Cinderella - A Retelling with Strength and Courage

Chapter Six

Hector spun.

Against all odds, against any move that Ella could think a human body could possibly make, Hector turned so that the arrow struck him not full in the chest, but high in the shoulder. His groan shook the room, but his grip on his dagger remained firm. Another blink and he dove the remaining distance into the safety of his troop, dragging the Queen with him.

Hector's men closed in tight around him, sealing him and his hostage safely within their wall of swords.

Ella's stepmother's shriek rose even higher. A finger pointed straight at Ella. "Traitor!"

Ella's world spun up into a blur.

She raced past the shocked guard, leaving him behind. She stumbled down the steps, tumbling out through the door. She had to get out of the castle gates before she was caught. Before she was drawn, quartered, eviscerated, and burned alive. She doubted the word of one lone guard could save her from that fate.

The courtyard was deserted, and even the two men at the main gates had all their attention on the palace within. One asked her, as she raced toward them, "What has happened? We heard the alarm, but cannot leave our posts."

She tripped, and one of her ice-slippers tumbled onto the stones. She let it lie. There were more important things to consider. "The Queen has been taken hostage," she shot out as she drew close. "You will probably have to let her through, for her own safety. But be ready to follow her."

The guards stared at her in shock.

And then she was past them, tumbling up alongside Pansy.

Ella pulled off her other ice shoe and flung it hard into the far wall, where it burst into a thousand pieces. Then she tugged on her boots and vaulted onto Pansy's back. "Come on. We have to get into the woods. We have to get ahead of them."

Pansy seemed to need no urging. She lit out at a canter, they turned hard right, and in a moment they were on the road toward Bramburg.

She leaned down over her mount's mane –

The thunder of hooves sounded from behind her.

Her throat tightened in panic. She looked over her shoulder –

It was the guard. He was on a sleek black stallion, the finest she had ever seen. And, despite Pansy's speed, he was drawing up to her as if she were standing still.

There was no use for it.

She reined and let him draw close.

He shook his head as he came alongside her. "Where are you going? Surely you live in town, to the south?"

She stared at him in shock. "It is my fault the Queen is in trouble. I am going to find a place to intercept them. To whittle down their numbers, if I can do nothing else."

His gaze went in surprise from her to the bow she still carried at her side. "You are going to take them all on yourself?"

"What is the alternative, to let her die? It is my fault."

"It is not your fault," he shot back. "Sir Hector is the one who held a knife to her throat. You did not arrange for their ambush, did you?"

She shook her head. "But I hardly made it better."

"You are the only one who tried to save her," pointed out the guard. "Without you –"

Ella glanced back down the road toward the castle. "If we stand her arguing, they will be on us and kill both of us. Can we continue this later?"

His gaze sparkled, but he nodded. "Then we will do this together."

She frowned. "Are you sure? If you are found with me, they might string you up, too. I could not take responsibility for that."

His eyes, for once, lost a bit of their shadows. A smile came to his lips. "If it comes to that, we will face that together as well."

A warmth came to her chest, and she could barely breathe.

She nodded.

"Together."

She glanced to the left. "If we are going to fight, I need to gather up my supplies."

He nodded. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword. "Lead the way."

She found the narrow deer-trail and guided Pansy down it. Pansy hardly needed urging – she knew the way well. Past the badger-hole, around the tumble of rocks, and then there was the clearing with the small grave.

The guard looked around in curiosity as she climbed down. "This is someone's resting place?"

She nodded. "My mother's. She passed away fifteen years ago."

"I'm so sorry."

She went to the mound and dug her way through the snow. At last she reached her precious cache. She pulled off her thin boots and replaced them with the thick, furred ones. The tunic came next, pulled right over her red dress. She strapped her knife at her side.

His voice came from behind her. "Why do you keep these things out in the woods?"

She answered absently, cinching the belt tight. "If my stepmother knew any of these things existed, she'd sell them in the blink of an eye. And I promised my mother I'd watch over my father, so I've stayed until now. But tomorrow is my twenty-first birthday. I will consider my debt to my father – and my vow to my mother – paid in full. I will be leaving home."

He dismounted and stared at her as if she were a faerie. "You what?"

She blushed in hot shame. "I know, a daughter's place is to care for her family. But I just can't –"

He waved a hand, taking long strides toward her through the thick snow. He stared at her as if he had not seen her before now. "Not that. I mean ... tomorrow is your birthday? Tomorrow? Mid-winter?"

Her flush grew even stronger. "Yes."

He seemed as if he could barely speak. "What is your name?"

Now she felt as if her throat had closed up. Why was she so reluctant to tell him? It took her three tries to get the word out. But at last she did, on breath so faint she wondered if he could hear her.

"Ella."

He sagged against the oak.

His voice was hollow. "You're alive? But I thought – I'd been told - "

She could not breathe. The glimmer of an idea began glowing in the back of her mind.

He drew in a breath, staring at her. "Do you know how many nights, in the trenches, that memories of our conversation kept me whole? How thoughts of your determined strength brought me through the darkest hours?"

She stared more closely into his eyes –

Into their deepest depths –

Her world hung motionless.

"Alexander?"