Cinderella and the Masquerade (Erotic Fairy Tales)
Page 3
“Good morning gentlemen,” my father greeted the men in his booming voice. Two palace guards stood sentinel by a beautiful grand chestnut horse; I could just see the polished black leather boot in the stirrup.
“Greetings all,” the familiar voice of the prince rang out. “I am traveling through the kingdom searching for the woman whose foot fits this slipper.” One of the guards held out the silver slipper I had worn the night before, the sunlight glinting off of the tiny jewels as he showed it around.
“Forgive me, your majesty, but what is this?” my father asked. “First the masquerade and now this? Is the king putting you up to this?”
“No sir,” the prince said as he dismounted his ride. “The woman who stole my heart at the masquerade was wearing this slipper, but she ran off before I could know her name. As you can see, it is a very narrow and small shoe; so far no woman has been able to fit it.”
“You do not know your fair maiden by sight, your majesty?” my step-mother asked as came forward.
“Well, because of the costumes and masks everyone was wearing,” he trailed off, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. My father laughed and clapped the prince on his shoulder and invited him to sit while my step-sisters stood to each try the shoe on.
“Come Moira,” her mother said, “present your foot.” The guard holding the shoe knelt on the ground, holding out my slipper but Moira hesitated.
“Mother,” she said slowly and I knew she knew she would never fit her over-large foot into my tiny slipper. “I am too shy to lift my skirts in front of a male servant. Perhaps we can have a little privacy?”
“Oh, of course,” the guard agreed, handing Moira the slipper. She and her mother moved away from the gathering, closer to the cellar.
“Mother, I cannot even fit my toes in this infernal thing!” Moira hissed as she fought to stretch out the satin of my slipper.
I watched in horror as her mother handed her a knife and said, “Then cut off your toe, when you are queen you will never have to go on foot again.” Moira took the knife with a trembling hand and with one quick motion she severed her toe and slid her bleeding foot into the slipper. Tears streamed down her face as she and her mother turned back to the gathering and explained that they were tears of joy. The prince stared into her face, uncertainty clear in the lines on his forehead but with a shrug he lifted her on his steed and began to turn away.
“Uh,” one of the guards cleared his throat, “your majesty?”
“Yes?” the prince answered.
“Your maiden’s foot.”
“Yes?”
“It’s bleeding,” he said, a sneer forming on his face.
“What is this?” the prince demanded, jumping off of horse and ripping the slipper away to see the disfigured and bleeding foot of Moira. “You are not the maiden I seek.”
“Your majesty, my apologies,” my father said, bringing Mayra forward. “Perhaps this is the lovely maiden you seek?”
And once again my step-mother took the slipper and Mayra away from the gathering. This time Mayra was able to get her toes into the slipper but could not slide her heel in.
“Cut a piece of your heel,” her mother said, handing her the knife. “Once you are queen you will never go on foot.” Mayra took the knife and cut her foot so that it would fit into the slipper.
“Wonderful!” my father said with a clap of his hands. The price helped Mayra onto the horse but as he took a step back he saw the steady drip of blood falling from her foot and to the ground.
“Enough!” The prince cried, pulling Mayra roughly from the horse and taking back my slipper. “You are trying to deceive me?” he said rounding on my step-mother.
“No, your majesty!” she said, shrinking back from his anger. “My apologies, a mother would do anything for the love of her daughters!”
“Be gone from my sight,” he said with a wave of his hand. “If these are all the eligible maidens in your home, then we will be off.”
“Well,” my father said and I pressed ever closer to the door, swallowing past a lump in my throat.
“Yes?” the prince prompted.
“Well, there is Ella, but it couldn’t possibly be her,” he said shaking his head and I felt my stomach drop out from under me.
“Why could it not be this Ella?” the prince asked.
“She didn’t go to the festival, since her mother’s death she’s been unwell,” he said but I saw something change in his face. “Where is Ella?”
“Yes, let us meet this Ella,” the prince said, turning to look at my step-mother and sisters.
“But your majesty,” my step-mother said, trying to sound light, “it just wouldn’t be her.”
“I order you to bring her to me,” he demanded. She hesitated for a moment and then fished a key out of her pocket.
“Why do you need a key?” my father asked and I saw for the first time in too long the blank look in his eyes was gone.
“Last night I caught Ella in the garden, alone, in the dark, I thought she was a danger to herself,” she lied quickly.
“So you locked my daughter up?” my father yelled, anger coloring his cheeks.
“For her own safety,” she argued.
“You release my daughter right this instance!”
I waited nervously as she approached the cellar door and heard the key slide into the metal lock and in the next moment there was a click and the door swung open.
“Father!” I cried, rushing out and throwing myself into his arms.
“Oh, Ella, my darling,” he said, stroking my hair as he hugged me to him. “I am so sorry.”
“I know, you were bewitched,” I said, looking up into his face.
“Ella?” the price said and when I turned to look at him I knew he recognized me, mask or no.
“Yes,” I said with a smile. One of the guards rushed over to me and I held out my bare foot. Everyone watched as the slipper, though stained with blood, slid easily on.
“It is her, your majesty,” the guard said.
“Of course it is,” he said with a smile. I went to him and he lifted me up, swinging me around in a tight embrace before pressing those irresistible soft lips to mine.
“So, I have been bewitched, have I?” I heard my father’s angry voice behind me and urged the prince to set me on my feet again. We turned and saw my father bearing down on his wife, her power snapping at her fingertips.
“She is a witch?” the prince asked and I nodded.
“Yes, she and her daughters,” I said, nodding towards the twins. “They imprisoned my mother and bewitched my father. They have been keeping me as their servant in exchange for not harming my mother, siphoning off my father’s money,” I explained quickly.
“Guards,” he said simply and the two men came forward to arrest my step-mother. Her twin daughters screamed and cried as the guards shackled their mother and then turned to them. Before the guards could subdue the girls they unleashed their electric power, striking out at the guards and knocking them to the ground. My father and the prince cried out together, moving towards the girls but they joined hands and with a blinding flash they disappeared, leaving their mother behind.
The prince swept me up on his steed and led us all to the palace. The third night of the festival became a celebration of our engagement. In the following weeks my step-mother was tired and eventually hanged after she revealed the whereabouts of my imprisoned mother. The royal wizard broke the spells that bound her and reversed the curse laid on my father. It did my heart good to see them back together again, locked in each other’s arms. In the following months the prince and I were married and lived happily ever after but something inside of me still twists my stomach when I think about Moira and Mayra still out there. Something tells me I haven’t seen the last of them.
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