Dance: Cinderella Retold (Romance a Medieval Fairytale series Book 3)

by Demelza Carlton

  Mai laughed quietly to herself. If she ever set foot on a battlefield wearing these, she would dazzle the enemy without having to unsheathe her sword.

  Lady Zuleika had known her name, and seen through Jing's illusion.

  The realisation stopped her dead. Perhaps the woman truly was her fairy godmother, despite her youth. But she had said her mother was Da Ying's fairy godmother, so perhaps these things were passed down from mother to daughter. Had Zuleika inherited her mother's responsibilities? If she had, that mean that her mother walked the spirit world now, just like Da Ying.

  More confident in Zuleika's predictions now, Mai couldn't keep the smile off her face as she walked into Yi's sitting room.

  "So you have already heard," Yi greeted her. "Who told you? Was it Heng?"

  Mai stumbled to a halt. "Heard what? I was training, and then I saw my sisters, and I have only just arrived back here. I have not seen Heng since this morning."

  "Good," Yi beamed. "Your sisters are here, and so are your court clothes. My new ones, too, but they are of little consequence – just something to wear to the ball. My mother said you would need court clothes, so Heng took care of it. What do you think?"

  Mai surveyed the piles of neatly folded blue silk that seemed to cover every surface. "Do men really wear such bright colours at court?" she asked carefully. She already knew the ladies dressed so brightly they looked like exotic butterflies, but most of the noblemen she'd seen wore robes in dark shades of purple, red, black and green. Not until today had she seen men's clothing in this azure blue that reminded her of the mountain lakes at home on a sunny day. Or the colour of her shoes.

  Yi laughed. "Men are much like peacocks in court. You have spent weeks in the palace, yet you have never attended court. Once the ball is over, that will change. I will introduce you to the Emperor, and you will spend as much time in court as you desire. Let's hope for another war before your enthusiasm wanes."

  War. Would that be her life now, if Jing would not allow her to go home? It would be a lonely life, but at least it was an honourable one. "Perhaps," Mai agreed.

  "This is what you will wear to the ball," Yi said eagerly, pointing at a particularly bright robe the exact same shade as Mai's shoes. "As the crown prince, I must wear a hideous shade of yellow that makes me look like an apricot." He gestured at his own gold silk robes, which were much more richly embroidered than Mai's.

  Mai laid the two robes side by side. "You will be the sun, blinding everyone, while I stand at your shoulder, the azure sky in the background."

  "I would rather be back at the Siege of Dean than walk into that ballroom tomorrow night to select my bride," Yi admitted. "But if you are there, all eyes will be on you as the war hero. I daresay more girls will look to you as a suitable husband than me. We will choose brides together, you and I."

  There was only one way they could both choose their life partners together, and even though Mai's fairy godmother had foretold it, she still didn't believe it was possible. "I will take no bride, but I will help you choose yours. I hope you choose a girl who will make you happy all your days."

  "I'll settle for one who does not make me rue my decision before the week is out," Yi said, so low Mai didn't think she was supposed to hear it.

  She fervently hoped he would get his wish.

  Thirty

  The peacock dance. Why did they always have to perform the peacock dance? It was true what his old teacher said about all colours being blinding, Yi realised now. With so much brightness, the dancing women became a blur. How could a man choose one bride when they all looked the same?

  He spared a glance for Mao, who seemed too intent on the contents of his cup to care about the dancers, either. But then, Mao had never cared much for music and dancing girls.

  "Which girl do you think is the most beautiful?" Yi asked, nudging him.

  Mao took a long time before he answered, "I would have to say my sisters. I haven't seen them in so long, that they would hold my attention even if they were dressed in rags."

  Yi's curiosity burned to see the sisters he had not yet met. "Where are they?"

  Mao pointed at two girls who wore layered robes in shades of purple and gold. The Emperor's colours, which no other girls had dared to wear.

