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Anastasia began to sputter. “Pay no attention to them,” I advised. “It’s what I do. Go on, Niccolo.”

“I don’t know how things have been here,” Niccolo continued, “but in the capitol we have had as fine a summer as any could wish for. But the very day
the prince was set to return from the journeys that have kept him away all summer long, we had an unexpected thunderstorm. The rain fell thick as blankets, and the raindrops themselves were as big as coins. Fields and roads that had been dry as dust were suddenly filled with nothing but mud.”

“That sounds strangely familiar,” Anastasia said.

Niccolo chuckled. “I wondered if it might. Not an hour after the rain ceased, the prince and his retainers rode into the palace courtyard. At once, a great hue and cry went up. The king and queen were sent for. Anyone who could, dashed to a window to look out.

“The prince and his household were so covered in mud there was only one face among them it was easy to recognize—that of Gaspard Turenne, who has been the prince’s principal retainer for many years. The king first set him to serve the prince when Pascal was only a boy. Gaspard Turenne has shoulders as broad as an ox, and sports a great dark beard besides.

“After the grooms had taken the horses, Turenne thought to make himself a bit more presentable by cleaning the mud from his face in a nearby water trough. No sooner did he bend over it, than one of the others snuck up behind him and pushed him in. He came up with a great roar, reached up, and dragged the culprit in beside him.”

“Don’t tell me,” I said. “It was Prince Pascal.”

“It was,” Niccolo replied with a broad smile, as if he could see the scene before him, even now. “By the time the king and queen finally arrived, there was a
full-fledged water fight going on. Every single member of the prince’s household was involved. The king laughed so hard tears ran down his face as he embraced both Turenne and his son.

“He put an arm around each, and led them both inside. The others followed, still laughing and joking. They looked for all the world like a pack of sorry, soggy dogs. But I heard a man standing near me say that every single man among them would step between the prince and death without a second thought.”

“So he is not boring at all,” I observed. “And he inspires devotion in those around him. He sounds as if he will make a fine king someday.”

“I believe that he will,” Niccolo said. “And it is clear his father does, as well. But that is all the glimpse I had of the prince, I’m sorry to say. He stayed in close conference with his father all that evening. The next morning, all the messengers were sent from court to carry the result of that conference throughout the land. We could not even stay to hear it officially proclaimed, but were ordered to set off at once.”

“Hear what proclaimed, Niccolo?” my stepmother asked.

“By order of the king, Prince Pascal will marry,” Niccolo answered. “That is what I have come to tell you. And there is more: The prince himself will select his bride. The mourning period for the queen’s father will be up in three week’s time. The day after it is ended, there will be a great ball held in the palace.
Every eligible maiden in the kingdom
is
required to attend. From among them, the prince will choose a bride”

A startled silence filled the dining room. Then my stepmother began to laugh.

“Oh, that is well done. No foreign princess to complicate matters by creating yet another alliance. Instead, the prince will marry one of his own. The queen must be beside herself with fury. She will perceive it as a slight that her son should marry a subject, no matter how high-born.”

“You are right about that, I think,” Niccolo said. “Though of course she has made no protest in public.”

“And Prince Pascal?” I asked. “What does he think about
it?
”

“Nobody knows for certain,” Niccolo said. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t think it would occur to anyone to ask. He is a prince. It is his duty to marry, and he 11 have more choice in the matter than his father ever did.”

“But don’t you see what this means?” Anastasia broke in excitedly. “It means we can leave this place at last. We can go to court. Indeed, we must. Every eligible maiden is ordered to attend.”

Impulsively, she leaned forward to grip Amelie by the hand. “That means us!”

“Indeed
it
does,” Amelie said. “And Cendrillon, too, of course.”

Anastasia’s face went blank. “That is what I meant,” she said. “Cendrillon, too, of course.”

“There’s no need for me to go,” I said quickly. “I have no desire to see the court.” Just the thought of it made a strange cold hole in the pit of my stomach. My father, the father I had never seen, who had never wished to see me, had spent his whole life at court.

“It is the king’s command,” my stepmother replied in a thoughtful voice. “The fact that you’ve been over-looked for all these years doesn’t change the fact that you are noble-born.” She drummed her fingertips upon the tabletop. “When is this ball to be, did you say?”

“In mid-October,” Niccolo said. “Not quite three weeks’ time.”

My stepmother stood up abruptly. “In that case, we have no time to waste,” she said smartly. “Come along, my girls. We have work to do.” She strode toward the doorway, then turned back, a smile dancing at the edges of her mouth.

“I mean you, too, my little Cendrillon.”

“No, no, take small steps,
small steps,”
Anastasia exclaimed in irritation several days later. “How many times must you be reminded? You are a young lady walking into a roomful of eager suitors, not a milk-maid striding into a barn.”

“I’ll bet the milkmaid’s shoes are more comfortable,” I said, as I finally managed to get across the room and flop down onto a couch. “These pinch.”

“That’s good,” Anastasia said. “They’re supposed to. It will remind you to slow down.”

A week had passed since Niccolo’s return. One
solid week of torture. At my stepmother’s instigation, and with Old Mathilde’s full approval, a campaign was under way to make a proper young lady of me before we set out for court. Even Anastasia had embraced the plan with enthusiasm. Secretly, I believed it had to do with the fact that transforming me into a lady opened up whole new realms of possibilities when it came to ordering me around.

“Sit up straight, Cendrillon,” Anastasia said now. “You’re slumping. A young lady always keeps her back straight, and her feet tucked neatly underneath her skirts.”

I glared at where she sat in a straight-backed chair across the room, effortlessly demonstrating the desired posture.

“Do you never get tired of giving orders?” I inquired. “Amelie must be around somewhere. Why not go pick on her for a change?”

