by Shea, K. M.
The Colonel leaned back in his chair, the first hints of a smirk curling the corner of his lips.
“I still hate you,” Cinderella darkly added, lifting her tea cup to her lips.
The Colonel’s suggestion of a smirked bloomed. “I wouldn’t expect any less,” he said.
“Then why are you smiling?” Cinderella irritably asked, scrubbing her hands through her short hair.
“Because you are universally kind.”
“So?”
“It’s a very rare and admirable trait.”
Cinderella drank her tea and ignored the compliment. A part of her still couldn’t believe she dragged the Colonel off, but she was glad she had. Her father would be proud of her, even if the Colonel was from Erlauf.
“Someone is bringing porridge for you—the nurse suggested you eat a little. After you eat it, you may go,” the Colonel said.
Cinderella eyed the Colonel over her teacup and said nothing.
As if on cue, a soldier carrying a wooden tray entered the room, two officers trailing him.
“Sir,” the officers saluted.
The lower-ranked soldier set the tray down in front of Cinderella and saluted before he left.
“Major Timo and Captain Sigmund. What did you find?” the Colonel asked.
“Two of the assassins were killed in combat. The third was captured, but the fourth escaped, Sir,” one of the men said, saluting the Colonel.
Cinderella stirred her porridge suspiciously.
“Excellent. What does the captive have to say?”
“Very little. We will try torture, of course—”
Cinderella abruptly shoved the tray of food away from her, once again feeling sick. She arranged her arms on the table top and rested her head on them.
A chair scraped.
“Perhaps it would be best to continue this conversation at a later time,” the Colonel said as he walked around the table. “Send the Scarlet and Storm Companies to comb the ruins for tracks and traces. Double the night patrols. Has General Harbach been notified?”
“He has, sir. As has the Commander
The Colonel sighed. “Very good. Thank you, men. I will speak to you in the holding area in a few moments.”
“Yes, Sir,” the men saluted before leaving the room.
Cinderella was very still as she remembered with whom she was dealing. The Colonel wasn’t an everyday soldier; he was a powerful man who could wield an entire regiment to do his bidding. And Cinderella just told him she hated him.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking when I asked them to report in,” the Colonel said before Cinderella felt him brush the fringe of her bangs.
Cinderella very slowly picked her head off the table. “There is nothing to apologize for, sir,” she said, her composure returning.
“Oh, no. You have saved my life. You must call me by my first name: Friedrich.”
“It would not be appropriate, sir,” Cinderella said, avoiding his eye by stirring her porridge.
The Colonel shrugged. “We shall argue about this later. I must go. After you eat, a squad of soldiers will escort you home.”
“That is unnecessary—”
“It is very necessary, and they are under orders to see you all the way to the front door of Aveyron. You will not wriggle out of this one, Pet,” the Colonel said.
Shocked by the improper nickname, Cinderella could only gape.
“Eat your porridge and rest. Stay at Aveyron tomorrow. I will send some men to check on you. Until then,” The Colonel said, running a finger down the back of Cinderella’s hand before ducking out of the room.
Cinderella gloomily stared at her porridge. Yes, she had forgotten how powerful the Colonel was.
Friedrich was in his office, his hands folded behind his head, when Colonel Merrich found him.
“What are you smiling at? You look like a creepy, old geezer,” Merrich said, leaning on the doorframe.
Friedrich’s smirk grew. “Just thinking.”
“Of?”
Friedrich didn’t answer.
“I heard about the attack against you today. General Hardbutt threw such a fit his heart almost stopped. I will be impressed if he doesn’t kill you himself for being alone with a civilian with no escort when you report in tomorrow morning,” Merrich said, playing with the medals pinned to his chest.
Friedrich stopped smirking. “So you heard?”
“Everyone within hearing distance of Werra heard.”
“Ah.”
“So this girl you were with, word is she is a Trieux noble?”
