She loved him still. Throughout the give years since the magical ball and
her night of magic and Fairy Godmothers, she loved him still. What else
could she do but to love him still? At first, it was because Ella wasn’t sure
if anyone else in the world loved him, and someone always needed someone
to love them. She didn’t know if he was happy, or if he had any friends, or if
his new Queen would be a good friend to him. So, Ella loved him so he would
have someone in the world to do so.
Then she had gotten a glimpse inside of the Royal Cathedral the day the Kit
had married the lovely Princess. And he was smiling. He wasn’t stiff, nor sad,
nor angry, or upset. He was smiling. He got along with his new wife.
So, then, Ella loved him because her heart needed something to love in her
new world of darkness.
Madam married the Royal Duke and Ella was forced to leave her beautiful,
sacred country home for the Palace. The Duke and the Lady Tremaine had
been sure to scare Ella into not running down the halls to Kit; the lash scars
on her back proved that. It had been unnecessary, though. If Kit was happy
with his new Queen, she could not disrupt his life with her own selfishness.
The Duke, however, made sure he did all he could to guarantee Ella would
regret the happiest night of her life. He was never successful, but Ella grew
tired and exhausted as he made her from servant to slave. She woke up before
dawn everyday and only fell asleep just a few hours before the sunrise. Her life
was hard and she was lonely—her mice friends had been left behind—but she
tread on.
What else was there to do?
“You come into the dining room and I shall make you regret the day you walked!”
It had been two years since the Queen Shelina’s death. The entire kingdom
mourned her death, as did Kit. From the handful of glances Ella had caught
of him, she knew her King mourned, too. She wished to comfort him, to help
to heal his pain, but knew it was not her place. No, he must have forgotten her
with a Queen as lovely as Shelina had been.
But, the King was coming to dine in the Duke’s chambers. Ella had nearly
jumped out of her seat when the Countess had spat that at her, threatening Ella’s
entire life if she were to be found by the King. The King, that the Countess and the
Duke saw nearly every day. They knew him, yes? Did they somehow know that he
cared for her at all? Her heart skipped a beat, but she could not cause anyone
any pain by uncovering herself.
This would not be a new feeling to Ella, to see the love of her life so close and
unable to raise her voice. She had been outside the Cathedral on the day of his
wedding, of the Queen Shelina’s coronation, she had just been down the hall at
this or that ball, and she had been only feet away from Kit at the Queen’s funeral.
This would be no different. Honestly, Ella was grateful for the small sight of his
beautiful eyes, his shiny hair, and the sqaureness of his shoulders.
Ella sat in the kitchen, plating the next round of food the night of the dinner. She
could hear Kit’s face, she could hear the wonderful sound of his laughter, and she
could imagine the beauty and grace that was his smile. She was alone in the kitchen
now, fingers aching, shoulders trembling as colorful memories of a vibrant ball
danced across her memories.
“Miss, you have been dismissed to go to bed,” the cook said.
“I cannot leave the kitchen, though—” The only way out of the kitchen and to her
room in the cellar was to pass a hall by the dining room. The King could see Ella
if he looked up at just the right time.
“The Countess has ordered you to bed. There is sewing there for you,” the cook
replied unsympathetically. Ella’s entire frame slumped in nerves. Oh, she hoped
that she would not be in trouble for this.
Teeth dug into her lip, Ella stood just out of sight in the hall. His voice was still so
deep, so full of kindness and strength. She closed her eyes and her waist shivered
as she remembered his hand brushing over her waist to dance with her. Tears
pricked her eyes. Have courage and be kind.
Quickly, Ella stepped through the hall and prayed that the Countess or the Duke
had not seen her.
HE had wanted to hate her. shelina with her dark complexion and
midnight black hair, such a stark contrast to pale silver and beaten
gold of the maiden that whirled through his dreams and laughed as
the clock struck twelve. he had wanted to hate her, loathe her very
being for she what she represented: the destruction of a dream, a
perfect illusion that would soon fade to golden memory.
