4
‘All beauty is magic’
On the opening night of the Prince’s Bride Ball the thick grey clouds that had coated the kingdom throughout winter cleared and the curious sky looked down on the magical proceedings occupying the city so far below. The stars sparkled like diamonds on a midnight blue dress and the bitter wind dropped, as if nature itself didn’t wish to damage the carefully styled curls that had taken hours of primping and preparation.
The frantic atmosphere that had gripped the city for the previous two weeks finally eased into happy excitement. The dress fittings were all done. The carriages were booked. The moment the ladies of the land had been waiting for was finally here. Tonight, they would all dance with the prince, and by the end of the next Ball one of them would return home engaged. Although each girl protested aloud that of course he wouldn’t choose them, in their hearts they hoped and hoped he would.
All the starving had worked and Rose’s crimson dress fitted perfectly. Rose Red, her step-mother had called her, smiling proudly at the culmination of all her hard work. Cinderella didn’t say anything, but she had to admit that Rose looked quite pretty. If not beautiful, then perhaps intriguing and elegant. Her step-mother wore a dress of chaperone brown as was the custom, but it was rich taffeta and the colour suited her. Cinderella watched them from the doorway of the sitting room as they waited in the hallway to leave, and she had never felt more like a poor secretary’s daughter.
Her father, standing on the stairs, caught her eye and smiled at her, but she ignored him, and slunk past them all and down to the kitchen. Her father would say she was sulking, and perhaps she was, but he would never understand. How could he? Ever since the newspaper had been shut down, his ambitions only went as far as writing his stupid novel or stories or whatever it was he did locked away in his attic study all day. He didn’t care about visiting the castle or fine clothes and dancing. How could he possibly understand how unfair all of this felt to her? But then, what did she expect? He’d already said he’d have left her poor mother for that silly cow of a step-mother if she hadn’t died. He was as horrible and selfish as the rest of them. He should be on the outside, like her, not approving of all the spending that had taken place just so Rose could go to a ball that would come to nothing and leave them all in debt.
She opened the back door and crept out onto the steps leading from the basement to the pavement level. Frost bit in the air, but without the sharp wind the night was comparatively mild, and she sat on the cold, damp stone and watched as Ivy’s beautiful carriage pulled up and Rose and her step-mother, their hands warm in fur stoles that matched the elegant wraps over their shoulders came out, laughing, and climbed aboard.
Cinderella stayed on the step long after the carriage had carried them away to the castle, staring up at the night sky and fighting back tears. Was this how her life was going to be forever? Always in drudgery, working in the shadow of Rose and Ivy? The poor step-sister? The commoner? Maybe that was how it had to be, but all she wanted was one night. One night of feeling special. Overhead, a star shot across the dark sky. She squeezed her eyes shut. Just one ball, she wished. If only she could go to the castle just once.
‘It would appear I’m late.’
Startled, Cinderella opened her eyes, just in time to see the last of the sparkles of light disappear in the frosty air, leaving a beautiful woman in their place. Her blonde hair, so light it was almost the colour of ice, ran freely down her back and against her black dress her skin was pale. Her blue eyes were like frozen pools. She tucked the black wand she carried into a velvet bag and glanced, irritated, down at a small brown mouse who sat at the hem of her gown. ‘The directions weren’t the best.’
‘Who are you?’ Cinderella breathed. The woman had appeared out of nowhere in a flurry of what could only be magic. What was she doing here?
‘I suppose,’ the woman shrugged, ‘if you must call me something, you can think of me as your fairy godmother. Now let’s get inside. It’s bloody freezing out here and I need something to drink.’ She shooed the mouse away so it scurried round the corner of the building and then glared at Cinderella. ‘Well, come on then. Do you want to go to this ball or not?’
Inside the warmth of the kitchen Cinderella thought her fairy godmother looked even more beautiful than she had in the moonlight. Her delicate features were catlike but there was a hardness in her poise that transformed her into something ethereal. There was also something quite unsettling about her. She hardly radiated kindness. She was yet to even smile.
