Cinders, Stars, and Glass Slippers: A Retelling of Cinderella (The Classical Kingdoms Collection Book 6)

by Brittany Fichter

  A few of them nodded their heads, but Elaina held hers straight.

  Matilda looked at her for a moment longer before walking to the end of the line. “You.” She stood before Drake. “Name and age.”

  He glanced down at his wife and son before grudgingly answering. “Drake Shofeld . . . Madame. Thirty-seven years.”

  Matilda looked down the line to where he had glanced. A slow smile spread across her pinched face. “It seems I’ll be having little trouble with you, Drake.”

  She moved on. “And you?”

  There was no answer.

  Matilda’s dark eyes went flat. “I expect to be answered when I ask you a question, old woman.”

  “She cannot answer, ma’am.”

  Matilda’s head snapped over to Aspen. “I do not recall speaking to you.”

  “I . . . I’m very sorry, ma’am . . . Madame. My name is Aspen. But that’s my grandmother, you see. Gram. She doesn’t speak. Hasn’t in five years. But she does sew quite well.”

  Matilda looked back at Gram. “Very well. But I won’t be taking on a charity case. It’s either work here or live on the streets for her.”

  “Please, Madame! She won’t survive!” Aspen moved closer to her grandmother, despite her hands still being tied. Elaina wanted very much to step between Madame and the two women, but she knew that would probably only make matters worse for them.

  “Then you’d better make sure you do enough work for both of you.”

  “Of course, Madame!”

  “Good.” Matilda moved down the line, stopping before the little boy. “Who are you?”

  The boy shrank back toward Elaina.

  “Answer him, boy,” Drake said in a tired voice.

  “I would do as your father says,” Matilda added. “Now tell me your name.”

  Still, the boy shook his head.

  Matilda had reached her hand back, and Elaina was nearly ready to yank him behind her, when Lilly called,

  “That’s Jacob. And he is five.”

  “And you are?”

  Lilly puffed out her chest and jutted her chin out, staring straight forward at the kitchen wall. “I am Lilly, and I am thirty-eight.”

  “What about you?”

  Elaina returned her gaze to Matilda to realize she was staring right at her.

  If you’re ever taken prisoner, remember this.

  Elaina blinked as her father’s voice echoed in her head. It was the same speech he gave to every new recruit on his ship.

  Share as little information as you can with the enemy. Knowledge is power, and withholding knowledge from the enemy is keeping power for one’s self.

  “Your name?” Matilda took a step forward, stopping so close that Elaina could smell the garlic on the woman’s breath.

  “I’ll not tell you.”

  Matilda’s eyes shot up. “Oh, really?” She stepped back and addressed the other captives. “This one thinks she’s better than you, it seems.”

  Elaina straightened her shoulders and kept her face impassive.

  “You’re dressed in more finery than I was expecting any of my guests to arrive in. Not very fitting for the season, though.” Matilda pinched a bit of Elaina’s gauzy blue skirt and rubbed it between her fingers. “I was going to provide everyone with a cloak, should he have needed it. But it appears you don’t want any cloak, as then you wouldn’t be able to show off your fine clothes.”

  Elaina wanted to scream. This impractical gown might have been a worse punishment than Lydia’s betrayal.

  “You’re young and strong. You’ll work in the kitchens, along with my cook and Aspen. Cook will show you what to do.” She tilted her head. “And because I can only gather that you’ve been raised decently spoiled, you’ll also wait on me and my two daughters for tea and meals.”

  She moved on, but the last glance she sent Elaina made it very clear that she hadn’t forgotten Elaina’s disrespect. Nor would she.

  In the end, they were all assigned some burdensome task, despite the late hour of the evening. Elaina wondered how many servants Matilda had been forced to employ before the war. Not that it mattered now. Leo and Luca, as it turned out the brothers were named, were to clean out the carriage house, care for the animals, and tend to the many gardens and flower beds that covered the grounds.