Friedrich renewed his smile. “Cinderella Lacreux, Duchess of Aveyron.”
Merrich whistled. “That’s some pedigree and title she’s toting. She’s one of your prospects?”
“She is the prospect,” Friedrich said.
“What is she like?”
“She is unexpectedly kind. She hides her hot temper behind pretty words and manners, but her loyalty goes deeper than the oceans,” Friedrich said.
“Is she beautiful?” Merrich asked, folding his arms across his chest.
“She is exotic.”
“Funny, I never thought you would be able to like, much less love, a Trieux brat.”
“I did not think I would either, but Cinderella…” Friedrich trailed off. “I want her,” he said.
Merrich strolled into the office and ruffled Friedrich’s hair. “I’m so happy for you. Congratulations, good boy.”
“I’m not a dog,” Friedrich said, kicking his friend away. “And even if I’ve decided on her, she still hates me.”
“So you have your work cut out for you? That makes it all the more fun. You’ve always enjoyed a good challenge.”
“She’s filled with hate,” Friedrich said, ruefully smiling.
“Do you want some help with her?” Merrich asked.
“Please, no. You would make her hate me more,” Friedrich said, standing up in a liquid movement of deadly elegance.
Merrich chuckled and slapped Friedrich on the back. “When will you tell your men the good news?”
“Not for as long as I can avoid it.”
“They’re busy bodies. They’ll find out soon enough.”
“I know.”
“I can’t wait.”
Friedrich slung an arm across Merrich’s shoulders and dragged him into a headlock. “If you tell them, I will pay a social visit to your mother.”
“That’s playing dirty,” Merrich said.
“Perhaps, but you keep your patty-paws out of my love affairs.”
“Got it. I’ll leave the Trieux Troll alone.”
“Her name is Cinderella.”
“Could you have said that and sounded anymore love-sick?”
“Shut up. Let’s go eat.”
“After you, lover-boy.”
“I hope she slaps you in the face when she meets you,” Friedrich grumbled.
“More and more, your descriptions of her intrigue me. You call her exotic and theorize she would punch me. She must be built like an ox.”
Friedrich briefly reminisced on Cinderella’s beauty: her adorable button nose and the breath-taking combination of her brilliant red hair, the dusting of freckles, and stormy gray eyes. It was doubtful there was a man alive who would call her anything but beautiful…but Merrich was unfortunately handsome and of the same military rank as Friedrich…
“Her build is…,” Friedrich trailed off misleadingly.
“Thought so. Why else wouldn’t one of the other Trieux tramps snatch her up for their sons? At least she has that charming personality, eh?” Merrich said.
“At least,” Friedrich echoed, a smirk hanging from his lips. He needed time to sweeten Cinderella up to him and his country, but when she finally came around, he was going to take great delight in introducing her to Merrich. “Her gait is…impressive.”
“She scuttles, does she? Well, Mutti always said personality and intellect are more important than beauty.”
“Did sh
e? Your mother is a wise woman,” Friedrich said.
“Of course she is. Anyway, you could probably hire trainers or something for your future Trieux misses. They could help. Maybe.”
“I see.”
Chapter 5
The day after the attack against Colonel Friedrich, Cinderella broke into the Trieux Royal Library.
As a result of the increased patrols city-wide, the patrols around the library were lessened to free up soldiers. Cinderella may not get another good chance for her illegal activity, so she waited until the late afternoon before she went to Werra, making her way to the closed library.
A kerchief tied over her eye-catching hair served as her poor disguise, but none of the patrolling soldiers looked twice at her, so Cinderella judged the time to be perfect.
She hummed as she walked to the back end of the library, which was pressed against the backside of the Trieux House of Lords—where the Trieux nobility used to meet to vote on matters of the country.
Both buildings were closed, so Cinderella only had to worry about outdoor activities.