‘This is the best you have?’ she asked Cinderella, frowning slightly as she swallowed a large mouthful of red wine.
‘I’m sorry, yes. We’re not . . . we don’t have much—’
‘It will have to do then.’ The fairy godmother leaned back on the kitchen table and studied Cinderella thoughtfully as she refilled her glass. ‘So, you want to go to this Prince’s Ball?’
‘Oh yes,’ Cinderella’s eyes widened and her heart thumped. ‘More than anything.’
‘Let me guess. You want to dance with the prince, have him fall in love with you and then live happily ever after?’
‘Oh yes.’ Cinderella nodded eagerly.
‘That I can’t promise.’ She drank some more wine. ‘No amount of magic can guarantee you happy ever after. I can, however, guarantee you’ll get his attention. Make him want you. You’ll catch your prince. After that, though, all bets are off.’
‘But how? How can I go?’ Cinderella’s head was in a whirl. She had dreamed so many times of going to the castle but she had never really thought it could come true. Was she dreaming? Was that it? Had she fallen asleep on the steps? ‘I don’t even have a dress.’
‘Stop simpering.’ Her fairy godmother’s lips tightened. ‘That part is easy.’ She pulled a dark walnut from her bag and cracked it against the kitchen table before holding it up and blowing its contents carefully over Cinderella. Black dust that tasted of coal glittered around her and she was sure she heard the echo of men singing as metal clanged against rocks, and then butterflies tumbled from Cinderella’s stomach and tingles like tiny wings flooded through her limbs leaving her breathless. For a moment she was in a whirlwind of sparkling stars. Her skin trembled as cold air touched her and then she gasped as something tugged hard at her waist and back; stays being tightened.
Finally, she looked down. Her dowdy house dress was gone. Now she wore a fine silver gown, pinched at the waist and sleeveless. Diamonds shone here and there in the silk and her skin glittered as if the stars that had spun around her head had settled there. She turned to look in the small mirror on the kitchen wall and almost didn’t recognise herself. Her curls were styled half-up and half-down, and more jewels shone from within the deep red. Her face was painted and her lips glistened pink.
‘It’s magic,’ she breathed, finally.
‘All beauty is magical. You’ll learn that,’ the fairy godmother said softly. ‘But it’s not a magic you can control.’
‘I do look beautiful though,’ Cinderella said, smiling. ‘The prince will surely fall in love with me.’
‘Oh, you little fool.’ The fairy godmother laughed, and it was like the sound of ice splintering. ‘They will all be beautiful. It’s the Prince’s Bride Ball, after all. It will take more than a pretty face and a smart dress to snare him. Thankfully, you have those slippers on your feet.’ Cinderella looked down. They were the most beautiful shoes she’d ever seen.
‘Are they glass?’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous. Do you want to walk on glass? They’re diamond.’ She turned them this way and that so the light caught and reflected every sparkle of silver in Cinderella’s dress from their surfaces. ‘Diamond and something entirely of their own, too. They’re charmed.’ She looked at Cinderella, her clear blue eyes cold and calculating. ‘They’ll make you charming.’
‘They fit perfectly.’ The shoes were lighter than she expected and warm.
‘I imagine they fit when they w
ant to,’ the fairy godmother purred.
Cinderella smiled. The high heels made her taller than the strange exquisite woman in her kitchen. She felt elegant. They were perfect. They were also soft and warm against the soles of her feet. They were shoes she could dance all night in.
‘Here is a second nut,’ the fairy godmother said, hiding the dark-shelled magic behind some plates on the second shelf of the dresser. ‘Crack it as I did and inhale the dust tomorrow night and you will be transformed again.’ The fairy godmother clapped her hands together. ‘And now you’re ready.’
‘I can’t believe you’re doing this for me,’ Cinderella was almost bursting with excitement. ‘Thank you so much. You’ve made my dreams come true.’ With a rush of warmth she tried to hug the fairy godmother, but instead of embracing her, the icy woman gripped her arms tightly, breaking off the gesture before it had begun. She didn’t let go.
