Once Upon A Time (5) Before Midnight

by Cameron Dokey

  My heart had begun to beat so hard and fast, I feared it would explode. At the sight of the slippers, I put my hands to my mouth.

  “What the prince is going to do is die laughing when I fall flat on my face in those. I’m just a country girl, no matter who my mother was. I don’t belong in a palace. I can’t wear a dress like that.”

  A dress so beautiful it made my throat ache, so exquisite it made me want to cry. I lifted the lace from my hair, laid it gently against the shoulder of the dress form.

  “I’m afraid. I’m so afraid,” I whispered.

  “It’s just for a few hours,” Anastasia said softly.

  “Though remarkable things may happen in even that short amount of time. You surprised us. Perhaps it’s time to surprise yourself.”

  “If I can keep from falling over when I curtsy to the prince,” I said, “that may be remarkable enough. Now let’s go back to bed. It won’t matter how beautiful our dresses are if we all have bags under our eyes.”

  Carefully, Amelie returned my glass slippers to their place. “I still don’t understand how all this got done in time,” she said, as she rose. “Is it magic, do you supposed?”

  “The strongest kind there is, I think,” I said.

  “And what is that?” Anastasia asked.

  “Love.”

  FOURTEEN

  The day of the ball dawned clear and fine. We arose to eat a hearty breakfast, after which Old Mathilde herded us into the bath, one by one. Then she sent us to the sunniest room in the house to comb out our hair and let it dry. Niccolo and Raoul went out into the city to make the arrangements for the coach that would take us to the palace that night. They had been whispering and chuckling together ever since the day before. If Susanne had been with us, she’d have called them thick as thieves. It was clear that they were up to something.

  Late in the afternoon, there came a sudden lull in our activities, like the calm before the storm. My stepsisters and I were in our room, sitting in a circle with our backs to one another, I brushed Anastasia’s hair, Anastasia Amelie’s, and Amelie mine.

  “What happens if they can’t find a carriage?” Anastasia suddenly said, “We can’t go in the wagon and we can’t possibly walk. Those shoes are gorgeous, but they hurt my feet. Ouch, Cendrillon. You’re pulling my hair!”

  “I’m not,” I replied, “Stop fussing, Anastasia, Raoul and Niccolo know what they’re about.”

  As if summoned by our words, we heard a shout from the street below. I heard my stepmother begin to laugh.

  “Oh, it is absolutely perfect,” she cried. “I could not have done better if I’d chosen it myself”

  Anastasia flew to the window, opening the casement so that she could lean out. A moment later, I heard her laugh too.

  “Oh, do come look!” she cried.

  Amelie and I crowded into the window so that we all three together gazed down into the street below. Raoul sat behind two fine new horses, hitched to a conveyance, the likes of which I had never seen before. It had tall, thin wheels with spokes of painted gold. The coachman’s seat was perched so high it was a wonder Raoul didn’t fall right off. But the carriage itself was the most astonishing sight of all. Great and round, with great round windows to match. Like the wheels, it was painted gold.

  “How do you like it?” Raoul called up with a doff of his new hat. He looked like a fine gentleman in his recently acquired city clothes. He and Niccolo would drive us to the palace that night.

  “Leave it to you,” Anastasia said, “to find the only carriage in all the city that looks exactly like a pumpkin.”

  Anastasia, Amelie, and I dressed together, aided by Mathilde and Justine. Then Justine shooed my stepsisters across the hall to their mother, giving Old Mathilde and me a moment alone. Carefully, Mathilde arranged the lace upon my hair, securing it in place with two jeweled clips studded with stones the same green color as my eyes.

  “These belonged to your mother,” she said, as she slid them into place. “I have saved them for you until now.”

  She turned me to face the mirror, and it seemed to me that a stranger gazed back. I did not know this girl in her fine gown. As if she sensed my sudden uncertainty, Old Mathilde came to stand behind me, so that the mirror reflected us both.