  Gram was assigned to mending and sewing clothes. Aspen and Elaina were in the kitchen. Lilly was set to cleaning the house. Drake was told to make repairs, and little Jacob was ordered to help his father.

  Elaina turned woodenly toward the stairs, as they were ordered to head to the attic and sleep there, waiting for further instructions in the morning. Before she’d taken two steps, however, Matilda called for her to wait.

  She turned to find Matilda standing behind her, hands clasped together in front of her and a patient look on her face.

  “I do not know where you come from, but I can tell fine breeding when I see it. Even without your fancy . . . foolish clothes, I would have recognized you as someone of title in an instant. The set of your shoulders, the arch of your neck, your posture gave you away the moment you stepped onto my property.” She took a step closer, close enough that Elaina could see the lines of white in her dark hair.

  “I must admit I am a bit curious as to your upbringing. You look stronger than most girls of title. But,” she smiled thinly, “we can save that story for another day. What I am interested in is your will. We’ll have to break that before long. You see, there is only room for one will in this house, and that is mine.”

  Elaina merely held the woman’s dark gaze. It was easy to keep her countenance cool when she pretended Matilda was an obstinate politician. She knew how to deal with those.

  “It is very well that you won’t share your name,” Matilda continued in a low, melodic voice. “We’ll just have to find a new one that’s more fitting.” Matilda turned and waved her hand slightly as though she were bored. “Go get some sleep. You’ll need it in the morning.”

  Elaina briefly considered darting for the door, but a glance through the window showed a guard’s form hovering in the garden. Promising herself that she would one day be free, Elaina turned instead and slowly climbed the stairs.

  On the second and third levels she passed halls with numerous rooms, luxurious carpets, and tall, ornate windows and doors. The house itself was quiet enough that she began to feel the effects of the day beginning to wear on her even as she climbed. Her head still throbbed from its earlier injuries, and Elaina felt that if she stopped, she might not be able to take another step. It was all she could do to keep climbing the stairs.

  Odd noises greeted her, however, when she reached the fourth level. Thinking that this must be where the captives were to sleep, Elaina trudged down the bare hall and lifted the latch on the only door at its end. But it was locked.

  Elaina placed her ear to the door. Sure enough, muffled sounds were coming from the inside, though in her exhaustion, Elaina couldn’t tell what they were. She thought about running back down to the empty kitchen and retrieving something to pick the lock with, but her need for sleep won out instead. Shaking her head, she turned back to the stairs and continued the ascent. It was probably just another pitiful individual Matilda had managed to get her claws on as well. Perhaps someone else who also had a will.

  Elaina finally found the attic above the fourth level. When she opened the door, she could dimly see the others huddled in little groups on the floor, all but the brothers, who stood looking out the single window that faced north. They glanced back at Elaina, but made no move to include her in their conversation. The Shofeld family sat curled up against the wall, Drake with his long arms wrapped around his son and his wife. Aspen had Gram in the only chair in the room, which looked to have a broken arm, and was leaning against her legs with her head in the old woman’s lap. Elaina felt her way along the wall, bumping and tripping on objects piled up the floor. Though the room was large enough, perhaps larger than Elaina’s own bedchamber at home, it seemed
to have been stuffed with so much clutter that walking in a straight line was nearly impossible.

  After searching for several minutes, Elaina finally found a clear spot in the darkest corner of the room to the right of the door. The floor was hard, and as Elaina found, full of splinters. Wishing again that the guards had given her time to grab the thicker wrap she’d left at the wedding, Elaina wrapped her thin shawl even more tightly around her and found a dusty book to lay her head on.

  What kind of woman threw something so precious as a book up in this kind of junk pile? But then, what kind of woman kidnapped people and put the elderly and young children in attics during the winter? What kind of woman owned another human being?

