Stroke of Midnight: Future Fairytales

by Dawn, Stella

  "No, I wasn't aware." I eye my book. As much as I love the Dowager, I hope this visit is short. I really want to get back to reading.

  "I unlocked it for you."

  "Oh, thank you."

  "Twice."

  "Well, that's just odd," I say. "Once should be more than enough."

  "You'd think."

  She's still here. Does she want something? "Is something amiss?"

  "I unlocked your door for the second time almost 45 minutes ago."

  "Thank you."

  "Cyndi, why aren't you at the ball?"

  "I'm reading."

  "Don't you want to go to the ball?"

  I hold out my arms and gesture at my comfort and ease in this room. "I have everything I want for the evening right here. I am perfectly happy to spend the evening reading a good book."

  "Ah, I see you are reading Cinderella."

  "Yes. Not my choice. King Co--I mean, the king, handed it to me today."

  "Indeed. How interesting." The dowager makes her way over to my bedside and sits in the lounge chair next to my vanity table.

  Somehow I don't mind her intrusion, she is so sweet and old and harmless.

  "It's a love story," she says.

  "Hardly that. It's a fairy tale. Nothing is earned or real. The adventure happens to Cinderella, who does next to nothing at all."

  "Oooh. A skeptic. Don't you believe in love?"

  "Of course I do. I think that love is a most hazardous undertaking. I prefer to explore love in books."

  Dowager Maggie rubs her hands together and I see that her fingers are bent and gnarled with age. I wonder if they hurt her or whether they still function as fingers. She looks up and I quickly turn my eyes away.

  "I agree. Love is most dangerous and powerful. You hold someone's life in your hands. Perhaps it will involve the future of more than one person."

  "Right. Too rich for my blood. I'm happy enough to read about it."

  "Even when it involves your own family?" She gives me a sidelong look with those bland blue eyes.

  "What do you mean? I have nothing to do with the love lives of anyone else? I helped my sisters dress for the ball, I think that is quite enough."

  "Well, I didn't want to have to tell you this, but," Dowager Maggie pauses to make sure I am listening. She lowers her voice to a whisper. "The Prince has challenged the King to a duel in the morning. Something about the honor of his young Dora."

  I shoot up in a flash. That would be just like him. I can just see the King looking down his nose, not literally of course, at Dora's getup, which hovers over any man's height. He must have said something condescending and Dora took offense. I take a deep breath and squint one eye and wrench my mouth to the side. "Alright. I need to go to the ball." There's a wedding to be had. Those "men" must stop this nonsense before someone gets killed!

  With that, the old woman reaches up behind her neck and her claw-like fingers fiddle with a fastener back there. The gold chain is so fine it falls into the channel of her wrinkled neck.

  "May I help you with that?"

  "No thank you." She stands up and stretches her hands towards me.

  "Turn around."

  I do as I am told.

  She slides the chain around my neck and fastens it. My hand flies up to feel what is on the chain. It is warm from her body and smooth. I get off the bed and walk over to the mirror. It is a small gold heart shaped locket.

  "I don't deserve this." I can't believe she would give me such an intimate gift. I am speechless.

  "It belongs to a young girl on her search to find true love. It brought me great luck and I know it will do the same for you."

  I reach out and give the little old woman a hug and she pats my back and says, "Don't squeeze too hard. Between my brittle bones and faint heart, I don't know which will get the best of me first."

  I draw back quickly and she laughs at me. "I'm only half joking. Everyone assumes the elderly are used up and about to blow away. I still have enough spark to set things in motion."

  Now it's my turn to laugh. Her face is crinkled like a ball of tissue paper but her blue blue eyes shine bright as sapphires in a face the color of the pale blue heavens.

  "There's only one problem," I tell her.

  She raises her eyebrows. "And what might that be?"

  "I have nothing to wear."

  She looks me up and down, taking in my sweats, short waisted tee shirt and messy bun. "Well, certainly you can't go dressed like that."