  “I have worked and waited many years for a day such as this one,” she said softly. “To see the light of Constanze’s love shine out into the world once more. You are like the plants in your mother’s garden, my Cendrillon. A bulb long hidden underground. But the blossom is all the more beautiful for being unexpected.”

  Old Mathilde leaned forward then, and kissed me on the cheek. “Do not be afraid to grow.”

  “I am afraid,” I whispered. “But I will not let my fear stop me. I will be my mother’s child, and yours. I love you, Mathilde.”

  “As I love you, my little cinder-child. Hurry now; your family is waiting.”

  And so the child of cinders went to the ball.

  “Remember to keep your back straight when you curtsy to the prince,” Anastasia instructed as the carriage inched its way through the crowded streets. “Incline your head and keep your eyes down.”

  Inside my fine glass slippers, I wiggled my toes. The carriage turned a corner and the palace came into view. I felt a trickle of unease slide down my spine. During our frantic days of preparation, I had worked hard to push all thoughts of my father to the back of my mind. But soon, we would be at the palace. I would see my father for the very first time.

  “Look, there is the palace! How beautiful it is,” Amelie cried. Every window was ablaze with light so that the palace itself seemed to shine like the evening star. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful, Maman?”

  “Only my three daughters,” Chantal de Saint-Andre replied.

  “How is it you always know the right thing to say?” I asked, and earned a chuckle.

  “I hardly think I do that,” my stepmother replied. “If I did, I would have found a way to say, no thank you, Your Majesty, when it came to marrying your father. Though, if I had, I would never have had you for a daughter. All in all, I am satisfied with my share of the bargain.”

  “My father will be angry, won’t he?” I asked.

  My stepmother reached to give my hand a squeeze. “I imagine he will be,” she acknowledged. “I also imagine he will not dare to show it. We are here by the king’s command. When we obey him, we show we are his loyal subjects”

  “Are you not afraid for yourself, then?” I asked.

  “No, I am not,” Chantal answered after a moment. “I believe it genuinely angered the king when Etienne sent me from court. My family has served His Majesty long and well. I will call on his protection, if I must.”

  “We’re here!” Anastasia cried suddenly. Raoul brought the carriage to a halt before a broad staircase. At once, Niccolo leaped down from his place at the back to open the carriage door. One by one, we alighted behind my stepmother. Niccolo closed the door, stepped back.

  “There will not be four more lovely ladies in all the ballroom,” he declared. “Do you not think so, Raoul?”

  Raoul looked down from his high perch. “I do think so. And I think you will turn all their heads if you stand there admiring them another moment. Come along, Niccolo”

  “Send to the stables when you are ready for us,” Niccolo said. He resumed his position, Raoul clucked to the horses and the carriage started off. With my stepmother in the lead, the four of us started up the steps to the palace.

  The ballroom was a sea of faces, a dazzling blur of color and of light. Great ropes of flowers looped down from the ceiling. Mirrored sconces lined the walls. Courtiers in their best attire jostled for position at the edges of the room. In a whirl of skirts and fancy footwork, couples performed an elaborate dance in a far corner. Snaking through the center was a line of young women, looking like jewels in a necklace in their colorful, shimmering finery. Even as my stomach began to knot in apprehension, I felt a moment of compassion for Prince Pasc
al.

  “I’ll bet the prince is wishing his father’s kingdom was smaller than it already is,” I murmured as we inched our way forward, making our way to the front of the line. My stepmother first, then Anastasia, I came next, with Amelie last in line, I was grateful to be sandwiched between my stepsisters. If not for them, I might have been all too tempted to simply turn tail and run right out the door.

  “I hear Gaspard Turenne will be standing beside the prince with a great leather-bound book,” Anastasia whispered back, “The name of every eligible maiden will be recorded in it as we all parade by, one by one. If the prince so much as smiles, a special mark is made by that girl’s name.”

  Amelie gave a snort, “Let us hope Monsieur Turenne changed out of his muddy clothes.”

  We moved a little farther along. I could see a tight knot of courtiers now, those privileged enough to attend the king and queen and prince. Chances were very good my father was one of them. Don’t think about that now, I told myself. If I thought about my father, I’d never be able to keep on going.

