Send word to Marie Raffin’s residence if you need me,” Cinderella said, snatching up a basket and frayed cloak.

“Yes
, Mademoiselle,” Vitore said, bobbing another curtsey as the activity resumed in the market.

Cinderella
left the market and its produce and goods behind for the big buyers and sellers—the government-approved merchants. Instead of setting up their goods in open air markets and stands, the merchants owned brick and mortar shops. A few were forced out of business after Erlauf’s takeover, and a few more left when faced with Erlauf’s strict taxes, but many of the merchant families were still around.

Cinderella stopped outside a shop
that had a sign emblazoned with a bear walking across a fallen tree trunk. A bell rang when Cinderella entered the store, getting the attention of the shopkeeper. “She is out back, Mademoiselle,” the shopkeeper said.

“Thank you
,” Cinderella said, ducking into a back room. She skirted through a hall stuffed with shipping crates and goods and darted past a tiny office crowded with papers and books. “Marie?” Cinderella said, poking her head outside the back end of the store.

There
was a small patch of grass where two horses were hitched. A young lady dressed in a comfortable but expensive dress stood in front of the horses, hand-feeding them green tendrils. “Cinderella! What in the name of Trieux have you done to your hair?” the woman said, dropping the grass to embrace Cinderella.

“I c
hopped it off. A wigmaker gave me a good price for it,” Cinderella said, brushing the slanted fringe of her bangs out of her eyes.

“It looks dreadful
,” Marie said.

Cinderella rolled her eyes. “I am ever so glad I can count on you to hearten me
, Marie.”

“I’m sorry
, but it’s just…it’s so short,” Marie said, tilting Cinderella’s head to get a better look at it. “Did you really have to chop it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I see. Well, the color is still pretty.”

“
Thank you. As much as I loathe Erlauf fashion trends, I am beginning to think I should follow their example and cover my head with a scarf or some such thing,” Cinderella said.

“Why? You look pitiable
to be certain, but you are by no means the only girl who has sold her hair in the past few months,” Marie said.

“
Yes, but just before I left the market, a flock of Erlauf soldiers gawked at me,” Cinderella said, running her hand through her short locks.

Marie clicked her tongue. “Ruffians
,” she said. “A gentleman would behave better.”

“How is business?” Cinderella asked
, leaning against the hitching post.

“Well enough
, I think. Armel has managed to come home at a decent hour these past few days, and he hasn’t mentioned moving to Loire for the past month,” Marie said.

“I’m glad to hear that
.”

“And how does your Aveyron
fair?”

Cinderella shrugged. “We scrape by. All the farm
ing changes have made it more profitable.”

“
Then what drove you to beggar your hair?”

“
Taxes, again,” Cinderella said, offering her palm to one of the horses. “With their cost, I can barely afford to pay Aveyron’s upkeep. I swear each month the tax burden grows heavier and heavier. If they don’t increase the tax on every servant per household, Queen Freja places a tax on every acre of farmable land or imposes a tax on glass windows.”

“And you won’t let any of your servants go?”

Cinderella shook her head. “No,” she said, her determination weighing the word down like steel and iron.

Marie sighed and dusted off her hands. “You
have a hero complex, my darling Cinderella. Life would be so much easier for you if you were even a little bit selfish, like me.”

“You cannot fool me
,” Cinderella said. “I recognize your shopkeeper. She was your nurse until you turned thirteen.”

Marie sniffed. “I don’t know what you’re talk
ing about. With business improving, Armel hired more help, that’s all.”

“Of course
,” Cinderella said. She slid her hand down the horse’s glossy neck before stepping back. “I need to get going.”

“You’re not go
ing to stay for tea?”

Cinderella held up her basket. “I
have work. I only stopped by to say hello and to check on my sign. Have there been any inquires?”

“
A few. I left the names with my nurse; ask her for the list on your way out.”

“I cannot thank you enough.”

“It is the least I can do for you. It was good to see you, and your lack-luster haircut.”

“Take care
, Marie.”

“Cinderella?”

Cinderella stopped at the doorframe and turned to face her friend.

“I
, I would help you more, if I could.”

Cinderella smiled. “I know. Thank you.”

Marie mutely nodded.

“I will drop by again later this week. Until then
,” Cinderella called as she disappeared inside.

Chapter 2

The following day, the Erlauf army officer showed up again at the chateau’s market stall shortly after Cinderella and Vitore finished unpacking the day’s produce.

“Mademoiselle
,” the officer said, a mocking pitch colored his tone as he spoke the Trieux title.

Cinderella brushed her bangs from her eyes. “How can I help you
, sir?”

