Cinderella grabbed her aged pelisse from the wardrobe, wincing at how shabby it looked in her new chamber. She sighed. Besides what choice had she? 'Twas not like Fairy Godmother left her with an array of gowns to choose from.
With a brisk walk to the large glass door she'd discovered the evening before, Cinderella contemplated her situation. No one seemed to remember her at all. Esmeralda had only stumbled upon her in error. How oppressive. Did the prince even wonder about her? Perhaps he just believed her a figment of his imagination.
Non, she reasoned, he'd set out to find her by trying her shoe on the maidens in the kingdom no matter how ridiculous the idea. That action in and of itself showed he had some regard for her. She pushed away the silly meanderings and concentrated on her private adventure, slippers sinking into the thick rug.
Excitement heated her blood. She was to see a real statue when all she'd managed to date were drawings in books, and that was years ago. Stepmama thought most books pure nonsense.
Esmeralda and Pricilla, surprisingly, had rebelled against Stepmama in that regard, having stashed a mountain of book in their closets. Something the three of them had had in common since before Papa had passed.
The glass door opened with nary a whisper and Cinderella crossed the threshold. Bless these royal persons and their order of well-oiled hinges.
Early morning dew dampened the ground beneath her feet. The air was crisp and fresh. Sneaking from the castle under no supervision was both exhilarating and terrifying. She breathed deep, choosing exhilaration over terror. She shaded her brows with one hand and searched out her target. She spotted the Eros in the middle of a large pond and picked up her pace.
Memories assaulted her and she grinned until her cheeks hurt and tears stung her eyes. Papa traveled much, but upon each return she would sit on his lap, her head on his shoulder while the resonant timbre of his voice would vibrate through her as he rattled off tale after tale. He turned stories of the Greek gods' antics into their own fairytales. Hours later, though he was tired, he would tease her incessantly, then toss her to the sky, catching her with marked strength. He would sit by her bedside until she slept.
Cinderella veered off a well-marked path, walking faster until she could define details of Eros winged sculpted figure. She pulled up before him, short of tumbling into the pond. His figure was perfection; sculpted just as she'd always imagined. Long, wavy hair and slender fingers caressed his infamous bow and arrow. Seeing a statue was too exciting for words. Unbidden, her father's gravelly voice reciting Eros as the most eligible bachelor in the universe, ripped through her.