Page 2 of Cinder's Trial
The magic also coiled my hair into ringlets atop my head, and a glance in the mirror showed a light layer of makeup to accent my eyes and lips. The crowning touch, the intricate gold mask that covered half my face.
“Oh my,” I exclaimed, stunned by the transformation.
“Perfect,” declared Godmother. “Now you just need to get to the ball so you can enchant your prince.”
Her use of “enchant” bothered. I’d seen pictures of the prince hosting, and he was old. So very old. I had no interest in catching his eye. I just wanted to dance and see all the beautiful gowns and tuxedos.
“Thank you so much,” I gushed.
“You’re welcome, dear girl. Off you go.” Before I could say another word, Godmother waved her wand, and poof, I found myself standing on the sidewalk outside the grand hotel.
My entrance didn’t go unnoticed. People murmured, and even the musicians playing paused, most likely because an old man with much gold braid and medals tottered for me.
“Ah, at last, a beauty worthy of a prince.” Prince Henrick leered at me with his yellowed and gray teeth, the wrinkles on his face too numerous to count.
I could think of no polite way to refuse his demand we dance.
So I danced with the prince. Over and over. He seemed undaunted by the fact I kept moving his hands from my buttocks. Made no attempt to hide the fact he stared at my cleavage.
The evening I’d so looked forward to turned out to be not as wonderful as expected. Knowing the story, or should I say curse, I wasn’t surprised the prince proposed to me as the hour approached midnight.
“You flatter me, Your Highness,” I stated, tugging my hand from his clammy grip.
“We will marry, and you will bear little princes,” he cackled.
Inwardly I shivered with revulsion, and when he leaned in to try and kiss me, I turned and fled. I ran out of the hotel and onto the sidewalk, clutching my bouffant skirt. As I fled, my heel got caught in a grate, but hearing shouts behind me, I left the shoe behind.
Once I kicked off the remaining transformed slipper, I put some distance between me and those pursuing. I sprinted all the way home and thought myself safe.
Only the prince wouldn’t accept my rejection.
A search began for the mysterious woman he’d fallen in love with.
Me.
He put out a call to all the ladies who’d attended to present themselves, stating that whoever fit into the shoe I’d left behind would become his bride.
I didn’t make an appearance at the public spectacle that had dozens of women, many who’d never even gone to the ball, trying on the golden shoe. To my relief, someone managed to wedge her foot into that golden slipper—“someone” being Marilyn, a coworker who’d never been nice to me and deserved the gropy old prince as far as I was concerned.
That should have been the end of it, only my fairy godmother had the nerve to visit me a few days later wearing a frown.
“Cinderella, what’s this I hear about you rejecting the prince?”
I arched a brow. “Can you blame me? He’s old enough to be my great-grandfather.”
My observation pursed Godmother’s lips. “The Grimm Effect doesn’t take age into account when pairing people.”
“Well, it should, or maybe it should let people fall in love on their own,” I huffed.
“Be that as it may, you appear safe from Prince Henrick. However, I’m afraid something must still be done with you.”
I frowned. “Meaning what?”
“My failure to give you a happily ever has agitated the curse, and it’s pressuring me to do something about you.”
My eyes widened. “Wait, are you here to kill me?”
Godmother’s eyes widened. “Goodness, no, dear girl. However, you and I won’t be done until I make your heart sing. Alas, I’m not aware of any eligible princes. Henrick was the only current, unmarried one. There is presently a worldwide shortage of eligible royalty.”