Cinderella: The Cinder from the Ash

Chapter Nineteen

“Your Highness, if we might have a moment of your time?” Celina’s voice rang out, easily heard above the music.

“I – I have to go,” Ella stammered. She pulled her hands free of Grey’s.

“We have not yet finished our dance.” He reached out for her hands, but she avoided his touch.

“I know, but you don’t understand. They…I can’t stay.”

“But it is still early,” Grey protested. “The clock has not struck midnight.”

“It doesn’t matter… She turned away.

“It does matter.” His voice crackled with sudden authority. ‘It matters to me.”

And, just like that, Grey was no longer the quirky youth she had met in an abandoned garden, but one hundred percent the prince of the realm.

“You don’t understand,” Ella repeated.

He frowned. “Then make me understand. Talk to me.”

“Excuse us,” Celina’s voice rang out behind her. Ella nearly jumped out of her skin. It took all her strength to not turn around and face her step-mother. “But Your Highness has not yet had the pleasure of dancing with either of my daughters.”

“Nor have I danced with anyone else, Lady…” his voice trailed off.

“I am the Lady Adler, and these are my daughters, Esmae and Evangline.”

Grey nodded in their direction. “I am sorry, but as you can see, I am in the middle of a conversation.”

Ella stepped backward, not daring to speak, praying he would let her leave without making a scene.

“We are not done speaking, Lady…” The prince grabbed her wrist.

Ella pulled free, turning and pushing her way through the crowd of undead before he could stop her.

“Wait! Come back!”

She heard him call out after her, but refused to turn around. Even one look would stop her flight, and staying there was no longer an option. She had to get home, back to the relative safety of the attic where her heart wasn’t in danger, and before her step mother or step sisters found out about her escape.

“Where is she going?”

“Will the prince choose a new princess now?

The whispers that weren’t quite whispers followed her flight. Ella raced outside, shoving past the surprised footmen and careening onward until she found the tinker’s wagon. She threw herself inside, and collapsed onto the padded wooden seat.

“Ella, what happened? Are you ill?” The tinker poked his head through the open window.

“I—no. Yes. I’m not sure,” she babbled. “Take me home, I need to go home.”

“Of course. Immediately.” His head disappeared, and she heard the wagon creak as he climbed up onto his bench.

“Cinder, wait!”

Ella’s heart clenched. She leaned forward, peeking out the window. She could see Grey, taking the steps two at a time. “He’s following me…no, he can’t…” She raised her voice. “Hurry, we have to hurry!”

The wagon lurched forward. Ella sat back, her mind replaying the night, being held in Grey’s arms. It was impossible. It was a dream. But she wanted it to be her reality. He was kind, and he was sweet, and…her thoughts collapsed in on themselves. He was the prince of an undead realm. She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself, suddenly cold. She would go home, return to the attic, and live out her life being what she was; a living cinder in a world of ash. The only reminder of the night would be the obsidian slipper still adorning her foot. She frowned. When did she lose a slipper? Did it matter? The ball was over for her. Grey would choose his princess tonight. She just prayed it would not be one of her step-sisters. Life would be more than impossible if either Esmae or Evangaline became his chosen bride. Her breath fluttered against the black veil, and with a weak cry of despair, she tore it off. It no longer mattered. Tears crept slowly down her cheeks. She closed her eyes, listening to the chuffing of the horses and the clip-clop hypnotic sound of their hooves on the cobblestone road. Going home could not happen fast enough for her comfort.

* * * * * * *

“Cinder, Cinder, come down here at once!”

Her step-mother’s shriek startled Ella awake.

“I…” She glanced down at herself. The black spider silk gown was tangled around her legs, effectively trapping her in its web. “I’ll be down in a moment!” Ella’s hands shook as she struggled with the buttons on the gown. If her steps found out she had been at the ball, she would spend the rest of her life in the attic, staring at the sun through the single window set high in the far wall.

“Cinder, if you do not come down at once, I will send Esmae up to collect you!”

Ella scrambled into the crumpled gown of the night previous, pushing the spider silk one away with one foot. It was less than the gown deserved, but she did not have the time to fold it properly. If Celina sent Esmae up, more than her forgotten injured wrist would be throbbing.

“Coming, Mama!” Ella hurried downstairs.

“Lazy girl,” Celina greeted her upon Ella’s arrival in the front parlor. “What kept you?”

“How—how was the ball?” She forced her voice past the lump in her throat. “Did the prince choose one of them?”

Her step-mother sniffed. “Frightful. Obviously Prince Grey never had any intention of letting your sisters out of his sight…but then a stranger bullied her way into his presence, and he was too decent to force her away.”

Ella bit back a smile. That had hardly been the case, but to say anything would be to reveal the secret of her presence at the ball. “Did---was anyone chosen?”

Celina’s blackened lips curved up into a self-satisfied smirk. “Not that it is any of your concern, but no. He was so taken with Evangaline and Esmae he could not choose anyone else. I am positive it will be only a day or so before he sends someone to escort us to the palace.” Her eyes glinted. “Then we will no longer require your services, and you can live out your…life…without continuing to tarnish our good name.”

Ella’s stomach chose that instant to growl its hunger.

Celina rolled her eyes. “Go,” she growled, waving Ella away. “You will not be worth anything otherwise.”

“Thank you, Mama,” Ella scampered out the front door before her stepmother could change her mind. The sky was overcast and drizzly, but that did not stop her headlong flight. She did not realize she still looked utterly, completely human until she saw him, kneeling in the dirt of their garden, head hanging low, as though in prayer.