Cinderella

Stolen

"I just cannot believe that my brother is getting married before me!"Melina was smiling, however, as she said this. Her eyes were bright with excitement.

"Not too far before, I hope," Winslow said, eyes lingering on her hand tucked in Nicolas's.

Mariette wound an arm around his waist as she ducked under his arm. She kissed his cheek, prickly as he hadn't shaved yet. "Don't tease them to very much, Winslow. After all, it took us nine years."

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "So it did."

The pair had already alerted Monsieur Olivier of their engagement. He was displeased, to say the very least. Now, as they stood near Winslow's borrowed horse, they were stalling the inevitable.

"I suppose you have to leave now," Nicolas said with disdain, eyeing the horse as if it were its fault.

Mariette untangled herself from Winslow and kissed Nicolas's cheek. He squeezed her in a tight hug and she said, "Thank you for everything you have done, Nicolas."

"Likewise," he said, pulling away.

As Winslow said his goodbye to Nicolas, Mariette briefly embraced Melina.

"Take care of him," Melina said, nodding toward her brother.

"I will."

Winslow hugged his sister and kissed her cheeks before he swung himself over the saddle. He reached a hand to Mariette and she settled herself before him on the horse. His arms went around her, and Nicolas handed him the reins.

"I love you," Winslow breathed into her ear, stirring her hair.

She rested back against him, closing her eyes in contentment. "I love you, too."

And with that, they left.

They reached the castle quickly, but were stunned by what they found. Chaos met them at every turn. The cooks were frantic as the pair stepped through the door.

"Lucille?" Winslow called to the female cook, a matronly woman with frizzled grey hair and doe eyes. "What is going on?"

She flushed. "You haven't heard? The prince has been kidnapped! The young man was out hunting one day, and a bandit returned in his place, with a list of demands."

"Kidnapped?" Mariette gasped. "What were the demands?!"

The cook, Lucille, bit her thin lip. "From what anyone has told me, enough money to buy a castle, freedom from punishment, and 'a woman to satisfy their manly needs'. That last was a direct quote from the scribe who read the demands. He's an old friend of mine, so he was more than happy to keep me informed."

"Do they have any idea where he's been taken?" Mariette asked.

The cook sighed. "A camp not too far from here was all the bandit would tell us. That and that the camp was surrounded by rogue's who had betrayed the king's army."

"So we will do nothing?!" Winslow cried out, and Mariette remembered that the prince and he had once been good friends. "Has the king agreed to supply the demands?"

Lucille shook her head. "It's his pride, you see. He believes it to be much easier to storm every forest in a thousand miles searching for him."

"That's mad!" Mariette gasped.

Lucille nodded. "Exactly what I said. But no one listens to a poor old cook."

"Lucille!" A man barked, poking his head into the kitchen. "Where are those sausages? The king would prefer not to starve as he tries to save his son's life."

"I'm coming!" she said in exasperation, lifting a tray off the counter and heading for the door. She called over her shoulder, "It was nice speaking to the both of you, but it appears I am direly needed. Good day."

"Good day," Winslow repeated and she was gone.

"We have to save him," Mariette said, almost instantly.

He nodded. "I agree, of course, but how? Even the king is confounded."

Mariette took a deep breath. "I need to see the bandit."

The dungeons were by far the coldest places in existence. At least, this was what Mariette thought as she stumbled into them, clutching a shawl tight around her. They were also very dark and full of spiders. Mariette hatedspiders. She decided then and there to never ever commit a crime.

Yet another irritation was that Winslow had not cared to join her. Granted, he was trying all he could to convince the king that the demands should be met, but still, his comforting presence would have been more than welcome in the freezing, damp dungeons.

All three of the guards were asleep outside of the iron bars, snoring soundly. Mariette smiled-it would be easier than she expected. She hesitantly scuttled over the floor, and plucked the keys from one man's belt. As quite as she possibly could, she unlocked the door and slid inside. She glanced around the small, dimly lit cell as best she could, but saw no prisoner.

Suddenly, a large hand clamped over her mouth. Her body was hauled against the man behind her, and a raspy voice whispered in her ear. "You, my irresponsible one, are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." He placed a slimy kiss on her ear and she shivered in mortification and fear. "But so, so stupid."

His hands found hers that were so tightly clamped around her shawl and loosed them with a well-trained grace. He pushed the shawl away and goose bumps rose on her arms. She was frozen; she could not move, his hands robbed her of that. They drifted over her bodice, which conveniently for him was laced in the front, and began to unlace it.

She tried to struggle against him, squirming as much as she could, but he was much too strong. She dropped her legs out beneath her, but he only held her up. He was so much stronger than her.

"Hush, love," he whispered, pressing his lips onto her ear. "I won't hurt you. Not much. This must be what you wanted, anyway. Why else would you seek me out?"

He didn't lift his hand from her mouth so that she could answer, and his other hand drifted once again to the laces of her dress. She screamed into his hand, but it was too muffled to be of any use, and he only chuckled into her ear. His kisses trailed from her ear to her cheek, then down to her jaw. He pressed his dry, scratchy lips into her throat, leaving a trail of saliva. Bile rose in her throat.

"Speak," he whispered. "I wish to hear your voice. But if you scream," something cool and slim pressed into her ribs, "I will kill you."

He moved his hand and she struggled for breath. As calmly as she could manage, she said, "There are three guards asleep outside this cell. You are a fool to think that you could kill me and escape them."

He ignored her words. "Ah, and what a beautiful voice you have. You are much too exquisite to be searching for a man to bed you. You must be here to find the prince."

His hands pushed her dress off her shoulders, baring them, but she kept her bodice held tight by her arms. "You are as intelligent as you are gentlemanly," she muttered. "I suppose there is no chance of finding him, is there?"

He bent and kissed her bare shoulder, and she felt a smile on his lips. She shuddered, repulsed, but he only smiled all the more. "My dear, there is every chance in the world that I will tell you where he is. But you must be very, very agreeable."

"That," said a voice that did not belong to either of them, "will not be possible."