  Then she turns and punches a button on the remote control and the whole long side of my wall retreats. I swear, I had no idea that it was anything but a wall. She presses another button and the interior first half of the closet shifts and spins 180 degrees. "Ah, there are the gowns of my youth."

  My jaw drops. There are gowns in every hue and material, everything gleams as though bejeweled with gems or pearls or crystals.

  She turns to me and says, "Well, what are you waiting for? Get out of those rags."

  She watches me for a moment and then says, "There's nothing there I haven't seen before. Hurry up, you don't have all night." She turns and selects a light blue sheath that is as thin as gossamer and glitters like a ribbon of aquamarine. "This one. It matches the skin tone of the Delta Ohr and it will set off your lovely caramel skin. Imagine, all those years ago, I selected a dress to match my eyes. The trouble, of course, was that my eyes matched my skin and my skin matched my dress. It was as though I had picked a dress suited only to make me disappear. No matter. I caught the eye of the King anyway." Her voice turns musical at the thought of that evening long ago.

  She holds the dress and I step inside and she zips up the back. It fits like a second skin. The fabric is out of this world. I have twin veils that trail from the top of my shoulders and float down to the hem of my dress. It is a gown suitable for a goddess or a queen.

  She looks me up and down and then her eyes don't move. "You'll need shoes."

  "I'm afraid you won't find any that fit me. I'm a size 11."

  "Oh." She selects a pair of mules but after the sight of my heels trailing barefoot off the ends and only my toes and instep inside, she nods in agreement.

  "Just wear your tennis shoes. The dress is floor length. Now fly." She gives me a shove and a smile.

  "Oh, and remember, you must return by the stroke of midnight."

  "Why?"

  "Because that's what Cinderella would do."

  "Well, I'll be back long before midnight. All I'm doing is stoping those fools from killing one another."

  Maggie just smiles.

  19

  Cyndi

  I run down the hall with King Petros' smirking face on my mind. Just let there be enough time to prevent him from carrying out his intentions. Duels? Weren't they things of the past? Did this planet live in the 18th century?

  I fume at the thought of my sisters being ridiculed or taunted for expressing themselves. Dora is not to be shunned for being exuberant. Any palace would benefit from her presence like a breath of fresh air. Just her attitude and her excitement for living blows most of the dusty cobwebs from stuffy royal custom.

  The idea that my sister's costume would be enough to set brothers against each other, pitting a King sized ego against a Prince's romantic dedication. There could be no winner here. I would just have to talk some sense into the King.

  I make it downstairs in record time, taking stairs two at a time. Thanks to my foot size, I'm not wearing heels which would slow my speed to a mincing walk. I set my shoulders straight and lift up my chin and look all around for my sisters. They should be easy to spot. Ah ha. There is Tori standing by the punch bowl with a tiny glass cup in her curled index finger. She doesn't look happy at all, she blows a feather out from her eye and then follows with a brush of her hand. Has she been crying?

  In a panic I scan the room for Dora's pink flamingo head. There, by the band on the stage. Her head dress is intact, dipping and bobbing in front of the drum set. Her attendant
s leap and tip to retain tension and control of the flamingo's head. That is odd. She and Prince Rupert are behaving as though they are having the time of their lives.

  I look around the room and wonder whether I will be able to spot the King. I spend a few moments inspecting a man dressed like Caesar, with a laurel wreath around his head like a crown. But he is too short and his toga swells over his paunch.

  There doesn't seem to be a duel going on, unless you count the fact that Dora's flamingo head is trying to peck poor prince Rupert. Luckily, her attendants are quite acrobatic.

  Petros

  I lift my eyes and scan the room. Swirling gowns in pastel shades, feathers and masks and sounds of crystal and laughter.

  Gods help me, I see a vision in sparkling blue. The color of my land and my people. Upon her?

  She arrives at a masquerade ball wearing panic and determination on her face instead of a mask. She scans the room until her eyes settle on Dora and the Prince.

