Cinderella

Returning to Reality

Mariette was jolted awake when the carriage caught a rock. She unsteadily blinked her violet eyes at her surroundings. Her stepfamily was still asleep, Margaret drooling heavily. Mariette leaned back into the soft velvet, breathing steadily. She had hoped that the previous day had been a bad dream. She tangled her fingers through her dark hair, catching a few strands as she tried to tame the mess. It wouldn't matter, she knew, that her hair was prim or proper. Her clothing shouted servant, screamed it loud enough to wake mountains from slumber. Mariette sighed in frustration. Somehow, the sigh awoke her stepmother.

Griselda's sharp eyes shot open and she pulled herself upright. Glancing at the women around her, she settled her eyes on Mariette. "You."

"Yes?" Mariette replied.

"I want to make something clear," she said, eyes piercing. "You may have been able to weasel your way into our lives, and into the castle, but you will notweasel your way to the prince. As you can tell, he is clearly smitten by my dear Lenora."

"I had thought nothing of the sort, I assure you. My intentions have been clear for as long as you have known me, Griselda."

"And, Mariette, know that you are not nearly as beautiful as either of my daughters."

Mariette's eyebrows raised, her cherry lips parting slightly. "Do you believe that I am vain?"

"Vanity, my dear, is the quicksand of reason," Griselda stated. "And I see in your eyes that you find yourself beautiful. Squash those thoughts darling, before you become too dependent on what isn't there."

Mariette had never thought anything of the sort (aside from the night of the ball, when it seemed that both the prince and the strange man had found her beautiful). The statement itself, however, piqued her curiosity. She had never put much thought into vanity, but clearly Griselda was afraid that she might contract some. Was it dangerous? Mariette pondered until the carriage pulled to a stop.

Lenora awoke automatically, but Margaret had to be shaken more than once. A coachman opened the door for them, and Griselda shoved out, gesturing wide hellos. Margaret was next, still disoriented from her slumber. Lenora was determined to make an entrance, it would appear, and she exited the carriage slowly, deliberating her steps so that each movement was able to be focused on. If done by a more attractive woman, the action would have been stunning; on Lenora it looked outlandish.

Mariette was last, and she stepped unsteadily out of the carriage. She caught her breath at the surroundings. The castle was as beautiful as she remembered, and the scenery was profoundly breathtaking. Many servants surrounded the entrance to the castle, apparently awaiting their arrival. To Mariette it seemed as if all eyes were focused on her. The four began to shuffle forward.

"Ma'am," a young servant began, bowing to Griselda and then to the young women. "The prince requests that you enter; he has been patiently awaiting you."

The young man's eyes lingered on Mariette and she blushed, turning her eyes down. But the dull blue of his eyes, the light tumble of his brown hair, the deep tune of his voice, stuck a cord of remembrance in her.

"Might I lead the way?" he questioned and Griselda nodded, smiling.

"Which is the prince's betrothed?" he asked her, still gazing at Mariette. She wondered what he was staring at.

Griselda gestured to her youngest daughter, who smiled. "My daughter Lenora. And this is Margaret, my eldest. The other girl is but a servant."