Cinderella kept her gait slow and even, acting unconcerned as she adjusted the basket on her arm. “Rats,” she said when she rounded the corner. The back window she used to squirm indoors was boarded up from the inside.
Cinderella pushed against the wooden block, testing its strength. It didn’t budge.
“So much for that route—although it took them months to figure out that was how I got in. Where else can I…ah-hah,” Cinderella said when she spied an open window. It was higher up, well above Cinderella’s head, but its wooden shutters hung, barely secured enough to shield the open window from the weather. The scarcely useful shutters were casualties from the mistreatment the building suffered when Erlauf marched against the capital.
Cinderella traveled the back end of the building to peer around either corner. A patrol wasn’t due for a few minutes, but one could never be too careful.
Cinderella retreated to the window and pushed a crate against the wall. She was still too short to reach the wooden sill. Cinderella piled several planks on the crate before she tried again.
Cinderella stood on her tip toes, and still lacked the height. She jumped and her hands brushed the window sill, but she wasn’t strong enough to pull herself up. She hung there for the barest moment before her arms gave out, and she fell back on the crate.
She placed her hand on her hips and glared at the wall before she tried climbing up, wedging her fingers and feet in cracks and gaps between the stone blocks that made up the library.
She climbed up only one layer of the blocks when a voice behind her said, “So you’re the lawbreaker that’s been evading my men for the past year?”
Cinderella shrieked, lost her grip, and fell back on the crate. She lost her balance and toppled over the side. Cinderella rubbed her stinging side as she boosted herself into an upright position. “Ah, Colonel Friedrich. What a surprise it is to see you here,” Cinderella said when she realized who stood with her in the back alley.
It was her rotten luck he would find her.
“This explains those skills of evasion you displayed yesterday. You had months of practice from leading soldiers on long, merry chases whenever they happened upon you clawing your way inside the library,” the Colonel said.
“What? Do you mean—? No, I would never attempt to break and enter! Why, I was trying to secure the open window, of course. Do you know how much damage the wind and rain could do to the books? It surely is an oversight to leave it open,” Cinderella said, gravely shaking her head as she planned her exit. It made her uneasy to be alone with him.
The Colonel narrowed his eye. “It’s impressive you’ve evaded attention so long with your illicit actions. Although I suppose I cannot blame my men for not finding you. I hardly recognized you myself with your hair covered so skillfully.”
“What? Sir, I am offended by your presumptions,” Cinderella said, looking down her nose at the Colonel as he gathered up her basket.
“Don’t tell me you go in there to actually use the library?” the Colonel said, going over the contents of her basket: a bottle of cheap, ash-based ink; two quills; matches; and curls of birch bark.
“I, sir, am a law-abiding citizen. As such, I would not enter the library as it is currently outlawed,” Cinderella said, brushing off her skirt. “But as you are here, I imagine you can deal with the unsecured window yourself. Would you be so kind as to give me back my things, sir?”
“Friedrich,” the Colonel said, setting the basket down. “Come here.”
“I beg your pardon?” Cinderella asked.
The Colonel wriggled his fingers in a come-closer gesture.
Cinderella minced over to the Colonel. “What,” she started. “Do you want—put me down!” she shrieked when the Colonel picked her up by her waist.
“What are you doing?” Cinderella hissed as the Colonel climbed the crate.
“Helping you break the law. Can you reach the ledge?”
Held higher, the ledge was shoulder-height. “Yes,” Cinderella said, scrambling to grasp the ledge. She set her feet against the stone exterior wall and tried to climb in. She shrieked when the Colonel pushed against her backside—boosting her up and touching her posterior. “Sir! This is highly improper!”
The Colonel only chuckled.
Cinderella purposely booted him in the neck before she squirmed through the window, falling inside. She landed on a narrow walkway set a foot or two down from the window.
Cinderella poked her head out the window. “My basket?”
“Coming up with me,” the Colonel said, tying the basket to his belt. The Colonel made the climb much more gracefully. He jumped and grabbed the sill before pushing off the wall with his feet like Cinderella had attempted.
