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His hands tightened on her waist and for a moment she flew before she touched the ground again and he tugged her into a close spin. “Will you tell me your name?” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear.
“Will you tell me yours?” she returned, spinning out again.
His laughter was wild and free, warm enough to make her stomach roar with fire. “You are the only one to ask.” She was about to ask why when he tugged her back in another spin and she lost her breath to the intimacy of his lips so close to hers. “I love that you ask.”
She pushed at his chest, telling herself that the mere moment of hesitation wasn’t important. “People will see!”
He obligingly took a step back, his fingers trailing along hers before his hand fell to his side. “I don’t care.” There was a darkness behind the words that she didn’t understand. “If they see a promise, it’s one I’ve made.” Before she could question that, he continued, “Can’t we just dance?” Names – we don’t need them. Not tonight.”
It was easy to take his hand again – and not because of the implied promise. “Let’s dance.”
“Did you see the proclamation?” Thierry elbowed Mara, who had come up from the kitchens with their midday meal of cheese, bread and wine.
Mara scowled at him and batted him away from the wine pitcher. “Everyone has seen the proclamation.”
“Ella hasn’t.” Thierry’s triumphant statement had him and Mara both staring at Ella, the former rather pointedly.
Ella finished chewing, ignoring their expectant faces. “I have other things to do.” Like not thinking too hard about any of this .
“Don’t you want to meet the Prince?” Mara wanted to know. “What if the shoe fits?”
For a moment, Ella could feel the ghost of lips brushing her own. She pinched her thigh under the table. “As if they will look for a lady among the servants.”
The decision to leave the Tremaine household and find work somewhere else hadn’t been easy. Her father had taught her to respect the family and history. He’d told her about their famous and infamous ancestors, about the origins of the family and how they fit into the context of today. She knew the Chateau’s history and how the family crest was created. When she left the Tremaine household, she left all that.
The Prince wouldn’t fit the shoe onto the foot of a maid. Her blood might be noble, but there was nothing to tie her to her family except her word. She was Ella, a maid. Nothing else.
“But what if?” Mara insisted. “He could – there’s nothing in the proclamation to stop him. The King wouldn’t either. Not when he’s as concerned with the security of the royal line as he is.”
Thierry rolled his eyes. “You’re wasted in the kitchens, Mara. I swear, there’s not a political rumour that goes past you.”
Ella hid a smile as Mara elbowed him. “You could do with paying more attention, you know!”
“I’m happy where I am,” Thierry insisted.
Ella got up and headed for the door, her heart having begun to beat uncomfortably hard. “I’m going to return to work,” she called over her shoulder and slipped out the door.
Before she could close it, however, Mara called after her. “They will look among the servants, you’ll see.”
Ella closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Don’t think about it .
If she’d been brave, she would’ve turned around and retorted. She would’ve looked into Mara’s eyes and told her that the Prince – forget his name, forget it – would never marry a servant.
“Leave her be,” Thierry told Mara as the door closed behind Ella. “You know as well as I do that something’s happened.”
Ella swiped at her cheeks, alone in the silence. She was a realist, that was all.
She ducked into an alcove, out of the constant traffic of the back hallways, and took a few deep breaths. Mara had been right about one thing: there had been nothing in the proclamation that prohibited the search from including the servants. Ella slipped her hand into her pocket, curling her fingers around the delicate heel of the shoe that was her only proof that that night had ever happened. If she wanted to, she could walk up to any of the guards posted at the proclamation wall and show them the shoe. There was nothing stopping her from taking matters into her own hands.
“You! Girl!”
Nothing but her own fears.
“I’m coming!”
That night had been magical. Nothing about it had been real – even if it felt as if it had. She shouldn’t even be thinking about any of this.
I’m sorry, Jean , she thought. I really am .
“I need to marry to secure the family line.”
Ella winced as his hand tightened around hers. “He doesn’t care whether the marriage is happy?”
“An heir will make me happy.”
