“You and I both know that is untrue.” Ferdinand paused deliberately. “You forget it is I who have the king’s ear, and the council’s trust. I am aware His Majesty is planning to pass the throne to Charles. That’s why you’re here.”
The barest of flinches flickered across Genevieve’s face, but Ferdinand caught it. No matter how she denied it now, he had gleaned the truth.
She pressed her lips tight. “I am here to help Charles find a wife.”
“He needs to marry a princess,” said Ferdinand. “Preferably a princess of one of Aurelais’s neighboring kingdoms—such as Lourdes. King George has ruled for forty years. No matter what kind of sovereign Charles turns out to be, the transition between reigns will be difficult. We must strengthen our position by allying ourselves with Lourdes so that our enemies do not pounce on any perceived weakness.”
“Aurelais has been at peace for nearly half a century,” Genevieve said calmly. “What makes you think all of a sudden we have enemies that are eyeing our territories?”
“We have been at peace because my father was vigilant, and I have carried on his task of safeguarding this kingdom from the likes of men such as your husband, who would open our gates to evils such as magic and . . . and . . .”
“A more powerful middle class?” said Genevieve snidely. “You seem rather sore, Ferdinand. The people are gaining more power, with or without magic.”
“The riots will be contained. They are but a trifle compared to the chaos and instability magic would have brought. Fairies consider themselves above the law, what with their unnatural abilities and bringing aid to those they deem good and worthy.”
“Yes, but if the fairies happen to bless princes and dukes, that’s all right.”
“A hierarchy of rank brings about order. Peasants don’t deserve fairy guardians waving their problems away with magic wands.”
“I think you had better leave.”
The Grand Duke pretended not to hear her. “You and your late husband might as well have cursed Aurelais’s future when you put the idea in the king’s head to send the prince to university.”
Genevieve hissed at the Grand Duke. “Cursed Aurelais’s future? What century do you think you live in? Times are changing.”
“Yes, which is exactly why we must remain vigilant. Mark my words, Charles is young and idealistic, and these ideas he’s picked up—of ‘strengthening the country from within’ and ‘empowering the people’—will bring ruin to Aurelais. Just as your husband nearly brought ruin to this monarchy.”
Genevieve clenched her teeth. Her narrow face had grown tight with anger. “You’ve overstayed your welcome, Ferdinand. Your coffee is cold.”
“Quite so. Quite so.” In his most cordial tone, he said, “I look forward to the party tomorrow night, Your Highness. Good day.”
He bowed, but she refused to acknowledge him.
Just as well. She would be so angry for the rest of the day she’d want to do nothing but avoid him. While Genevieve was deciding on napkin colors and music selections for the masquerade tomorrow, he would make a few arrangements of his own.
Arrangements that would ensure the future of this kingdom, and most important, his position in it.
Cinderella had to squeeze her way into the servants’ quarters. So many girls had gathered, excitedly chattering, that she could hardly make out Louisa waving to her from the other side of the hall.
“Another ball! Can you believe it?”
“That only means more work for us. There’s no chance Madame will let us attend. She wouldn’t even let us go to the first one—”
Cinderella moved faster, threading through the crowd toward Louisa and wishing she could shut her ears. She would have loved to drown in her daydreams. Every snippet of conversation she caught was about the prince:
“I hear he’s looking for a new bride.”
“So he’s given up on the girl with the glass slipper?”
Darting away before she could hear an answer, Cinderella instantly berated herself. What do I care if the prince is looking for a new bride? I don’t have any claim on him.
“Attention!” rang Madame Irmina’s voice. “I have an announcement.”
All rumbling amongst the servants ceased. The women quieted, lining themselves against the walls to hear what their mistress had to say, and Cinderella hurried to Louisa’s side.
“Many of you may have heard already, so this will merely be a confirmation.” Irmina drew a deep, dramatic breath. “There is to be another ball. Tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night?” many of the girls repeated, unable to believe it. “But we just—”
“No buts. By the king’s command, it is to be even grander than the one before it. Unfortunately, you know what that means.”
“It means we’ll be staying all night at the palace,” someone protested. “Polishing the silver and mopping the floors.”
“Your duty is to the crown,” said Irmina harshly. “Anyone who objects will see themselves with a double shift and half pay for the rest of the month.” She scanned the girls, one thin eyebrow raised as if daring anyone else to complain. Then she let out a breath. “Now I know this is unexpected and will mean extra obligations for all, but if it is any consolation, the ball will be in honor of Her Highness, the Duchess Genevieve d’Orlanne—and it is to be . . . a masquerade.”
A masquerade in honor of the duchess? Cinderella’s attention reeled.
Had Duchess Genevieve changed her mind about suggesting a second ball to the king? She hadn’t said anything about a ball welcoming her to Aurelais—certainly not at such short notice. Then again, the king’s sister had been irritable and curt ever since the night before. Cinderella wondered what could have upset her.
“You look like you just ate a piece of bad cheese,” Louisa said, elbowing Cinderella in the side.
“I do?” Cinderella asked faintly.
“You ought to be relieved. As the duchess’s attendant, you don’t have to help with the cleaning, or the sewing, or the cooking. Only dressing your mistress to the nines, obliging her every whim and fancy, and helping her scour Valors for the perfect mask to go with her hair.”
It took Cinderella a moment to realize her friend was joking.
Louisa touched her shoulder. “I’ve heard the duchess can be difficult. Let me know if you need any help with anything.”
“She isn’t so bad,” Cinderella replied. When Louisa gave her an incredulous look, she insisted, “Really.”
“Before any of you get any ideas,” continued Madame Irmina, “understand that anyone who is found sneaking off into the ball will be discharged immediately.” Her gaze swept across the room. “I will not be as forgiving as I was the last time.”
“Aunt Spoilsport,” Louisa muttered. She turned to Cinderella, whispering, “Don’t worry, we’ll find a way to go.”
“I don’t plan on going.”
“What?”
Before Cinderella could reply, Irmina announced, “You are all dismissed.” Then she spun to face the two girls. “Except you, Cinderella. A word.”