by Kiki Leach
My heart raced as I stared at him. I tapped my fingers against my thumb and gnawed the inside of my cheek. I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling in the hopes that my exposure would be just as quick as my imminent death on the scaffold the following morning.
The Sheriff moved around and looked to the carpet. I gulped as he grew more and more ominous in his speaking. “I was certain of her crimes,” he said. “Certain that one day, she would be permanently placed inside my prison, never to escape and harm another, or steal from them ever again. But I was wrong, and she managed to murder a man in cold blood. She pierced him with a sword, and left him to die alone.”
The king leaned forward on his desk, nearly salivating as he listened in on the Sheriff’s words. It seemed as if my being proven guilty of his murder was more important than supposed justice for his son.
“And who was her innocent victim?” he asked, clasping his hands and placing them before him on the desk. I nearly scoffed at his use of the word ‘innocent’ but stopped myself.
“Perhaps he was no innocent,” said Norvack, as if he were reading into my thoughts that very second. He looked to the Sheriff from the corner of his eye. “Perhaps this man quite deserved to be slaughtered.”
“He was no innocent,” said the Sheriff. “I am certain of it and always was. Yet, she was no true victim either.”
“How dare you,” I muttered, rattling my head.
“Who was the man she attacked, Sheriff?” The king leaned even closer, bugging his eyes more and more, still salivating at the answer.
“Not attacked,” said the Sheriff gruffly, pointedly. “She in fact killed a man.” He was eyeing the tea in his goblet as he continued. “…A drunken vagrant who came upon her in an alley as a girl.” He placed the goblet to his lips and pushed his brows together as if he wasn’t sure of what he had said, or why.
I turned my wide eyes down to Norvack, who was already staring up at me with caution and fear. I tried swallowing but my throat was so tight, it felt as if I were choking. What was his angle? I wondered. Why not expose me as he so claimed to do?
The king moved his head a little, making a confused expression, and then shot up from his chair like a ball shooting straight from a canon and slammed his fist atop a book sitting on his desk.
“A VAGRANT?!” he hollered. “THIS is why my son chooses to banish you from the palace? Why he has chosen to protect Cinderella? Why you claim she has threatened you? For a life that was of no matter, you chose to keep this secret?”
“My apologies, dear king.” The Sheriff bowed, though I was sure he was as far from apologetic as could be. “I believe that Prince Norvack wished to keep the misdeeds of his fair wife hidden --”
“Hidden for the life of a fellow vagrant.” He sucked his teeth and looked over at me. Then he steadily moved from around his desk and glided toward the Sheriff, chuckling to himself as he eyed the floor. “We go back a great ways, you and I,” he said, lifting a brow. “I have always depended upon you for relaying well needed information.”
“And I have always appreciated your confidence in me, Sire.”
Belarus said nothing, only staring at him for a moment. He narrowed his eyes, as if he were trying in vain to hear a quiet word from him, or read his mind. “I am confident in you, my friend. Confident that you are lying to me. As you well know, I do not take kindly to fraudulent behavior.”
“I assure you, my king, I am no fraud and never meant to mislead.” He tossed his arm toward me. “The princess is only guilty of murdering a fellow vagrant, and nothing more. What she committed was in fact a crime, one I felt this family deserved to know. But I realize that it was some time ago.” He turned a little, staring at me. “I am certain I have caused you and your prince much unneeded distress, more than ever during such a delicate time as this, for which I hope to make up for tonight.” He bowed. “Mistress Cinderella. Would you mind enlightening me with a stroll in the gardens?”
“That is quite inappropriate, Sheriff,” Norvack exclaimed, sliding his finger across his lips to emphasize his growing resentment. “To expect my wife to escort you on the lawn just moments after accusing her of murder?”
“She did in fact spear the vagrant, something of which you are quite aware, and of which she shall surely admit?” There was something sinister in his eyes, almost as if they flickered gold, like flames from the fire pits of hell.
Belarus and Eliza looked to me then, as did Norvack who seemed to fear my answer.
I took a deep breath and pressed my hands together, smiling, if only to keep from shedding tears.
“I did spear a man in the village,” I said.
The king stepped out, pointing at me. “A murderess!”
“Father,” snapped Norvack, glaring.
“This is what you bring amongst us!” He moved closer, pointing at his son now. “A thieving murderess! A mongrel from the very village in which Willem was found slaughtered.”
Norvack placed his hands alongside the wheels of his chair and raced forward, stopping when he slammed into Belarus ankles. The king stood as still as a statue, only wincing as he felt the toe the boots. “You may never refer to my wife in such a manner again, are we clear?”
The king lowered his shoulders and narrowed his eyes, as if he were accepting the prince’s challenge. I turned my eyes to the queen, who as she opened her mouth wide and placed a hand on her chest, seemed to be holding her breath as she stared at them all. I felt she wished to step in, but to defend or deride which man? I wasn’t exactly certain then, not as much as I would have been prior.
