by Diana Flame
The
Cinderella
Coup
Revved-Up Fairy Tales – Book 2
Diana Flame
Copyright © 2017 Diana Flame
All rights reserved.
Kindle Edition
PUBLISHER’S NOTE:
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, and by extension, Worldwide. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork is prohibited without the expressed written consent of the author. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
https://dianaflame.com/
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
CONTENTS
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Other books by this author
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About the Author
Introduction
The Cinderella story…
Once upon a time in the land of Taucia, a girl went to the ball and lost her glass slipper ... forget that crap. This is not your usual fairytale.
Cinderella is not the girl you once knew. She is not the coward little girl who allows her stepmother and stepsisters to abuse her.
Meet the real Cinderella, the one with a temper and a feisty disposition, a heroine you will fall in love with.
In the land of Taucia are seven provinces, which include the kingdoms of Izadel and Padian. The Izadel Kingdom nestles between the Great Hungry Peak and the Forbidden Mountain. Across The Forbidden Mountain is the Padian Kingdom. Once rivals, the two Kingdoms now enjoy peaceful relations. However, with the new king of Izadel, one never knows when that peace will be broken.
Note: Both Kingdoms speak the same language known as Epinia. However, due to feedback from readers and their difficulty in understanding the Early Modern English, the language in book 2 has been softened to reflect more of the Modern English with sprinklings of Shakespearean here and there.
This is the story of Cinderella, a true tale as seen in the eyes of the storyteller.
The Cinderella Coup is Book 2 of the Revved -Up Fairy Tales Series and a continuation of Book 1 – The Cinderella Plan.
If you haven’t read book 1 get it HERE.
Authors’ Note: Please note that the dialogue is not an accurate depiction of Shakespearean or Elizabethan English. As with the story, the language is fictitious and has been slightly exaggerated for maximum and perhaps comical effect.
Prologue
“I do not understand thee, Galien,” Cinderella said, her soft brown eyes locking with his cerulean ones.
They had finished breakfast and were looking for a place outdoors for him to train. He seemed anxious to get back to his mission and Cinderella wanted to see what his combat skills were.
Once outside, they stopped to look around the castle. This was larger than the palace at Izadel. The courtyard circled the exterior with high walls that Cinderella knew were forts. Remnants of old weapons were strewn about the yard. A large cannon blaster stood in the center.
The fog from the previous day had thinned and streaks of sunlight peeked through the mist. The eeriness that had greeted them before was gone and birds could be heard chirping in the trees.
For a moment, their eyes locked and Cinderella’s face flushed. The magnetic pull of Galien stole her breath and she had to tear her gaze away.
“What doth thee not understand?” he asked, his tone low as he closed the gap between them.
“How didst thee knowest my name at which time we first met?”
“Rufus the elf knoweth all things.”
“Is that all, Rufus toldeth this to thee?”
“Aye. What else shouldst there be?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I bethought perhaps thee had seen me in thy dreams,” she replied, blushing deeply.
Good going Cinderella. This is not a fairy tale, remember?
Galien placed his finger under her chin and willed her to look at him once more. “Thou art in my dreams, every day and every night, my fair Cinderella.”
Heat crawled up her neck and she swallowed. Where his finger touched her skin burned, as a tremor passed through her. Her eyes fell to his lips as she thought he was about to kiss her. She wanted to feel his lips once more, to feel that rapturous sensation as when his tongue entwined with hers. The caress of his lips from the evening before lingered with her still.
Destiny. Something Cinderella never thought of until now. Lenora had warned her that she was meant to be queen. Less than a day before, that same woman informed her that her place was with Galien. Had destiny shoved her into the arms of the Prince? How was she to be certain that Galien was the heir apparent?
Since childhood, she’d heard stories, both from her father and her neighbors. Those stories were of a creature Prince, one who was cursed by an evil witch called Marge. Now she was in hiding with a man she knew little about, except that he made her pulse race. Her heart sang when he was near and she got tongue tied when he stared into her eyes.
“We should depart at once,” she said, her voice coming out with a squeak.
That morning at the breakfast table, Cinderella had listened while he filled her in about his experiences. The stories that she’d heard all her life now were made a reality. He told her about his parents’ lives before he was born, how he became The Creature and how he was waiting to reclaim his rightful place on the throne.
Coming back to the moment, she pulled away from his stare and stepped onto a track leading away from the castle. Galien fell into step behind her as they cautiously moved along the unknown path. The further away from the castle they went, the denser the growth.
“We cannot venture further,” Galien pointed out.
They had reached an area where the bushes were so thick that they could not part them with their hands. Galien pulled his sword and tried to make a path, but even that seemed futile. The more he tried to cut his way through, the more the plants seemed clustered.