  Yi stared at them hungrily. One of them held the key to his happiness, he was sure of it, but even as he focussed on one and then the other, he felt nothing. Oh, they were graceful enough dancers, and as pretty as any of the other dancing dolls, but Yi had felt more while watching camp followers capering around the campfire with common soldiers at one of the victory celebrations. He didn't understand why these girls should leave him so unmoved.

  "Which do you think would make a better bride?" he asked.

  Mao laughed uncertainly. "I could not answer that. Lin and Lei are my sisters. The last time I saw them, they were children, and even now they are only twelve or thirteen years old. Too young to be brides, if you ask me."

  "My father has decreed that girls can marry as young as fourteen now," Yi said.

  Mao frowned. "Just because they can, doesn't mean they should. Do you want a bride who is still a child, or a woman grown? You said you wanted a woman of loyalty and courage, who does not fear you. If you bed a child and hurt her, she will fear you all her days."

  As always, Mao was right. He didn't want one of Da Ying's daughters to fear him. Who knew what she might do if she regarded her husband as her enemy?

  An idea began to grow in the back of his mind. His father had insisted he choose a bride tonight, but he'd never said he needed to marry the girl immediately. It would give him the perfect excuse to meet with Yeong Fu in the morning to discuss a betrothal for a marriage some time in the future…and in the meantime, he would be a willing pupil to his future father-in-law.

  "Doesn't watching all this make you want to dance?" Yi asked Mao.

  Mao shook his head. "I only know one dance, Rooster, and it is a martial one. This is hardly the place."

  Yi grinned. "I know just the place, and I will show you. I shall speak to my father for a moment, and then we will be free."

  He took a moment to compose himself before he approached his father.

  "Excuse me, your Majesty," Yi said, bowing. "I have made my decision."

  His father's eyebrows rose. "I hope it is a wise one."

  Yi prayed that it would be.

  Thirty-One

  Yi kept his voice low so that only those closest to him would hear. That included the Emperor, the Empress and Mai herself, for there was not even a servant within earshot, Mai noticed with relief.

  "I wish to take Yeong Fu's daughter as my bride," Yi said.

  Mao smothered a gasp. After all she had said, he still wanted one of the girls?

  "Which one? I understand he has several," the Emperor said.

  "I'm not certain," Yi admitted. "But they are too young yet, so I will negotiate the betrothal with Fu, and make my decision then. When I have his agreement, then we can set a wedding date."

  Mai breathed again. So he had not made a decision after all. And when Yi spoke to her father, he would suggest Yi marry his oldest daughter, and not Lin or Lei. Perhaps she still stood a chance with the prince, however slim.

  "Very well," the Emperor said.

  Mai felt the uncanny sensation that someone was staring at her. She glanced around, only to meet the eyes of the Empress herself. Flustered, Mai bowed deeply. She had heard that General Li was the Empress' brother, which surely meant the woman wanted her dead as much as the General did.

  "Come, we are free," Yi said, grabbing Mai's arm.

  Willingly, she let herself be led out of the ballroom and into a corridor full of surprised servants. Amid a flurry of bowing, Yi dragged her through the throng to a courtyard where all was still and dark.

  Yi was having none of it, though. He seized a torch and used it to light several more, before thrusting the first into the sand that marked a sparring ring surrounded by garden. This was not his u
sual practice yard, but another part of the palace entirely.

  Yi fanned out the hem of his robe like a tail and lifted his hand in imitation of a peacock head, much like the girls in the ballroom had done. "Will you dance with me, Mao?" He nodded at the wooden practice swords stuck point first into the sand at the end of the ring.

  "A rooster in the field, and a peacock at court. Are you sure you are recovered enough to dance, Rooster?" Mai asked, smiling to ease the sting of her words.

  Yi snatched up one of the swords, swinging it experimentally. "We shall see, but you don’t know how much I've missed dancing with you. The mornings when it was just you and me, against a whole army. No one else at court understands. Only you."

  Mai selected a wooden sword, testing its balance. It would do. "You have missed the mouthfuls of sand I made you eat, every time you fell on your face in the ring? Perhaps your illness has addled your wits. The last time we sparred, I distinctly recall you cursing my ancestors for begetting children with barbarian war gods." She lifted the blade in a relaxed fighting pose.