The Sheriff on the other hand, stood on the other side smirking, as if he had willed it all to happen in this exact manner, pushing a further rift between the king and his son. When he noticed me staring at him, he arched a brow and nodded triumphantly. Quite a significant difference from my eyeing him in the square only a few months before.
Norvack wheeled back over to me as his father looked on.
“Are you alright?” he asked, concerned, taking my hand once more.
“I’m fine,” I told him with a grin. And then I looked up. “Your father is akin to the Sheriff, all too unaware of the kind of men who inhabit Hadenville. Unaware that they constantly prey on young women. Attack them, slaughter them if one dares to rebuff such vulgar advances, helpless or no. Much like Willem, the men of Hadenville are so inherently arrogant. They never dream of someone like me coming along.”
The king snarled and nodded. “Someone like you, a murderess.”
“No.” I gathered my gown and moved past Norvack to get to his father. “No,” I said again, standing toe to toe with Belarus now. “Someone like me, a woman who shall never stand for being regarded as anything but what I am. Your son and others treated the women of this country worst than garbage tossed into the streets. I have never, and will never succumb to such treatment, by any man.”
The king flared his nostrils and exhaled deeply as he looked up at me.
Within seconds, the Sheriff walked up and stood aside me, seemingly to ease the heightened tension and showed me his hand. “Allow me to escort you to the gardens, Mistress.”
“Sheriff,” Norvack stated in a dark tone.
“I only wish to admire her beauty in the moonlight,” he responded, never removing his callous and insincere eyes from mine. “And to apologize in a more private manner for having caused her much trouble with my information.”
I looked to the prince and scowled, concerned of what the Sheriff was planning, and then shook my head. “It’s alright.”
“I don’t wish for you to go with him.”
“I shall return soon.”
The Sheriff lifted his arm and I placed mine atop it as he led me from the ballroom.
When we arrived on the lawn, he dropped his arm before I could remove mine from it and turned to me with a smug glint in his eyes.
I smirked, waving my hand across the garden. “Is this were you shall end my life and bury me amongst the others?”
<
br /> He laughed boisterously. “Nonsense.”
“Is it?” I cocked my head. “I was certain you had whispered your suspicions to the king in regard to my misdeed against Willem prior to tonight.”
“Were you?”
“I was. Why else would the man continuously threaten to have his own son slaughter me on the scaffold?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps it is only a threat.”
“I don’t believe so,” I said. “You informed him of something to force him to react as he has, though I am not certain of what. What I am certain of, is that he still has no true idea of Willem, perhaps only his suspicions remain, or so I am forced to believe for now.”
“Believe what you wish.”
“I shall, until I discover otherwise.” I sighed. “Tonight, you chose to remain silent in the face of them all, even Norvack, whom you are so certain is already keenly aware. Why, unless it is to end me yourself on their premises?”
“I remained silent for your own good.”
“No.” I closely examined every wrinkle on his face. They grew more prominent the more he lied. “My own good for you would be my head on a spike just over there,” I pointed, “or served cold on a platter, freshly chopped and bloodied by the prince, just as the king wishes. This was for your own good, though again, I am not certain as to why. What have you gained in not informing the king and queen of my misdeed as you had so planned for the evening?”
“Are you as confident as you claim that I had truly planned to expose your crime against Willem to the royal family tonight, Cinderella?”
“The king said as much to me this afternoon, and you all but hinted to the very conclusion throughout dinner.”
“Hmm. Did I?”
I glowered and jolted back. Was he bluffing as always? Or had he truly manipulated me into believing one thing while holding an invisible sword above my head, ready to drop the tip into the softest part of my skull at any moment?
I fiddled with the jewels around my neck and crossed my arm over my chest. “You were certain to expose me. Until something compelled you not to. What have you gained?” I asked again.
“Power!” he blurted. “I have gained much power, my dear girl, in remaining silent for now.” He jubilantly looked to the sky, as if he were imagining what it was like to sit upon a cloud, near heaven, near God. “I have gained power over you.” He pulled the corners of his lips up into a devilish grin. “How does it feel to see me holding the letter opener now? You see, I now control your fate and destiny. I control how long you shall live, and how quickly you may die. I may not control by whose hand you shall die from, but I will make positive that my voice is that of consent.” He slithered forward and hissed, staring at me until he was convinced I was staring at nothing else in my eyesight. “You may be the queen of chess pieces, but I remain the victor of the game, fair princess.” He snatched my hand instantly. His was wet, slippery, as if it had been dipped in a bucket of warm water. I tried pulling back, but he took his other hand and placed it upon my wrist, yanking me forward. Then he bent over to kiss my hand. I finally snatched it back the moment his rough lips touched my skin. He remained in position, hunched, then stood up straight and smiled again. “Enjoy the remainder of your evening, Mistress.” He turned in triumph, and it took all I had inside me not to rush forward and attempt to snap his neck with my bare hands.
The tables had finally turned in his favor. He was holding the winning chess piece now.
As I stumbled back into the room, I reached for the couch and sat. The queen was conversing with two of her handmaidens as the king began discussing certain matters with his servants. Neither seemed to notice my reentrance. Norvack had, however. He saw my slumping over the arm of the couch and sped to me as quickly as he could.
