Dancing on Glass

Lady Constantia

"I've said it before, it's not that I don't want to tell him, it's that I don't want to him figure out who I am when he realises where my home is," Cinderella said as she walked.

The bird on her shoulder gave an unconvinced tweet and took off, flitting on ahead as they made their way down the road towards Cinderella's home.

"You don't need to judge," she said as the bird settled on a branch and watched her go passed in her bare feet, her shoes in her basket so they weren't worn out when she needed them for work at home.

"It's Cinderella!!"

The screech behind her made her almost jump out of her skin and she hurriedly hurled her shoes to the ground, shoving her feet into them before spinning around and jumped out of the way just before she was run down by a horse.

Giselle laughed like an idiot as she pulled the horse to a stop and turned her around, sneering at Cinderella.

"Ever light on your feet," she sneered.

"Ever cumbersome on yours," Cinderella muttered under her breath.

"What was that?"

"I didn't expect to see you out so late," Cinderella said loudly.

Giselle smiled, setting her hands on her hips, flicking her head to get a ringlet of brunette hair out of her face.

"You're late," she said simply.

"Well things got in the way, the lack of a carriage home for example."

Giselle snorted. "Servants don't ride in carriages, peasant girl."

"I'm not a—"

"Aren't you? Because you're not a noblewoman, not dressed like that. Not with the things you do or the way you behave or the people you associate with."

"You'll excuse me, but from what I recall, your mother does not let me associate with anyone," Cinderella said bitterly.

"What about that pageboy?"

Cinderella fell still, then slowly looked up at her stepsister who looked down her button nose at her. Giselle smiled.

"I don't know who you mean," she muttered.

"No? Let me describe him. Tall young man, black hair, nice eyes, handsome for a servant I must admit but still a servant. Does that ring a bell?"

"I wouldn't know, I don't know any pageboys," Cinderella replied.

Giselle's eyes darkened. "Well, Mama wouldn't believe you anyway so he can be a pageboy or a beggar for all it matters, she'll just enjoy the excuse to punish you."

She turned her horse away and Cinderella grabbed at the reins, stopping her.

Giselle looked down at her, her expression impassive, her eyes triumphant.

"What do you want?" Cinderella muttered coldly.

"The white gown."

Cinderella's head snapped up, her eyes widening in horror.

"I want the white gown I know you keep stored away under your bed."

"You can't have that," Cinderella snapped, releasing the mare.

"Pageboy it is then."

"Why?" Cinderella cried, "It was my mother's. It's second hand, it's old, it's out of style. Why would you want it?"

"I want to test out a new design and I need a gown to practice on."

"You have dozens of old dresses and all of mine, use any of them – apart from the red and gold one, you could use any of them."