Cinderella and the Colonel (25 page)

It
was of Trieux design, so naturally the balcony was beautiful. There was a white fountain placed perfectly so when silver moonlight struck the trickling water, the surface glowed. Sculpted, well-trimmed plants—the only sign of the Erlauf takeover, Cinderella suspected—made a stark contrast of green among the white balcony, fountain, and benches.

There
were three soldiers on the balcony, but as soon as they saw Prince Cristoph, they leaped to their feet, bowed, and made a speedy exit.

“Your argument is well thought out
,” Prince Cristoph said when they were alone.

Cinderella left him at the fountain and seated herself on a
nearby bench, sighing in relief. The glass slippers were comfortable, but her feet ached from all the dancing. She hadn’t danced this must since her dance instructor declared her accomplished at age fourteen.

“Thank you
, Your Highness,” Cinderella said, smoothing her dress over the bench.

“
But why such passion?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Prince Cristoph gestured widely. “Why subject yourself to such cares and worries? You are a beautiful woman. You could marry and wash your hands of the affair, forgetting the matter. You do not have to save Erlauf.”

As tired as she
was, the Prince’s words propelled Cinderella into standing. “First of all, I resent the idea that if a woman marries, her lot in life is to be empty-headed and pampered.”

“I did not say
that,” Prince Cristoph said.

“You implied if I married
, things like the country would no longer worry me. Why wouldn’t they? No one is bothering themselves to address this issue. Marriage would not change that, nor would it blind me to the truth that there is much work to be done, and everyone is too selfish to compromise or give up any comforts to see this situation changed,” Cinderella said, her voice hot and angry.

“Make no mistake
, whether you and your great mother decide to help me or not,
I
will face this problem even if I must go at it alone,” Cinderella said, clenching her hands into fists.

Prince Cristoph pushed off from his perch on the fountain. “Your passion gives you much credit
,” he said, stepping close to Cinderella. “And your dedication is admirable. I apologize for any offense my thoughtless words gave.”

Her temper cool
ing, Cinderella shook her head. “I am afraid, Your Highness. If we don’t make amends, will Erlauf survive?”

Prince Cristoph extended a hand towards Cinderella’s face. “We will—
,” he cut himself off when Cinderella jerked away before he could graze her cheek with his fingers.

“I apologize again for my apparent
ly offensive act,” Prince Cristoph said, his words slow and carefully pronounced.

“Oh
, it isn’t—you misunderstood,” Cinderella said, clasping her hands in front of her. “It’s only…,” she trailed off, aware that she was starting to blush.

“You already
have a man you care for?” Prince Cristoph guessed.

Startled
, Cinderella fixed her eyes on his mask. It was to her shame, but he was right. Before she pulled away she hadn’t thought of her marriage prospects, as was her usual concern, but of the disappointed face Friedrich was sure to give her.

“How did you know?
” she said, her eyes wide.

“Just a guess
,” Prince Cristoph said, his voice cool. “A Trieux nobleman, I assume? Together you would have a better chance of molding the minds of Trieux commoners.”

“What? How would—what time is it?” Cinderella said
, her heart freezing over when she realized she did not know the hour.

“I am not certain. So he is from Trieux?”

“Where can I find a clock?” Cinderella asked.

“What?”

“A clock! Where can I find a clock?”

“There is one above the ballroom entrance
, but—,”

Cinderella
was already scurrying into the hot ballroom. She covered her mouth to hold in a shriek when she saw the time—she had fifteen minutes before the magic would fade. In that time she needed to leave the palace, and get out of Werra!

Cinderella ran back to the threshold
of the balcony and curtsied. “I thank you for your time, Prince Cristoph, you have been most gracious,” Cinderella before she turned on her heels and ran.

“Mademoiselle
, wait! Mademoiselle,” Prince Cristoph shouted.

Cinderella ignored the calls and slipped her way out of the ballroom
, apologizing to anyone she ran into in her hurry.

“My lady!”

Cinderella fled the ballroom and ran down the hallway. She was shocked when she heard the prince call to her. “Can’t you wait, Mademoiselle!”

She just reached the palace entrance when she heard the Prince order “Wait
, stop her!”

Cindere
lla gave up running like a lady. She picked up her skirts and
ran
down the long line of stairs where her carriage waited.

The walkway
was lined with soldiers, who started to move towards her, but as soon as Cinderella gathered up her skirts they lunged backwards, as if she had hit them, and avoided looking at her.

At the bottom stairs Cinderella’s mice-horses neighed to her and twitched their noses twice as fast as usual. The carriage driver baaed at her
, and the goat-footgirl had the carriage door open. The orange interior of the carriage glowed in the night.

Cinderella
was almost clear. She picked up her pace, but one of her glass slippers slipped and skid out from underneath her. Cinderella fell into a soldier, who steadied her by her waist before practically pushing her away from him.

In the bustle
, Cinderella’s foot slipped from a glass slipper, but Cinderella was too terrified to care.

“Go
, go, go!” she shouted to her unusual attendants before stuffing herself into the carriage.

The goat-footgirl
had just enough time to leap into place behind the carriage before the horses took off, jostling and bouncing the round carriage.

Cinderella stuck her head out of the window to see Prince Cristoph claim
ing her abandoned glass slipper and shouting at the soldiers.

