Cinderella Dreams of Fire (Fairy Tales Forever #1) (2 page)

B
raedon looked
around the overcrowded bar and tried to pick out bits and pieces of the loud chatter surrounding him. In one corner of the room, a balding toad of a man was trying to swindle land from a farmer after they'd drunk half a dozen drinks. In another, the notorious Madame spoke to a poor cobbler, no doubt attempting to recruit his daughter for her employ. With a slight swivel of his stool, Braedon also heard two off-duty knights discussing the growing group of raiders to the south. As he turned to listen further to the tavern's secrets, he received a hearty slap on the back.

The five fingers belonged to a foul-smelling heavyweight he called his friend.

Sir Don Falstone's breath smelled like he'd been drinking from the bottle. “My dear boy! I was just thinking about how I met you 10 years ago. That has to be at least 500 women ago."

Braedon smirked and looked the man over. While on first appearance it would seem as though Falstone had eaten more women than he'd bedded, the large, bearded man had his charms. There were few people who could hush a packed crowd with a simple half-true story the way Falstone could. Whether it was the adventurous tales or the family money that did it, he often left the bar with a girl on each arm.

Braedon remembered when he was wowed by it. He made no effort to replicate his friend's popularity, however, because he knew it was very likely to get back to his mother.

He took a sip of his ale. “And I'm sure you keep track of them all, Falstone, in a little black book."

The rotund knight clapped him on the shoulder and bellowed with laughter. Several others near the bar joined in his revelry.

"Five hundred is an estimate, of course. Besides, most nights I'm in no condition to be writing anything. Wouldn't want to accidentally sign away my inheritance to a girl I hardly knew.” His fake teeth showed through his beard. “Sounds like something your father would do.” Another laugh spread like wildfire.

Falstone always talked about Braedon's father. After the untimely death from a hunting accident, the portly noblemen said he would take the boy under his wing. Braedon's mother was less than pleased with the arrangement.

Since he'd come of age, Braedon had spent a fair amount of time among the heaviest drinkers in the land. As a result, he could tell he was the sharpest in the room, even with two drinks in his own system. He noticed an unmarked royal guard enter the building with an inconspicuous pouch.

Falstone's eyes grew wide. “Braedon, how long has your drink been empty?"

Braedon watched two more covert soldiers follow the man with the pouch. “And how long have you been as large as two men?”

The drunks beside them howled as Falstone put on a play frown for the crowd. The knight shook his cheeks as if trying to recover from a blow to the face. “It was long before your mother had to change your swaddling clothes three times a day. If my memory serves me correctly, that was just last week!"

The audience of their little exchange doubled over in laughter. Falstone gave Braedon a wink. Over his shoulder, the young man saw another two guards enter the room. They scanned their surroundings for danger before following in the direction their friends had gone.

Isn't this getting interesting…

Braedon contemplated what was in the pouch as he leaned toward the group of onlookers. “The only reason you know that is because you've been trying to catch a glimpse of me naked for years."

The men slammed their drinks onto the bar in delight. Two of them put their arms around Braedon as if they were best friends. In truth, he didn't know their names. He supposed there was no camaraderie quite so handsy as a bar friendship.

Falstone stood up to take back the attention. He grabbed a full mug from one of the men and tipped it toward his mouth. It took a few seconds, but he easily drank the entire thing. Then he tossed it behind him, where it expertly landed flipped onto its top. The happy mob cheered.

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “I think you had me mistaken all these years, my boy. See, the only one I wanted to see in the buff was your dear, sweet mother."

The walls of the tavern echoed with the loudest laughter and applause of the night. Braedon sensed the victory of the exchange had been awarded. He also watched as the final guard entered and snuck to the second floor.

That's a lot of guards for a little package.

Falstone walked over to his side and hugged Braedon with all his might. While the young man felt somewhat suffocated, he knew the rosy-cheeked idiot cared for him as much as any man. Maybe even as much as his father had.

"My friends, I watched this boy grow up from nothing, into…” The gaggle of drunks laughed in anticipation. “The fine young miscreant you see before you. When his father and I served in the war, who knew that I'd end up rich, and he'd end up bedding the finest woman in the land?”

Braedon glanced past the giggling rabble and through one of the windows to the outside. A blur went by for half a second. Nobody else would've caught it, but Braedon wasn't just anybody.

"And the inevitable result of that bedding sits before you on the prowl to bed someone himself."

The men slapped each other on the shoulder and took gulps from their beverages. Meanwhile, Braedon analyzed the direction of the blur in his mind. It was headed for the back of the building.

"So let's raise our glasses to Braedon!"

The gang called out his name and raised their glasses. Braedon did the same as he looked up toward the ceiling.

Falstone smiled like a proud father. “Here's to a new generation of bad behavior."

"Hear, hear!"

