Sinful Cinderella

It’s him.

I can’t see his face but his voice slides into me like a dark spell. My heart deadens. My limbs lose the will to move. There is no hope for me now, none at all.

“Release her,” Edgar says and Loony lifts off me. Edgar crouches and takes careful hold of my arms. I allow him to lift me but I keep my eyes down. I don’t want to look at him.

“It is you, my little crow, is it not?” He says it as tenderly as if we’re long-estranged lovers. Hooking a finger under my chin, he gently tilts my face up to his. “Look at me,” he whispers.

So I look. Oh my goodness, he’s beautiful. His blue eyes are so soft and loving they remind me of Papa’s. He’s wearing a black suit tonight, a silver crown in his hair. He smiles gently and sadly, as if my absence pained him, and I even see tears in his eyes.

“It’s you.” He touches my cheek with his fingertips. “I have searched the kingdom, night and day, hoping to find you. I almost despaired.” He grins now, a grin of heartfelt delight. “You’re as beautiful as I remember.”

My heart is aching, bleeding tears. If only he was really like this! But I know the real him, this is a performance. And we have an audience. Stepmother and Loony and Moody stand a few yards away, spaced around us like sentinels. And from the corner of my eye I notice two soldiers that must have come with the prince. Well, if Edgar can pretend, then so can I.

I shake my head. “I don’t know you, sir.”

Edgar smiles and takes hold of my hands. “Don’t be shy, my dearest. How could I forget those eyes! You look less grand than when I last saw you, but your sweetness cannot be hidden. I’ve missed you so.”

Oh, he’s good. He’s got Loony and Moody completely fooled, they both gaze at him hungrily. And Stepmother – her thin eyes shift from Edgar to me, not knowing who to believe. I can tell she doesn’t like the way he’s talking to me.

I lower my eyes. “I’m sorry, sir, but I do not know you. I am just a servant here.”

“She’s lying,” Stepmother says. Edgar holds up a hand. “She is just being modest. One of the many things I admire about her. But don’t worry. I have something to settle the question. Something she lost on the night of the ball.” He turns and beckons to one of the soldiers.

The soldier is a young fellow with a hard, square jaw, thrust forward to convey his tough-ness. He looks misplaced in this yard full of women, with his belt and sword and pointed helmet. He approaches Edgar with a silver box not much bigger than... my foot. I know what will be inside.

Edgar takes the chest and tilts back the lid. And there it is, my crystal slipper. Nestled in a cushion of blue velvet and twinkling like a star. It’s beautiful. But to me it’s like the sack they slip over your head just before the executioner drops his blade.

Edgar carefully scoops out the shoe and hands the chest back to the soldier. I take a step back. “I will not put that on.”

Edgar laughs good-naturedly. “What is there to fear? If you are not the girl I seek then the shoe will not fit you. And I’ll leave you in peace. Here, slip it on.” He lifts the shoe in both hands like an offering.

I step back again. “No.” But darn it, I didn’t notice that Loony moved to stand behind me. Her big hands grip my arms just above the elbows. “Royal decree, honeybee,” she croons. “All maidens must try on the slipper. Even Melodie and I tried to wear it. But it’s so ridiculously small. Just like your feet, isn’t that funny?”

Edgar steps closer, still holding out the slipper. And now I can’t move back. So I do the only thing I can think of: I swing up my foot and kick the underside of his hands. It works. The slipper shoots up, arches over his head, strikes the stone surface of the courtyard. And shatters.

I allow myself to smile. My slipper is ruined, smashed into sparkling fragments like diamonds. Only the long, thin heel remains intact, lying on the ground like an icicle.

I smirk at Edgar. “Oops. Silly me.”

He’s angry. His face has gone iron cold. I’m seeing the real Edgar now, the snake coiled to spring. He may carefully conceal his true nature before others, but the venom shows in his eyes. If my stupid steps were not present, I know he would hit me again, hard.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Moody says. “I’ve got the other slipper right here.”

Edgar whirls around. Moody stands a few feet behind him, holding my left slipper. I don’t believe it. Her face is glum as ever as she hands it to the prince. Like none of this matters to her.

All I can do is stare at her, shocked. She shrugs at me. The shrug is very telling, it says, ‘Look, I tried to help you but you threw a scrub brush at me. We’re done.’

I never liked her anyway.

“Well!” Edgar laughs as he takes the new slipper. “Aren’t you full of surprises! Where did you get this?”

Moody points a finger at me. “In her room, the morning after the ball. I went in to speak with her and she was dead asleep on her bed, with bloody feet. The slipper was on the floor. I took it-” she glares at me “-so that Mother wouldn’t find it.”

“You what?” Stepmother cries.

Moody flicks her hand. “None of that matters now. Just put the shoe on and get rid of her.”

The prince turns back to me, holding the shoe close to his chest this time. “Shall we, my dear?” He smiles like a hawk closing talons over its prey.

Loony’s grip on me tightens. “Say the word and I’ll hold her foot for you,” she tells Edgar. I curl my fingers into claws. They won’t take me down without a fight.

Edgar leans toward me but his smile falters. His knees twitch forward but he doesn’t take a step. He looks down, frowning, and his knees twitch again.

“What’s the matter?” Stepmother asks.

Edgar tries to laugh. “I – I can’t move my feet!”

Stepmother frowns and shifts her weight forward. She gasps as her feet remain planted. “I can’t either!”

I feel Loony’s hands drop off me and she squeals like a piglet. “I just lowered my arms and I wasn’t trying to!”

“It’s her,” Moody says, staring at me in awe. “She’s using magic. I don’t know how, but-”

“Witch! Witch!” Loony screams.

We all hear a laugh. A harsh, loud cackle that seems to come from nowhere. Everyone looks scared to death except me. I know that laugh.

“Oh, she’s no witch,” says a new voice to my right. “Just a selfish child. A vain little hussy. But she can’t do magic - that’s what I’m for.”

The air beside me fills with color and shape and Godnutter appears before all of us.