He turned and gave me one last look, staring like he’d never seen a girl in pants, which he probably never had. “Nice doing work with you, Black Rider,” he said to the masked man before riding away.
“Well, that was a waste,” my rescuer grumbled. He walked to his horse and mounted easily. He reined the animal away and started down the road.
“Wait! You’re just going to leave me?”
He stopped his horse and peered down at me. “Miss, I think you’ve gotten me into enough trouble for today.” He started forward again.
I ran toward him. “Please help me. I don’t know where I am.”
He tilted his head. “You’re not my problem anymore.”
How rude! “Fine! Be that way. I just hope your conscience lets you sleep tonight, knowing you left a damsel in distress alone in the woods. Who knows? Maybe Isaac will have second thoughts and come back to kidnap the girl he left behind. Then you can wonder if something terrible will befall me.” Befall? Since when do I say “befall”? Maybe I was suffering from some sort of illness that messed with the language part of my brain.
Black Rider halted his horse. It looked like my guilt trip worked, because he slid off and marched up to me. He pointed his finger at my face. “I’ll take you to where you need to go. Nothing more. Understand?”
Wow, can you say “anger management”?
“That is all I ask,” I said.
He returned to his horse but did not mount. I ran to his side and waited for him to make a stirrup with his hands, but instead he grabbed me by the waist and lifted me onto the saddle. Sideways, as in sidesaddle. Not wanting to fall off, I quickly swung my right leg over the horse’s neck so I could have a leg on each side of the animal.
“Is everything all right?” Black Rider asked me.
“I’m just not used to riding sidesaddle.”
He didn’t comment but climbed up behind me. He slid his arm around my waist and reached for the reins with his other hand.
I could get used to this, I thought as I felt his warmth behind me.
“Where shall I take you?” he asked.
Even though I’d just escaped Gabriella’s kitchen, I now realized it was my only hope of going home. Maybe I could sneak in without the pretty blond boy seeing me, then open the door and return to Nana’s house. I could forget any of this ever happened.
“Will you take me to the house over there?” I pointed in the direction of Gabriella’s house.
“Sherwood Manor?” Black Rider said.
Um, sure. “Yes.”
“Are you a servant?”
Hmm, how do I answer that? “Not really. I’m a friend of someone who lives there.”
“So, you’re a guest?”
“I guess you could say that.” I don’t know if being thrust into another realm and locked out of your world made you a guest, but sure—let’s go with it.
For a while, we rode along in silence. He let the horse walk slowly, and I guessed the guy wanted me to be as comfortable as possible. Finally, I realized I’d better investigate my whereabouts. “So, you travel this road a lot?” I asked.
“Yes, it is the main road in the kingdom.”
“You mean Fenmore Falls?” I asked, remembering what Gabriella had said earlier.
“Of course I mean Fenmore Falls. Where else would I mean?”
Not knowing how to answer, I changed the subject. “Why was the key so important?”
“What key?”
I huffed. “The key you stole from the other guy. You know, the guy you pushed from his horse and rolled around in the dirt with. Does any of that ring a bell?” I knew I was being sarcastic, but he was baiting me.
“It’s somewhere safe.”
“Like tied to the leather rope around your neck?” I guessed.
His hand left my waist and tugged at the rope in question. “Do I need to be wary of your thievery now?”
“No. I just saw you put it on when he was removing the stuff from your horse.”
I shifted my weight to get more comfortable. My elbow leaned into Black Rider’s thigh, and he grunted with pain.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“Did you get hurt?”
“’Tis a previous wound,” he said.
Awkward silence followed. I didn’t know if he was mad at me for knowing where he had stashed the key, or because I’d hurt his leg. But I had barely touched it, so the wound must have been serious.
The stillness gave me time to worry. What should I do with my hands? I had no idea how to properly ride a horse in tandem. My hands felt awkward on my lap, and the saddle wasn’t equipped with a horn to hold on to, so I ended up folding my arms across my chest.
“It’s the key to the magazine,” Black Rider finally said, startling me after the silence.
My endless study of the history of Cinderella had paid off. I remembered that a magazine was a building where weapons and gunpowder were stored. “Why did that guy have it?”
“If that key got in the wrong hands, Fenmore Falls would be doomed. Isaac is just one poor man who was paid handsomely to do just that—put Fenmore Falls in danger.”
“So what does that make you? The kingdom’s Robin Hood, like Russell Crowe or Kevin Costner?”
Both great actors. Both great movies. Sigh.
“Your speech is unusual,” Black Rider said.
I could say the same about you. “I’m not from here.” Obviously.
“Your clothing is strange.”
“Yep, I’ve noticed.”
“And you are unchaperoned,” he finished.
“I’m not from here. Did I already say that? ’Cause I’m not. I’m only here for a little bit. Hopefully I’ll be going home very soon. I need my sister right now. But she wouldn’t be much help. She’d be panicking, probably running around screaming, which is what I feel like doing right now. No, my sister would not be much help. My mother wouldn’t be a good choice either. That leaves Nana. Yes, Nana would know what to do. She’d find . . .”