“Wait, what is that?” Cinderella pointed to her right where a small beam of light streamed through a thicket.
“I knoweth not,” he muttered. “Let us see.”
Galien moved ahead, hastening towards the area. When he was there, he parted the brush and a bright beam swathed him in the light. Cinderella gasped, thinking that something magical was happening. However, when she peered through the gap, her shoulders sagged with disappointment.
Through the opening was a clearing. The good thing was that there was no fog there. The sun was high in the sky and what was more, from that viewpoint they were able to see Izadel below. This told them they were on the east side of the mountain.
They left the clearing and roamed about for some time until they came upon what seemed like old soldiers’ barracks. There were small compartments with beds, a mess hall and an armory.
“Thee bethink this wast the soldiers’ quarters?” Galien asked.
“Aye, and behold what I hath found,” Cinderella exclaimed, picking up a quiver fill
ed with silver tipped arrows.
“What shall thee do with it?”
“I shall keep it,” she frowned. “They seem new, untouched even.”
“Where is the bow?”
Scanning the area, she shook her head. “I do not see it. Might be around here somewhere.”
“I should start my training now. I shall do so in the open,” Galien declared, walking towards the courtyard in front of a line of small units.
Cinderella ignored him, as she was drawn to the armory. She continued searching for the weapon which belonged to the quiver. While Galien wielded his sword at nothing in particular out in the open, she circled the large room where everything was covered in dust.
A wooden chest caught her eye and she slowly moved toward it. Lifting the lid, she coughed, as the dust unsettled from the movements. Her eyes widened as they rested on a bow, a mask and a red dress. Pulling one of the arrows from the quiver, she noted that the nock on the arrow had a similar marking of that on the limbs of the bow.
“They belong together,” she breathed, running the tips of her fingers lovingly across the weapon. “I shall keep it.”
Isolde
A lone figure trampled the undergrowth as she made her way to her sister’s cave deep within Black Thorn Forest. Isolde, Cinderella’s stepmother lamented her plight. She’d been thrown in prison for trying to deceive the so-called Prince, Tobyn. Her plan to impersonate Cinderella would have worked had her sister Olga, made a stronger potion.
“That wench, wait until I get my hands on her!” she grumbled.
She was only free from having her head chopped off because she made a deal with the devil himself, King Hughoc. Oh the curse! How would she keep her promise to find the witch named Marge?
Isolde rubbed her neck and gulped. Closing her eyes, she recalled the king’s promise to snap her neck if she did not make good on the promise to find Marge. The dilemma was, Isolde had never met the witch and knew not her whereabouts. How was she to find a witch who disappeared nearly thirty years ago?
“This is all Cinderella’s fault,” she cursed under her breath.
Isolde ran through her mind the times she’d tried to get rid of Cinderella and failed. Just recently, she’d tried trading the girl as a slave. What did the wild child do when Count Gymer’s menservants tried to take her? That day came back as clear as though it was happening before her eyes.
“Cinderella,” Isolde called sweetly from the living room.
Cinderella was busy making her wild oferac (berry-like fruit) jam in the kitchen. Cinderella pushed her head around the door.
“I am busy now, what is it that thou hast need of?”
Isolde planted a bright smile on her face. “I have a surprise for thee, come. It will take but a few minutes.”
About a minute passed and Cinderella presented herself, her apron was badly soiled and her hair out of place. Sweat ran into her eyes, which she wiped with the sleeve of her smock.
Perfect! Isolde thought, now she really looks like a slave.
The Count was standing expectantly in the living room when Cinderella rushed in. His eyes traveled over the young maiden and Isolde saw the lust written there. Good, Isolde mused. He will also get a wench to warm his bed.
Cinderella pulled up short when she saw the Count, his men servants stood by the door.
“Good greetings,” Cinderella greeted.
“Is this the one?” the Count queried.
Isolde beamed. “The maiden is quite lovely, is she not?”
“Quite exquisite,” Count Gymer responded, keeping his eye trained on his prize.
“Thee can have her for three blocks of gold,” Isolde stated.
Cinderella frowned. “What is happening?”
“Thee now belong to me,” Count Gymer replied with a grin. “Come along.”
One of the menservants began closing the distance between himself and Isolde when Cinderella also moved. As the man handed Isolde a pouch, Cinderella snatched it from his grasp and opened it.
“Thou art trading me?” she asked.
Isolde stepped back. “Restrain her, the wench is a reluctant slave. She wishes not to leave me.”
“Then why art thou trading her?” the Count asked, ignorant of the situation.
“I cannot afford to keep her,” Isolde sobbed.
The count looked sympathetically at them both then leveled his stare at Cinderella, “I will take good care of thee. Be thou not afraid. I will be a good master.”