  "I really said that?" Yi's gaze sank from Mai's face to her feet. "You're going to fight me in your court shoes? Those?"

  In the light of the torch, her shoes seemed to glow gold, reflecting the flames in all directions. Mai's mother's shoes had never looked so splendid.

  She shrugged. "I will still beat you, no matter what I wear. Court robes or armour, army boots or my mother's shoes. But if you think they will distract you, I shall remove them." Mai slipped off her shoes and set them on the grass beside the ring.

  "Court clothes are hardly good for dancing," Yi said, stripping off his outer robes so he stood in only his trousers.

  Mai's mouth suddenly grew dry. The way the firelight seemed to glow as it caressed the muscles of his chest…her hands itched to trace each of them in turn, from his taut belly up to his shoulders, before cupping his face for a kiss.

  Where had that thought come from? she wondered, muttering something about following suit as she shrugged out of her blue outer robe. She kept the rest of her clothes, though, not wanting to be nearly naked with him here, where anyone could see them. By the ancestors, she still looked like a man!

  "Tell me when you tire," she said. "You are out of practice, after all."

  They crossed swords lightly, focussing on their footwork more than the clash of blades. They danced in a circle, never taking their eyes from one another, as the balance seemed to flow from one to the other as never before. For all that he was out of practice, Yi had learned much in their time together.

  Mai darted in, tapping his shoulder with her blade, and Yi laughed.

  "By the ancestors, that feels good," he said.

  It was Mai's turn to laugh. "You will not say that in the morning, when your bruises start to show."

  "Yes, I will!" he declared. "For in the morning, we shall dance again. I have lain abed long enough!"

  She smiled. "If you wish." If she had her way, the illusion that made her a man would be gone by morning. What would Yi say to sparring with her then?

  The chiming water clock bells began to ring, signifying the changing of the hour. "What time is it?" Mai asked.

  Yi cocked his head to one side, listening. "Midnight, I think. Yes, that's twelve."

  The sword fell from Mai's suddenly nerveless fingers. "Midnight already? No! I have to meet…I must…" Without even pausing to finish her sentence, she took to her heels, running through the corridors until she reached the practice yard where she'd first met her fairy godmother.

  "Lady Zuleika?" she called, then repeated it, louder still.

  No response.

  "Lady Zuleika!"

  No matter how many times Mai said the woman's name, she did not appear.

  Mai would be forced to remain a man forever, as she watched the man she loved marry one of her sisters.

  Mai fell to her knees and burst into tears.

  Thirty-Two

  So Mao had a midnight tryst? The sly fox. All that talk of never taking a bride and he'd arranged to meet some girl in the middle of the night. Laughing quietly to himself, Yi sat down on a bench to wait. If Mao wasn't back soon, he'd head off to bed. Prince or not, he still wanted to look well-rested when he asked Mao's father for one of his daughters' hands on the morrow.

  When he started to feel the chill of the night air, he pulled on his court clothes again. When he picked up the gaudy gold robe, he was surprised to see Mao's shoes underneath. He'd been in such a hurry, he'd left without his shoes. Yi picked them up and set them on the bench beside him. For shoes, they were quite remarkable, catching whatever light there was and holding tight to it in the strangely angular glass beads sewn all over them. Any woman in court would gladly give her eyeteeth to own shoes that sparkled like the sun in the light of a torch – and yet they belonged to Mao. He'd never seen them before, Yi was certain – if he had, he would have remembered. And they were so small, too. Yi could not fit his foot inside one of the shoes. He knew Mao was smaller than him, but he'd never thought he had small feet before. If Yi didn't know better, he would have sworn he held a pair of women's shoes.

  Heng would know. He must have commissioned these for Mao along with the rest of his court clothes.

  Deciding that Mao was probably too busy with his girl friend to return any time soon, Yi rose and made his way back to his apartment, carrying Mao's shoes. He set them on the table in the sitting room, then proceeded to remove his uncomfortable court clothes.