My voice trailed off as I felt Black Rider’s chest rumble with laughter. “I take that back. This day was not a waste. You are the most joy I’ve had in a long time.” He continued to laugh.
“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” I snapped.
Once he was able to stop laughing, he asked, “What is your name? I must find out the name of the peculiar fairy from the woods.”
Well, that was kind of nice. “Brinlee. My name is Brinlee.”
“Well, Miss Brinlee, we have arrived at your destination.”
I hadn’t realized we were at the last bend before Gabriella’s house. Just now I could see the outline of the towering manor through the trees. So distracted and enjoying the ride (yes, I’ll admit it was kind of fun), I also must’ve missed the pond I’d passed during my escape.
“This is as far as I go.” Black Rider stopped his horse and jumped to the ground. I swung my leg over and slid off the horse right into the guy’s waiting arms. When I felt his breath on my neck, the hair there stood at attention.
As if he could sense his power over me, he grinned. “Thank you, Miss Brinlee, for the adventure.”
I found my voice. “I didn’t get your name.”
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
He stepped away and guided his horse a few paces back toward the road.
“How do I know you’re the good guy and not the bad guy?” I asked.
“You’re still standing with your virtue intact, are you not?”
Eeeew. “But how do I know you’re not the bad guy who was paid by the bad guys to get the key?”
“Sometimes you need to trust your instincts, even if they’re dressed funny and lurk in the woods.�
�
He mounted his horse and started down the road, then turned to look at me one last time. “Welcome to Fenmore Falls.”
See ya, wouldn’t want to be ya, I thought in return.
Now, to get back home.
Chapter 3
The Odd and Fascinating World of
Cinderella Tales—Pepelyouga (Cinderella)
Serbia, 1917
On a high pasture land, near an immense precipice, some maidens were occupied in spinning and attending to their grazing cattle, when an old strange looking man with a white beard reaching down to his girdle approached, and said, “Oh fair maidens, beware of the abyss, for if one of you should drop her spindle down the cliff, her mother would be turned into a cow that very moment!”
So saying the aged man disappeared, and the girls, bewildered by his words, and discussing the strange incident, approached near to the ravine, which had suddenly become interesting to them. They peered curiously over the edge, as though expecting to see some unaccustomed sight, when suddenly the most beautiful of the maidens let her spindle drop from her hand, and before she could recover it, it was bounding from rock to rock into the depths beneath. When she returned home that evening she found her worst fears realized, for her mother stood before the door transformed into a cow.
Thankfully, I hadn’t encountered an old man with a white beard on my trip. The last thing I needed was for some weirdo to do some magic and turn my mother into a cow.
With all of the versions of the classic story, I didn’t know which one I had stepped into. Ever since the Cinderella story was first told in Chinese in 850 A.D., operas, ballets, and even ice shows had done their own interpretations of it. In each tale, magic help was required. While Cinderella was a servant, she was magically advised, provided for, and fed. Or the magic came from her dead mother, a tree on the mother’s grave, a supernatural being, or talking birds. Other sources of magic in Cinderella stories include a goat, a sheep, a cow, and a magic tree that springs up from the remains of a dead animal.
Many of the original Cinderella stories involve birds instead of a fairy godmother. The Brothers Grimm had Cinderella attend the ball three times, with the aid of birds that helped her finish her chores—impossible things her teasing, cruel sisters had demanded her to do, including picking out the lentils they had thrown into the ashes of the fireplace. A French author, Charles Perrault, introduced the most popular version of Cinderella, with the fairy godmother who turns a pumpkin into a carriage.
Some accounts were much more gruesome than the cute Disney or Rogers and Hammerstein versions. In one telling, the stepsisters try to squeeze their feet into the glass slipper. And in the Grimms’ version, the sisters cut off their toes and heels so their feet can fit into the shoe. The prince rides off with one of the stepsisters, but the birds tell him to look back. Seeing blood on the trail, he realizes the sisters lied, and he is finally able to see Cinderella. Yeah, a little gross.
Can you tell I was totally obsessed with the story of Cinderella? The only advantage of switching schools every year with my mother’s job was that I could use the same research subject at each school: The History of Cinderella.
Unoriginal, you may say. I say genius. Why waste brain power on something that doesn’t matter? Cinderella matters.
Now, On With My Story
After my adventure with Black Rider, I kept to the outlying trees and then sneaked close to Gabriella’s house. As indicated by the rumbling of my stomach, I had missed breakfast and had probably been gone from Nana’s house for a couple hours. I couldn’t wait to get home and help myself to the leftover apple pie in the fridge.
I reached Gabriella’s kitchen door and peeked inside to make sure the coast was clear. Though relieved to find the room empty, I was suspicious because I’d seen no one outside. Where were all of the servants? Where was Ponytail Man? I grabbed my Cinderella book from the floor where I’d dropped it, then turned to the infamous door. I tried to turn the knob and wished with all my might that I would be able to see my room on the other side. But the knob did not turn. It did not even move. At all. Not even a hair.
