Cinderella

First Meetings

The smell hit her first, penetrating her carefully composed expression and causing her to gag. After this first fit of coughing, she pulled her eyes open to search for the source of the smell, which was a strange mix of body odor, horse manure, and something entirely unknown to her.

As she opened her eyes, she found at least fifty other pairs staring at her openly.

"Quit your gawkin'!" the man on the horse bellowed, dismounting, but grasping her ankle, lest she try to ride away. "I'll be bringing her to the captain. I don't think she's to be for the likes of you, least for a while, that is."

They laughed at this last part, and Mariette's stomach tumbled uneasily. Contrary to her stepmother's accusations, she had no idea what it was that these men wanted from her; there had simply never been a mother to explain it. Her inexperience, paired with her guilt at leaving Winslow behind, had her positively nauseous.

"Come on," the man urged her, tugging at her boot.

Despite her unease, Mariette swung from the horse smoothly, a habit from years of training. The moment her boots touched the ground, the man latched onto her wrist and tugged her in the direction of the nearest (and by far most extravagant, though even it was dirty and stained) tent.

Roughly, he tossed her inside and strode in behind her.

"Excuse me," she hissed at him. "I am not an animal!"

"However," a new voice murmured from another part of the tent. "For the time being, we may treat you as one, if we so please. Am I correct in assuming this is the first of our demands the king has submitted to?"

"Captain," the man greeted him formally, and Mariette realized he had spoken from behind her. She turned, and saw, in the darkest corner of the tent, a shadowed figure in a chair.

"This is the woman we requested," the man confirmed, clasping his hands together behind his back and smiling. "Perhaps Isaac was wrong, yes?"

"Isaac," the man murmured, leaning forward only slightly, "may still prove to be correct. This is only one of the demands met, and by far the easiest. Though," he mused, and his voice became curious, "I know now why our king would be quiet so generous. Even in the shadows of this tent, she is still quite possibly the most beautiful woman I have seen. Do you agree?"

The man near her leered, and she tugged her cloak closer to her body, particularly her bodice, where his eyes seemed to linger. "Very much, Captain."

"Leave us now, if you please," the man in the chair said. "I have much to discuss with this woman."

"Careful, Captain," the man cautioned, but made his way to the door. Over his shoulder, he said, "This one's got spirit to her."

"All the better," the captain said, but the man was already gone. "At first," he informed her, standing from his seat, "You were to be a gift to my men, for their loyalty and devotion. However..." He paused and stood slowly, staying in the shadows. "Now that I see you, even in such poor light, it is clear that this is not an option. You, my dear, will be mine and mine alone."

Mariette swallowed, unsure of what to say. She regretted her decision with every passing moment. "Am I permitted to know your name?" she asked timidly.

A glint of white revealed that he was smiling. "You can know anything you'd like. My name is Captain James, and you shall call me whatever you prefer. Your comfort shall be my goal."

Mariette frowned. "What?"

Slowly, he stepped into the light. Mariette could barely stifle her gasp. While not unattractive, he had a long, jagged scar down his face, trailing from his hairline to his neck, and it puckered profusely. He smiled at her discomfort.

"You have yet to tell me your name. It seems only proper, don't you think, since you know mine."

"Mariette," she murmured, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. As he seemed to be being reasonable, she ventured to ask, "Captain...what have you done with his highness, the prince?"

Captain James frowned. "Why do you care? Do you know him personally?"

Mariette bit her tongue and shook her head. "No, no, sir. I just served him briefly; he is engaged to my stepsister, you see. I couldn't bear for her to be hurt by his...passing." The lies seemed to flow easily, and she hoped he didn't see through them. She had no idea what he'd do if he had the slightest inkling about how she really felt about the prince.

"Remember this then," he told her solemnly, "your future brother-in-law's survival depends on two things, neither of which more important than the other. The first, that the king submit to the rest of my demands. This, I know, is out of your hands. However, the second is that you agree completely to do anything I wish." Her face clouded with almost-fear before she could cover it and he went on, "I don't want you to fear me. Fear taints the essence of youth and joy. But I feel that I must warn you..." He stepped closer and closer still, until they were nose to nose and his ice-colored eyes were but a few inches from hers. "...If you give me cause," he whispered intensely, "I will break you."