  As much as it killed her to know that Nicholas had ordered it, Elaina had at first thought her exile a possible path to salvation. She would find some sort of work in Solwhind, enough to earn some money. Then she would travel south to Destin as soon as she was able. She was strong, and she knew that King Everard would at least listen to her side of the story when she arrived, regardless of what he had heard. He was too wise not to.

  Only now she was a slave.

  But no. She would escape. It didn’t matter what the stars had said. Perhaps someone needed her, but not like this. She would sleep now, and possibly work for several days or even several weeks. But somehow, she would find a way out. Matilda would not break her spirit. And most importantly, Matilda would never see her cry.

  32

  Agreements

  “Tell my father I need to speak with him.” Nicholas was off his horse and sprinting up the steps before the servants could take his horse or bags.

  “Yes, sire!” The palace steward, who had come out to greet him, bowed then began barking out orders to the servants.

  Nicholas stopped briefly in his own study to gather a few important documents. Then he stalked up to his father’s study, not waiting to see whether or not the servant had yet announced his return. He banged on the door. “Father, we need to talk.”

  No one answered, so Nicholas pounded on the door again. “Father!”

  A young servant opened the door just enough to stick his head out, his eyes large and his face pale. “Your father says he cannot speak with you now, sire.”

  “Oh really? Would it interest him then,” he called through the crack in the door, “to know that I’ve just spent three days searching every ship in the eastern harbor for the exiled traitor that disappeared?”

  The servant disappeared inside the room again, but not for long. “My apologies, Your Highness,” he said, peeking out once more, “but he says he will not see you now.”

  For a long moment, Nicholas toyed with the idea of barging in and telling his father what he really thought of such a petty delay, but he knew already that such an intrusion would only end in a fight. And Nicholas didn’t have time for a fight.

  Elaina, wherever she was, didn’t have time for a fight.

  Alastair rounded the corner looking deep in thought. Leaving the servant to deal with his father, Nicholas grabbed Alastair by the sleeve and yanked him close. “My study. Now.”

  Alastair nodded frantically before turning and falling into step behind him.

  As soon as they reached his study, Nicholas addressed the guard standing outside the door. “Not a soul is to enter or be within ten feet of this door unless it is my father.”

  The guard gave him a sharp nod, so Nicholas slammed the door shut and turned to face his captive. “I suppose you know why you’re here.”

  The spy’s thin face was even more drawn than usual, and he seemed to have grown more white hair overnight. He fumbled with his hands so much that Nicholas was tempted to feel sorry for the man.

  But he didn’t.

  Alastair nodded quickly once more, staring at the floor. “I do, my prince.”

  “Then you can start by telling me exactly where she is.”

  “Where she is?” Alastair’s head shot up and his eyes grew sharp. “Don’t you know where you exiled her?”

  “I exiled her to Destin,” Nicholas said. “But when I arrived at the boat that was to take her there, she was nowhere to be found.”

  Alastair gaped at him. “You mean you don’t know where she is?”

  “Well if you can’t tell me,” Nicholas roared, “then why don’t you start by telling me how she got into this mess in the first place?”

  Alastair rubbed the salt-and-pepper stubble on his jaw and went to lean against one of the chairs by the fire. “I knew Conrad was investigating her, but I didn’t want to say anything until we had evidence.” His voice sounded ancient. “I thought he was only going to question her family and neighbors. He told me that a girl had informed him of a possible traitor who had been talking with Tumen. I didn’t think anything would come of it.”

  “And you had no idea the girl you’ve been practically courting was his witness?”

  “She said nothing! He said nothing! How was I to know?” Alastair threw up his hands helplessly.

  “We are going to make one fact about this matter perfectly clear.” Nicholas yanked the other chair out and turned it so he could face Alastair. Sitting in it and leaning forward, he said, “We both know that Elaina is innocent of these charges.”

  Alastair nodded miserably, staring into the fire.

