“It wasn’t so bad,” Cinderella began, but as soon as she said it, she realized that wasn’t true. It had been terrible; she’d just tried not to acknowledge it.
“Not so bad?” Louisa said. “That sounds horrible.” She scooted her stool closer to Cinderella’s and lowered her voice. “So you ran away. What made you finally decide enough was enough?”
Cinderella pursed her lips, an ache rising in her chest. The truth hurt. “She wanted to sell me.”
“Sell you?” Louisa’s eyes bulged.
“She hired a man to take me away from Aurelais.” Cinderella clutched her skirt, recalling the terrifying night and her harrowing escape. “Someplace so far I wouldn’t be able to come back.”
Horror etched itself on Louisa’s face, and she squeezed Cinderella’s arm.
“It’s all right,” said Cinderella, but her voice trembled as she spoke. “That’s how you found me on the road. . . . I jumped out of the coach and tumbled onto the street. It was raining hard, and Bruno and I didn’t have anywhere to go.”
“You’re safe now,” promised Louisa. “You won’t ever have to go back.”
Cinderella nodded mutely and started to reach for another garment to sew, but Louisa kept her hand on her arm.
“I can’t promise tonight’s masquerade will erase what awful things your stepmother’s done to you, but it will be a start. Don’t let fear of my aunt be what’s keeping you from going to the ball. She acts tough because it’s her job, but she’s soft at heart.”
“Really?”
“If she catches us at the ball, we might get extra chores . . . but it’ll be worth it for a night to remember. She was young once, too, though it’s hard to imagine.”
Cinderella chuckled. “Was she a troublemaker like you?”
“Mama says she was worse! How she ended up in charge of Blooms and Looms is a miracle.” Louisa clasped her hands. “If you see your stepmother at the ball, tell me and we’ll leave right away. Friends watch over each other.”
That made Cinderella smile. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a true human friend. It’d been years since she’d had someone her age she could talk to.
It would be nice to go with Louisa. Cinderella pursed her lips, considering. And besides, while she was there, she could see what the Grand Duke was up to. Perhaps she could discover something useful for either the duchess or her godmother.
“You know what?” she said slowly. “You’re right. I will go.”
Louisa clapped her hands with delight. “Do you want to meet at sundown?”
Her spirits buoyed, Cinderella smiled at her friend. “Yes.”
“I’ll come to your room,” promised Louisa. “I have the perfect dress in mind for you.”
Dusk fell swiftly, and as the rumbling of carriages arriving outside the ballroom pierced the palace’s usual calm—reaching even Cinderella’s ears as she outfitted the duchess in her royal accoutrements—she grew more and more anxious.
“You keep looking out the window,” rebuked Genevieve. “Are diamonds falling from the sky, or is there some other reason I am unworthy of your attention?”
“Neither, Your Highness,” Cinderella replied, chastened.
With a frown, the duchess examined the chignon Cinderella had arranged. “Hmm. It’ll do. But good heavens, you certainly are distracted this evening. You’ve missed a button.” Genevieve lifted her chin so Cinderella could refasten the back of her collar. “You’re jumpy as a catfish, girl, and you’re not even the one being welcomed back to court!”
Unable to deny it, Cinderella bit her lip.
“What is it?” persisted the duchess. “Are you planning to sneak into the ball?”
“Is it sneaking if all the eligible young ladies in the kingdom are invited?”
Genevieve arched an elegant eyebrow and bent to stroke Bruno’s ears. “That was the last ball, Cindergirl. This one is expressly by invitation only. That way if any young lady decides to dash off, Charles will at least know her name.”
As if he understood the duchess’s barbed remark, Bruno sank deeper into his cushioned bed. Cinderella wished she could do the same.
“I was only going to go for an hour with a friend. I’ve never—”
“No more.” Genevieve held up her fan, silencing Cinderella. “I do not want to be an accomplice in your illicit outing. I’m sure Madame Irmina has given you girls her fair warning about sneaking out to the ball.”
“She has,” Cinderella said. A twinge of panic riddled her nerves. “Ma’am, I—”
“I said I don’t want to hear it.” The duchess sprang from her seat, gliding toward a ribboned box that Cinderella had brought to her chambers earlier.
“Open this,” she ordered Cinderella.
Carefully undoing the ribbon, Cinderella lifted the box’s lid. Inside were three masks. The duchess removed two, holding them up.
“I had these made for the masquerade, but the shopkeeper was overzealous and sent me too many. I only need one.” Genevieve laid the masks side by side on the table. The green one was decorated with peacock feathers accented with violet and indigo gems, and the white one resembled a swan; its feathers were opalescent, with a band of black velvet around the eyes.
“They’re beautiful,” Cinderella said admiringly.
“Take them. One for you and one for your friend.”
Cinderella drew a sharp breath, surprised by the duchess’s offer. “I couldn’t.”
“Take them, Cindergirl. That’s an order.” Genevieve pushed the masks into her hands. “If you’re going to break the rules, do it properly—and with style. Besides, they don’t go with my gown.”
Cinderella brushed her fingers over the swan mask’s delicate feathers. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“No need to thank me. Just make sure when you report to work tomorrow morning you have your head out of the clouds. Off you go. My nephew will be here to escort me to the ball any moment now.”
At the mention of Prince Charles, Cinderella’s heart skipped a beat. Part of her wanted to encounter him again, and part of her dreaded it more than anything.
“Yes, ma’am.” She curtsied. “I hope you have a grand time.”
The clock struck eight as Cinderella hurried back to her room, where Louisa, already dressed for the ball, was waiting.
“You look beautiful!” exclaimed Cinderella.
“Keep your voice down,” whispered her friend, though she beamed at the compliment. “Aunt Irmina’s still upstairs.” Then Louisa twirled, showing off her olive-green gown and the gold trimming she’d added to its cuffs. “Wait until you see yours.”
“I’ve got something, too. Look what the duchess gave us.” Cinderella opened the hatbox, and Louisa’s eyes widened.
“They’re exquisite,” she breathed, picking up the swan mask. “This will go wonderfully with your dress.”
Louisa stepped aside, lifting the pale pink gown draped over Cinderella’s changing screen. Its fluted sleeves shimmered with tiny crystals overlaid upon the gossamer silk, and the skirt, dappled with gentle threads of silver, seemed to dance off the candlelight against the wooden floor.