My name is Cinderella and I am not supposed to be at the ball tonight.
But yet, here I am. I'm a bit late, so when I arrive there is no one in the great hall to welcome me through the doors. All for the better as it allows me to take a breather along the wall near one of the tapestries. I adjust my blue ball gown, long and poofed out to suit the current style with glittering jewels sewn into the waistline and hem. My hair is likewise done up, far different from my usual single braid, tonight it is piled high in elegant curls with even more jewels to dot it. It frees up my shoulders and highlights the long pure white gloves that cover my hands and arms. There is nothing but diamonds and blue silk to better emphasize my eyes and golden hair. And the pièce de résistance? Beautiful glass slippers that perfectly mold to my feet and are surprisingly quite comfortable.
It is a far cry than my usual outfit of rags and cinders where I work as a dusty scullery maid to Lady Tremaine and her horrid daughters. Fairy Godmother has outdone herself. Tonight, I feel like a princess, fit for an audience with the prince himself. And if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll even get to dance with him.
For I must dance with him. Because tonight, I am here at the ball to kill the prince.
It started several years ago when I went undercover, Code Name Cinderella, with the Tremaine household for their connections to the royal family. You see, for many years my organization has been trying to gather evidence that someone in the royal household was conspiring against the empire and trading national secrets to enemies of the state. Assassinations of several foreign dignitaries and some of our own ambassadors have pointed to insider access. We, of course, could not confide our suspicions with the King’s Guard in fear of alerting the palace mole, and so we decided to take it into our own hands to see the traitor rooted out.
Lady Tremaine was once married to a high ranking officer in the King’s Committee and when he passed, she remained in a seat of political power. Often, due to the nature of her late husband’s previous work, she would have valuable insight and opinion, allowing her access and considerable influence to the royal family. After eliminating her as a suspect to the threat, we needed someone on the inside who could gain information from her.
Which is where I come in.
The best way to investigate the traitor - beyond planting someone in the palace itself, which was an impossible feat - was for me to investigate one of the highest political influences in the kingdom. For as her maid, Lady Tremaine never minded when I was cleaning in her study and she never thought to hide documents or letters from me.
After nearly three and a half years of slaving away in the cinders of the Tremaine household, I finally found the last bits of the puzzle, naming and condemning the traitor to the Kingdom. Crown Prince Tristian himself. After more months of cross checking our information with several other spies among the city, we were able to confirm that the Prince was indeed selling secrets of our Kingdom to our enemies.
Our next move? Eliminate the threat. And our perfect opportunity came in the form of a royal invitation in the mail.
An invitation to a ball that the King and Queen are hosting at the end of the month to celebrate the birthday of their eldest son and all eligible ladies of the kingdom are invited to attend. For at this ball, the Crown Prince will select his bride to be the future Crown Princess Consort, Queen-in-waiting.
And so, with a little help from a fellow agent, Code Name Godmother, I was sent to infiltrate the ball in order to collect the motive and means from the Prince and then dispatch him to prevent further harm to our Kingdom. It is imperative that the rest of the royal family not know about the operation until it is completed. If they knew about Prince Tristian’s betrayal and deception, who knows how much of our mission they could muck up by trying to interfere and investigate it themselves, and thereby allowing the traitor to slip away. No, better that we dispose of his treachery sooner and inform the royal family later.
Which brings me back to the mission at hand. Get close enough to kill the Crown Prince tonight at the ball.
With everything in place; my dress, my hair, my shoes, I gather my strength and step confidently into the great ballroom to face down the traitor who dares to call himself Prince.
- - - - -
Eyes are soon on me and my (not so) fashionably late entrance to his Highness’ birthday celebration. The wine has already been poured and the Crown Prince has begun to receive the first ladies, eager to win his hand and his crown.
I quickly duck behind the throng of ladies and move through the crowd. Of course, as a scullery maid in her household, I cannot be seen by Lady Tremaine. Though it is doubtful she would recognize me in my fine clothing, I cannot risk the chance of discovery and ejection from the ball. So instead of heading directly to the line of women queuing for Tristian’s attention, I instead scope out the table of food and eavesdrop on a trio of invited guests.
“It is a shame that it is only Prince Tristian in search of a wife tonight. If I had my way, I would have each of my daughters pursue a prince and secure the entire line in one evening.” One woman says, her fan resting against her chest and one hand on her beribboned hip.
“Oh, you really think the King and Queen would marry all of their sons off at once? And I really do not think that your middle daughter could ever hope to marry a prince, look at the size of her nose!” another woman remarks, her own fan flapping in the air in front of her face, making her fair fly about her head.
“Don’t be rude, of course I do not think Emilie could secure a prince, but at the very least she could give it a try.” The mother hefts a long-suffering sigh, “I fear she has her father’s nose and there’s little hope of her growing out of it.”
The third woman spoke now, chin lifting in confidence. “Well I for one would pursue the second, Prince Henri is much more handsome than any of the others and I do not need any sort of responsibilities of Princess Consort or the like. Simply Princess would do just fine.”
There is laughter at the woman’s remark and ridicule for not admiring the Crown Prince as much as his younger brother, but I quickly grow tired of the boring conversation, and with nothing new to learn I am distracted by the interesting bits of shrimp and fruit they offered at the table. It is not often I am able to indulge in good food and so I unabashedly pile up a plate and drift to the edges in order to enjoy in peace while planning the details of my mission.
