The Wronged Princess - Book I - Page 60/133

Cinderella could not believe her good fortune. Her tenuous relationship with Esmeralda pleased her beyond her wildest imagination. It triggered memories of their early childhood before Papa died.

True, they maintained a care in their casual conversation. Only guilt of Prince Charming's fleeting kiss tarnished Cinderella's complete joy.

With Pricilla in tow, Cinderella was compelled to keep hers and Esmeralda's relationship between the two of them for the time being. Her heart swelled finding she even could make small jests that weren't ridiculed at every turn. Leastways, where Esmeralda, Essie as she now thought her, was concerned.

A light breeze teased the loose tendrils of Cinderella's hair as she gazed about. Just as she knew they would be, the grounds were immaculate, the carriage ride perfect. But for Pricilla's constant antagonistic commentary. Two perfectly-matched whites pulled their light open cabriolet. Cinderella eyed the mammals. They very nearly resembled the ones Fairy Godmother had conjured up out of two fat rats.

She narrowed her gaze. Impossible. It could not be so, could it? She looked quickly to the groom. He did not appear familiar. She drifted back to that odd night.

"Who are you?" Cinderella asked.

"Why, I am your fairy godmother, child."

"Fairy Godmother," Cinderella scoffed. "Impossible."

"Bah, nothing is impossible. I am made of all your hopes and dreams and wishes." This vision in the frothiest pink stood before her spouting the silliest nonsense. If only she could believe...

"I've only one wish tonight," she whispered.

"You've only to ask, my dear."

"There's a ball…" her voice trailed off. 'Twas an impossible wish, as was the apparition standing before her. For it would all disappear were she to blink-such was the way with dreams.

A rut in the road jarred Cinderella back to the present.

The sun warmed the air on an unnaturally bright fall day. Cinderella could feel excitement lending a tingle to the atmosphere. She turned her sights on the manicured trees sheared uniformly where not a single branch or leaf protruded from its designated position. And if she managed to tune out Pricilla, she found she was most happy indeed.

Cinderella tried containing her exhilaration. The groom steered them through magnificent squared and colorful gardens. How she would love to wander paths on foot. See some of the other ponds with mythological statues, but one covert glance to her present company rendered asking such a thing would end in disaster. Pricilla and Esmeralda's relationship was deteriorating with rapid vigor.

From the moment Prince had slipped Cinderella's slipper onto Esmeralda's foot, Pricilla's scowl had taken on a permanent etch in a pinched expression. Most of her anger, quite unrestrained, was aimed at Esmeralda. Cinderella ceased to exist as the object of scorn.