Prince glanced at Arnald, his oldest and dearest friend in the world. His cousin. His one close blood relation. His demeanor was poised. A man who posed a nonchalant air. Sitting atop his horse pulling off maturity and ease. That odd tingle sent a ripple over his skin, and a small awkward silence ensued.
He cleared his throat. "Yes, well, we shall be on our way then. Ladies, enjoy the remainder of your afternoon." He tipped a short bow in the direction of the trio. Prince signaled to Arnald, and they resumed their journey toward the stables in silence. Uncontained giggles burst out following their departure.
"What do you suppose that was about, Arnald?" Prince asked perplexed.
Arnald shook his head. "Women are extremely pleasurable to look upon, but cease asking me to explain them. Most especially, the fair ones." Then, with a sly look added, "Your Highness."
"You are not above the dungeons," he muttered.
*****
"Essie, I don't know how you think us to pull this jest with no one the wiser." Cinderella's nerves were pressing her tone to an unnaturally shrill curtness.
"Of course it will work," Essie assured her. "Queen Thomasine has already included you. We are just ensuring no one forgets. That is all."
"Mayhap I would not mind so much if they forgot," she muttered under her breath.
"Do not be ridiculous. Cill is already coming around. Lift your hair so I can manage these tiny buttons."
Cinderella complied.
"Manette should be here any moment to dress your hair. 'Tis a shame you have no natural curl. It's as straight as a sword. But a lovely color, nonetheless. I vow there are streaks of auburn throughout."
"Merci."
"Esmeralda, are you soon ready-" Pricilla's head appeared around the corner. "What on earth are you about, Essie?" she hissed.
"Is Manette finished with your hair, Cill? Send her in." Essie's ability in ignoring danger was impressive. Cinderella marveled at her composure.
"Maman will perish of an apoplexy. We shall be orphans-" Pricilla paused at this slip. "One moment, I'll retrieve her." She disappeared behind the door.
Esmeralda guided Cinderella to a chair before the vanity. Hand to her shoulder, she pressed her down, none too gently. Cinderella feared Stepmama would murder the three of them, even if Pricilla acted an unwilling participant.
Cinderella swallowed past the apple-sized lump in her throat, and glanced at her reflection in the looking glass. Her eyes appeared much too large in her face, mouth too wide, fear evident. A young maid appeared behind her.
"Mademoiselle? Vos cheveux sont beaux.
"Merci." Cinderella could hardly speak.
"See? Manette thinks your hair is beautiful too," Essie said.