  I wish they'd settled on me.

  In a few strides I come up behind her and whisper her name.

  * * *

  Cyndi

  "Cyndi."

  I turn and am startled to see a tall swashbuckling pirate, complete with tights and a rag tied around his tousled dark hair. His eyepatch completes the disguise. A pearly white smile is framed by his false goatee.

  I am not fooled. No disguise that could prevent me from recognizing the irksome King Cod.

  "What do you want?"

  "A word with you."

  My eyes narrow. What is he up to? "I wanted one with you as well," I struggle to keep my voice low and steady.

  Then, he gives me no words. Instead, he turns abruptly and stalks outside. I have no trouble keeping abreast of him.

  As soon as we clear the double doors and gain the veranda, I lay in on him. "You don't command my sister. She can wear whatever she pleases and you can't make her do otherwise."

  "Clearly, she has shown her very independent and creative streak tonight."

  "You may be King and used to having your wishes fulfilled, but you cannot govern people's self will."

  "From the first moment I met her I saw she could not be changed."

  "Nor should she be. She's independent and creative and very high strung. She is perfect the way she is. I will not have you shaming her or putting her down."

  "I have no interest in doing that. You, however have drawn my interest. I can't work out why you are always so angry with me. Even now, you look you want to tear me from limb to limb."

  "I would even break your arm, if that's what it takes to prevent your duel in the morning."

  "What duel?"

  "With the Prince."

  "If I have an issue with my brother, I don't have to bring out a pistol to settle it. Who put this nonsense into your pretty head? By the way, you look most alluring this evening, Cyndi."

  Suddenly my boiling emotions disappear. A sense of confusion and surprise replaces them. A moment later I realize that I heard the words alluring and Cyndi used in the same sentence. Had the King just called me alluring?

  "Dowager Maggie told me you had spoiled Dora's evening and the Prince defended her honor by asking you to a duel in the morning."

  "Did you see anything to that effect? Didn't you see the Prince and Dora dancing, with that outrageous pink flamingo beak bobbing above them. It is a wonder that anyone can keep a straight face. Of course, I can because I am the King and have had years of practice. But really, have you ever seen such a ludicrous thing?"

  How did he do this to me? One moment I want to lash out at him and the next he has me smiling and laughing. "I know. But that was her request. She even insisted Tori wear something to match."

  "But you know exactly what to wear and what to say and what to do. You come to the ball just when I have given up hope there will be any woman I would want to dance with and talk to. Just when I had given up hope, there you are. I have never seen a more beautiful woman than you, tonight."

  I drop my chin and look down at my shimmering blue gown. I look back up and he suddenly takes me in his arms and we dance. His stride is graceful and he sweeps me across the smooth patio.

  The columns are wound with lights. Wisteria softens the edges of the roofline, giving the space a natural and elegant grace. I inhale deeply the wisteria's perfume.

  I am caged. His well developed shoulder and his strong arm lead my movements. I feel safe and secure enough to enjoy the moment.

  The band plays something sexy and sultry. A Latin number that sets my hips swaying to the rhythm. His hands go to my hips, holding my attention but not holding back my movements. He is so close, I can feel his warm breath upon my forehead and I breathe in his presence. Brandy and a clean cedar scent. His hand twists my waist and his leg goes between mine as I step back along with him. His hand slides against my bare back until my belly is pressed against his hips. Swirling with the beat, moving as one in the dark warm evening, being lost in the moment is intoxicating.

  20

  Gwendolyn

  I survey the ballroom. What an excellent masquerade. My champagne glass stays full, no matter how many sips I take. White gloved attendants come by with silver platters and pour aged brut alive with flavor and tiny bubbles that expand like the expansive glory of this ball.

  All is going as planned. The Prince has not taken his eyes off of my lovely Dora. The King had been present and so had Tori.

  Now, I scan the room for the tall and graceful pirate and the white head mask of the swan.

