The king kept talking, but I couldn’t hear him over the rushing of blood in my ears. A cold sweat broke out on my skin as I sat frozen in place. My limbs felt so heavy and sluggish, I didn’t think I could move them even if I wanted to.
I had only danced with Prince Louis once, and we barely talked for more than ten, maybe fifteen minutes. Just because I had a pretty dress and nice manners didn’t mean I was important, or that I would make a good queen. It didn’t make any sense. Why would the king allow the dauphin to put my name on the list?
But more important—did I even want to marry the dauphin? He was handsome and much more charming than when last we met, and he could offer me a life of luxury and security. He was the heir to France! The king’s word was law, and if I was his queen, my word would become law too.
I couldn’t stop the thoughts racing through my head. Marrying the dauphin would mean that Lady Catherine would no longer have power over me. But I didn’t need to marry the dauphin to escape my fate; I had Lady Françoise now.
When Alexandre had spoken to me of her concerns over the prospect of being queen, the incredible duty and responsibility that came with the crown, I’d agreed with her. If I married the dauphin, what Auguste said about the courtiers with beseeching eyes and demanding hands would be my life. I saw how the capriciousness of the court had hurt Auguste. Would I even be able to assert myself amongst people like that, with people like Lady Catherine?
And if Louis chose me, what about Auguste? How would he feel about this turn of events if he knew I was Lady Cinder?
It was ridiculous to worry about what Auguste thought. We were only friends. But it was best to avoid the drama entirely and live a peaceful life with Lady Françoise. I couldn’t consider coming back to the palace until I fully recovered and got my bearings. But I had no interest in courting—much less marrying—the spoiled dauphin.
“The clock nears midnight, and the first day of the dauphin’s birthday celebration draws to a close.” The king’s voice cut cleanly through the excited chatter that had risen up after the reading of the list. “Before we depart to get some much-needed rest in preparation for the events to come, I would like the twenty-five maidens to come to the dais so that they can be introduced to the court. And to me. I’m sure we would all like to meet you before courtship proceedings begin in earnest tomorrow.”
Panic—sharp and icy—stabbed my stomach. The mass of courtiers undulated as girls began to emerge and climb the dais to speak with the king and the dauphin.
I couldn’t do it. Alexandre and Severine would be there. Lady Catherine would see me. Maybe if my marraine were with me I would know what to do, but I was too confused about how I wanted to proceed to even think about enduring a confrontation with my stepmother. I decided I would not present myself. It would be better if the king and the dauphin forgot all about me.
Where was Lady Françoise? It was nearly midnight. If we didn’t leave right away, we would never make it back to the château before Lady Catherine and my stepsisters.
I cast my eyes across the Hall of Mirrors, desperate to catch a flash of emerald green, but there was nothing. I had to find my own way out. Lady Françoise would understand if I didn’t wait for her.
The courtiers were pushing forward to crowd around the dais, leaving this end of the hall increasingly empty. A particularly large group of nobles hurried toward the dais, leaving a wide-open path from my bench to the archway leading to the Salon of War. An opportunity like this couldn’t go to waste.
I stood up and jumped from my seat to the parquet floor below. Pain radiated from my ankles up through my legs when I made impact with the floor, but I ignored it. Gathering my voluminous skirts into my arms, I dashed from the Hall of Mirrors as fast as my slippers could take me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
My chest was tight and aching as I burst through a door chosen at random onto the Water Parterre at the back of the palace. The fresh air was invigorating, but it did nothing to help my ragged breathing. My slippers clacked loudly against the stone of the terrace.
Torches lined the branching paths of the gardens, casting a dim orange glow that was just bright enough to ensure that I could see where I was going. Lady Françoise’s coachman was waiting with the carriage in the large open space in front of the Great Lawn, where a few other carriages also milled about. We had taken secluded country roads to get to Versailles, roads that allowed us to avoid the main courtyards and arrive in the gardens instead. I was grateful for that decision now. It was so much easier to remain undetected in the dark, quiet gardens than in courtyards that were crawling with guards, servants, and nobles alike.
It was when I reached the long staircase leading down to the Latona Fountain that I heard a voice calling after me.
“Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle, please come back!”
The voice was unfamiliar to me, but it was close, so close that I stopped at the top of the stairs to turn around and look. I couldn’t keep running without knowing whether or not I was going to be taken at any minute. One of the king’s valets was leaning out a window in the Hall of Mirrors, frantically waving his arms at me. How did they realize I was gone so quickly?
But it didn’t matter. I couldn’t stop running, not when I was so close to getting away.
I hurried down the steps as fast as I was able in my heels, which wasn’t nearly as fast as I would have liked. The stairs were wide, and the torches that ran along either edge didn’t illuminate them entirely, leaving the center steeped in shadows. I ran as fast as I could, and all the while, the valet’s cries of “Mademoiselle” rang out into the night, spurring me to move faster.
Just past the halfway point, the toe of my right slipper caught on the stairs, sending me flying forward. I stumbled down a few steps and fell to my knees but managed to catch myself before I fell to the bottom. My hands and knees smarted as I pushed myself up and sat for a moment on the step. The stone was cold against my stockinged foot as I got to my feet on trembling legs. What happened to my slipper? Climbing back up the staircase, I found it resting perfectly on a step, as if I had positioned it there intentionally.
“Mademoiselle!” the valet called, appearing at the top of the steps.
Frantically, I grabbed the slipper and pulled. It wouldn’t budge. I yanked it again and again, but it barely shifted. It was just my luck that I would step on the only crack in the entirety of the otherwise perfectly maintained staircase and get my slipper stuck.
I glanced up to see the valet making his way down the steps. He wasn’t running, but if I remained to yank at the shoe, he would catch me. Huffing in frustration, I pulled off my other slipper, tucked it under an arm, and continued running, leaving my trapped slipper behind.
I managed to make it down the stairs, across the Latona Parterre, and down the last flight of stairs before the Great Lawn without slipping once. My pace increased considerably without the hindrance of my heels, so much so that I outpaced the valet with ease. Maybe I should have stayed and tried to pull the slipper out one more time. I hated to leave such a beautiful gift behind.