The look on his face said that was about as likely as Lady Tremaine admitting her daughters weren’t paragons of virtue. Unthinkingly, she stepped into him. His cheeks were cold as she cupped them and prickly from regrowth. “Marry someone that can make you happy,” she told him, trying to infuse her words with all the belief created by her childhood. “Heirs can be found, happiness...isn’t as easy.” Hers had, after all, died with her father.
He took her hands, bringing them to his lips briefly. “You believe that.” His eyes searched hers. “You believe even princes deserve happy marriages.”
“Everyone deserves to be happy.” Her heart demanded that she continue, “Especially you.”
“The Prince has ordered what ?”
Mara grinned, looking pleased as punch – as well she should be. “That all women, disregarding station, may come to try the shoe. Clear as day.”
Ella forced a laugh, her head spinning. “The King wouldn’t allow that!”
Mara shrugged and put down her basket of dirty dishes on the floor. Ella didn’t know how Mara kept finding the time to swing by when most of the higher ranked servants seemed to have eyes in the back of their heads, but every day she appeared like clockwork with the latest news. “My friend told me that the King has confirmed what the Prince said after some of the nobles protested.”
“Are you going to go?” Ella asked, mind coming up with things to say on its own as she struggled to keep breathing.
Mara laughed. “Why ever would I want to?”
Ella blinked, thoughts snapping back into place. “You don’t want to marry the Prince?”
“I’m already married, silly!” At Ella’s expression, Mara chortled. “You didn’t know? I would’ve thought someone would have told you by now – there was certainly enough people gossiping about it when I married Hugo.”
For a moment, Ella thought that she’d heard wrong. “The head chef?” Mara was married to the head chef and still worked ?
Mara looked amused. “I can see what you’re thinking on your face, you know.” She tugged Ella down on a bench. “We’re saving for a house. Hugo earns much more than me, of course, but everything put away counts.” For a moment, Ella wasn’t sure that Mara would continue, but then she picked up again. “People didn’t like that he married below his station. They weren’t kind.”
Ella could imagine. “He must be really strong to ignore them.”
“We’re both strong,” Mara corrected. “We made a choice and we kept to it. Seems to me like the Prince has made a choice as well.” She hesitated. “I hope the girl that he’s doing this for will make the same choice.”
For a moment, Ella thought Mara suspected her. Then she shook the thought – there was no reason for Mara to suspect anything. Who would think that a servant danced with the Prince at the ball? The thought was ludicrous.
“Well, I need to go!” Mara announced and got up. “I’ll see you around, Ella!”
Ella replied with something – she didn’t know what. When she had been little, everything had seemed possible if she just wanted it enough. Maybe the Prince had more in common with that little girl than she did.
Jean put down the stack of papers in front of his father. Sorted, annotated and researched by the most meticulous librarians available at the royal library, it was the most complete list of suitable heirs within the immediate royal family they could make at short notice. The stack wasn’t small.
His father looked at the papers, then up at him. “You love this girl.”
“I could love her,” Jean corrected. “I can’t love someone I’ve only met for a few hours. There’s something about her though – something… I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“I knew your mother only through letters when we married.” Jean steeled himself, ready for a speech about duties. “I knew I loved her before I met her.” Startled, Jean met his father’s eyes and found a startling amount of amusement there that bled into concern as he continued, “What will you do if you can’t find her?”
“Then she will find me.” He was sure about that. The woman he’d spoken to that night wouldn’t stay away.
“What will you do if she’s not the woman you thought she was?” What will you do if she’s not noble or gentry?
Jean could hear the question well enough, spoken or not. “I’ve made my decision. I will marry this woman.”
His father sighed and shook his head. “Then go – you seem to have left me with quite a lot of paperwork. I might as well get to it.”
It felt odd to return to the Heraldry Rooms. The last time she’d visited, it had been with her father and they had come to see the herald in charge about something regarding their family crest. The woman had smiled at Ella and told her that she had her mother’s eyes. Ella had followed her around and listened as the woman told her stories about heraldry and the symbols in their family crest. Now she had come on the request of the east wing matron to get information regarding the guests coming from out-kingdom. Then, the woman had easily guided them through rooms filled to the brim with books. Now, Ella was supposed to search the rooms herself. Sometimes being known for having received a proper education could be a dual-edged sword.