As the crowd drank, Braedon wondered if the guards knew they were being watched by two people that night.

He spoke in a soft tone that no one in the bar could hear. “Looks like this night could get exciting after all."

C
inderella listened
to the alcohol-infused laughter as she scaled the building unseen. Her fingers and feet easily found their grip along the side of the tavern. Unlike most missions the Godmother sent her on, this one gave her a hint of nervousness.

"You've retrieved plenty of items for her, Elle. This one is no different.” Her boots found a resting spot beside the window to the second floor. She peered inside and watched a group of guards stand in their posts. Even without their official attire, she immediately recognized them as the queen’s soldiers.

“Great. That’s a nice detail you decided to leave out.” She wiped the sweat from her palms onto her black cloak. “It’s only 10 years of prison if I get caught. No pressure."

Cinderella had faced thousands of hours of training before her mentor let her go on her first mission at the age of 16. It was exhilarating to go from punching dummies made of straw to taking out abusive husbands. She'd personally foiled more than half a dozen assassination attempts by the seedy underbelly of the village. It was strange to be working against the royal family, but the Godmother had given Cinderella far too much for her to question her trainer's methods.

She took one last glance inside the window to plot her attack. As her mentor had taught, she pictured it all in her head with a long, deep breath. All the nervous energy she stored inside exited into the cold night air.

She smiled with confidence. “Showtime.”

Cinderella patiently pulled open the window and slipped inside without the guards noticing. She tiptoed along what she assumed were creaky floorboards, though her agility kept any sounds from being made. There was just enough shadow for her to crouch in the corner and watch. The queen's men were in the middle of a long hallway. Two of them stood in front of a door that no doubt led to her objective. She spied another two milling about on the other side of the floor, and she had to figure there were at least a couple more in the room.

She saw a half-empty pint glass all the way at the other end of the hall. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a small stone.

Cinderella rolled the round projectile between her fingers. “Nothing gets the attention of men quite like spilled ale.

She wound up and threw the stone past the unsuspecting guards and directly into the side of the glass. The shattering sound was more than enough to get their attention.

As they both turned to mourn the tragedy, Cinderella snuck behind them and took two lightning-fast swipes with her sword. The blade cut through their scabbards, sending their weapons clattering to the ground.”

When they jumped and faced her, she met their astonished looks with a smile. “Hello, boys."

They rushed her. The heavier of the two tripped over his own weapon and slammed on his elbows. As the other one bent over to grab his sword, Cinderella struck. First, she kicked him square in the top of the head. After he stumbled backward, she pursued, grabbing hold of either side of his head and wrenching him to the floor. His forehead met the wood and both cracked in response. He groaned as he tried to recover. The guard swung his sword so hard that when Cinderella avoided it with ease, the weapon stuck into the wall.

She laughed as he tried unsuccessfully to pull it free. “I guess you just don't know your own strength."

He left the blade in the wall and charged for her. With two swift movements, she punched him in the gut and elbowed him in the back of the neck. He joined his friend in the unconscious club on the ground.

Two additional guards came sprinting from the other end of the floor, their boots crushing the broken glass on their way toward her.

As they screamed and ran, she calculated. At just the right moment, she leapt high above their outstretched swords. Cinderella flipped once in midair and landed in a crouch behind them; before they had a chance to turn, she swept their legs out from under them. With two more kicks, she had their swords sliding across the floorboards until they hit the other end of the hall. When they attempted to rise, Cinderella slammed their heads into one another. They landed back on the ground with a thump.

She loved the feeling of her heart speeding up. “So far, so good."

Cinderella listened to the sounds of the remaining two guards readying themselves for an onslaught inside the room. She tried the room next door to them. Finding it empty, she thanked the stars above that she didn't break in on any extracurricular activities.

Cinderella shut the door gently behind her, walked to the wall furthest from the guard room, leaned on her right hand, and prepared her shoulder. “This is going to be either incredible or incredibly stupid."

She sprinted for the wall and crashed her shoulder through the paper-thin barrier. Her body cut through like it was butter. As parchment and wood broke apart in front of her, she saw the frightened guards standing by the door. Both of them dropped their swords and put their hands up.

One with the slightest hint of a mustache spoke with a quiver in his voice. “Just take it. It's in the drawer. Please don't hurt us."

Cinderella smirked beneath her mask. “Don't mind if I do."

She opened the drawer and placed the pouch in her pocket. With three swift strides across the room, she leapt over the bed and reached the window.

Cinderella opened it and took a step onto the ledge before turning back. “You two may want to punch each other and tell them I did it. Just a suggestion."

She heard the two guards scuffling as she pulled herself up to the roof.

Cinderella rolled out her shoulder and gathered herself in the darkness. She placed her hand inside her pocket and felt the jewel in her palm. It was warm.

"The queen and the Godmother both want it. It's gotta be a weapon, right?”

