The Wronged Princess - Book I - Page 13/133

Shocked silence bounded against the walls. Cinderella lifted her eyes from her task to find both sisters and Stepmama staring at her in dumbfounded stupor. Oh, no. She'd made a very large tactical error.

Pricilla was the first to recover, casting Cinderella a bleak, tight-lipped smile. Her cold gray eyes and cruel expression sent Esmeralda's eyes fluttering with bird-flapping intensity. Pricilla rose from her wooden chair and glided with surprising grace to Cinderella. The move was deceptively casual. Cinderella would be a fool to believe otherwise. "What has you so busy this lovely morn, Cinderella?" The dainty smile she handed Cinderella personified her evil mother to perfection.

Cinderella found she was unable to hide the tremble in her fingers. "Es-Esmeralda's petticoat." Fear had Cinderella's voice trickling out husky and restrained.

Pricilla gently lifted the soft fabric from Cinderella's lap. "Certainment. I can see." Quick as a flash, Pricilla ripped the delicate fabric apart at the seam. Esmeralda's gasp filled the air but Cinderella dared not shift her focus. "You are quite the seamstress, oui?" Pricilla said with a twisted curl of her lips. The scrap of fabric slipped from her fingers and floated down, landing at Cinderella's feet. Eyes still on Pricilla, Cinderella reached for the garment with a shaking hand.

"Pricilla, my darling, you shall be the first to sport the slipper," Stepmama announced as if nothing out of the ordinary occurred. "As the eldest, 'tis only fitting." Then howled with laughter at her silly pun, jowls shaking with mirth. The sight would provoke nightmares.

But, of course, 'twas not out of the ordinary, was it? Cinderella thought, swallowing sudden tears. She'd let her mouth get the better of her. She knew for certain the slipper would fit her. It was hers, was it not? She stabbed the needle through the petticoat, pricking her finger. A spot of blood marred the white. She blinked quickly. All she had to do was concentrate on that one detail, that the shoe belonged to her. She would be out of her personal torment soon. She had only to hang on to her dreams.

The pounding of hooves vibrated the cottage. It stayed the violence that poised the tense atmosphere.

Cinderella surprised her stepsisters by fighting for a place at the window alongside them. Something she'd never attempted before. Their anticipation of the prince's visit was the only reason no one threw a punch.

Stepmama hissed in exasperation, "Girls! We do not hang out an open window like common…harlots. The prince shall come to us!" She raised her chin where the skin beneath hung like that of a gobbling turkey. Cinderella, so attuned to the excitement, let a giggle escape.