  “What happens if Prince Pascal wants to ask someone to dance?” I asked instead, keeping up the game Anastasia had started.

  “Then she gets two marks beside her name,” Amelie supplied in a low voice. “And a circle around it besides. After all, an invitation to dance is practically a proposal of marriage.”

  Anastasia gave a gurgle of suppressed laughter.

  “Girls,” murmured my stepmother. “Behave your-selves.”

  We took another few steps, and suddenly the space before us opened up. I had a glimpse of glittering garments, jewels gleaming in circlets of gold. And then Chantal was sinking into a deep and graceful curtsy, with Anastasia right behind her. Mindful of my stepsisters endless instructions, I was careful to keep my back straight and my eyes lowered as I, too, sank down.

  “But how is this, Etienne?” I heard a woman’s voice exclaim. “I thought we were to be denied the pleasure of seeing your wife and daughters tonight.”

  “I thought so, too, Your Highness,” a mans deep voice replied. “I am delighted to be proved wrong.” From the corner of my eye, I could see Chantal’s skirts move as she began to rise. My heart was pounding so loudly I could hardly believe the whole room didn’t echo with the sound.

  That is my father’s voice, I thought. Polished, with a fine-honed edge, just like a knife.

  “Madam,” Etienne de Brabant went on smoothly. “This is a most welcome surprise.”

  “I am happy to hear you say so, my lord,” my stepmother answered, her own voice calm and even. I tried to hold its cadence in my mind. She is so strong, I thought. Precisely what I would need to be, what I wished to be. “We were delighted to receive His Majesty’s summons. It is always our pleasure to obey the king in all things,” she went on.

  “Chantal,” I heard a voice that could only be the king’s say now. “You are most welcome back to court. No, no—stop bobbing up and down. And here are those lovely daughters of yours. I have been singing their praises to Pascal ever since he arrived.”

  “All of my daughters are here, Majesty,” my stepmother answered. “Including one I think you do not know. Girls.”

  In front of me, Anastasia began to rise from her curtsy. I followed suit, though my body felt stiff and clumsy. A strange coldness seemed to grip all my limbs, put there by the sound of my father’s voice. I hoped my legs would hold me.

  “Your Majesties, may I present to you my stepdaughter?” Chantal went on. “She is named Constanze, after her mother, but those of us who love her call her Cendrillon.”

  “Oh, but she is lovely,” I heard the queen’s voice exclaim. “The very image of her mother, if I recall. Where have you kept her hidden all this time, Etienne?” She gave a laugh like a chime of silver bells on a winter’s day, beautiful yet cold.

  “Oh, dear,” she went on, her tone playful. “We have made her nervous with all this attention, I’m afraid. Stop blushing and look up, child”

  I cant, I thought. Every single part of my body seemed frozen in its present position.

  Then I felt Anastasia slip her arm through mine. At the exact same time, Amelie did the same, and in that moment, the strange cold which had seized me at the first sound of my father’s voice abruptly loosed its hold. Warmth flooded through me.

  My wish has finally come true, I thought. I have a mother and sisters to love me, a mother and sisters whom I love. We were all together, a family united. I lifted my head, and looked into my father’s eyes for the very first time.

  He was handsome. I could see that at once. Fair-haired and blue-eyed. But in his face, I could see no expression, nothing to inspire the look that gazed so lovingly from out of my mother’s portrait. Etienne de Brabant’s face was as closed as the door he had locked so long ago. There would be no love for me from him at this late date. As he had begun, so my father would carry on.

  Ever so slowly, Etienne de Brabant extended his hand. I placed mine into it, even as I curtsied once more. He pressed his lips to my knuckles for a fraction of a second.

  “My daughter,” he said. “You are welcome to court.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “My lord.” For I discovered that my mouth would not, could not, shape the word “father.” Not for this man.

  “Come now,” I heard the king say, and, at the sound of his voice, I suddenly found the courage to look into his face. It was open and kind. It was easy to see why my stepmother would give her allegiance to such a man.