BUT shelina was kind –not so much with gentle hands and a
personality to please, as much as a fiery, eloquent tongue and a
knack for understanding. their second meeting she had taken his
hands and in that lyrical voice said that she was sorry, a knowing
glint deep in ebony gaze. she was there, he had forgotten that. she
was there as he danced with his princess in blue and ignored the
one in red. she was there and she saw. it was then he realized:
you can’t blame someone for not being the one you wish,
especially not those with royal blood so thick within their
veins.
IF the maiden from the forest embodied summer, then shelina was
fall with its reds and oranges and burst of color that demanded to get
its say before the harsh winter set in. and so it was only fitting they
were wed as summer died and the greens started to fade to browns
and yellows, and with the turning of the clock came the twist of kit’s
heart, reality pushing the memory of golden hair and honey eyes back
with those of birthdays, black horses, and brief moments in his father’s
embrace.
HE tried to bed her only once in the wake of their wedding day for
that’s what was done, even as the echo of a soft voice rang in his ears,
just because its what’s done, doesn’t mean it’s what should be done. it
must have shone in his eyes for dark fingers had stayed his as they
fumbled with brass buttons and a murmur whispered over satin sheets
and the cloak of night that no one need to know. he slept alone after that,
fingers seeking out warmth next to him where he knew he would find none,
shelina across the hall in her own magnificent room.
( but after that day he also gained a trusted friend. )
SMILES graced his face once more, blue eyes no longer dark as the
depths of the ocean, but bright like the summer sky –like her dress oh
so long ago? they went to court, both of them, language no longer the
barrier it was that magical night he had left her beside the king. and she
was clever, engaging with the grand duke in such a way that made his
lips curl and teeth bite back laughs. they were matched, a pair of twin
swords too matched to be anything but friends and allies in the heat
of politics.
THE world was not perfect, but no one can ask it to be, so he was happy
being content. there are worst things than being married to someone you
have grown to call your best friend.
AND thus he cried at her passing, not because it was expected by the
court and the people, but because remorse and sadness had truly dug
his sharp claws into his heart –though the salt tears that escaped from
tiny blue oceans were not for a lover as so many believed, but for a dear
friend whom he had come to love in the most innocent of ways.
BUT gone were the days of innocence and naivety. death had graced his
hooded presence before and so kit moved on, black cloth turning to grey.
but never did it turn white, not even at the grand duke’s urgence and
reminders that shelina unfortunately did not produce an heir before her
death, did kit seek out another bride. in time perhaps he would, but not
quite yet.
( and perhaps he started dreaming once more
as summer sang its song once more, of golden
hair and blue dresses and eyes like warm
chocolate. )
TWO years and the time for stalling slowly trickled out from its meta-
phorical hourglass. he was no longer an adolescent king, but one in
his prime, and the rumors started abound. of the lack of an heir and
rebellion, thus the extension of an invitation to dine with the grand
duke and his wife the countess tremain did not faze him, though the
prospect of speaking at length on the topic of brides did not quite
appeal to him.
STILL go he did to dine and laugh good-naturedly along with the couple,
wine in hand to wet his throat. anecdotes flew from mouth to mouth,
spewed out over roast chicken and fine breads and rice, each word
seeming to bring the past back to life as if sparkling blue and glass
slippers had only happened but a week past. it seeming fitting, the
tugging of memories to the surface because he had felt it. the wave
of sadness as he stepped over the threshold of the duke’s house, as
if there were something here. something important.
ANOTHER sip of sweet wine, his head tosses back in a bout of
laughter, eyes wandering from fare and host to the hall beyond as
the grand duke waxes on about a horse and the countess gives her
devilish smile, red as blood.
AND a flash of blue and gold flits across the doorway.
SAPPHIRE hues widen ever so slightly, mind hardly having to work
to bring the image of a maiden with gold sunlit hair in a simple blue
frock and talk of stags and life upon her tongue. heart skips a beat,
jumping in an irregular pattern against his ribs, because surely…
THE chair screeches as he pushes it back, glass of wine set
precariously at the edge of the table. eyes swiveled to him, the maid
serving the next course of the mail pausing, plate hovering between
the table and her tray. he can’t breathe, hope a toxin pumping through
his veins that sends everything askew.
❝ forgive me, I shall be back in a moment. ❞
