As Cinderella walked past the Clothier, he eyed her critically and then broke into a large grin. “Thou art indeed exquisite,” he said, adjusting the puff on her sleeves, “a shining jewel amongst grains of sand.” He gave Josselyn a pointed look, as if to say thou art certainly no jewel, which she returned with a haughty look of her own. She lifted her chin in the air and walked past the little man with such indifference that he might’ve been a peasant groveling at her feet. The Clothier looked surprised, and then a flicker of admiration shone in his eyes.
Cinderella bit back a smile. At least Josselyn was learning to stand up to him. Cinderella lifted the hem of her gown as she walked up the steps leading to the stage. She intentionally kept her steps light as the Clothier had instructed. Breathe, she commanded herself. Breathe. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her gown was so tight that it was making her light-headed. She prayed she wouldn’t faint. Regardless of how she felt on the inside, she could at least take consolation in the fact that she looked the part of a true lady. Thanks to the skills of her dutiful maid. (It had taken the maid the better part of the morning to get her ready.) Her hair was artfully woven with silver and blue ribbons and an ivory comb encrusted with sapphires. The gown she wore was deep blue and had an intricately woven bodice that was trimmed in silver. Even she had to admit that it was breathtaking. She would’ve loved it were it not for the fact that it fit so tightly around her waist that it was hard to draw in a good breath. The one bright spot in the ordeal would be the look on Rushton’s face when he saw her in it.
“Look at all of these people,” Josselyn said, her voice tinged with awe. Cinderella nodded and looked up at the royals and nobility that were crowded into the Grandstand. From a distance, their brightly colored clothes reminded her of a field of flowers. A bugle sounded, and all eyes turned upward to see the King and Queen making their grand entrance to their places of honor. When they were seated, the King gave the nod for the tournament to begin.
A large herald in a green velvet surcoat, trimmed in gold, walked to the center of the stage and looked up. He seemed to gather strength from somewhere deep within his barrel chest, his booming voice carrying effortlessly through the crowd. “Noble King Aalexander de Moncier the Great and Queen Loreena Maria de Gussalen of our beloved Aandover Peaks … Royal Gents and Ladies … greetings!” A roar of approval issued forth from the crowd, and the herald returned the gesture with a low bow at the waist. “On this hallowed day of our Lord, we are assembled hither in this place to honor our benevolent and wise King, who so diligently strives to protect our liberties as he interprets and upholds our revered Grimm Laws. Additionally, we acknowledge our valiant knights and squires, those to whom we owe a great debt of gratitude for their chivalry in defense of our beloved kingdom and our King.” He punched a fist in the air. “Long live the King! Long live the King!”
The crowd joined in and started chanting simultaneously. “Long live the King!” This continued until the man held up his hands to quiet the crowd. “As the valiant squires and knights are taking their honored places on the tournament field, let me also say …” A bugle sounded as the knights and squires rode onto the field. The herald’s words got drowned out in a chorus of thunderous applause. The colorful throng of knights and squires atop their horses proceeded across the field until all were positioned in a line directly facing the elevated platform. Each knight and squire held their lance so that the tip pointed upward in the sky. Colorful scarves were woven around the lances, flapping triumphantly in the wind.
At the herald’s signal, three minstrels stepped forward and began to play a festive tune. The herald signaled to the courtier, who roused the ladies to take their positions. A murmur of awe rustled through the crowd as the Ladies in Waiting made their way across the platform.
* * *
A tremor of excitement tingled through Rushton’s veins as he caught sight of Cinderella. Even from a distance, she was a vision in her flowing blue dress and corn silk hair. All of the other maidens paled in comparison to her. He glanced at Edward, sitting tall and stately on his horse. As the Crown Prince, Edward held the most honored position in the center of the line of squires and knights, and Rushton, earning the highest rankings in the practice tournament, held the place immediately to Edward’s right. This tournament, there would be two parades of maidens—the first for the squires, and the latter for the knights. Edward would choose his maiden first and Rushton his second. Providing that Edward didn’t select Cinderella, all would go according to plan. A shiver of foreboding slivered down his spine, and his suit of armor suddenly felt too heavy. Surely with all of those beautiful maidens, Edward wouldn’t choose Cinderella … would he? He shrugged off the thought. Fate wouldn’t be so cruel. On several occasions since Cinderella’s arrival at the castle, it had been on the tip of Rushton’s tongue to tell Edward about her. There were times when he felt his heart would burst if he couldn’t tell someone about her, and Edward was his closest friend. But he’d promised his mother that he wouldn’t tell a soul that he’d known Cinderella before. “My position in the castle is precarious,” she’d warned. “You must not tell anyone that I arranged for Cinderella to come here … especially not Edward.”
Rushton was confused. “But why, I prithee, why does it matter?”
“My enemies would use it against me, Rushton, and they would use it against Cinderella. You know how strict the selection process is for Ladies in Waiting. I had to call in favors to get her here. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?”