The officer tilted his head as he studied Cinderella the way a fox studies a chicken.
He glanced back at Vitore—who bustled behind Cinderella.

Vitore busied herself with arrang
ing eggs in a basket, but Cinderella did not miss the way the maid/produce-seller quivered in fear.

“Sir
,” Cinderella repeated.

“Another basket of carrots
, if you would be so kind,” the officer said, his smirk cutting into his black eyepatch.

“Yes
, sir,” Cinderella said, pouring a basket of carrots in a sack.

“The price
is still ten copper coins?”

“Yes
, sir,” Cinderella said. She handed the vegetables over after the officer placed a stack of coins on the rough, wooden counter.

“Until tomorrow
, Mademoiselle,” the officer said, tipping the brim of his hat before turning to his soldiers.

Cinderella said noth
ing and watched him go.

“He’s a rake
, that one is,” Vitore muttered.

“I wish he would buy his carrots someplace else
,” Cinderella said, pinching a copper coin between her fingers. “But coin is coin, even if it comes from Erlauf.”

Cinderella
was churning butter when Gilbert found her. It had been almost a week since the Erlauf officer became a consistent customer. Neither he, nor his soldiers, ever said much, but the officer’s gaze seemed to linger on Cinderella during the transaction.

“Vitore is right. He is a rogue. I’l
l have to be careful with him,” Cinderella muttered as she thumped the churn, working out her aggression in the buttery milk.

“Mademoiselle?”
Gilbert called. The land steward’s voice was muffled as he wandered through the section of the barn where the cows slept.

“In
back, Gilbert.”

Gilbert followed Cinderella’s voice to her spot outside
where she thumped the butter in the shade of an ancient tree.

“Mademoiselle
, the newest tax regulations have been posted. Pierre was in the capital to collect Vitore’s empty baskets and copied them down. Would you like to look at them?”

Cinderella wiped swe
at from her face with her apron. “Yes, please,” she said. “Would you tell Pierre he has my thanks?”

“Of course
, Mademoiselle,” Gilbert said, passing a curl of birch bark to Cinderella. (Paper was expensive, after all.)

Cinderella
was relieved to see the biggest tax increase was the one already imposed on carriages. It wouldn’t affect Aveyron. Cinderella had gotten rid of the carriage collection months ago, and the carriage horses were now used to pull loads of lumber and carts of produce.

The tax on income
had decreased slightly, but there was an increase in landholding tax. She couldn’t be certain (as mathematics and finances were not her strong point), but Cinderella suspected there would be little change to Aveyron’s taxes. Perhaps a slight increase, but nothing unbearable.

“I need
to ask Pierre,” Cinderella murmured.

“I beg your pardon
, Mademoiselle?” Gilbert said.

“Sorry
,” Cinderella said, looking up from the birch bark. She had forgotten the steward was there. “If they can be spared, could you send a stable boy or kitchen girl to Lord and Lady Delattre to see if there will be a meeting? I imagine the other Trieux noble families will have something to say about this.”

“Right away
, Mademoiselle.”

“Thank you
, Gilbert,” Cinderella said, handing the land steward the birch bark before wiping her hands off on her rough dress. A callous on her hand snagged on the material.

“Of course
, Mademoiselle,” Gilbert said.

Cinderella
returned to the butter churn. “Aveyron doesn’t have any carriages left, but the other remaining noble families of Trieux do. Erlauf certainly knows how to kick us where it hurts.”

With all the rid
ing horses sold and the carriage and work horses resting from a long day of work, Cinderella’s only available method of transportation was to walk to the Delattre estate. Thankfully, the Delattre estate was only a half-hour walk away, as it bordered Aveyron.

When Cinderella entered the magnificent manor
, a maid took her cloak and showed her to one of the salons.

“Cinderella
, darling. It is so good to see you,” Lady Delattre said, rising from the settee to embrace Cinderella.

Lady Delattre
was an older woman with dove-gray hair and beautiful manners, as exemplified in the way she noted Cinderella’s shortened hair and plain day dress that was little better than a servant’s uniform, but said nothing. “Please, sit. We have a few moments to share between the two of us. How are you?”

“Well
enough, thank you. How are you, Lady Delattre?”

“I am quite well
, now that winter has left. The cold weather makes my old bones ache,” Lady Delattre said as she poured Cinderella a steaming cup of tea. “How is your step-mother?”

“I
have not seen much of her,” Cinderella reported. “Nor of my step-sisters. They mostly keep to their rooms, and when they venture out, it is to visit friends from Erlauf,” Cinderella said, holding her tea for extra warmth.

