"That is neither here nor there, Nephew."
Prince drew his fiercest scowl. "You dare to taunt me, Madame? I am the future king."
"And I am your elder, you shall address me with respect." She actually snapped at him. "Now, dear, you must let your confidence guide you."
Confidence? Guide him? "I feel the most sudden urge to meet with my own maman," he muttered.
"Oui, oui. I suppose you must." She plopped down in the one chair, planted an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her palm.
Arnald moved to her and went down on bended knee. He clasped her small hand in his. "What is it, Maman? You are distressed, non?"
"Dear boy." A tender touch to his head had Prince compelled to look away. "Naught that with which you could help." She pulled her hand away. "Be gone, both of you. We shall speak soon enough."
*****
Cinderella hid in the shadows of the darkened corridor, praying her light colored frock would not draw the attention of Prince and his cousin.
But, alas, luck was not with her. At least not good luck. Prince strode from the chamber, Sir Arnald fast on his heels. Surprise lit Prince's eyes when they landed on her. His slow smile ignited a pulsating fire through her veins.
The stick in her hand began vibrating with a thrumming energy, reverberating up her arm, making its way through her entire body. Before coherent thought rationed her brain, she held it out-freezing the two men quite immobile. Horrified and shocked by her actions she looked at the stick, dumbfounded, uncertain what she'd accomplished or why? Could she make them forget they'd seen her?
She raked a hungry gaze over Prince and a positively evil thought took hold. She could test the theory. She wished to touch him. Just once. Before the inevitability of his and Essie's nuptials. Would he remember? Mortification, humiliation would dog her to her death and beyond. Not to mention the end of an untarnished reputation or the love-turn-hate of a sister.
Hadn't Cinderella and her sisters already stacked enough bad deeds against them? Oui! Enough to have them drawn and quartered several times over. But somehow in that moment she could not seem to care.
Was that so terrible?
Oui, it was, the prim, practical, timid voice in her head screamed even as she stepped toward him.
But one kiss, who would know besides she? Roaring silence filled the passageway. One more step found her in touching distance. Spicy soap assailed her senses, and before she could stop herself, Cinderella closed her eyes, tipped up on her toes and touched the corner of his mouth with her lips. Floating on air had nothing on such a daring adventure, touch of his lips. Heart pounding furiously, she lowered her heels, opened her eyes, and stepped back. There was a lovely firmness that contrasted with such velvet. She brought her fingers to her mouth.