The Wronged Princess - Book I - Page 44/133

"How dare-" she lashed out. Remarkably, Esmeralda's anger overrode her natural spastic inclination to blink. The result presented spectacular and brilliant green eyes most would never deign to see. But then her temper deflated like a fallen soufflé.

Cinderella's matter of fact tone seemed to penetrate her wounded pride and she slumped over. Tears shimmered firing the brilliant green of her eyes. The effect quite took Cinderella by surprise and her heart softened.

Maintaining a relaxed posture, Cinderella bent an elbow, leaning forward on her knee, chin propped in an open palm, curious to see how Esmeralda would respond. Cinderella dangled her leg in a gentle swing back and forth. She dare not let down her guard. A calm demeanor hid long-honed fears from too many years at her stepfamily's mercy. She hoped the hypnotic motion would help forestall scathing remarks. She remained acutely aware of how isolated her chamber was. A small tingle seemed to hover in the air, lending Cinderella an unusual confidence.

Esmeralda dragged in a shaky breath and regarded Cinderella blatantly. "You realize Maman would be livid if she heard us speaking, non? In peaceful tones, no less." Again, that unfeminine sniff.

Cinderella shrugged her shoulders, ignoring the unexpected acquiescence. Esmeralda was right, of course, and Cinderella had nothing to add. She pulled a kerchief from her pocket and held it out. An olive branch of sorts. Something stirred in the vicinity of her heart.

Esmeralda snatched it from her fingers, and burying her nose, gave a hearty unladylike blow.

The unreality of the situation struck Cinderella and she giggled. Her giggles gave way to loud guffaws. And suddenly she could not stop.

Then the most surprising thing happened. Esmeralda giggled, too. For the first time since they were young children, the tension dissipated, leaving the two facing one another.

Not as adversaries but as young women, sisters. They were the same age after all, seventeen and marriageable.

Esmeralda's glance broke first and swept the room. She eye the ridiculously large bed, then patted the overstuffed chair. Her eyes moved to the sideboard.

It was all quite elegant to Cinderella, seeing it through Esmeralda's eyes. After all, Cinderella slept on a straw mattress on a dirt floor in the confinement of the basement.

"'Tis very nice," Esmeralda said.

"Of course it's nice. It's the Royal Palace," Cinderella said. Silence prevailed once more.

"I have to share a chamber with Cill," Esmeralda informed her. "She still hates the dark. And she snores."

"Oh." Cinderella did not know what to say to that. "Je suis désolée. I'm sorry."

Another moment passed before Esmeralda spoke again, dropping her eyes. "I'm in a terrible mess, you know."