Cinderella

He Lives

"Wake up," a soft voice whispered, stirring Mariette's hair. She sighed contently and snuggled deeper into the warm bed. It had been so long since she's slept in one...

"Mariette, it's time to get up," the voice said again, this time a little louder, and a hand brushed hair away from her face.

When she recognized the voice, she sat straight up, breathing heavily. Captain James was sitting beside her, smiling. "Good morning," she told him, gasping and putting a hand to her throat.

"Are you alright?" he asked in concern, looking her over.

Struggling to remember how she'd ended up in a bed (she was almost sure she'd fallen asleep on a rug that had been lying on the tent's floor, when the captain had left to check on the prince), she said, "Yes, of course. You only...startled me. Um, if you don't mind my asking, how did I end up in a bed?"

He smiled proudly. "I put you there, of course. The ground just didn't seem very comfortable, and it isn't as if we weren't to be sharing one soon anyway."

Mariette's stomach turned. "You slept here, as well?" She noted his attire with some nausea-he wore no shirt, and only a loose pair of cotton trousers.

"Of course. Where else would I sleep?" He rolled his eyes as if this were obvious, and didn't wait for a response. "Anyway, now that you're awake, I have a surprise for you."

Apprehensively, she asked, "A surprise?"

His eyes twinkled with mischief. "Yes. But first, breakfast. I am positively starved and I can't imagine you're any better."

At the mention of food, her stomach complained noisily, and at the sound he smiled. "That would be nice," she murmured, embarrassed.

The captain stretched his arms and stood, lazily strolling to the small table in his tent. He had his back to Mariette, so she couldn't see what he was doing, but she heard the sloshing of liquid being poured.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked companionably.

She pushed the blankets back and realized with relief that she was wearing the same dress as the day before. "Yes, thank you. It's been ages since I slept in a bed."

He turned, holding a tray filled with fruits, cheeses, and two steaming mugs. "Where you a servant?" he asked curiously.

She nodded. "For a time. As a child, I was spoiled rotten by my father and governess."

"Did he waste away the money? Your father, I mean." Gingerly, he sat on the edge of the bed, as if afraid he'd jostle her. He sat the tray between them.

Mariette shook her head. "He died, actually, and left his money to his wife and her daughters. Griselda insisted that none of it was ever meant to go to me anyway, and tried to marry me off. When I refused every suit, I became nothing more than her maid."

"Then why," he asked intensely, leaning close and gazing into her eyes as if all the world's secrets were held there, "do you care so much what happens to her daughter's fiancée?"

Instead of answering, she lifted an apple from the tray and bit into it, the crunch loud in the otherwise silent tent.

Suspiciously, he asked, "What aren't you telling me?"

Setting the apple aside, Mariette folded her hands in her lap and smiled up at him. "There is nothing to tell, Captain. I simply feel obliged to help my family, though they've done nothing to earn it."