There are wide grand windows surrounding the ballroom and while I lick the spicy sauce off of the shrimp in my hand, I find a perfect view out into the garden off the side of the grounds. With a decent set of shrubbery and plenty of benches and fountains obscured from obvious view, it would make a nice setting for a princely murder. Now if only I could find a way to get Tristian out into the night without raising alarm from anyone else…
“My lady,” a velvety voice called and I turn from the window and my planning. It would seem that fate was looking out for me tonight, for as luck and divine intervention would have it, my target was now no less than two feet in front of me.
“My Lord Prince,” I quickly say, awkwardly bending into an appropriate curtsy with the plate still in my hands. My mind races to come up with the suitable words that wouldn’t sound too cheesy.
“My lady, I could not help but be intrigued by the woman who would rather gaze out into the night than dance with the Prince.” His velvety voice is paired with a magnificent pair of pale eyes under a dark wave of hair and set in a neatly balanced face. Wholly unfair that the man I am sent to kill is handsome by far and I vow to go to my grave rather than admit that to anyone in my organization.
“Well it is a fine view tonight your highness, I have never seen such a garden and I am such an admirer of flowers.” I pitch my voice a little higher than normal and bashfully look up at him through my eyelashes. “But I would never chose them over a dance with you my Lord Prince.” Inwardly I cringe at the awkwardness of my words, but it seems to have the desired effect on Tristian for he reaches out a hand to me. Thank the fates above that he is playing into my hands.
“Then I would be honored to show you the gardens if you would have one dance with me,” he says, smoothly setting my plate aside and guiding me out into the middle of the other dancers.
I cannot believe my luck. I would dance with him through this song and when he took me outside to the gardens I could complete my mission. It was almost too easy!
“Thank you, my Lord Prince, it would be a great honor,” I say as I let him lead me across the room.
The orchestra strikes up a slow tune and we gently ease into a familiar sway of skirts and feet. I can feel the anticipation in me beginning to grow. Years of work and research and sacrifice has led me to this moment. To be in the arms of a traitor to King and Kingdom turned my stomach, no matter how appealing his face was. There was no place on earth where it was right to turn against your father and your people and my conviction was only strengthened when I look into his pale eyes, knowing the lives he has already cost and the lives he would only continue to harm if he was allowed to live.
There is stilted conversation through the dance and I somehow do not blow my cover. I am a professional after all, and we are soon walking past the other guests out into the night. Jealous eyes follow me on the arm of the Crown Prince and two of the King’s guard follow at a discreet distance behind us as he invites me to sit at a hidden fountain among the maze of hedgework.
Tristian is saying something now, something about beauty and flowers and moonlight but all I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears and the pounding of my heart in my chest. We are alone out here along the fountain and the garden and there is nothing but the stars and moon as my witnesses. The King’s guard will not hear anything if I am quick and even then it will be too late, and the hedgework will provide enough cover for me to slip away to the extraction team nearby. I cannot confront him here with the guards to hear, so I will not be able to get his confession or motive, but it does not matter. We have found him guilty of treason against the Crown and our people and I have a mission to complete. It is all too easy. I can feel the press of the knife hidden in my glove and I minutely wiggle my fingers to loosen the fabric.
“...of all the ladies out here you are by far the most -”
“Tristian!”
Of course, when something is too easy, complications are bound to happen.
It is Prince Henri, his shout interrupting whatever it was that Tristian was saying, rushing towards us with a smile on his face and a glass in hand. My fingers are already on the hem of my glove, ready to slip the knife out and his appearance surprises me. I quickly step to my feet and bow to him, inwardly cursing him for his timing. I was thisclose.
“Henri, dear brother, why do you interrupt us?” Tristian says, standing to jostle his brother’s arm in obvious frustration, though I’ll imagine it is a different frustration from my own.
“Father is beginning the speeches and we would not want the guest of honor to miss his own birthday toasts!” Prince Henri grins good naturedly, clearly unaware of what he has just disrupted. “You’ll have plenty of time to woo this fine young woman,” and here he has the gall to wink at me, “but we need you back inside for the time being.” He pushes the glass in his brother’s hand and points him in the direction of the great hall.
“Until later, my lady, I will find you.” Tristian offers me a bow of his own and a rakish smile before turning to retreat back to the safety of his castle.
“My prince,” I say, bowing again to Prince Henri. I am eager to follow Tristian back into the castle so as not to lose him. But before I can turn, Prince Henri roughly grabs my arm - the arm with the glove covering the knife I was going to use to kill his brother - and pulls me against his admittedly broad chest. His other hand wraps around my waist and other arm, trapping me against him and he lowers his head over mine.
“I would not follow my brother if I were you,” he whispers, breath ghosting along the shell of my ear and fingers pressing along the hidden knife against my arm. “I know what you are here for.” And with deft fingers he pulls the thin blade from the cover of my glove and flicks it so it lays against the curve of my cheek. “Care to explain yourself?”
Well, shit just got complicated.
To be continued...
I hope you enjoyed this first installment in a longer piece of fiction I've got for you all. Sorry about the length of this post, I just got a bit excited and carried away with this one. I will not make any promises however of finishing this entire thing, as most times my writing gets away from me and I lose my train of thought. I am open to suggestions for the storyline though! If you have any ideas or questions about this particular bit of writing, I'd love to hear from you. Otherwise, sit back and relax, I'll try to have an update for you soon.
:) Kathryn
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