  "Those are pretty," Heng said when he walked in. "Are they a gift for your new bride?"

  Yi frowned. "No. They're Mao's. Don't you recognise them? He wore them to the ball tonight."

  Heng circled the table, admiring them from every angle. "They can't be his. Those are much too small." He lifted a pair of brand-new silk shoes on the table, made in the same style as the ones Yi had just kicked off. "These are the shoes Mao was supposed to wear tonight. See? Much larger."

  Yi shook his head. "But he was wearing these. I saw him wearing them, then take them off, with my own eyes." He waved at Heng. "Find me another pair of his shoes from his sleeping cubicle."

  Heng nodded and did as he was bid, but he came back a few minutes later, empty handed. "There aren't any. I've only ever seen him wear one pair of shoes, and they're not there."

  Mao would explain things on his return, Yi was certain. He wasn't a man to keep secrets. Perhaps the shoes Heng had commissioned were too big, and he'd been forced to take whatever the tailor had spare. That something like this would be spare, though…

  Yi found the jug of baijiu he and Mao had been drinking before the ball, and poured himself a cup. The strong spirit seared his throat on the way down, a potent reminder not to drink too much of the stuff. He settled down to wait for Mao.

  He was woken from a doze by quiet footsteps. A girl wearing the colourless clothing of a drudge entered the room, glanced about, then headed for the table where Mao's shoes lay. Without hesitation, she snatched them up.

  "Put those down!" Yi roared, leaping to his feet. "Get out!"

  Startled, the girl stared at him for a moment before she remembered herself and bowed. "I must…"

  "Do you know who I am?" he demanded.

  Without raising her eyes to his face, the girl nodded.

  "Who am I?"

  "His Highness the Prince of Swords," she whispered.

  "And you would dare to steal from me?" he thundered.

  "I wasn't – " she began.

  "Not another word, or I shall call the palace guards and have you thrown out. Tell whatever woman who sent you that I have chosen my bride and no trick or spell will change my mind. Now get out!"

  The girl hesitated for a moment, before she bowed even lower than before and scurried out.

  Yi checked Mao's room, but the man had not yet returned. Perhaps he was spending the night with his mistress. A sly dog indeed. Shaking his head, Yi headed to his bed. Answers could wait until morning.

  Thirty-Threer />
  Her fairy godmother wasn't the only one who could remove the illusion. Jing could, too, Mai realised, wiping her eyes. The ball was finished and Yi had made his decision. Jing had won. Which meant Mai had nothing left to lose if she demanded her stepmother release her from the spell.

  She had fought hardened army veterans on a daily basis, many of whom feared to look her in the eye. What was Jing to her? A woman, and a weak one at that. If Mai had to threaten her, then she would. Mai refused to fool the prince a minute longer.

  She rose, straightening her spine so she stood at her full height. She was the hero of the Siege of Dean, Mai reminded herself. She had served her Emperor with honour, and the Emperor himself had agreed to meet her. She would not be cowed by someone as insignificant as Jing.

  Mai marched to her stepmother's apartment, which she now noticed was a fraction of the size of the one she shared with Yi. She found the place in a flurry of activity, with clothing flung everywhere before being packed into chests.

  "You're leaving?" Mai blurted out.

  "What are you doing here?" Jing asked irritably, glaring. "Have you come to gloat?"

  Gloat? Mai faltered. What could she possibly have to gloat about? Jing had gotten her wish, that one of her girls would marry a prince.

  "Save your breath," Jing advised. "There is no chance of the girls marrying now. Instead, we must go home and mourn."

  Mai's breath caught in her throat. "Mourn who?"

  "The great Yeong Fu, who surely could have held on another week so that he might see his daughters secure in marriage. Now…they will have nothing." Jing paused to bark instructions to Jia, who hurried off to fetch whatever it was Jing had asked for. "First the ancestors take my son, then they take my husband. Ah, I am cursed!"