In the midst of it all was Ella, a basket in one hand, a dreamy look on her face. Ever since her encounter with Kit, she had felt as though she were floating. She knew it was silly. Chances were she'd never see him again. But for that one moment, there in the woods, she had felt as though Kit had seen her for who she was, not as the girl of ashes her stepfamily had turned her into.
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"If it isn't Miss Ella?" Flora, the household's onetime cook, strode up to her, smiling warmly.
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The market was bustling. In several stands, grocers called out their wares, advertising the freshest vegetables, the plumpest fruits. A handsome florist held out a bouquet of bright daisies to a group of girls, causing them to giggle and avert their eyes. At the end of the market, away from the more pleasant smells, the fishmonger put out the day's catch.
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"Flora!" Ella pulled her into an embrace. "Are you well? Have you found employment?"
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"Can anyone roast a chicken better, I ask you?" Flora and Ella laughed together. But then Flora's head cocked and a look of concern crossed her face. "You don't look well, miss, not at all."
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Ella, too, looked toward the square and raised an eyebrow at the sight of the royal crier holding a large scroll. He stood on the edge of the town fountain, waiting for the people to gather. Curious, Ella moved closer and waited for his announcement.
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Flora put a hand on Ella's shoulder. "Why do you stay there, when they treat you so?"
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Ella smiled and shrugged. "I made Mother and Father a promise to cherish the place where we were so happy. They loved our house, and now that they are gone, I love it for them. So it's my home."
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Nearby, an old beggar woman lifted her head, listening to Ella with interest. She smiled and then turned at the sound of a loud commotion from the middle of the square. (Aha! I would remember this poor soul, gentle reader. For sometimes the people most overlooked are the ones who turn out to be most surprising… )
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Ella wiped at her face and tucked an unruly piece of hair behind her ear. She looked down at her threadbare dress and sighed. Flora wasn't wrong.
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"Hear ye! Hear ye!" the man cried, silencing the crowd. "Know that our good King Frederick, fourth of that name, has decided to honor the safe return from the wars of his son the prince. On this day, two weeks hence, there shall be held, at the palace, a royal ball."
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There was silence at the news. After all, what did a royal ball have to do with any of them? They were commoners. They did not dance or attend balls.
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The crier went on. "At said ball, in accordance with ancient custom, the prince shall choose a bride." And then, with great pomp and circumstance, the crier finished his announcement. "Furthermore, at the behest of the prince, it is hereby declared that every maiden in the kingdom, be she noble or commoner, is invited to attend."
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"I shall trick him into loving me," Drisella said, twirling around the drawing room. "See if I don't!"
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As all around her people began to chat excitedly with one another, Ella was silent. But her heart pounded loudly in her ears. A ball? At the palace? And she could attend? That meant she would have a chance to see Kit again! After all, he was an apprentice at the palace! A huge smile spread across her face.
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When she arrived home, Ella shared the news. Instantly, her stepsisters began to chatter excitedly. It was clear they had lofty goals -- namely, the prince's hand in marriage.
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"Three?" Ella repeated, surprised. She hadn't expected her stepmother to provide her with a dress. Collecting herself, Ella said, "That is… very thoughtful of you."
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Lady Tremaine stood in the middle of the room, watching her daughters with a critical eye. "Calm yourselves," she finally said. "Listen to me." It took several moments, but finally Anastasia and Drisella focused. Satisfied she had their attention, Lady Tremaine went on. "One of you must win the heart of the prince. Do that, and we can unwind the debt in which we were ensnared when we came to this backwater." She turned and narrowed her eyes at Ella, who was standing quietly in the corner, lost in her own thoughts. "Having delivered your news, why are you still here? You must return to town right away and tell that seamstress to run us up three fine ball gowns."
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Lady Tremaine raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
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"To think of me," Ella replied.
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"Think of you?" Lady Tremaine repeated, sounding confused.
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"This is the most hugeous news!" Anastasia exclaimed.
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On the other side of the room, Drisella let out a cruel laugh. "Mummy!" she cried. "She believes the other dress is for her!" The two sisters and their mother exchanged bemused expressions. "Poor, slow little Cinders. How embarrassing!"
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Lady Tremaine shook her head. "You are too ambitious for your own good."
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"But I only want to see my friend," Ella protested. She should have known. Why would her stepmother choose now to show kindness?
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"She doesn't know what that means," Anastasia said glibly.
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Ella stifled a smile as she watched her stepmother and stepsisters gape at her. They had clearly not expected her to be able to speak French, much less so well. Recovering, Lady Tremaine clapped her hands. "Right. That's settled, then. Now go! Every bit of baggage in the kingdom will be tilting at the prince. You must get there first, before the seamstress is drowning in work." Without another word, she turned her back, dismissing Ella.
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Lady Tremaine went on. "Let me be very clear. One gown for Drisella, one for Anastasia, and one for me. à la mode Parisienne."
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To their surprise, Ella lifted her head high and pulled her shoulders back, every inch the composed lady. "Mais bien sûr je connais la mode Parisienne et je vais faire mon meilleure à le démissioner," she replied in fluent French.
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"Wake up, Your Highness," he said. "You're in a daze."
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Ella left the drawing room. She knew she shouldn't have shown off like that, but it had felt nice to catch her stepfamily off guard. And the joke was on them, anyway, because she had never expected a dress; she knew what she could wear. Plus, she had no desire to become a princess. All she wanted was to see Kit and, with luck, have an evening during which she could be just a girl enjoying the company of a nice boy.
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Inside a large palace room, the prince's regiment trained. The sound of clanging metal echoed through the large space. In the center of it all, Kit parried back and forth with the Captain of the Guard. While his movements were clean and precise, he was distracted. Noticing his pupil's lack of concentration, the Captain struck with his sword, rapping the prince sharply on his arm.
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"It's the girl," the prince replied, "I've never met anyone like her."
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Kit looked guiltily at the Captain. "I'm sorry," he said.
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"You've been off since the hunt," the Captain said, bringing down his sword and just missing Kit.
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"I don't know," Kit said, shrugging. "I don't know anything about her."
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Kit shook his head, and said, "But her spirit, her goodness…"
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"There are plenty of girls," the Captain replied.
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The prince let out a bitter laugh. "You know my father and the Grand Duke will only have me marry a princess."
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"I don't suppose she has a sister," the Captain said. He had to admit that from the way Kit spoke of this girl, she seemed the picture of perfection.
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"Well, perhaps your mystery girl will come to the ball. That is why you threw the doors open, is it not?"
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"Of course," the Captain said, hiding a smile. "How shallow of me. And if she comes? Then you will tell her that you are the prince? And the prince may choose whatever bride he wants?"
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"If this girl from the forest is as charming as you say, they may change their minds," the Captain suggested.
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Kit looked at him and feigned indignation. "Captain," he said as though wounded. "It was for the benefit of the people."
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Kit shook his head. "Father might understand," he conceded. "But the Grand Duke? Never."
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As the sounds of swordplay swelled around them, the two men grew silent. The Captain had given his whole life to the kingdom. His duty was, and always had been, to King Frederick, his son, and the land they fought to protect. The only person he had ever come to care about besides his family was Kit. And while the Captain respected the king greatly, he wanted to see his friend happy.
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