I banged my fist on the door. “Gabriella!” I shouted. I did not care if anyone heard me. I wanted to go home.
“Gabriella!” I shouted again.
“Miss?” a soft voice said.
I turned around to see a young servant girl smiling at me from the kitchen doorway. She had the brownest eyes and the most beautiful golden hair. She curtsied. “The lady of the house always wishes to be informed of who is visiting her household.”
“Oh, um, um . . . I’m Brinlee.” I scrambled to give reason for my presence. “I’m a friend of Gabriella.”
The petite girl smiled. “I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Brinlee. My name is Katie. I’m also a friend of Miss Gabriella.”
Ah, the chambermaid. “Yes, Gabriella mentioned you. She said you were the one who told her of the prince’s pirate encounter.”
The girl held a finger up to her lips and whispered, “Hush. These things must not be spoken out loud. It is only chitchat, nothing of consequence.” A grin crept onto her face. “But who shall resist believing the quest of the prince when such exciting gossip is spread?”
I liked her playful attitude.
Noticing the book I held tightly in my hand, Katie asked, “What is that book?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I answered. It was one thing to be visiting the Cinderella story, but how would I explain it to someone who was actually in the story?
Katie seemed to want to ask more about the book, but instead she said, “Will you be staying with us long?”
“Um . . .” I looked over my shoulder at the sealed door leading home. “I don’t know.”
“Come—” she threaded her arm through mine “—Lady Catherine will want to meet you.”
Panic rose to my chest. Did she mean Gabriella’s stepmother? The evil stepmother? Okay, this is seriously getting weird. I kept my arm rigid and refused to move.
“It’s best to do it now and just get it over with, Miss Brinlee.”
I stepped back to the door and desperately yanked at the knob. Please, let this door open, I silently prayed.
“I never understood that,” Katie said. “It resembles a door, but it is not. No one knows the reason for its outline upon the wall when the only thing on the opposite side is the garden.”
This couldn’t be happening. Where was the exit button? I wanted to go home.
“Here.” Katie pulled at my arm. “I’ll accompany you.”
She led me out of the kitchen and into a long, narrow hallway. This had to be a hallucination, yet I felt as if I was actually walking through Cinderella’s house with her chambermaid, Katie.
We climbed a set of stairs leading to the second floor, and another to the third floor. The floors and walls of the house were lined entirely with stone. On the third floor, large woven tapestries draped the hallways. There were pictures of knights battling dragons, beautiful groves and gardens, and maidens standing next to rippling pools of water. The tapestries were stunning works of art.
At the end of the hallway, Katie brought me to a tall, wooden door. She knocked and an angry voice said, “Who is it?”
“Sorry to disturb you, milady, but we have a visitor.”
There was a moment of silence. Katie smiled at me.
“Come,” the voice commanded.
Katie opened the door, and I followed her into the room. My eyes immediately fell on the woman sitting on a chair next to a mirror. Her long, dark hair hung loose—contrary to the storybooks, where the stepmother wore her hair up—and her extraordinary scarlet gown, which matched the room itself, seemed to melt on the floor like butter. The low, wide neckline concealed very little. The sleeves, adorned with ruffles, lace, and bows, clasped her slim arms tightly a
t the elbow. She was beautiful.
She swiveled around on her perch. “Who are you?”
“Brinlee,” I said quickly.
She inspected me with her eyes, starting at my head and moving slowly down to my feet.
Growing uneasy, I looked at my white T-shirt, pink sweatpants, and purple slippers (now covered with dirt and mud from my morning jog). I folded my arms across my chest, with my Cinderella book still in hand. Not that I could hide my outfit, but I wanted to conceal my shaky hands.
The woman stood. “Why are you in my house, Miss . . . Brinlee, was it?”
“She’s a friend of Miss Gabriella’s, Lady Catherine,” Katie said.
The woman shifted her gaze to the chambermaid. “You shall know your place and shall not speak unless you are spoken to.”
Attempting to divert the woman’s attention from Katie, I said, “I’ve come to visit my friend, Gabriella.”
Lady Catherine’s unbearable stare returned to me. “How long have you known Cinderella?”
“I’ve known her my whole life,” I answered in truth.
“Why is it that I’ve never heard of you? Where are you from?” the woman asked.
“I’m from Idaho.”
Lady Catherine stood silent, probably pondering where Idaho might be. “Do you have any important or principal relation?”
She was asking if I was of noble blood. I mentally reviewed my genealogy and said, “My family comes from Wales. I am related to the royal family of Dinefwr Castle.” Very, very distantly. Did they even know about Wales in this strange world called Fenmore Falls?
Lady Catherine’s expression didn’t reveal whether she believed me or not. “Where is Cinderella? I haven’t seen her all morning,” she asked Katie.
I'm Not Cinderella (The Princess Chronicles) Page 3