Lady Delattre sniffed. “It’s a crime against goodness
, what that woman does. I do not understand how she can live off you like a parasite. To think she refuses to help you pay the taxes you incur through Aveyron—the estate of the man she married.”

“She married Papa on
ly because the Queen Freja ordered her to, and she does pay for her and her daughters’ living expenses,” Cinderella said.

“No woman should allow a child to take on the burdens you
have, darling,” Lady Delattre said.

“I
am
seventeen,” Cinderella said.

Lady Delattre’s sharp features softened. “You are too kind
to her, Cinderella.”

“Hard
ly—,” Cinderella started. She cut herself off when Lord Delattre—a rail-thin man who always wore solemn expressions—entered the salon with Lord and Lady Rosseux and their eldest son, Julien Rosseux.

“I am tell
ing you, Delattre, they will see the end of us yet,” Lord Rosseux said, his face flushed. “They might not have killed and exiled us like they did to all other Trieux families of nobility, but that is only so they could slowly wring our wealth from us like a rag.”

“Lord Rosseux
, there are ladies present,” Lady Delattre said.

“I b
eg your pardon,” Lord Rosseux said, throwing himself into an arm chair.

“Are the Girards
, Feautres, and Leroys not coming tonight?” Lady Rosseux, as soft-spoken as her husband was loud, asked as she seated herself on a settee with her son.

“It
was too far for the Girards to come at such short notice; the Feautres are indisposed, and the Leroys decided it was best not to come,” Lord Delattre said.

“You mean Erlauf’s dogs still watch us for any sign of rebellion
,” Lord Rosseux said, covering his eyes. “A meeting of the only six remaining noble families of Trieux would be marked with suspicion, but a meeting between an eligible lady, her chaperon neighbors, and a family with a marriageable son would raise less interest.”

J
ulian, a handsome blonde who was a few months older than Cinderella, cleared his throat and blushed.

He and Cinderella
looked in opposite directions and did not acknowledge Lord Rosseux’s observation.

“
Lord Rosseux, I beg you to rein in your words. You have allowed your emotions to run freely,” Lady Delattre said.

“Of course I
have. We’ll be forced to lay off more servants to make the tax.”

Cinderella took a sip of her tea—it
was weak. Lady Delattre had probably used the leaves two or three times already. It was a handy way to save on what was becoming an expensive import.

“We will sell one of our carriages to minimize the
effect of the tax,” Lord Delattre said.

“Some Erlauf scum will buy it
,” Lord Rosseux grunted.

“What will you do
, Lady Lacreux?” Julian asked. With his quiet temperament, he took after his mother more than his father.

Cinderella put her tea cup down. “It won’t affect Aveyron. I sold all our carriages sometime ago.”

“You persist in retaining all your servants?” Lady Delattre asked.

“Yes
,” Cinderella said.

In a country
that used to brim with lavishly dressed lords and ladies, only six families remained. The rest had been slaughtered in the takeover or exiled. The remaining nobles were left to face an enormous tax burden. Most of the families, like Rosseuxes, made the taxes by lowering the wages of their servants or dismissing them. Cinderella was an extreme opposite. She sold everything she could and kept all of Aveyron’s staff on. The Delattres held the medium ground, dismissing some of their servants and selling some of their possessions.

The taxes
were harder on some families. The Delattres owned the least land and the smallest taxable income. Cinderella, on the other hand, possessed the largest estate and the highest title—Duchess. The taxes imposed on Aveyron were the highest in the country.

“Did you hear the Erlauf Queen gave the Lefebvre Estate to an Erlauf army officer?” Lord Delattre said.

“I did. Lefebvre must be rolling in his grave,” Lord Rosseux said. “The queen is taking her time in handing out the estates. They’ve been in royal possession for two, almost three years.”

“I imagine they’re try
ing to decide which of their army officers to plant where. Their country places the highest importance on military service. Even nobles are required to serve,” Lord Delattre said.

“Work
ing, pah,” Lord Rosseux said.

“Aren’t most of the officers titled nobles?” Julien
said.

“It is my underst
anding that officers are esteemed as highly as members of nobility—perhaps higher in social standing, if not economic. Most of the officers, I believe, are sons of noblemen,” Lord Delattre said.

“Giv
ing out Trieux estates is a brilliant way to reward them, then. If officers are second or third sons, they won’t inherit a title or lands,” Julien said.

“
Brilliant of the Erlauf Queen and her consort, yes,” Lord Delattre said. “But it saddens me to see my countrymen’s’ lands going to…,” he glanced at Lady Delattre and Cinderella and trailed off.