One of the mice-horses let out a shrill neigh—which sounded suspicious
ly like a squeak, and Cinderella looked ahead to see patrolling squads convening in their pathway.

“Don’t stop
,” Cinderella shouted to the goat-driver.

The horses bolted down a side street
, the sudden turn knocking Cinderella back into the carriage. “We’re taking a different route! The mice won’t know how to get back, and won’t be able to slip out,” Cinderella winced.

Soldiers shouted
; whistles were blown, and Cinderella’s carriage rolled on.

One soldier leaped onto the carriage and managed to cl
ing to the door before the goat-footgirl kicked him in the face, dislodging him with great effectiveness.

The soldiers seemed unwill
ing to use weapons against Cinderella, her attendants, and her great round carriage, but they showed an unfortunate deftness in building barricades out of crates and barrels.

“No
, not that way,” Cinderella cried when the mice-horses took another turn that faced them in the direction of the palace. She leaned out of the window to direct her brave steeds and driver. “Quick, take the side street on the left—the one that has the empty beer keg by it—yes!” Cinderella said before pulling herself back in the carriage, for it was a tight squeeze, and in several spots the carriage grazed the alley walls.

“As soon as the all
ey opens into a main road, take a left—perfect!” Cinderella said. “Now
RUN
!”

Soldiers on foot
pursued them, but thankfully none were mounted. Yet.

Cinderella’s heart thundered in relief when she saw the city gates. “We’re almost there! We can lose them in the woods and fields!” Cinderella told her mice-horses and goat-attendants.

“Close the gates!” soldiers shouted, blowing their whistles.

“We
have to get through!” Cinderella said.

The great wooden gates of Werra creaked and moaned as they
were unhinged.

The bells in
the city bell tower started ringing, their clear tolls sounding ominous to Cinderella’s panicked ears.

“We’re not go
ing to make it,” she said, shutting her eyes as her carriage thundered along.

The mice-horses snorted
, their hooves clattering on the stone streets. Whistles echoed from all over Werra, and the gates inched along as soldiers pushed against them.

The city bells tolled
, and Cinderella’s mice-horses slid through the open gap between the doors. The round carriage got stuck—pinched between the doors—but the mice-horses threw themselves against their black harness, and the coach popped free.

“We did it
! We did it! I can’t believe that we made it! Mice, I will feed you from my hand for the rest of your
life
!” Cinderella vowed as the doors swung shut behind them.

Even from behind the city walls
, Cinderella could hear the soldiers working furiously to open the doors. A soldier standing watch on the wall blew his whistle and motioned in Cinderella’s direction.

“Quick
, into the trees,” Cinderella said. They had come out on the wrong side of Werra and were reasonably far from Aveyron’s lands. But Cinderella was satisfied they were out at all—and the different location was a blessing, for the land surrounding the gate was heavily forested for hunting purposes.

The city bells still rang as Cinderella and her entourage disappeared into the trees. Cinderella threw herself out of the carriage just as it started shrink
ing, collapsing around her. The black harnesses dropped from the horses, who were temporarily shrouded in smoke with the driver and footgirl when the last bell tolled.

When the smoke cleared
, the elderly goat baaed at Cinderella. The four mice arranged themselves at Cinderella’s feet, shivering, and the young goat stumbled and shook her head.

Cinderella’s
fancy dress was gone. She hadn’t noticed when the white and gray fabric transformed back to her servants clothes, but she was grateful it had. She hurriedly took her apron off and ripped it in half. She ripped the ties off the bottom half and tied them around the leather collars the goats wore. She took the top half of the apron and tied it to her head, covering her hair. She placed the glass slipper—the only reminder of the entire mad evening—on the remaining square of apron fabric. She tied the fabric around it like it was a sack of food that she carried.

“Hide for a moment
,” Cinderella said to the mice.

They scurried off into the underbrush
, doing as they were told.

When the soldiers entered the wo
ods moments later, they found only a servant girl toting two goats instead of the fleeing coach with the agile carriage horses they were looking for.

“Spread out and see if the dogs can pick up the trail
,” a lieutenant riding a black horse shouted, holding a torch above his head.

“Yes
, sir!”

The lieutenant dismounted and approached the girl and her goats—
who were baaing and shying at the soldiers and their dogs.

“Good even
ing, miss,” the lieutenant said, dipping the brim of his hat at the girl. “I apologize for the interruption, but did you happen to see a round, gold carriage come through these woods?”

“A round carriage?” the girl said
, yelping when her buck goat tried to headbutt a dog that was sniffing an unripe pumpkin nearby. “That would certainly be an odd sight. Nope, I haven’t seen anything like that ‘round here,” she said, her eyes wide.

“Are you certain?” the lieutenant asked.

“I think t’would be rather hard to miss, if you excuse me for saying so,” the goat girl said, a little breathless as her goats yanked her around.

“Very well
, thank you for your time,” the lieutenant said before he returned to his horse and blew a whistle and addressed his soldiers. “Red Dogs, follow the road with the dogs and search for tracks. Gray Boys, search the woods on both sides. Don’t depend on the dogs. Look for tracks, and keep an eye out for any side trails they may have taken. She can’t have gotten too far, or our scouts on the walls would have seen her leave the trees,” he said.

As the soldiers organized themselves
, they ignored the wide-eyed servant girl and her white goats. They didn’t even notice when the girl stopped to let four mice crawl into her sack before she started off, her shoulders stiff and her chin held high.