The Prince Dies At Midnight: A Not So Cinderella Story

Chapter 1

"Cinderella, in a week you must drive this knife into Prince Holland's ribs," Montilde said, her sausage-like fingers gripping the knife. Her brow was knit the way it always was before she popped me with her wooden spoon. 

I scoffed and took the knife from her hand. In a swift movement, I curved my arm through the air and sent the knife flying into the center of the target on the wall. 

For a moment, everyone in the kitchen looked impressed, even Montilde. After a moment, her jaw went hard, and she slapped me in the back of the head. "Stop showing off," she spat as she went to yank the knife out of the wall. "All of your combat skills will be useless if we can't get you near the Prince."

"Then why have you worried so much about my combat skills," I muttered under my breath. Montilde chucked the knife back at me. Without flinching, I snatched it from the air by the handle. For as long as I could remember, I had to wake before sunrise to practice my combat before my day of chores started. Every night before I could collapse in my bed, Montilde made me run drills. There was rarely a night I could find the energy to climb the stairs to my bed in the servant's quarters and slept in front of the kitchen fireplace instead. 

"You will need your combat skills no doubt," Donmall said, his arms folded. He was perched silently by the door, keeping guard. He smiled and gestured for me to approach. He was the closest thing to a father I had. He moved my curls from my face. "But now we have to focus on etiquette. They will not let you anywhere near the Prince if they don't think you are noble."

"I am noble," I spat, turning away from him. "Hell, I'm royal!" 

My parents were the last King and Queen of this realm before Sir Palmer staged a coup. My parents were known through the kingdoms for their kindness and generosity, which meant they were also assumed to be weak. When Sir Palmer betrayed my father and poisoned him, some servants tried to hide my mother and me. Mother was caught during the siege, but I was hidden among the peasants. 

All of the nobles that remained loyal to my father hid. The loyalist tasked Montilde and Donmall to raise me until I was old enough to take my throne back. They told me of my destiny when I was ten and it lit a fire within me, a thirst for revenge. I never knew my mother and father, but I knew I would avenge them. 

"You are royal," Donmall said calmly as he put a wrinkled hand on my shoulder, "but hot-headed. A Queen must not have a temper."  He crossed past me to the window and drew back the curtains. The sun was breaking over the gatehouse. Our day was starting. 

We lived with a few other servants in the estate of a wealthy widow and her two daughters. We had to rise before the sun as it was the only time we could be alone. The other servants couldn't be trusted. Loyalists who were exposed would be tarred and feathered. 

"We have three days to make you a lady," Montilde said as she stirred the porridge in the cast iron pot hanging over the fire. 

"Isn't some cousin of mine suppose to work magic for that," I sighed as I scooped Black Tea leaves from a jar. I placed them in a strainer. Madame always wanted her tea strong and bitter to wake her in the morning. 

"Your cousin's magic will be able to conjure gowns and jewelry that will convince everyone you have status," Donmall said as he buttered the morning cakes.

Montilde interrupted him. "And the moment you open up your mouth, they'll know you grew up in the stables! We only have a week to get you ready!" 

Like clockwork, the string of the kitchen bell rang. Madame and her daughters were ready for breakfast. I didn't have time to wash before serving and I knew I would be scolded for the ashes on my face. "I am ready for the ball," I said as I jogged to the fireplace. The pot of porridge bubbled. Using a wooden ladle to slop the porridge into three bowls, I said, "I have been training to kill the Prince for years."