Sinful Cinderella

The night is cool, soft as feathers. I walk with Prince Edgar on a terrace that stretches a long arm out from the castle. The moon hovers like a bright pearl, quiet and graceful. It’s a lovely night – a finer night I know I’ll never see. Edgar is delightful and we talk long and easily, rambling about our childhoods, places we’ve visited, the best kind of riding horse, how we both don’t like pork much, whether stars are white or gold, even touching on fashion. I feel as if I found the friend I lost when Papa died. With Edgar, I could even be good.

The terrace is key-shaped, ending in a wide circle. It surrounds a lonely tower, a pale finger of stone cutting high into the night. To our right, a staircase drops from the terrace to the gardens where I see sculpted shrubbery and paths that curl around flower beds. I’m guessing we’ll go down to the gardens, but Edgar invites me to sit with him on an iron bench by the wall.

“Enjoying yourself?” He takes my hand and my heart crashes inside me. I can’t stop smiling. “This is the most wonderful night of my life!” And I mean it.

Edgar releases my hand and leans back, folding his arms. “Glad to hear it. Now tell me, what would being queen do for you?”

Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness! Is this really happening? I want to squeal like a little girl, bounce in my seat. I can’t believe I’m going to win.

“It would... be wonderful!” I cry. “A dream come true!”

“And why did you dream of being queen? Specifically?” His smile is different now. Careful. Detached.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think it’s a hard question. You want to be queen and that’s why you’re here. Not for me. Why?”

I don’t know how to answer. The change in his tone surprises me.

“All right, let me make this easier.” Edgar shifts, propping his hands on his thighs. “I asked my father to give this ball so I could find a wife. Do you want to know why I want another wife?”

“Y-yes,” I think I’m expected to say.

“One,” he says, “I need an heir. A son. Or let’s just say, a legitimate son.” He chuckles and winks at me. “Two, I want a beautiful woman to sit beside me on the throne. It looks good, you know? Three, my daughter needs a mother, one that can manage her. And given that little... dispute... I observed between you earlier, I think you have the spirit to rein her in. And four, well, I get lonely sometimes. Mistresses, sooner or later, must be sent back to their husbands. I want someone for me.”

My heart has stopped crashing. It has become a lump of coal, dull and heavy. I feel that sickening sense of loss, like waking out of a beautiful dream. Knowing it’s gone and you can’t get it back.

“Now what do you want?” He’s not even smiling now. This is a business deal. An exchange of offers as we weigh the mutual benefits. Fine. If that’s how it is, I can play along.

“I have a stepmother and two stepsisters. I hate them. They have always been cruel to me. I want to become queen to rise above them, to prove myself better than they can ever be. And I want to punish them.”

“Really?” Edgar laughs and it’s not friendly. “I mean, that’s all you’ve got? Petty revenge on your family? I guess I expected more. But sure, fair enough. As queen you can punish them any way you like. Crush every enemy you’ve ever had, if you so choose. That is what I can offer you. Are we in agreement?”

I look down at my hands. “I... I don’t know.” I didn’t like his talk of mistresses. If he’s had them before, he’ll have them again. And I know the rules that men have made. Infidelity is only a woman’s crime. He will expect me to be loyal while he runs around freely. That isn’t me. If I choose to, I can be faithful, but I want the same in return.

I rise to my feet. “Thank you, Prince Edgar, for your generous offer. I will give it some thought and-”

Edgar laughs and stands with me. “Look up there.” He points to the tower behind us, to a small, dark window tucked high in the curving wall. “Let’s go up, shall we? That window commands a lovely view of the kingdom. And I think... when we’re alone... I can convince you that you’ll like me as a husband.”

One thing I have learned: when a man invites you into a private room with him, it is not to enjoy the view. That quick, I don’t like Prince Edgar. He is not like Papa. I didn’t know until now that I wanted someone like Papa. Someone to love me, not use me.

I stand straighter. “No, Your Highness, I would like to stay here. Perhaps we can walk in the garden.”

Edgar, still smiling, wraps his fingers around my arm. A tight, commanding hold. “We’re going up first.”

Impulsively, I kick his shin with the toe of my crystal slipper. He flinches, baring his teeth, but does not release my arm. Then he laughs.

“You see?” He tugs me closer. “The moment I saw you, I knew you were perfect for me. I knew that black dress meant a soul even blacker. You are-” he slides a finger down my cheek “-everything I have ever desired.”

Then he strikes me across the face.

The blow knocks me over and my hands hit the stone slabs of the terrace. I crouch on the ground, too shocked to cry out, my mouth open wide. Never, never have I been struck. Not even by Stepmother. My cheek tingles and I felt a hot slice when his hand hit my cheekbone. I touch the spot and find blood on my fingertips. A cut from his wedding ring.

I’m shaking. Edgar crouches beside me, hands resting on his knees. “My offer of marriage,” he says in a low, cutting voice, “was merely a courtesy. Do not think for a moment that you have a choice. You are my bride, little crow. Now stand up and tell me your name.”

I’m still too shocked to move. My thoughts fly like bats in a cave, whirling, screeching. I remember that Moody once courted a man, a man who seemed nice. But she ended it suddenly and I didn’t know why until I overheard Stepmother talking to her late at night. “You can be sure of one thing,” Stepmother said, “If a man hits you once, he will hit you again. And again and again and again. Have nothing to do with such a man. Ever.”

I do not want to be hit for the rest of my life.

“Are you having trouble obeying me?” Edgar grabs my arms and wrenches me upward. “Let me make something clear, darling. As my wife you will do exactly as I say.” He shook me when he said ‘exactly’. “And that includes having sons. Do not fail me in this as my last wife did.”

“D-did she?” I gasp out. His grip is so hard. I don’t know what to do.

“Sadly,” he says. “The birth of our daughter was dangerous, both of them nearly died. The physicians told me my wife would never have another child. Such a pity - I really did like her. But she was no longer useful, you know? Let us hope you can do better. I would hate to have to clip your wings.”

He killed his wife. Oh Papa! Papa, help me! I wriggle and flail but Edgar is too strong. He drags me to the door of that horrible tower while whispering soothing words in my ear, as if I’m a child having a tantrum. I scream but he claps a hand on my mouth and crushes me against his chest. I try to bite his hand but his fingers are clamped around my jaw. He knows what he’s doing - he’s done this before.

“Edgar? Edgar is something wrong?”

The voice – a woman’s voice – comes up to us from the garden staircase. I feel Edgar’s grip slacken instinctively.

“It’s nothing, Mother!” he calls. “No need to-”

I slam my elbow into Edgar’s stomach and wrench out of his grasp. The distraction gave me the moment I needed. I grab my skirt and run, as hard and as fast as I can. Across the terrace, down some stairs, around a corner, under an archway. I don’t know where I’m going, except away. Away from him.

From somewhere high above the castle, I hear the long, heavy tolls of a clock striking midnight.