Chapter 11
Cinderella sifted through her Father’s office, looking for items she could sell. The office was mostly cleared out from previous passes, but it was best to be thorough and exhaust all possible sources of income.
The curtains and rugs were gone, as were most of the books. The paintings—the first things to go—were long gone, and Cinderella would have sold the desk if she thought the monstrosity could be removed from the Chateau, but it was built inside the study and could not be shifted through the door.
“Mademoiselle?”
“Yes, Jeanne?” Cinderella asked, standing on tiptoe to inspect the books. (The remaining volumes were books of Aveyron’s records and a farmer’s almanac.)
“A Royal Messenger arrived,” Jeanne said. “He said to give this to the lady of the house.”
Cinderella took the envelope Jeanne held out to her. She glanced at the royal seal pressed into wax on the back of the envelope before she ripped it open.
“It’s an invitation for the annual victory celebration,” Cinderella said, reading the paper.
“The Victory Ball?” Jeanne asked, naming the event Erlauf royalty hosted in the Trieux Palace every year since the takeover to laud their victory.
“Yes,” Cinderella said, stuffing the invitation back into the envelope. “Please give it to Lady Klara. I will not be attending.”
“As you wish, Mademoiselle,” Jeanne said, curtseying.
When the housekeeper left the room, Cinderella rested her forehead on the bookcase. “It’s not enough that they took us over, they must make a spectacle out of it every year, too,” she muttered before climbing a ladder.
She shuffled the few leather-bound books around the shelves. Nothing new was to be found. Cinderella started to climb down the ladder—intending to search her mother’s old room next. She looked up at the top of the bookshelves, and, on an impulse, climbed the highest ladder rung.
The bookshelves did not reach the ceiling, but they still stretched up a good ten feet. The ladder was barely tall enough to push Cinderella above their height, so she might see if anything of interest was on top.
The tops of the elaborately carved shelves were dust-covered and riddled with cobwebs, but Cinderella was rewarded with a package of papers.
Cinderella brushed cobwebs from the package, shivering at their whispery touch, and carried it down the ladder with her.
She wiped the package off and sneezed in the raised dust before ripping the packet open. Papers spilled out. Cinderella recognized her father’s handwriting on the aged, yellow sheets. It was some kind of proof of sales based on the various seals and notaries pressed into the brittle pages.
“What is this?” Cinderella murmured, moving to the window so she could see better.
The paper went on, but Cinderella couldn’t believe it. Her father had purchased another manor? When? Was he out of his mind? Cinderella paged through the reports. Her blood turned cold when she saw where Windtop Manor was located: southern Loire.
According to the dates, the purchase was made in the chaotic but brief month Trieux was at war with Erlauf before it was overtaken.
Cinderella’s father hadn’t claimed the manor in his assets—Pierre and Cinderella would have noticed it before—and the Erlauf Crown wasn’t likely to let an out-of-country manor go untaxed, even if it was in Loire.
Cinderella bit her lip as she tried to keep the hysteria down. There was only one reason Cinderella could think of that would drive him to purchase a small manor—incredibly small compared to Aveyron—in Loire.
He meant to flee.
With only fifty acres to its name, Windtop could not possibly provide work for Aveyron’s fleet of servants. He meant to abandon everything and run. Cinderella knew without a doubt he would have taken her with, but it didn’t change the fact that her brave, gentle father engineered a backdoor to escape through.
However…Cinderella could sell this escape plan—surely it was worth the remaining amount of debt Aveyron owed the crown. (This explained the unpaid landholding fines—the money was gone, already used to pay for part of Windtop’s purchase, rather than pay off the debt.)
Hope toppled as Cinderella realized the position she was in. She could sell Windtop…and then Queen Freja just might have her imprisoned for embezzlement or whatever word she could use to brand Cinderella a traitor for failing to inform the Crown of the foreign manor.
If she didn’t want to be imprisoned, Cinderella’s only option was to ignore it…or use it.
Marie told Cinderella she needed to start thinking of herself, she should be selfish just this once. Once inside Loire, Erlauf could not touch her. She would have to leave behind the servants…but hadn’t she paid them back for their loyalty?
To never be harassed, to never be bothered again by Queen Freja…Cinderella was still as she imagined the freedom for a moment.