“Codswallop!” (Nonsense), Cinderella bellowed. “This dirty dog is my stepmother. I am no slave. This house was left to me by my father….”
“Grab her,” Isolde instructed the menservants, cutting off Cinderella’s speech.
The three men strode towards the wench. As the first one approached, Cinderella smacked him in the head with the pouch containing the gold blocks. He cried out in pain and grabbed his head. A lump began growing at the site immediately.
The other two men moved towards Cinderella. Isolde was gobsmacked when she saw the girl pulled up the hem of her frock, lifted herself in the air, twirled and landed her heel in the crutch of one of their necks. The man fell to the ground with a thud. He was out like a light.
The other man staggered back, his eyes bulging. Still holding the pouch with the gold, Cinderella stomped over to the Count.
“I think this belongs to thee, Sir.”
The man’s mouth hung open as he hesitantly took the pouch. Cinderella then turned to Isolde who cringed behind the armchair.
“I will deal with thee later, Mother. Now, my jam must be burning,” Cinderella directed at Isolde then turned apologetically to the astonished Count. “I beg thee pardon, I shall now take my leave.”
Isolde shook her head with a growl. That was what Cinderella did to the men. After that, the wench threw her out of the house.
“I will get thee Cinderella,” she shrieked. “I will get thee!”
Marge, the great witch
The dungeon of doom, she called the place she had been imprisoned for three decades long. She knew the time drew near for her freedom. If the beast Prince found his throne, she would be free.
After Marge cast the spell of the beast on the child and seeing to King Reginald and his queen’s demise, the fairy Lenora sought to trap her. Marge knew well that she could not get away. Her last spell before the fairy witch trapped her and sent her into the dark abyss was a freedom spell.
That night, she’d prepared a ring of fire, a cup of water, a handful of black soil and a handful of charcoal dust. Closing her eyes, she began casting her spell.
“A king shall be borne when he shall find the key
And unlock the chains to set this witch free
A king shall be borne when he shall pass the test
And light the way for this witch to fly the nest.”
Marge had opened her palm, which held the black coal powder.
“By the wind,” she said, blowing the black powder.
Then she picked up the handful of dirt and threw it in the air yelling, “By the earth.”
Next, she picked up the cup of water and sprinkled it all around her. “By the water!”
Last, she stepped into the ring of fire, as Lenora, the fairy witch appeared in her cavern. The fae witch waved her wand and the fire sizzled and died before their eyes. As the purest and most powerful fairy throughout the land approached, Marge’s knees trembled. Never had she been this terrified as the white eyes of the fairy glowed like the sun. When she was but touching distance from her, the fae’s eyes emitted a great light that wrapped itself around Marge, rendering her immobile. Soon she’d became weak as invisible chains bound her feet and hands.
“Thee will spend eternity in the dungeon of the doomed,” the fae informed her.
That was three long, long decades ago. Marge could see in her mind's eye that her time for freedom was near and she anticipated what that freedom brought.
Chapter 1
The premarita
l ball was tonight and Cinderella was looking forward to it. Never had she been this eager to visit the Izadel Palace. The last time she was there, she’d been a prisoner awaiting execution. Now it was her turn not only to assist her friend, but to execute judgement of her own.
Now that Tobyn was getting married and they were introducing his bride to the kingdom before the wedding, she knew this was the perfect day for them to complete Galien’s mission. This was a superb opportunity because Tobyn was not yet wedded to the maiden. It was ideal because this was a masked ball. Whatever possessed them to arrange such a party! Anyone with a pass could easily enter without showing their face, and that was the plan.
Lenora’s voice returned to her from a few days ago. “Thou wilt enter the party as a guest. From there, thee must distract the guards, and especially the Prince.”
“How will I do that?”
“Thee will think of something. Thou art Cinderella,” Lenora replied, handing her a roll of paper tied with a golden string. “This is thy pass. No one will question it.”
With a smile, she came back to the present. The quiver of arrows sat at the foot of her bed and she bent, touching her finger to the tip of an arrow. A smile played on her lips in anticipation of what was to come. Cinderella was more intrigued with the prospects of getting inside the palace without anyone knowing whom she was.
Her flushed skin was evidence of her excitement as she rose and began pacing the expansive bedroom. She paused to pick up the mask she’d found in the chest a few days earlier at the old soldiers’ quarters. Affixing it to her face, she turned to the mirror.
“No one shall knoweth ‘tis I,” she whispered. “I shalt do well this night to return the rightful Prince to the throne.”
Someone knocking the door caused her to turn from the mirror. “Enter,” she said.
A stout woman with chubby cheeks and twinkling brown eyes entered. “My Lady, the gent awaiteth thy presence.”
