The Wronged Princess - Book I - Page 73/133

"Arnald and I supervised repairs on the western perimeter wall," Prince answered. When it became apparent that Prince and his cousin struggled in their efforts to hide grins too, Cinderella sat very still, fighting to remain invisible.

"Tomorrow, my dears, we shall host a picnic on the northern reaches of the estate. There is a small lake, a lovely area," She said. "Prince shall be accompanying the entourage as well. New guests arrived from Torino, Italy, this afternoon. Conte de Marco Lecce and his sons, Alessandro and Niccòlo will also join the outing."

"Conte de Lecce is here? In Chalmers?" Prince's tone turned sharp.

"I regret they were unable to attend supper this evening due to the length of their journey. Suffice to say, they should be as good as new on the morrow." The queen smiled.

Cinderella detected a slight tightening around the prince's mouth, though he managed his signature smile. Stepmama practically twittered in her seat at the mention of an Italian Conte. Stepmama would now be hoping for a fine match for Pricilla since Prince was thus betrothed to Essie, Cinderella thought glumly. The situation became more unbearable by the moment.

Stepmama stood suddenly. "With such vigorous activity planned over the next few days, I believe these young women need their beauty sleep." Prickles chilled Cinderella's skin.

"If you'll excuse us, Your Majesties?" Stepmama said.

Prince, Arnald and the king rose, bowing their acceptance.

"Come along girls. Do not dawdle so, Cinderella." The sweetness of Stepmama's tone might have well been poison.

Her stomach dropped.

Cinderella had no recourse. What else was she to do but follow? A palace such as this had eyes everywhere, she assured herself. Stepmama would not dare convey her displeasure with physical force where someone might see. It was far too risky. Surely.

Cinderella lagged behind Essie and Pricilla into the foyer with just the sound of their rustling skirts echoing though the great hallway. Stepmama moved with a purposeful stride toward the west wing. At the fork they would separate. Only a few steps more to safety. Head down, Cinderella dare not draw the slightest amount of attention, dare not make a sound.

They rounded the corner and Stepmama whipped about, fury writhing from her. The gray eyes that were so similar to Pricilla's, glittered with something maniacal, dangerous.

Cinderella stilled, terrified at her revulsion. The path between them parted. Cinderella stepped back, fear threatening to buckle her knees. If she collapsed, all was lost. Stepmama would stomp her into oblivion. She must keep her head…literally.

Fleeting thoughts as the dream day of a lifetime, possibly her last, filled her mind. Her heart pounded furiously. Panic had her wanting to grasp an escape, but looking away was tantamount to collapsing to the floor in a faint.