If Papa planned for it, surely it couldn’t be wrong, Cinderella thought. Papa was the kindest man I know. If even he made these preparations…
Cinderella recalled the way her servants dove into flower farming, even though they must have thought she was half mad to try it. She thought of Vitore—the stand-minder who was originally a lady’s maid. There was brave Jeanne, who might not be the warmest person, but who had said no to a suitor to step into her mother’s position of housekeeper when she died. Gilbert, who stayed on even though his wages were lowered. The cowherds, who learned how to tend sheep when Cinderella was desperate for help and unable to afford more. All of Aveyron’s servants hadn’t just stood up for Cinderella and her father when Erlauf rounded up the nobles for the slaughter, they stayed with Cinderella and sacrificed more.
“I can’t leave them,” Cinderella said, her grip tightening on the papers. “I can’t abandon them.”
Cinderella squared her shoulders. There was one final option. It would be a gamble, but to sit on Windtop and have no intention of using it while losing Aveyron was a waste.
Cinderella gathered her wits and strength before she set off down the hall, steeling herself for rejection and ruin.
She stopped outside a polished door and knocked.
“Yes?”
“It is me, Step-Mother.”
“Come in.”
Cinderella took a deep breath before she opened the door and stepped into the private parlor her Lady Klara occupied. “Good afternoon, Step-Mother,” she said, bobbing in a slight curtsey.
“Good afternoon,” Lady Klara said, her voice as feeling as ice. “What brings you into my presence?”
“I need your help.”
Lady Klara looked up from her tea. “…With?”
Cinderella handed the registry of sales to the stately woman. Lady Klara skimmed the papers, her mouth twisting the longer she read.
“I want to sell it to pay off Aveyron,” Cinderella said. “It is only a small manor, but since Trieux is no more, Loire real-estate has climbed higher than ever. The buying price should be enough to cover Aveyron’s debt.”
“But?”
“Papa didn’t claim it in his assets. If I claim it now I may be jailed.”
“I see,” Lady Klara said, setting the paper on her lap. “Why have you come to me with this problem?”
“Because I have no one else,” Cinderella said, holding the woman’s gaze.
Lady Klara nodded, accepting the truth in the statement, but said nothing more.
“Please,” Cinderella said, her heart tightening. “I don’t know what to do.”
If Lady Klara wouldn’t help, she would turn Cinderella in. Her future depended entirely on Lady Klara’s reaction.
The Erlauf woman studied the papers again, and Cinderella’s mouth went dry.
“I will claim it as mine,” Lady Klara said.
Cinderella blinked. “Pardon?”
“As an Erlauf widow—with a low-ranked title and no landholdings—any income taxes I accrue will be significantly lower than what you—the Duchess of a profitable chateau—would encounter. After the taxes are paid, you can use the remaining amount to pay your debts.”
“How can you claim it?” Cinderella asked.
“I did marry your father,” Lady Klara wryly said. “You inherited everything to do with Aveyron. It is not entirely ridiculous that he would will a small manor to me, provided you agree with my story.”
“And they will believe you?”
“Unless they are cads, no. I am of Erlauf heritage, your Father of Trieux. However, if you support my word as his heir, there is nothing they can do to prove otherwise.”
“Won’t they be angry with you for withholding the inheritance?”
“My husband was a slain war hero, and even after his death I followed my orders and married again, an enemy even. Queen Freja will not arrest me, if that is your concern,” Lady Klara said with great firmness.
She’s going to help me? Cinderella wondered as she stared at her step-mother. The surprise numbed her body, and she felt slack-jawed.
“You look surprised,” Lady Klara said, folding her hands in her lap.
“I am surprised,” Cinderella said.
Lady Klara sipped her tea and rearranged the papers.
“Why are you doing this?” Cinderella asked.
Lady Klara arched a formidable eyebrow. “It was you who requested my help, Cinderella.”
“Yes, but I didn’t think you would actually give it,” Cinderella said, the words spilling out of her mouth. She hesitated, wondering if she should apologize, before she tucked her head. No, this was important.
“In spite of what you may believe about those of us from Erlauf, I am not entirely unfeeling, Cinderella,” Lady Klara said.
“I have been haunted by debts. I have looked to you for help before, but this is the first time you will give it.”
“Perhaps that is because I could not help you before,” Lady Klara said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t think you understand just how wealthy you are.”
“…Is that a joke?” Cinderella said. Confused and as hopeful as she was, Cinderella felt so overwhelmed she grew angry. “I have beggared myself and lost most of my possessions to keep this duchy going. I am on the verge of losing it, and you call me wealthy?”