  “You will have time for reunions later. We must not forget why we are here tonight. Pascal.” He made a gesture and a young man dressed in soft gray velvet stepped to his side. On his brow was a circlet of silver set with moonstone. Beside me, I heard Anastasia stifle a sound.

  And then my eyes were on the princes face, a face I knew as well as I did my own. There was the hair, dark as a raven’s wing, the stormcloud-colored eyes. They were staring into mine with a startled expression as if, in my own face, he was seeing things he had not known existed before.

  “Oh,” I said. “Oh, of course.”

  And only when I saw his expression change did I realize that I had spoken aloud. A great roaring seemed to fill my ears. But it was not until I felt myself jostled from behind that I realized it was coming from the crowd in the ballroom and not from the thousands of unanswered questions streaming through my own mind.

  A figure pushed its way forward, fell to its knees before Prince Pascal. Even as it did, the guards surrounding the royal party surged forward, their swords singing in their sheaths as they were drawn. My own body moved as if of its own volition. I dropped to my knees, shielding the body of the figure on the floor with my own.

  “No! You must not!” I cried out, “He means no harm”

  “Stand away,” I heard the prince’s voice command.

  “Your Highness,” protested the captain of the guards. He had been the first to react, the tip of his sword no more than a hands breadth away from my throat.

  “Stand away,” the prince said once more, his voice as bright and sharp as the swords drawn in his protection. “Step aside.”

  “Do as my son says,” the king said in a firm, low voice.

  Reluctantly, the guards fell back. At a gesture from the captain, several moved to push the crowd back, then stood behind my stepmother and sisters, so that we were all surrounded by a ring of unsheathed swords.

  “Let me see your face,” the prince said. “Do not be afraid, but look up”

  Raoul lifted up his head, and all who saw his features gasped aloud. For a space of time impossible to measure, the two young men stared at each other.

  “So,” Raoul whispered. “My wish has come true at last”

  Then he pitched forward, flat on his face, at the feet of his twin brother.

  FIFTEEN

  “I tried to stop him,” Niccolo said, his voice cracking with the strain of his distress. “I swear, I tried. The moment I saw the prince’s face, I thought I understood why Etienne
de Brabant finally ordered Raoul to court”

  Several hours later, we were all still at the palace, still in our finery, for, as yet, we had no other clothes. At the king’s command, my stepmother’s household had been given a special suite of rooms, separate from those of my father. Raoul’s sudden appearance had put an end to the evenings festivities.

  “To bring about what actually happened,” I spoke up, not quite sure I recognized the sound of my own voice.

  How could it be safe to feel I recognized anyone anymore? In the blink of an eye, my childhood companion had become a prince. And I was the daughter of the man who had known this, and concealed it, all along. Who had taken an innocent baby and left him to grow up ignorant of what he was, reducing him to nothing more than a political pawn.

  “To disrupt the king’s plans for Prince Pascal to marry by revealing the fact that there are two princes, not just one,” I went on. I turned to Niccolo, who was standing beside Amelie, She had an arm around his waist, as if to show her support. Their love glowed as brightly as any candle in the room, the one bright and steady spot in an otherwise turbulent night.

  “What was it you said the queen has always vowed?” I asked Niccolo.

  “That she would never be satisfied until the first son of her heart and blood sits on her husbands throne,” he replied.

  “A vow which made no sense.” I said, “when there was only Prince Pascal. But if there was another son, hidden away since birth, put into the care of the one person in all this land the queen trusts the most. And if that son . . .”

  I swallowed against the sudden taste of bile at the back of my throat. “If that son were the first born . . .”

  “Oh, but that is wicked!” Anastasia said suddenly, speaking for the first time. “To rob one son of his right, to deny the other all knowledge of who he is for so very long. How can any good come of this? The queen will break Raoul’s heart.”

  “Not to mention the kings,” my stepmother chimed in softly. “He loves Pascal very much.”

  “But how did you and Niccolo come to be in the ballroom in the first place?” Amelie asked. “I thought you were going to wait in the stables “