  “Good. We also know that your assistant has been a thorn in her side for over a month now. In fact, I’m convinced that he is the one who planted that evidence. This, of course, puts me in a terrible position.” He glared at Alastair. “I cannot imprison a man when I have no proof of wrongdoing. But I do have multiple witnesses who can attest to his mischief.” Nicholas leaned back and crossed his arms. “I cannot arrest him and I cannot let him run about freely with the knowledge he holds. So what do you suggest I do?”

  “I know.” Alastair let out a quiet sob. “I’ve allowed my love for the boy to blind me to his actions.” He shrugged and looked at Nicholas through wet eyes. “But he’s like a son to me.” He wiped away the tears with his sleeve. “I will restrict him to his quarters until I can get sorted out what he has and hasn’t been up to.”

  That was far from what Nicholas wished to do to the young man, and not nearly as violent, but without proof, there was very little more he really could accomplish . . . legally.

  “As to Lady Elaina, however,” Alastair sniffled and pulled a folded parchment from his coat, “I might be able to shed some light.” He handed the parchment to Nicholas.

  Nicholas opened it and began to read. Before he was even halfway through, however, he felt as though he’d been kicked in the chest.

  “Slavery?”

  Alastair nodded. “After Lady Elaina raised the question of disappearing travelers, I investigated. Most of those in Solwhind don’t approve of it, of course, but it seems that the Shadow is also encouraging this trade in order to bring in revenue.”

  “Revenue?” Nicholas stared in confusion at the paper in his hands.

  “Whenever individuals pay for a . . . person . . . people, they must pay a monthly tax per head. The tax goes directly to the Shadow himself, as do the taxes on lithorium and other formerly illegal objects of trade.”

  “And the bailiffs?”

  “No longer have authority. It is the rich who have authority now. The Shadow seems to be in desperate need of funds, so the rich are the ones who direct many of his steps.” The side of his mouth twitched unhappily.

  Nicholas went to the window. Leaning against it, he closed his eyes. “What could such a man need so much money for?”

  “Waging a war, particularly with hired swords, is expensive.”

  Nicholas felt as though he’d aged a decade in the last three days. “So you think Elaina was sold?”

  “When I saw the speed and small contingent with which she was being sent to her ship, I was concerned that it was too little too fast, if I may speak honestly. A mercenary could have easily slipped in and posed as someone else if she was being handled by a number of unknown perso
ns. All one would have needed was a uniform.”

  “King Everard was right.”

  “I beg your pardon, sire?”

  “King Everard told Elaina that he believed there was a deep evil in Solwhind. The kidnappings, the deaths of the gifted, the lithorium . . . This kind of evil goes far beyond general greed. Something dark is at work here.”

  “What do you intend to do?”

  “I’m going to find it. And I’m going to destroy it.”

  Nicholas felt a hand on his shoulder. He was tempted to shrug it off but for the soft words that followed.

  “Your Highness, I know you probably have little respect for me at the moment. But please know, I will do everything in my power to help you find her. You have my word.” His voice fell to a whisper. “We will find her.”

  Alastair’s promise was comforting, but it didn’t protect Nicholas from the madness that threatened to take him while he waited for his father to speak with him privately. Not only did Xander bar Nicholas from his study for the remainder of the day, but when he finally summoned Nicholas early the next morning, it was to inform him that they were making an impromptu journey to the eastern shore of the Sheryn Sea, the same wharf from which Nicholas had just returned.

  This would have pleased him immensely except for his father’s insistence on keeping all of their attending servants and soldiers with them every step of the way. This many people, of course, took twice as long to cross the peninsula. And every time Nicholas begged and pleaded and threatened to have a private audience, his father brushed him off like a pesky child. It wasn’t until two days later as they were inspecting naval vessels preparing to set sail for the war that Nicholas was finally alone with his father.

  They were in the cabin of a warship when his father paused to examine some of the captain’s log entries, and Nicholas saw his chance. As soon as their hosting captain stepped out to search for something, Nicholas took the opportunity to shut and lock the door.