“Aveyron is twice, no, three time the size of the largest Erlauf estate. Queen Freja has taken so hatefully to you because you are the sole Trieux estate that has lost not a single acre, servant, or animal. If your father was alive and Duke of Aveyron, I very much doubt she would attack you with the same vigor.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your father would have sold parts of Aveyron to keep his personal comforts.”
“My father was a kind and generous man!” Cinderella said, her eyes flashing.
“He was, and yet he bought a manor in Loire which you—dressed in a servant’s uniform—stand before me, desiring to sell so you may keep your estate.”
Cinderella was silent.
Lady Klara stood, her chin lifted as she fixed her eyes on Cinderella. “Once Queen Freja finishes giving land and titles to army officers, you will own more land than the Erlauf royal family. She fears you, because you have done what no one else has—in Trieux or Erlauf, for we in Erlauf have also been hit with taxes—has done. You are extraordinarily wealthy, just as you are extraordinarily stubborn, Cinderella.”
Cinderella stared at the floor. “I just want to keep all my servants,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Of this I am aware, which is why I will help you—though my husband must be rolling in his grave,” Lady Klara said. “But as I have neither finances nor influence, this is the only way I can help you: by lending you my name.”
Cinderella raised her gaze to rest it on Lady Klara. What had Friedrich said? Only the strong could forgive. As Cinderella stood before Lady Klara—the widow of an Erlauf war hero—it occurred to her that Lady Klara must be a very strong individual.
“Thank you,” Cinderella said, the words falling short of everything she meant to say.
Lady Klara raised her shoulders in a minute shrug. “Make the arrangements to meet with a financial officer, and I will go with you to make the claim,” she said, strolling over to a window.
“I’m sorry,” Cinderella said.
“For?”
“For the war, for your losses, for judging you without mercy.”
“Don’t be silly, child. You were just a girl. You cannot be held responsible for any of those things,” Lady Klara said.
Cinderella shifted.
“But, Cinderella,” Lady Klara said, turning from the window. “Please consider carefully what you will do with your power.”
Cinderella swallowed. “Yes, Step-Mother,” she said, curtseying before she left the parlor.
Her mind spun, and Cinderella had to lean against a wall after she shut the door. It was too much to take in. Her Step-Mother was helping her. Queen Freja targeted her because she would not sell or downsize…
“What about my marriage?” Cinderella murmured. “Does Queen Freja not realize when I marry I will be forced to sell Aveyron? No one else shares my scruples in selling.”
Cinderella pushed the thought from her mind. It was more than she could handle at the moment.
“First I must make the arrangements to pay off the debt. I will free Aveyron from this financial mountain,” Cinderella vowed.
Cinderella sweated as the government official handling Aveyron’s debts—Lord Diederick—studied the sales bills and receipts for Windtop Manor. It puzzled Cinderella that a titled Erlauf Lord served in the government. Moreover, why was he in charge of debt collection? If there ever was a less glamorous government position, Cinderella certainly hadn’t heard of it.
“You claim Duke Eugene Lacreux willed this to you, Lady Klara?” Lord Diederick asked, looking at Lady Klara over the wire rims of his eyeglasses.
“Yes,” Lady Klara said, her voice stiff.
“And have you proof of this?”
“Only my word, and his heir’s agreement.”
“Hmph,” Lord Diederick said, returning his attention to the papers.
Cinderella discreetly shifted in her summer dress. She did her best to look assured and slightly bored, although she wanted to wring her hands nervously.
Lady Klara looked as unmovable as a boulder, which is to say not at all different than her usual expression.
“It appears to be legitimate,” the young lord finally said, pushing the papers aside. “The crown will hold the deed to Windtop Manor until it is sold to pay Aveyron’s debts, if that is what you wish to do with the funds you receive from the sale, Lady Klara?”
Cinderella waited with baited breath.
“Of course,” Lady Klara said.
“Very well,” Lord Diederick said. “There will be an inheritance tax, as this property was not previously reported,” he said, leveling his heavy gaze at Lady Klara and then Cinderella. “And after that, a sales tax. If it is priced reasonably, the sale will pay off Aveyron’s debt and have a small amount remaining, which will naturally go to Lady Klara.”
“I beg your pardon, there will be some left?” Cinderella frowned.
“Indeed,” Lord Diederick said.
Cinderella shook her “How can that be? Is the debt not…” she trailed off when Lord Diederick showed her a scrap of paper.
“This is the remaining debt,” he said.
