The Wronged Princess - Book I - Page 100/133

"That is because you do not make her nervous any longer," Arnald pointed out ruthlessly. "What about fainting again? That appeared to work well."

Prince looked over his shoulder to Arnald. "Did you say something?"

*****

Hours moved swiftly into days, and Cinderella was amazed to find how natural her relationship with Pricilla and Essie progressed. To her astonishment, if her opinion differed from one of the others, then a word battle ensued before they were laughing it off. Her meek behavior, though not completely absolved, was moving to a thing of the past.

It was not perfect, of course. She was the first to realize there was much of the past to be forgiven, but for the first time since Papa's death she felt a connection, as if the three of them became truly sisters. Most importantly, she was not destined to the isolated existence prevalent just days before. At least until Essie and Pricilla realized that she was the mysterious princess. She grimaced. Then they would hate her for sure.

And Prince? Would he resent her, as well, for deceiving him? Would his family?

She swallowed tears. 'Twas not the time to blubber like a fool.

Arm linked in Essie's, Cinderella dragged Essie down the path toward the Eros pond. It might seem silly, but Cinderella found comfort in the statue's presence, and she couldn't traipse about along. The sun beat down on her new fashionable bonnet and droplets of perspiration gathered at her nape. They meandered along the path, awaiting Pricilla. "What is taking her so long?" Cinderella said

"What on earth?" Essie sputtered at the same time, spinning. Pricilla's footsteps pounded down the path. "You sound like a herd of horses, Cill."

Pricilla's breath came in short stilted gasps as she pulled up, grabbing Essie's arm, bent at the waist.

"You'd best take care, Pricilla, before you cause Stepmama an apoplectic seizure. Or yourself. What is that contraption you're holding? And where in heaven's name did you find it?"

It was a silver baton and Cinderella had a bad feeling. A very bad feeling.

"'Tis a stick, see?" She rose slowly, and held it out, turning it at various angles. "It's the strangest thing."

Deep foreboding spread through Cinderella. "What do you mean?" she whispered.

"It sort of quivers when I tilt it just so." Pricilla demonstrated by grasping the slightly widened end.

"Mayhap it just looks like it quivers due to its sparkled and shiny exterior." Essie scoffed.

But Cinderella eyed it warily. Sure enough, a small, yet discernible tremor emanated from the skinny stick jiggling in Pricilla's fingertips.

"Quivers!" Essie snatched it from Pricilla's hand. "Oh, my," Essie breathed.