A few graceful, slithering movements, and the Colonel eased his way inside.
“Wow. It’s a disgrace in here,” the Colonel said, squinting at the dust-coated walkway and railings, and the dusty shelves of books that extended before him like a wooden army.
“What do you expect? No one has been allowed in since the takeover,” Cinderella said, snatching her basket from the Colonel’s belt.
She marched down the walkway, taking a set of rickety stairs to the base floor.
“It’s getting dark. Will you be able to see in here well enough to read?” the Colonel asked.
As he had all but thrown her inside, Cinderella estimated the Colonel wasn’t likely to drag her off to jail. His manners seemed to promise that he would not do anything indecent, even though they were alone, either. So she replied, “There are candles,” as she orientated herself in the library and looked for the places where, in previous trips, she upset clouds of dust.
“Funny, you don’t strike me as the reading type,” the Colonel said.
“I’m not,” Cinderella said, leading the way between two rows of books.
“You must be. Why else would you break in a library? Unless…do you hawk the books?”
“What? No! First of all, what kind of lowlife steals from a library? And secondly, all the books have the Trieux royal seal on them. Only a madman would buy something with the Trieux seal these days,” Cinderella said.
“It does not escape me you have a moral and a practical reason for your lack of black-market selling,” the Colonel said.
“I’m not here to read for fun, nor am I hear to steal,” Cinderella said, stopping at a shelf partially cleared of dust.
“Then what are you here for?”
“Research,” Cinderella said, selecting several volumes of leather-bound books before she walked deeper into the library.
In the very center of the library were several desks pushed together to form a work station. There were unlit candles placed in half globes of silver. Cinderella set her books down in the dying light before she dug out the matches from her basket and lit two of the candles.
The silver globes let Cinderella direct the candlelight to make a sort o
f spotlight, and they sheltered the light from twinkling up to the ceiling—a light source patrolling soldiers were sure to notice.
The Colonel pawed through one of the books Cinderella stacked in front of her. “Farming? You’re researching farming techniques?”
“Yes,” Cinderella said, opening her ink set and dipping a quill in it before she started taking notes on the scraps of birch bark.
“I don’t understand. Why?”
“In case you have forgotten, sir, I am a lady. My upbringing did not include classes on crop rotation, field yields, and formulating fertilizer.”
“What about your servants? Don’t they know about farming?”
“The basics, yes. But they knew only what we grew. Aveyron’s income came mostly from livestock.”
“And that’s no longer an option?”
“It still is a main source of income, but the taxes your sweet queen imposes on me do not allow for me to waste acreage. I must use all the resources I have available. We can’t keep doing what we always did. We have to expand and investigate other options. Like winter crops. This was the first season we successfully cultivated them since well before my grandfather’s time,” Cinderella said, turning a page in her book.
“You should grow flowers,” the Colonel said. “Everyone from Erlauf is crazy about flowers.”
“Mmm,” Cinderella said as she scratched out a list of possible summer crops.
The Colonel studied their darkening surroundings. “Any idea where the map books are?”
“Before the takeover, I never once set foot in this building in my life. It took me ages to find the agricultural section. I have no idea where to find any other type of book,” Cinderella said.
“Of course. I’m going to have a look around. I’ll be back shortly, Pet,” the Colonel said, striding off into the shadows of the bookcases.
Cinderella watched him go with narrowed eyes. She needed to talk to someone about the Colonel’s conduct. He toed the line of propriety, but he did not seem serious in pursuing anything lasting.
But who could she talk to? Marie would only push Cinderella to accept Julien or Marcus. Lady Delattre would be a sympathetic ear, but was unlikely to have any useful advice. Lady Klara would be a source of sound advice, as stiff and proper as she was, but Cinderella had a friendlier relationship with the Colonel than she did with her step-mother.