Cinderella stared at the number. The Sun Skips canceled a portion of the debt, but Cinderella knew exactly how much she paid off. The number Lord Diederick showed her was incorrect.
Cinderella frowned. As much as the smaller debt would delight her, the last thing she needed was Queen Freja harping at her again in several years for failing to pay the entire debt. “I believe there may be a mistake,” she said.
“There has been no mistake. Over the past few days dozens of individuals have trooped through my offices, reducing Aveyron’s debt with copper and silver coins,” Lord Diederick wryly said.
“What?” Cinderella said, her forehead wrinkling.
“A stable boy was the last to come. He left not an hour before your arrival after depositing five copper coins against your debt. A fellow named Gilbert was the first to make a payment, I believe,” Lord Diederick said, rustling papers.
Cinderella lost the stiffness in her spine and leaned back in her chair. She stared at the ceiling, doing her best to keep from crying.
Her servants, Aveyron’s employees, were paying off the debt.
“Is everything alright?” Lord Diederick mildly asked.
“She is fine, just feeling a bit peckish,” Lady Klara said with her usual lack of audible compassion. “Must you retrieve a supervisor to approve the debt payment plan?”
“No. My word is more than plenty,” Lord Diederick said, perhaps a little affronted.
Cinderella closed her eyes, barely listening to the conversation. She felt ashamed. To think she considered fleeing to Windtop, even if it was for a brief moment. I don’t deserve their loyalty. I have done nothing to warrant it.
“Cinderella, your signature as witness is required,” Lady Klara said.
Cinderella bit her lip and pushed the feelings aside. “Yes, I apologize,” she said, discreetly brushing tears from her eyes before she fixed a pleasant smile on her face. “Where do I sign?”
“Here,” Lord Diederick said. “Read the agreement before signing.”
Cinderella did as he advised and saw nothing alarming. In fact, to her surprise, Lady Klara noted that any surplus profit from Windtop would be used against Aveyron’s land tax.
“You will hold all paperwork pertaining to Windtop Manor?” Cinderella asked.
“Until it is sold, yes. Strictly speaking, the fine will not be collected until after the sale. Holding the deed will assure the crown of future compensation.”
“How fast must Windtop Manor be sold?” Cinderella asked.
Lord Diederick tapped a spot on the paper. “You have one year. If it fails to sell in that time, the crown will seize Windtop itself as reimbursement for the debt.”
“That seems reasonable,” Cinderella said. She hesitated a moment longer before she signed the document, freeing Aveyron from Queen Freja’s grasp.
“Thank you for your valuable time, Lord Diederick,” Lady Klara said, standing.
“Of course, it is my pleasure to assist you,” Lord Diederick said, pushing away from his enormous desk so he could stand and bow.
“I’m sure,” Lady Klara said before she curtsied. “I will see you at home, Cinderella.”
“Yes, Step-Mother,” Cinderella said, following her out of the room.
“Duchess Lacreux,” Lord Diederick called.
Lady Klara forged ahead, heedless of the call, but Cinderella paused in the threshold of the lord’s office. “Yes?”
“I am glad your financial situation is resolved,” Lord Diederick said. “I am a close friend of Colonel Friedrich’s. He was…concerned for you.”
“I see. In that case, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Diederick,” Cinderella said.
Lord Diederick bowed again. “The pleasure is mine. In the future, I hope to see you for less…personal circumstances.”
Cinderella awkwardly nodded. “I agree,” she said, not certain if she meant it. “If you will excuse me, Lord Diederick.”
“Certainly. Good day to you, Lady Lacreux.”
“Good day, Lord Diederick.”
“So, she is free, now,” Diederick said. “For better or for worse, she has squirmed out from the pile of debt and is influence free,” he said before tossing back the rest of his drink.
Merrich leaned forward to avoid the exuberant jubilation of three farmers seated at the table behind him. “You are giving her quite a long leash. Is that wise?”
“I don’t want her leashed at all,” Friedrich said. “I want her free.”
“That sounds terrifying,” Merrich said.
“It is,” Friedrich said, tracing the rim of his tankard with a thumb. In spite of the uproar in the pub—everyone in the room was drunk or halfway there, excluding Friedrich and his friends—Friedrich retained an aura of intense clarity. “But I want her. And if we’re all to survive this, the country needs her free. I can’t hold it together, not with my duties in the Army. She must be the one to do that.”