Pulling the scrolls and books with the information needed turned out to be heavy work. Ella found herself doing multiple walks between the libraries and the reading room, all the while under the scrutiny of the clerks working at the tables.
“For the east wing guests?” one of them finally asked once she had sat down. “We didn’t realize that the matron has someone on her staff with the knowledge. She usually sends instructions over for us.”
“I’m on loan,” Ella said with a polite smile.
“Well, we’re just glad to have less work coming in,” another clerk chimed in. “The King is keeping us busy for sure.”
“Shush!” The rebuke came from behind Ella. She stomped on the urge to turned around – she knew that voice. The herald in charge hadn’t changed one bit. “The King’s business is his own. Work, don’t gossip!”
Ella kept her head down as the clerks went back to work. Maybe the woman wouldn’t notice her.
“Have you got everything you need?”
Of course she wasn’t that lucky. “Yes, madame.”
“Good. Don’t let them bother you. We’re glad that matron has found someone to help her – this is always a busy time of the year.”
Ella made a non-committal sound and held her breath as the herald walked off. She was being silly, she knew it. There was no way the woman would remember her as the little girl from long ago – and why should she be afraid to be recognized? She had done nothing wrong.
And yet she was afraid.
Her hand went into her pocket.
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she wasn’t half as afraid of the Prince rejecting for being a servant as she was facing her past... as she was of facing that she had let herself be chased off from the home that was rightfully hers at Lady Tremaine’s death.
Ella closed her eyes. What did she even want ?
The sound of laughter echoed in her mind, joined by dark eyes and warm hands against her bare skin.
Perhaps she was a servant, Jean mused as he watched the endless parade of women in the below courtyard. It hadn’t seemed like it – the woman he’d met had had rough palms, certainly, but she’d spoken like someone with years of education. If she was a servant, someone had given her the education they often didn’t get – and well so.
Then again, if she’d been a servant, she would’ve come to him. Status might be an obstacle, but not one someone like her would let keep her from at least telling him who she was. It had to be something else, some problem she had to solve.
He hoped she would solve it soon. He wanted her in his arms, he wanted to speak with her and keep her with him for the way they made each other happy.
It was her turn, though, to come to him. He’d done everything he could.
Ella woke up that morning with her hand clenched around the glass shoe. The edges had bitten into her palm enough to leave marks and she was slightly surprised she hadn’t shattered the glass. It was stronger than it looked. Perhaps she was as well.
The morning passed quicker than it ever had before. She did her chores, did them well, and when the midday rest came, she wiped her hands off and went to the courtyard. The queue up to the shoe wound through the entire yard like a snake, filled with women of all shapes and sizes.
“Are you joining?” a guard asked, only half listening to her reply. “Please stay calm and wait for your turn. Your will get your chance.”
Ella squeezed her fingers around the heel of the shoe in her pocket. “I can do this,” she whispered to herself. Breathing unevenly, she looked up at the balconies above the courtyard. The Prince would be up there, watching.
The guard scowled at her. “Are you listening?”
Ella drew a shaky breath. “Yes.” Fingers trembling, she withdrew the shoe. “I think I finally am.”
Jean recognized her the moment she stepped into the courtyard. Servant dress, covered hair, dirty apron – none of that could keep him from recognizing her. No one else walked the way she did, searched the faces of the people she met like her, had the same smile on her face while people talked to her. He gripped the arms of his chair, forced himself to breath.
She was making a choice. She came to him.
She came .
This was the last moment to change her mind, Ella realized as the guard outside the balcony gallery reached for the gate. She could still drop the shoe, leave no proof of who she was.
She wasn’t that person.
Heart beating hard enough that she could feel it in her throat, she walked through the gate. She could see him – still and waiting. Unsure or waiting, she wasn’t sure.
She drew her breath. “Jean.” He went still and even across the distance between them, she could see he held his breath. “I’m Ella.”
The smile that burst across his face as he came towards her, bent and kissed her hand loosened the crushing tightness of her chest. “I’m glad to finally meet you, Ella.”
She let out the breath that had somehow gotten stuck inside of her and laughed. “So am I.”