The bugle sounded. It was time. One by one, the maidens began their walk across the platform. Each would pause when reaching the center. Some maidens did a dainty twirl before offering a curtsy. Others simply paused with resolute chins lifted upward, allowing all to admire their poise and beauty. Rushton watched the third maiden go, and then it was Cinderella’s turn. He clutched his lance a little tighter and held his breath. She’d only been a Lady in Waiting a few weeks; what if she stumbled or tripped? You can do it, he urged. Her every step was tortuous at first, but it only took a moment for him to realize that his fears were futile. The maiden gliding like a dream across the platform was so graceful and perfect that he could scarcely believe it was the same peasant girl that had climbed trees alongside him, had raced him through the fields, had milked the cows … had stolen his heart. She was mesmerizing—a vision. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He wondered if the other squires and knights were as taken with her as he was. The thought sent a stab of jealousy shooting through him.
Other maidens continued parading across the platform, but Rushton hardly noticed them. He was too consumed with the cold fear that was overtaking him. Edward was going to choose Cinderella. He was sure of it. How could he not? Any man with eyes in his head would choose her. His heart started hammering furiously, and his hands felt clammy inside of his gloves. If only there was time to talk to Edward, to explain how he felt, then perhaps disaster could be averted.
The maidens lined up on the platform, each of them holding a colorful scarf. Edward maneuvered his horse to the far right side of the platform. He would start there and work his way left, stopping in front of the maiden he selected. He would hold out his lance to the chosen maiden, and she would then remove the scarf from his lance and replace it with her own. Cinderella was the fourth maiden from the left. Rushton watched as Edward rode past the first group of maidens without so much as a glance. He neared the center of the platform and paused. He seemed to be considering the chestnut-haired maiden with the scarlet dress. She was a beauty in her own right with cascading curls and thick fringes of lashes fluttering against her dark eyes. She gave him a nod and a coy smile. Relief flooded through Rushton, leaving him weak. How foolish he’d been thinking that Edward would choose Cinderella.
Without warning, Edward urged his horse on past the maiden. She looked surprised and then disappointed, but her recovery was quick as she fixed her smile back into place.
Rushton felt like he was watching
the scene in slow motion as Edward continued on down the line. When he paused in front of Cinderella, the blood left Rushton’s head, making him dizzy. Edward held out his lance to Cinderella. A hush came over the crowd as all awaited for her to respond. To refuse the Crown Prince would be unthinkable, and yet … Rushton couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw her hesitate and then look his direction. Ever so slowly, she removed the purple scarf from Edward’s lance and replaced it with her blue one. The crowd let out a deafening roar as Edward reared back his horse and raised his lance to the sky. The sound was drowned out by the sound of Rushton’s own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Anger surged in his breast, and he had the urge to rush forward and tear the scarf off of Edward’s lance.
Then he realized that it was his turn to choose a maiden. In the time it took for him to ride to the right side of the platform, Rushton knew what he must do. He would intentionally lose the bet he’d made with Edward and take him to see the Sorceress Griselda. The tricky part was ensuring that Griselda would steer Edward away from Cinderella and into the arms of another. He didn’t give a goose’s tail who Edward ended up with … as long as it wasn’t Cinderella. As he rode slowly down the line of maidens, he made a point of feigning interest by pausing here and there. He finally stopped in front of Cinderella and paused just long enough for her to give him a questioning look. Then he urged his horse to take a step back so that he was positioned directly in front of Josselyn. He barely even looked at her when she removed the scarf from his lance and replaced it with a yellow one of her own. He had the ridiculous urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. There Cinderella was, standing a few paces away from him, and yet she was completely out of his reach. Promise or no promise to his mother, he was going to have to tell Edward the truth. Once Edward realized that Cinderella was already spoken for, he would back down. Above all, Edward was a man of principle, a man of honor. Honor. The word was salt in the wound. No honorable squire would voluntarily lose a joust. From the time he was a lad, it had been bred into him to fight. The Grimm Laws demanded that he fight with all of his might. It was a duty that he’d taken a solemn oath to uphold. To do any less was cowardly … hypocritical. A squire was nothing without honor. He lifted the lance high in the air, the yellow scarf flapping wildly in the wind. Fleetingly, he decided against losing the joust. He would find another way, but then he glanced at Cinderella who was looking as distraught as he felt. It was then that he knew that no sacrifice was too great for her. He would forge through fire for her, slay the dreaded dragon, scale Aandover Peaks, and yes, for her, he would do the unthinkable. He would purposely lose the joust.
Chapter Fifteen
The Bike Wreck
“Rush, can you hear me? Rush!”
He turned toward the voice. His mind registered two things simultaneously: the annoying blinking lights and that his head felt heavy.
“He’s coming to.”
He looked at the face hovering over him. “Mom!”
Wisteria burst into tears and threw her arms around him. “Oh, Rush! I was so worried. I thought …” She shook her head. “I thought I’d lost you,” she finished quietly.
“Lost me?” He looked around at the police officers and paramedics. Then he realized that he was lying on the ground. No, he was on a stretcher. Panic raced through his veins as his mind tried to grasp what was happening.
A man stepped up behind his mom. “Ma’am, I need to check his vitals.”
Wisteria nodded. “Of course.”
