Cinderella: The Cinder from the Ash

Chapter Seventeen

The tinker’s wagon looked like nothing Ella had ever seen before. The plain wooden panels had been transformed; the brightly colored walls she had last seen facing inward were now the outer walls. Her father’s Gypsy horses, Jacquie and Gus, had been combed to within an inch of their lives; the white feathery hair on their manes, tails, and fetlocks shimmering with a light that had nothing to do with the moon.

“Your father would be so proud. I wish he could see you now.”

Tears blurred Ella’s vision at the tinker’s words. She blinked them away. “I do, too. I miss him.”

“He is still with you,” the tinker reminded her from his perch atop the wagon. “Are you sure you are quite ready?”

Her heart began to pound like a trip hammer. Why was she so nervous? What if Grey discovered she was an abomination? It was a question that could only be answered by facing a ballroom filled with the undead. “Yes. No. Yes,” she finally decided. “Do I have to ride inside?”

The tinker laughed. “Of course you do. What kind of an impression would you make if you arrived seated up here with me?”

“Of course,” Ella murmured. She obediently climbed up into the wagon and seated herself on the bench.

“Pull the long velvet cord by your left hand.” The tinker’s voice was muffled, but Ella heard him clearly.

She tugged on the cord and gasped when the tapestry at her elbow rolled itself up, revealing an open window.

“There, now you can gaze outside to your heart’s content.”

“This is amazing,” Ella chattered. “How did you change the look of the wagon so completely?”

“The Romani taught me,” he said.

Ella braced herself as the wagon began to move. “I always thought the Romani were myth.”

“They have passed through our lands from time to time,” the old undead said. “But they were born with itchy feet; they never stay in one place for very long.”

“Did you live with them?” Ella shifted on the seat, smoothing her hands over her gown.

“No, but I did travel with them for a while. They are a fascinating people.”

“Interesting,” Ella murmured, not really paying attention to what the tinker said. The wagon moved swiftly over the barren terrain, and before she knew it, the land began changing to a lush green she had only seen in her earliest memories. “Are we on the king’s land already?”

“Yes,” the tinker replied. “We will be at the castle shortly. If you look to the right, there it is, in the distance.”

Ella pulled the veil down over her face and leaned out the window. The tall slender spires she had imagined did not exist. Instead, the castle was a squat collection of gray and reddish brown brick. It was imposing, but not the breathtakingly gorgeous vision she had expected. She leaned back with a sigh of disappointment as the tinker’s wagon joined the line of carriages wending their way up the footbridge. At least she was not one of those hoping to marry the prince. If the prince was as visually unappealing as his home, she was thankful she could never be considered attractive enough to be his bride.

“Milady, are you quite well?”

The voice shook Ella from her thoughts. Thankful for the veil, she rose from the seat and, with help from the footman outside, stepped down onto the cobblestones.

A flick of the reins sent Jacquie and Gus on their way and Ella was left staring up at the castle.

Her hands trembled as she slowly walked up the stone steps. Suddenly she wished herself a thousand miles away. What was she thinking? As she reached the top and stared at the large ornate wooden door, she was tempted to flee, but another footman appeared as if by magic and opened the door for her. Drat. Now she had no choice but to enter. With a shaky smile and a deep breath she stepped into the bustling corridor. The undead were everywhere around her; drinking, laughing, arrayed in their finest attire. It was a headache producing sea of color, and instead of blending into the crowd, she stood out in it like the abomination her step mother always accused her of being. Walking over to the balcony, she gazed down at the grand ballroom, her stomach churning. Eventually she would have to brave the stairs and be introduced to the royals. Would she have to show her face or could she get away with wearing the veil? She rested her black gloved hands on the railing. And then she saw him, wending his way through the crowd. Her heart soared. She would recognize him anywhere; the tilt of his head, the arrogant walk. It was definitely Grey.