Cinderella

Meeting Gypsies

Winslow was propped against the kitchen doorway when she entered, waiting for her it appeared. Mariette smiled at him sadly and he cocked his head to the side, confusion plain across his handsome face.

"How was your adventure?" he asked.

"Interesting," Mariette told him, not sure of how much to say. "In His Highness's words, it was a learning experience."

"What does that mean, exactly?" he asked.

Mariette smiled at him artificially. "I'll explain later. Right now, I think I'm going to go lie down."

"Mariette!" she heard. She sighed in defeat. "Mariette! Where are you, you ugly slip of a girl?!"

Winslow's eyes wrinkled. "Why...?"

"MARIETTE!"

Mariette turned to see Griselda and Lenora standing behind her.

"Just what have you been doing all day?" Griselda hissed. "The kitchen hands had to make our breakfast because you couldn't be bothered to make an appearance. And I had to dress the girls."

"They are old enough to dress themselves, Griselda," Mariette intoned in a rare moment of impatience, feeling unusually bold.

Griselda recoiled. "You will notspeak to me in that manner. And not that you would know, but the latest in fashion involves very tight lacing of gowns, impossible to do on your own."

"Well that explains why they're always so red! They cannot breathe! Here I had pegged it as terrible complexion!" Mariette bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood. She had never spoken to her stepmother in such a way, but the day's events had exhausted her.

Griselda's lips tightened into a tight line of fury, her eyes narrowing to slits. "You'd best hope I decide to forget what you've just said. Apologize to Lenora, and admit you are a lying useless scullery maid."

"But to admit that I'm a scullery maid would be-" -a lie, she finished silently in her head. She wasn't sure where her flash of rebellion had arisen from, but it was a fire that could not be slaked. It seemed as if the more she said, the more she had to say. Griselda seemed positively appalled, and there were no words to describe the expression that graced her red face.

"You-you little..." Griselda didn't seem to be able to push the words out of her mouth. Mariette worried briefly that she might be having a stroke. "You littlebitch." Griselda flew at her, claws spread wide and eyes spewing fury. "How dareyou speak to me like that?! After all I've done for you, you ignorant harlot! You're no better than a commonprostitute! That's where I should have sent you when your father died! Abrothel!"

Mariette artfully dodged her attack, but Griselda managed to claw a streak of red across her cheekbone. A flash of pain coursed through her, but she ignored it, too busy weaving away from Griselda.

"Mother!" Lenora screamed. "What have you done?! Do you realize what you said?!"

Griselda froze. "What I said doesn't matter. All that heard are pointless: A useless servant and a whore."

Mariette backed away from her stepmother, afraid of what she might do next. She bumped into Winslow while backpedaling, and he gripped her shoulders tightly to stop her from falling.

"Are you alright?" he whispered in her ear, and she nodded, knowing he didn't mean that she had almost fallen.

"No matter," Griselda said calmly, adjusting her clothing. "I will make sure that our old servant will be gone by tomorrow. Technically we are now in the king's domain, so he'll have to consent, but that shouldn't be a problem."