Shut Up, Cinderella

Two Worlds

It was snowing at last.

After the heat of summer and the rains of fall the king's palace was finally covered in white, glistening in the light of its countless lanterns and candles set up to celebrate the upcoming winter solstice. White, too, was the whole kingdom, the towns and little villages, the empty fields and the houses where people now crowded together from the winter cold.

From one of these houses chattering voices came. Two women stood there, wrapped in coats and shawls, talking to each other while a young man took their measurements for new pairs of winter boots.

"—and even the commoners are invited, they say," one was telling the other. "The ladies and the gentlemen, too. Apparently this new prince doesn't discriminate."

"What a rumor!" said the second. "But how can he produce an heir if he winds up marrying a man?"

"Adoption, I s'pose," the first one mused. "They do say it's better, actually, picking out your heir instead of taking what Mother Nature gives you."

The second one pursed her lips. "That still sounds too good to be true."

"Well, 's not like we'll get much out of it, most of us," said the first. "I'm taking my Clara of course, but I doubt she'll strike anyone's fancy, she's no beauty—oh, done already? That's a dear!"

The young shoemaker bowed, brushing an overlong strand of hair from his face. "Your shoes should be ready in two or three days," he told the women. "If something comes up, I'm sending my stepsisters to let you know."

The two women looked at each other, concern passing over their faces. Finally the second one spoke.

"You know, Cinder," she said, "they've been your family for so long. Isn't it about time you start calling them your sisters?"

Cinder squirmed, then he clicked his tongue, turning away. "I don't see them as my sisters," he said. "They're just annoyances."

"Cinder!"

The shoemaker didn't bother defending himself. It wasn't like these ladies had to provide for their whole family by themselves, with one grown woman and two teenagers mooching off their hard-earned money to live a lifestyle they couldn't afford. They wouldn't understand even if he tried to explain.

"Leave it," the first woman said to the second. "Lad's been through a lot already, at his tender age. Maybe this is his way of dealing with it."

Cinder's eye twitched. Pity again. How he hated it: being pitied, being treated as a sad little boy who couldn't look after himself. But these two were customers, so he kept his mouth shut.

"We're closing," he said out loud. "And you should get home before the streets are snowed in."

The women looked at each other, then at him, and bade him goodnight with a smile and a wave. "Thank you again, dear!"

Cinder grumbled something unintelligible.

"He's so efficient," one woman's voice came from outside as they left. "Soon he'll be working faster than his father back in the day!"

"Tell me about it," said the other. "If only he would smile sometimes..."

Their voices faded from hearing, and Cinder locked the door behind them and relaxed.

Peace for tonight. At least for a little while.

Now he could finally sit down in the quiet workshop, count today's earnings and spendings, figure out how much he could put aside. Despite his family's best efforts to ruin their fortune, he was still trying to save up. Just a little, just in case.