He took my hand in his and looked down, frowning. “You’re shaking.” He stared at my face with great worry. “Cinder.” His voice was loud and terse, though his words seemed to echo like a whisper. “Cinder,” he said again. I remained still, frozen. He touched my face with the back of his fingers. They were warm, soft. Without realizing what I was doing, I pushed his fingers against my face and turned in toward him, allowing him to comfort me, almost demanding he continue for as long as he wished. “What occurred between you two on the lawn?”
I sighed. “He wishes to wield power over me, to control my fate, my life or death. He refused to speak up tonight to gain a power he has demanded for years, the power to leave me in fear of him.”
“I shall protect you, as promised.”
“You cannot protect me from this,” I said. “We no longer pose a threat to him, Norvack, and I’m beginning to wonder if we ever truly did. He has the power to crucify me before the king and this country at any moment between now and forever, and he will use it whenever he sees fit.”
He sat back, observing my frightened demeanor and cupped his chin. Then he looked to the corner of his eye to his father, who after realizing I was there, suddenly attempted to listen in on us.
Norvack lowered his voice. “Eliminating him is the only answer, Cinder.”
“No!” I whispered. “I don’t wish for blood on your hands.”
“Even his?”
“His blood above all,” I said. “I would be thrilled to rid the earth of him, but he is currently much too invaluable to us.”
He looked over at his parents and rattled his head. “Then, this isn’t over,” he said. A chill went up my spine all the way to the crown of my head, as if a cold wind had suddenly come through the room, one that only I could feel.
And I knew that it wasn’t over, far from it. In fact, it seemed to only be the beginning.
The Prelude
I remained in bed that morning looking out the window of my chambers when Brigita entered with my breakfast. After the Sheriff’s unfortunate visit nearly two months before, the king and queen demanded that Norvack dine with them three times a day to discuss the matters of the palace and country, something of which I was never invited to do, and he was less than enthused to participate without me. Though, I insisted he attend each day to avoid further disruption amongst he and his parents. Despite us eating separately, we most often came together in his own chambers (as he finally managed to escape Willem’s room with much encouragement) following each meal, at his insistence. And I always managed to infuse my own ideas for the country upon him during various games of chess, games in which I was most often crowned queen.
“Sausage and eggs for you this morning,” said Brigita walking over to me. “As well as your favorite tea with a splash of lemon and honey.”
I sat up straight and smiled at her as she placed the golden tray upon my lap and handed me a napkin. “Have you seen Norvack this morning?” I asked.
She looked down and shook her head. “He never left his chambers this morning.”
I became concerned and dropped my food atop my plate. “Did anyone bother to check on him?” I struggled to move the tray with plans of leaping from bed, but Brigita sat down beside me, preventing me from going anywhere. “Wha--?”
“The prince is fine, Mistress,” she said reassuringly. “But I was told that he absolutely refused to dine with his parent’s this morning.”
“Hmm. For the life of me, I cannot imagine why.” My tone was coarse, sarcastic. I tossed my sausage down and wiped my hands on a napkin, then took a sip of tea and leaned back on the headboard.
“Has he burned his chair yet?” she asked.
“No. I’m beginning to wonder if he misses it, which frightens me given his longed desire to walk again. He managed to beat every odd placed against him, and it’s beginning to seem as if it does not matter, and never did.”
In the same day that the king and queen insisted upon dining with Norvack to discuss ‘palace matters’, he became more determined than ever to regain strength in his limbs, partially in the hope of being prepared for the Sheriff in case of an unexpected strike against us. He began taking therapy much more seriously, drank the herbal teas
vigorously at every available moment, giving up the brandy (at least for awhile), and walked up and down the parallel bars at least five times a day until he managed to stand upright on his own without help from his doctor or anyone else. His mother managed to come around in encouraging him more often than criticizing me for even breathing near him, but his father never came around to even utter a ‘job well done’ which cut Norvack to the core, despite his attempts to hide such fury and sadness. Though he often admitted that much of his desire to walk again was to have me in his bed, I knew that in part he still desired respect and encouragement from his father.
Once I finished breakfast, Brigita helped me dress and I went straight to Norvack’s chambers. When I yanked on the handle of his door, it was locked. I knocked once and called for him, and he answered almost immediately, pulling back to reveal his handsome face and toned physique. I stood back staring, gasping as he was still barefoot and only in his riding pants. His tunic was draped across the crumpled sheets on his bed. I looked down at the scar left behind from his attack and instinctively reached for it, drawing my fingers back and forth across.
He noticed me staring with desire as my fingers went beneath the scar and down the front of his body, the same as when I had helped him to heal, and smirked. I shifted my eyes to avoid contact with his and dropped my hand immediately. I felt as if I were choking for a moment as he continued looking at me with lust, and let out a very deep breath, one that rattled from my stomach up to my chest and finally my throat, where it burned. I had such a desire to sink my teeth into his skin, to lick and taste every bare part of him that was before me in that very second.