  Yes. They are both gone.

  I give way to my pleasure and titter. The well trained attendant stops and replaces my last sip from my flute. A full glass of remarkable champagne, lavish food and excellent music. I tap my foot and smile at no one in particular. I had been silly to worry about Tori's guile and attractions. Tori told me she had discovered that the King was very lonely and hadn't found any woman worthy of his interest. He simply needed the ministrations of someone who understood. Tori said they had been making headway, but this is almost too good to be believed.

  They have taken off together to be alone. Perhaps even now, they are contemplating making love?

  At that thought I nearly spill some champagne and quickly lift a gloved hand in front of my lips. My eyes sting with pleasure.

  21

  Petros

  How could a woman with no pedigree or training have such a natural grace? Cyndi looks like a queen tonight. The thought comes as a surprise. An equal. My desire to touch her increases as we step outside the doors.

  Then she verbally assaults me. There's my Cyndi that I know and love. I don't mean love, that is just a manner of speech. But there she is, the one I know and have not been unable to forget since she bumped into my chest upon arrival.

  Speaking of chest. Mine is knocking hard right now. I can't believe the playful tone of my voice. I slip into an easy banter with this beautiful irritating woman and my smile comes naturally. My desire to take her in my arms is urgent.

  We dance. Suddenly I have never danced with a woman before this night. Of course I have danced, being King means you dance with every eligible woman and twice with their mothers, as well as the doddering maids, aunties and the wives of dignitaries in the whole kingdom. Yes I have danced. So when I say that I have never before danced with a woman, that happens to mean something.

  My breath hitches and my adrenaline rises. My legs and arms have a mind of their own. I dance like a living ballroom god. And she follows. Why had I not noticed this easy connection before? She is newly born in my arms. This is a night of so much possibility. I breathe in her vanilla sweet scent and it is instantly my favorite smell in the world.

  And then the clock tolls twelve. She trips on my foot and halts stock-still with her mouth agape. Beautiful in a stunned kind of way. I smile awkwardly because I want to say something but my tongue does not comply.

  She bolts from my arms. It is then that I see she is wearing tennis shoes beneath her dres
s. And she is fast. She's through the veranda's double doors and cuts around the outside of the spectators watching those dancing. I try to follow. I'm frustrated to see that she doesn't even give me a backward glance.

  She can't leave me like that. She can't just up and go, giving me a dance like that and not a word. I loose sight of her and search the crowd. Where is she going in such a hurry? Damn the woman is fast on her feet. I see her passing through the ballroom doors. She is heading back upstairs but I know a short cut.

  I catch her by the elbow and turn her around at the top of the stairs. Again, she is frozen on the spot and her shoulders rise and fall. I look down at her ample breasts heaving against the shimmering blue gown. I want to be next to her again. It strikes me ironic how I wanted to be rid of her and hoped somehow that all the women at the ball would drive her from my mind.

  "I have to leave."

  "Well, let me escort you. I know exactly where you live and looking as beautiful as you do, you need an escort."

  "Leave me alone."

  "I will not. You owe me a talk. Now it seems, it will be in your room."

  She huffs out an exasperated sigh. I take her hand and she gives me the silent treatment until we reach her door.

  "I didn't need a damn bodyguard." She turns to me with her hand on her hip.

  "Since you feel so safe, why don't you invite me in. I still have a couple questions for you."

  "Fine, whatever. I should have stayed in my room and kept reading."

  She walks into her room and I follow.

  "What a waste that would have been." I move closer to her and she jumps back. Her thighs make contact with the bed and she plunks down suddenly.

  "So, tell me how you felt when you thought that the Prince and I were to have a duel." I take this moment to sit down alongside her.

  "I thought it would be a perfect waste of bullets. There was a good chance you would shoot the Prince Rupert and Dora would be unconsolable. There was some chance Rupert would shoot you. Where would the kingdom be then?" She lifts her chin up and I can read her efforts to appear unperturbed.