From the other side of the roof, a man cleared his throat. She let go of the jewel and placed her hand on the hilt of her sword.

"I hear thieves aren't well-tolerated in this kingdom."

Cinderella stood up straight and faced the man. Even in the nearly pitch black of the midnight sky, she was able to make out his features.

"Neither are drunks, from what I hear.” She tightened her grip. “Begging your pardon, Prince Braedon."

C
inderella watched
the surprise spread across the face of the queen's son. She'd seen him paraded around the village in his youth, though his role in raising village support had diminished a bit in the last two years. From what she'd heard, he was getting support from the village the old-fashioned way.

The prince laughed. “You have good eyes, thief. It's a shame you didn't become a soldier."

His voice was kinder than his reputation, and his handsome face outdid both. She expected him to be skinny and sickly-looking, but he must've fit in some training between beers, because he packed a fair bit of muscle on his arms and his legs. Cinderella told herself she was only looking at his body to assess his weak points.

"Judging by the skill of the men I just defeated below, the training of a thief may suit me better."

He took a step toward her, and she inched the sword out of her scabbard.

Braedon put up his hands. “I don't have a weapon, aside from my charm, of course."

She scoffed and put her weapon back in the holster. “Aren't you just too predictable?"

The prince smiled, his teeth glowing white in the dark night. “I wish I could see under your mask. I want to know more about you."

Cinderella knew she had a little bit of time; after all, few soldiers had the agility to reach the rooftop. She wondered how long it would be before the bowmen assembled to try to flush her to ground level.

She took a step closer. “My apologies if I want to keep this conversation one-sided, but I have someplace to be."

"Please, you're already the most interesting person I've ever met. A lady thief who can easily take out half a dozen men. Hearing your story would surely beat the same old bar tales I'm always hearing."

She shook her head. “But how could I be more interesting than you, Prince? A man with all the choices in the world who opts to slum it in the village, hanging out with the seediest of characters, and bedding everyone who comes to mind. One might assume you're compensating for something."

He chuckled and lowered his stance. She wondered how long it would take to bring the court-trained fighter to his knees.

"You know, I may have you all figured out, too. You have all the telltale signs of a scorned orphan. Someone took you under their wing to train you, but you don't even know what you're fighting for.” He bit his lip. “I'll bet you don't even know what's in that pouch."

Cinderella grumbled as she heard the footsteps of men coming toward the tavern. The steps were too well synced for them to be normal villagers. Reinforcements had arrived.

She sighed. “Oh, noble Prince. You have figured out everything about me, and now I will give up this life of crime and crawl into your bed.” She matched her fighting stance to his. “Why don't we get this started, lover?”

He danced back and forth on his toes. “A fight on the first date. Doesn't seem like a good sign."

As he leaned forward, Cinderella whipped her back leg around and came within an inch of his face. When he ducked back, she came in low and cracked her fist into his chest. Before she could pull her arm back, the prince caught her wrist and twisted her arm against the joint.

He pressed her wrist toward her shoulder. “Nice technique."

She grunted and did a full backflip to get her arm going the right way again. As he marveled at her acrobatics, she broke the grip, took his own wrist, and secured it behind his back.

Cinderella pulled his arm against the socket. “I don't have to hurt you. Just stay down and look the other way."

The prince struggled to break free. “Why would we end the date so early?"

He loosened his shoulders just enough to worm his way out. But when he spun toward Cinderella, she met him with an incredibly fast succession of five punches. He blocked the first two, but the other three found their mark on both cheeks and right under his chin. As he staggered back, she almost felt bad for damaging such a pretty face. Almost.

Braedon rubbed at his jaw. “I can't tell if I'm in love or about to pass out."

Cinderella rolled her eyes. “I think I know which one."

As she went for the knockout blow, the prince easily sidestepped the punch. He caught her with two quick elbows and a jab to the midsection. Adrenaline coursed through her as she countered with three jabs of her own. One of the strikes found its mark so expertly, she could see the prince's eye begin to swell.

He continued to swagger as if he had the upper hand. “I truly am having a lot of fun."

"Are you sure that isn't the ale talking?"

"No, I'm not."

Cinderella smiled as Braedon came at her with a flurry of quick punches. She counted at least seven, and she feinted or ducked every single one. She came back with blows of her own, all of which connected with flesh and bone. As the prince started to lose his footing, she kicked him in the gut, sending his feet backward and his face to the floor.

He somehow groaned and laughed at the same time. “Best two out of three?"

She looked down to the front of the building, where the archers had assembled.

Cinderella admired the prince's stalling. She pulled his hair to get a look at his eyes. They were extremely blue and deeply inviting. She refused the invitation. “Don't follow me."

"Who are you?"

"Just a common thief.” She winked, and then took a running dash toward the edge of the roof and leapt away onto the next building.