The Wronged Princess - Book I - Page 123/133

They were almost out of time.

The evening of the betrothal ball had finally descended despite Essie's determination to keep it at bay. Cinderella felt her pain. Her feelings grew worse when she considered her own deception. Correction: deceptions. Not only was she Prince's "mysterious princess" but she had done the unthinkable in setting her lips against his. Without his consent.

She laid her fingers against her mouth as the memory surged through her. Then moved her shaking fingers moved to her temples. How was she to survive the culpability of such egregious action? How could she ever face Essie again? Or Prince?

The seamstress stood off to one side waiting to administer a final fitting for their gowns.

"Where is Stepmama?" Cinderella asked with a nervous quiet. "I've yet to see her today."

"Neither have I," Essie snapped. "I hope you are not complaining of the fact." Essie spun to the timid Manette and flung her hands out to her perfectly coiffed hair. "Do something with this…this unmanageable mane."

'Twould seem Cinderella was not the only one on edge. She eyed Essie warily. This was an Essie of old, barking at the shy girl. Manette fumbled forward spilling the contents from her hands onto the floor.

"Now, see what you have done, you little imbécile ." Essie's eyes had every lit taper in the chamber flickering with fury.

"That's enough, Essie," Cinderella said. Her voice was soft, but strong, bringing Essie's head up quickly. Cinderella dipped forward to help the poor girl gather the scattered pins.

"Pardonnez-moi, s'il vous plaît, Manette." Tears filled Essie's eyes, wiping away the edge of Cinderella's pique. She bent down to help as well.

Pricilla's unusual docile manner during the entire exchange drew Cinderella's attention. Manette poured a dress over Pricilla's head of soft powder blue silk and trimmed scallops of embroidered silver. Tiny bows edged the trim. The effect was compelling, turning her gray eyes rich with color. It was her jittery fingers brushing over the soft silk that finally sunk in.

"What is it, Pricilla?" Cinderella knew Pricilla heard her, but did not acknowledge the question right away.

"No…nothing."

'Twas nothing, all right. Cinderella rose and went to her, clasped her hand and squeezed. Pricilla's eyes lifted, meeting Cinderella's in the mirror. Nothing could have prepared Cinderella for the sight that met her. Troubled stormy depths reached out.

"Whatever troubles you, do not worry so."

"Cill?" Essie appeared on her other side, took up her hand, and waited.

The sight of the three of them before the mirror was momentous. Somber, though the tone.

"I killed her."

A chill of dread rippled up Cinderella's spine. Striking like a coiled snake.