‘I didn’t say it wasn’t without a price.’
‘What do you mean?’ The slim fingers were digging into her skin so tightly she was afraid they’d leave bruises.
‘Nothing comes without a price.’ Slowly the fairy godmother released her. ‘I can do this for you, but there is something I need in return.’
Cinderella remained silent and listened. Whatever it was, she knew she’d do it. To have her wish taken from her now would break her heart.
‘You will get your precious prince should you so want him. When he invites you to live in the castle with him in preparation for your glorious wedding, I want you to explore every room there. A servant of mine, the same one who is waiting outside with your carriage to take you there, will come to you every night and you will report your findings to him.’
‘Every room? But there must be hundreds.’
‘Castles are never quite as big as they seem from the outside.’ Her eyes darkened and for a moment Cinderella thought her fairy godmother looked sad and wounded rolled into one. ‘From the inside they can be quite claustrophobic,’ she finished softly, lost in a world that Cinderella couldn’t penetrate.
‘Every room, though. You understand?’
Cinderella nodded. ‘I understand.’
The fairy godmother studied her for a moment, before pulling a third walnut from the bodice of her dress. Unlike the others, the shell was so dark it was almost black and it was small and gnarled, as if dug up fossilised from the forest earth. ‘This one,’ she said softly, ‘you break in case of emergency. But only after you’ve searched the castle.’
‘What kind of emergency?’ Cinderella asked.
‘If castle life doesn’t turn out quite as you planned. If you need a quiet escape.’
Cinderella thought of the castle and the handsome prince. ‘I doubt I’ll need that,’ she said, defiantly.
‘Good.’ The fairy godmother smiled and stood up, picking up her bag. ‘And now you shall go to the ball.’ She snapped her fingers and the back door opened.
A fine silver carriage was waiting on the street. Two grey ponies with impossibly black manes pranced eagerly in the reins. A rugged man jumped down from the seat and held the delicate door open. Even in the dark, Cinderella could see that the seats were made of red velvet and lined with gold trim. The driver’s hand was strong as he took hers and helped her step up. She muttered a thank you, but all her attention was on the glory of her dress and her carriage and the thought of the prince.
‘Don’t forget our arrangement.’ Her fairy godmother stood on the pavement watching her through the open door. ‘It won’t go well for you if you forget.’
‘I won’t forget.’ Cinderella heard the menace in the woman’s words and shivered slightly. ‘And thank you.’
‘One more thing,’ the fairy godmother pushed the door closed. ‘Make sure you leave by midnight at the very latest. Both nights.’
‘Midnight?’ Inside the carriage, Cinderella’s smile fell. ‘But the last dances will barely have started by then. He’ll dance with others. He’ll forget me.’
‘You have a lot to learn about men. Wind him up then leave him wanting.’ She smiled but there was a touch of bitterness in it. ‘That’s where your real power lies.’ She nodded to the driver. ‘Midnight. Don’t forget!’
And then the carriage was moving under her. When Cinderella peered out to the street behind them, the fairy godmother was gone. There were just the faint fireflies of sparkles left in the cold, night air.
The temperature was dropping as night took hold, but Cinderella hardly noticed the chill as she stepped down at the entrance to the castle. She could barely breathe with the beauty of it. No wonder her step-mother was so keen to get back into favour at court if it meant visiting here often. She wondered how she could have borne losing it in the first place. Built entirely from white marble, the castle rose up in elegant towers that surrounded the main building, each a different height from the rest, and each with a burning beacon at its tip.
The tales told that in the days of dragons the great beasts would sweep and circle the lights of the castle in their mating rituals before flying to the far mountain to nest. She could believe it. They looked like stars hanging low and smiling down on her sudden good fortune. Tonight it looked as if there were candles burning in every window of every tower for the ball. She ached at the sight of it.
‘At the end of the day, it’s just a house.’