“Because Amelie knows how to behave like a lady when she wants to,” Anastasia replied serenely. “Whereas you do not.”

“I know part of it involves being polite,” I came right back. “Apparently, you missed that part.”

Anastasia made a disparaging sound, but I thought I caught a glimpse of a smile at the corners of her mouth. The truth is, I think she was beginning to enjoy our sparring. Now that we were of equal rank, I made a more worthy and interesting opponent.

“Do you want to make a good impression on the prince or not?” she inquired.

“There are going to be hundreds of girls at the ball,” I said. “I’m hardly likely to make any impression at all, among so many of them .”

Anastasia cocked her head in a perfect imitation of Amelie, her eyes thoughtful now. “You are wrong about that, I think,” she said in a voice that matched her eyes. “Much as I hate to admit it, you really are incredibly lovely, Cendrillon.”

I sat up a little straighter, as if she’d poked me with a pin.

“That’s it,” Anastasia exclaimed in delight. “Keep your back just like that.”

“You and Amelie are beautiful,” I protested.

“I never said we weren’t,” Anastasia replied. “Cross your ankles and keep your legs beneath your skirts.” I complied. “Now clasp your hands loosely and place them in your lap.” I did this, too, and actually won a smile.

“That’s absolutely perfect,” Anastasia said. She regarded me for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not to go on. “There will be many dark-haired girls at court. Some will have blue eyes, and some brown. But if there’s another one who looks like you among them, I’ll eat my riding gloves.”

I held my body still, trying to understand what sitting like a lady felt like. “Would you marry the prince, if he asked you to?”

Surprise flickered over Anastasia’s features. “Of course.”

“Even though you don’t love him, nor he you?”

Anastasia lifted an eyebrow. “You think I am unlovable?”

“I didn’t say that,” I replied.
Raoul loves you,
I thought, but didnt quite dare to say aloud. “Its just—don’t you want to marry for love?”

“Of course I do,” Anastasia said simply. “Isn’t that what every girl dreams of? But noble-born girls do not always have the luxury of having their wishes come true.”

“You don’t have to be noble-born to be disappointed,” I said.

Anastasia nodded. “True enough.”

We sat silently for a moment, my gaze on her, her gaze on nothing.

“About Raoul,” I said, taking courage firmly between both loosely clasped ladylike hands.

“Oh, no,” Anastasia said suddenly. “Please, don’t.”

“There is nothing between us,” I said. “Nothing that could stand in the way of him loving someone else.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Anastasia cried out suddenly. “I’ve done nothing but torment you since the day I arrived. And yet there you sit, as good as telling me that Raoul can be mine. He can’t be, and we all know it. I am a nobleman’s daughter, and he’s a stable boy. That sort of arrangement may work out well in stories and in dreams. But not in real life.”

“No one knows who Raoul really is,” I said. “Not even Raoul himself. My father brought him here
when he was just two weeks old. Did you not know this?”

“No,” Anastasia whispered, her cheeks pale. “No, I did not. Why has no one spoken of this before?”

“Because the subject pains him,” I said, and prayed Raoul would not think that I was betraying his confidence. “And there may be no sense in getting your hopes up. He may turn out to be nothing more than what you see right now. Or his origins may always remain a mystery, though I hope that they do not, for learning who he truly is has always been the first wish of his heart.

“I do know this much, though. If I were you, I’d go take a good look at my mother’s portrait before I decided to throw away a chance at love.”

Anastasia drew a shaky breath. “I do believe,” she said, “that this is your attempt to order me around.”

I laughed before I quite realized what I’d done. “Perhaps you’re right,” I acknowledged.

“I will think about what you’ve said,” Anastasia promised. She clapped her hands together sharply. “Now. Let me see you walk across the room one more time. If you do it to my satisfaction, I’ll let you put on those terrible gardening clogs.”

“At least they don’t pinch,” I said, as I got to my feet. But before I could so much as take a step forward, Amelie came flying into the room.

“There’s been a messenger from Etienne de Brabant,” she said breathlessly. “You must both come at once.”

The message was brief and to the point. Although the king had ordered every eligible maiden in the kingdom to attend the ball in Prince Pascal’s honor, Etienne de Brabant was ordering his wife and step-daughters to stay home.

“He says he fears for your safety,” Niccolo said as he scanned the thick sheet of paper. The messenger who’d brought it was being fed in the kitchen. Raoul was seeing to his horse. My stepmother, stepsisters, Niccolo, and I were in the sun room, the tiny space crowded with so many of us. Pale October sunlight came in through the windows. A fire was kindled in the hearth, for the day was chilly in spite of the light.

“The journey from this place to the court takes several days, and he has heard that there are bandits on all the main roads,” Niccolo went on. “A high-born lady and her daughters traveling together would surely attract their attention. Therefore, for your safety and that of your daughters, he commands you to stay at home.

“In your stead, I . . .” Niccolo broke off, his startled eyes rising up from the paper to focus on mine. “In your stead, I am to bring Raoul.”

Chantal de Saint-Andre extended a hand. “Thank
you, Niccolo,” she said, “Please let me see the note.”

Niccolo placed it into her hand. As she read the words my father had written, Chantal de Saint-Andre tapped her foot rapidly, to what seemed to me must be the rhythm of her thoughts. Then, with a suddenness that left all of us gasping, she tore the note in two, and then in two once more. Taking three quick steps, she moved to the fireplace.

“What a pity those same bandits set upon my husband’s messenger and delayed him,” she said serenely, as she cast the scraps of paper upon the fire. “So that the command to keep us all at home did not arrive in time.”

“But, Maman, the messenger,” Amelie began.

“Will be well cared for and kept busy here till we are well on our way,” her mother replied. “He looked as if he could use a little country air, don’t you think?”