“So the Veneno Conclave representatives had nothing helpful to say, I take it?” Diederick asked.
Friedrich shook his head and scratched at his eye patch. “They spoke not at all of the magical mishaps taking place worldwide. The Conclave is scared—you can see it in the way the representatives avoid speaking of the sudden outbreak of cursed royalty and the increase in sightings and skirmishes with dark creatures and users of black magic. I think the Conclave means to ignore the problem because they cannot solve it, and they are terrified to admit it.”
“How can they ignore it? Even if one excludes the creatures, it is indisputable that the royal class is under attack. Prince Severin—restored as he may be—was attacked in his family’s palace and cursed there. There are the twelve princesses of the south no one can seem to cure, and aren’t we still waiting to see if the Sole princess cursed to sleep will slide through her birthday?”
“If the representatives refused to talk about the dark tide of magic, what did they speak of?” Diederick asked.
“A lot of pretty things, but mostly they communicated their unhappiness with us for taking over Trieux,” Friedrich said.
Merrich frowned and didn’t react when the wall next to him was soaked with beer after a tipsy blacksmith threw his mug at the wall. “They’re supposed to be impartial. Can they legally say those kinds of things?”
“Who is going to take them to court?” Friedrich asked. “No one from Trieux will bother, and Erlauf is tapped out of funds and scurrying to pay back our debts to the penny-pinching princess of Arcainia.”
“I thought she and her brothers disappeared,” Diederick said. “Another victim of a dark curse?”
“She did, but her underlings keep her monetary empire running in her absence. In truth, we shouldn’t have borrowed so much from her to go to war against Trieux. It made the short war possible, but we’re paying for it dearly,” Friedrich said.
“And now we sit with a debt-riddled country; the only council of magic users in the world is upset with us; and our conquered territory persists in trying to rip away as we brace ourselves for a decade of dark magic,” Diederick summarized.
“If Trieux separates, it is going to be eaten by darkness,” Merrich predicted.
“And we will be two steps behind them,” Friedrich grimly said. “We are spent. Even a military as grand as ours cannot fight without money to fund it. It is why we are so desperate to encourage Trieux’s healthy economy.”
“And all of this rests on the shoulders of your lovely red-haired lady,” Diederick said as a barkeep refilled his tankard. “Are you certain you want to trust her with the future of her country and ours?”
Friedrich tapped his fingers on the table. “Cinderella is special.”
Merrich rolled his eyes, and Diederick chugged his drink.
“I’m not being a cad—I mean it. She has a capacity for loyalty and love one doesn’t often see. People want to love her. If she would give up on her last shard of bitterness…I don’t think even a dark enchanter would dare tangle with her. Her love can get people to think beyond themselves. And that is what we need in this age,” Friedrich said.
The three friends were silent, dwelling on Friedrich’s words.
“I’m in,” Merrich said, slamming his drink down. “If she’s as great as you say, I will march to her orders until the day I die.”
“Thank you, provided you don’t get any funny ideas about her,” Friedrich said, eyeing his old friend.
Merrich rolled his eyes again. “I assure you I can control myself from accosting the love of my closest friend.”
“Diederick?” Friedrich asked.
“She’s not ready yet,” Diederick said. “She doesn’t see the danger of dark magic. It hasn’t touched Trieux, even though we’ve been getting hit with it in Erlauf.”
“Then you have to trust she will be ready. I can’t delay a formal engagement much longer. A Trieux brat will pull her out from underneath me,” Friedrich said.
Diederick studied his friend. “You would marry her even if you didn’t think she was the best option for our country, wouldn’t you?”
Friedrich shrugged. “I love her,” he said.
Diederick nodded. “In that case, I, too, will throw my lot in with you.”
“I never pictured you as a champion of love,” Merrich said.
“Hardly,” Diederick said. “But I would not wish a loveless marriage on Friedrich.”
Friedrich clasped his friend on the back. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“Now the only thing left to do is to propose. Again,” Friedrich frowned. “I hope she takes me seriously one of these times.”
“You mean you’ve already asked?”
“At the beginning of the summer.”
Merrich laughed. “Cheers, to our whipped Prince. May you finally get the girl you dream of—who also keeps you in your place.”
“Cheers,” Diederick said.
“I am so touched,” Friedrich flatly said.
The friends laughed and talked late into the night, advising Colonel Friedrich—or as his Royal name decreed, Prince Cristoph Friedrich VI—and hoping he made a wise decision in loving a fiery Trieux duchess.