Cinderella realised that, lost in her awe of the castle, she hadn’t let go of the driver’s hand after he’d helped her down. She quickly pulled it away.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she said.
‘Beauty can be over-rated.’ His dark eyes seemed to be mocking her. ‘And it fades.’
Her skin flushed slightly. ‘Well, it will be my beauty that captures the prince,’ she said, defiant. ‘Wait and see.’
He laughed, his weathered face cracking into a grin, and she was surprised at what a warm sound it was.
‘What’s so funny?’ she asked. He unsettled her. She didn’t like it.
‘That you think you’re the hunter this evening.’ He bowed slightly. ‘Now run along inside and prance with all the other pretty little deer and let your shoes do their work. Just be back here by midnight. I’ll be waiting.’
She lifted her chin and glared at him, before turning and making her way up the elegant stairs to the footmen waiting at the door. She didn’t look back. He could laugh at her all he wanted, she didn’t care. He was nobody. Nothing. Who cared what he thought?
By the time she came down the red carpeted stairs into the main ballroom, all thoughts of the rude driver were gone from her head. At one side a champagne fountain flowed over a tower of delicate glasses. Footmen were spaced out at intervals along the walls, their wigs dusted blue to match their jackets. Music played, an elegant waltz, and beyond the sea of young women and the prince’s noble friends, she could see the masked band, all dressed in white and raised high on a glass stage. It was everything she’d imagined and more. She took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and was surprised by how steady her hand was. She’d expected to be more nervous, but with the warmth tingling through her from her shoes she breezed into the room, her head held high. She would be confident and mysterious, just like her fairy godmother.
She sipped her drink, enjoying the bubbles but not so keen on the sharp taste, and scanned the room. It was a sea of colour, each of the noble women in the city wearing the finest dresses their money could afford. Her own silver dress nearly faded in comparison, but as she walked further into the vast ballroom heads turned her way as she passed, and voices dropped to a hush. The women eyed her suspiciously, but the men’s glances ran the length of her body and lingered. She fought the urge to smile. She would be the belle of the ball. She really, really would. She didn’t return any of the young men’s smiles. There was only one man she was interested in dancing with; the prince himself.
When he came into view she stopped short and drew in a breath, her heart suddenly racing. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. She’
d wondered if he could match the picture she kept by her bed, but now she knew that was really just a poor imitation. He was tall and broad, and was dressed all in black. His dirty blond hair was smoothly combed to one side, and his perfect face was tanned. Cinderella watched, entranced, as he danced with a short girl in a blue dress. He moved effortlessly and the girl was obviously already in love with him, but it was also obvious that however charming the prince was, he wasn’t focusing much of his attention on his partner. His smile was going over her shoulder to someone just out of Cinderella’s sight.
‘He’s still looking at her.’
‘Why her? He’s danced with her twice. She’s the only one he’s danced with twice. I mean, she’s not even that pretty.’
‘She’s interesting looking though.’
‘If you like that sort of thing.’
Cinderella wasn’t sure which of the gathered girls around her was whispering and she didn’t look, but she did listen hard. Someone had already seized the prince’s attention? Her stomach twisted in a cold sickly knot. Who? Who was her competition? Her feet burned in her shoes.
‘And you know what her mother did, don’t you? She left an Earl for a secretary! How ridiculous! Maybe he just feels sorry for her.’
Cinderella leaned on a pillar to steady herself. Rose? They were talking about Rose? Surely they couldn’t be? She stepped forward, suddenly having to know. It didn’t take more than a moment to spot Rose standing at the edge of the circle watching the prince dance, her red dress matching the flush high in her cheeks. She was smiling at the prince and her face was transformed into something very close to beautiful. The weight she’d lost in the diet she’d been forced to undertake had made her features stronger, and for the first time Cinderella realised that her step-sister wasn’t ugly at all. Unusual perhaps, but not ugly. She gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t lose her prince to Rose. Not to Rose of all girls.
Charm Page 4