Rush caught her arm. “No, don’t leave me.”
She put a hand over his and gave him a weak smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”
The man shined a light in his eyes and then held up his hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Two.”
The man lowered a finger. “Now?”
“One,” Rush answered impatiently. “Hey, what happened to me?”
“You don’t remember?”
“I was riding my bike … fast.” He regretted adding in that last part the minute it left his mouth. Great, now they would cite him for speeding and probably reckless driving. His heart skipped a beat, and his mouth suddenly felt dry. Had he injured someone? His mind raced as he tried to remember. All the while, he kept thinking about the events that had happened fourteen months ago. Time seemed to mesh together, and the events of that tragic night replayed in his mind like a painful movie that he was forced to watch over and over.
It was the biggest football game of the season, and they’d won. A few of the guys had gone out to celebrate. Everyone had a few too many drinks, especially Brian. It was Brian’s car, but he was too drunk to drive, so he’d tossed Rush the keys.
They’d been singing and goofing off. Rush rounded a curve too fast, and the pavement was slick from a recent rain. The car spun out of control and into a tree. Brian was killed instantly, and Matt was put into intensive care. To make matters worse, marijuana was found in the glove box. The only thing that saved Rush from juvie was the fact that his alcohol level was one point below the legal limit. Thankfully, Matt made a full recovery, but Brian was gone, and it was all Rush’s fault. He’d spiraled into a depression so deep that there seemed to be no way out. In a fit of desperation, Wisteria up and moved them to Castle Heights.
She always told the same story—that they’d moved here to get to know his late father’s extended family, but they’d not made contact with a single one of them these past few months. The truth was that Wisteria had moved them here to save him. But there was no escaping his past. It was happening all over again.
Paramedics were on either side of the stretcher. In unison, they lifted him up and started carrying him to an ambulance. He looked wildly around. “Wait!” He took stock of his body. He could feel his legs. He wiggled his toes, moved his arms, turned his head from side to side. “Wait!” He tried to sit up. “Stop!” They kept walking and placed him in the back of the ambulance. He struggled to get up. “I’m not hurt!” He looked around frantically and caught sight of his mom who was standing beside the open door. “Mom!” he called. “I’m not hurt. I don’t need to be in here!”
“It’s okay,” she soothed. “You hit your head. They’re going to take you to the hospital and do a CT-scan to make sure you don’t have any fractures.”
“Are you coming with me?”
“I’m going to ride behind the ambulance to the hospital.”
Knowing that she would be close by was comforting. A thought struck him. “My bike.”
A paramedic lifted his arm. “This might sting a bit.”
“Aw!” Rush howled as the man shoved a needle into the top of his hand.
“An IV,” the man explained.
“This is ridiculous!” Rush protested. “Where is my bike?”
“Relax, your bike is fine. The cops fished it out of the river.” The man’s calm voice helped take the edge off of the situation.
Rush gathered the courage to ask the thing he’d been dreading. He swallowed hard, trying to voice the words. “W-was anyone else hurt?”
“Just you. Now hold still, so I can get a read on your blood pressure.”
The relief that pulsed through him was palpable. He lay back and closed his eyes, attempting to recall the events leading up to the accident. He’d been angry about Cinderella and Edward. Something about a horse and a blue scarf … and jousting. The stands were brimming with people, wearing bright colors. He shook his head. Jousting? Really? He chuckled inwardly. Maybe he did have a concussion. He was angry with Elle, not Cinderella. So, now he was referring to her as Cinderella, like the storybook character? Wow! He was losing it! He was on a horse, in a suit of armor, and she was in a long flowing dress, a braid wound around the crown of her head, blonde tresses trailing free below the braid. And he loved her with a fierceness that nearly took his breath away.
He pushed away the crazy thoughts and focused on the paramedics. He looked at the blood pressure monitor and the fluid flowing throu
gh the IV into his veins. He willed his mind to fight against the insanity and focused on the present. As he did so, the events of the evening came rushing back in vivid detail. He’d been angry with Elle because she was sitting in the car with Edward. And the worst part was that she’d been about to kiss him. He clenched his fists. He’d gotten on his bike and gone for a ride. Once he got out on the open highway, he’d opened up the throttle, and then the lights came at him. Lights from an oncoming Jeep. He’d swerved to avoid a collision and had dived off his bike to keep from going into the river.
“Whoa, man, calm down. Your blood pressure is skyrocketing.”
“Someone intentionally ran me off the road.”
“What?” The paramedic frowned. “Are you sure?” He shot his partner a concerned look. “Are you absolutely sure about that?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
* * *
“All I’m saying is that it wouldn’t hurt to take a day off from school, so you can get some rest.” Wisteria plunked a piece of toast into the toaster and pushed down the lever. She then reached into the cabinet for a glass and poured some orange juice into it.
Rush blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Mom, I’m fine. The tests came back clean. No concussion.” It wasn’t so much that he was dying to get back to school, but the tryouts for the formal were only a few days away, and he needed to practice. And if the truth were told, he was eager to see Elle—even though he was still ticked at her.
Banished: Book 1 of The Grimm Laws Page 16
