Epilogue
“…‘proposed road improvements will reduce the current transportation time and provide safer, less hazardous trade routes’— Margrit, deny this petition. Please make a note on it that Erlauf doesn’t have much of a trade route because they lack goods, not because of poor road conditions. Before I stoop to spend money on the roads, they must first come up with an export or crop other countries actually want. And no, flowers do not count,” Cinderella said, pacing up and down the palace hall. She paused long enough to pass the petition off to one of her secretaries—who also happened to be Julien Rosseux’s fiancée.
“Flowers do not count….Done,” Margrit said, her quill flashing as she scrawled on the paper.
“Thank you. May I have the next petition?” Cinderella asked, fussing with the train of her white dress.
“You have reviewed all the petitions we brought with us today.”
“Really? Hm. Did you happen to bring Fostering Economic Wealth through Animal Husbandry?” Cinderella asked.
“I did,” Margrit said, digging a large book out of a satchel that hung from her shoulder.
“You are incredible, Margrit.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I am happy to be of service,” Margrit said, her voice warm with affection.
“Ahem.”
Cinderella and Margrit guiltily looked to the flock of lady’s maids who trailed behind them.
The head lady’s maid—a formidable woman dressed with clothes starched so heavily, they would have stood upright without her body to support them—shook her head.
“Oh, but I just—,” Cinderella started.
The head lady’s maid shook her head again. “You will ruin your dress, Your Grace.”
Cinderella impatiently pushed a scarlet curl out of her face. “It is only a book. It’s not an animal,” she said moving her skirts to cover the velvet brown mouse that wore a tiny belled collar and climbed on her glass slipper with great familiarity.
“No,” the head lady’s maid said.
“I could read it to you, if you like, Your Grace,” Margrit suggested.
Cinderella stooped in relief. “Would you?”
“Certainly, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Margrit. I don’t know what I would do without you,” Cinderella said, waiting for the mouse to move before she resumed walking.
“Do you know what page you were on?”
“I believe I just started chapter six…,” she trailed off, staring at a tapestry that hung on the wall of the grand palace.
“Is something wrong, Your Grace?” Margrit asked.
Cinderella stared at the tapestry. It showed a garden scene of several pretty maidens seated among rose bushes with a white unicorn. Cinderella could have drawn it by memory because she had seen it every day of her childhood, until she sold it with the first batch of Aveyron household goods when she became duchess. “This is mine,” she said.
Margrit blinked. “If you will pardon me for saying so, Your Grace, in a few minutes everything here will belong to you,” she delicately said.
“No, you don’t understand. This is mine. It was—where did it come from?”
Margrit looked helplessly to the lady’s maids.
“I believe most of the items in this part of the palace were purchased from Trieux nobility, Your Grace. Queen Freja was quite displeased with Prince Cristoph for his extreme patronage of Von Beiler—a broker,” Lady Therese said. Before Queen Freja recruited her as one of Cinderella’s lady’s maids, the woman served as a head accounting officer. (Queen Freja cleverly used the post of lady’s maids to place intelligent, knowledgeable women near Cinderella to act as advisors. Cinderella was very thankful as most of her schooling and training was in history, appreciation of the arts, dancing, and farming.)
“Von Beiler, you say?” Cinderella asked, her voice light and airy.
“Yes,” Lady Therese said.
Margrit and the lady’s maids shifted with unease as Cinderella folded her hands in front of her.
“I will be back in a moment,” she announced before picking up the skirts of her dress and heading down the hallway.”
“Your Grace, your wedding starts in a few minutes!” Margrit said, hurrying after her.
“It can wait,” Cinderella said, her glass slippers clicking when she stepped off the rugs and walked on the smooth, polished, stone floor.
“Your Grace, what of your dress and veil!” the lady’s maids squawked.
“The Lady Enchantress Angelique spelled them for me. I do not think a short walk will ruin them,” Cinderella said, her veil floating behind her like a cloud.
In a few minutes, Cinderella stood outside Friedrich’s room. She had never been inside before—mostly because she had no reason to. Friedrich rarely used his rooms in the royal palace, and after they were married, they would have joint quarters.
Now, however, Cinderella had a sneaking suspicion.
“Your GRACE,” a lady’s maid shrieked when Cinderella pushed the doors open.
“Yes, it is as I thought,” Cinderella said, entering the room, although she barely had enough space to walk in.
“Your Grace, this might be a little unseemly,” Margrit said.
Cinderella pointed to a beautiful writing desk. “That was mine,” she announced. “And I would recognize this rug anywhere. That horse statue used to stand in my parlor—it’s a sculpture of a riding horse I used to have. The tapestry, bookshelf, wall hangings, everything is…,” she trailed off when she got to a painting covered with a white sheet.
“Your Grace,” another lady’s maid said when Cinderella yanked the sheet from the painting, which was also from Aveyron. It was the image Cinderella had been shocked to receive an offer for: the portrait of Cinderella in her Trieux finery.
Cinderella painfully smiled. The last time she saw the portrait, she had shorn hair, dressed in servants clothes, and was selling every last good she had. Now her hair was nearly shoulder length, curled, dressed with pearls and tiny roses, and covered with a snow-white veil. Her dress was made of the finest silk and lace, accented and highlighted with lace that matched the blue-grey of Cinderella’s stormy eyes.
The color scheme was the same one Angelique used for Cinderella’s ball gown months ago, but this dress had a longer train, was more intricate, and was gathered and pinned into place with real jewels.
“So many changes,” Cinderella murmured, reaching out to brush the gold frame, ignoring the squawks of her lady’s maids in the hallway.
“Um, Your Grace,” Margrit said.
“Hm?” Cinderella asked, turning to look at more of her possessions scattered through the room. “What is it Margrit?” she asked when there was silence.
“She only wanted to warn you of me.”
Cinderella turned around to face Friedrich. He wore a band of red cloth tied over both his eyepatch and his eye, but he was still handsome and alarmingly roguish in his military uniform with his crown fixed on his head instead of his usual hat. “Your lady’s maids tell me you have lost all sense of propriety, and I am to fix you without setting eye on you,” he teased.
“You’ve been helping for a long time. Even before you decided to marry me,” Cinderella said.
“I didn’t buy everything, just the items Von Beiler said you seemed to place special value on,” Friedrich said, his voice soft but serious.
“It was only because I sold these items that Aveyron survived the first few months after my father’s death,” Cinderella said, looking at the familiar furniture pieces and decorations. “Why did you help me?”
“When Mother hit you with the inheritance tax, you could have easily dismissed servants. Instead, you sold things. Von Beiler told me you sold your favorite horse and sobbed while it was led away. Someone who cares that much for the people they are responsible for deserves help.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?
Friedrich shrugged. “I wanted to surprise you with all your furniture in our new rooms.”
Cinderella stood at Friedrich’s side and leaned into him. “I am so grateful for you, Friedrich. And I’m sorry I ever thought wrong of you.”
Friedrich blindly patted Cinderella before he was able to curl an arm around her waist. “You didn’t know any better, Pet. I only wish I could have done more—though I suppose if I had you would be dealing with even more monetary issues now.”
“It is not as bad as you think. Once I finish selling off the tacky Trieux goods, we should be in a fine position. It was sheer luck Princess Elise of Arcainia agreed to take that ghastly throne in the ballroom as part of our payments.”
“She has been exceedingly generous since her brothers are no longer birds,” Friedrich agreed, getting a giggle out of Cinderella.
They were silent for a few moments, enjoying the quiet and each other’s presence.
Cinderella sighed. “I suppose we should make our way to the ceremony?”
“That would probably be for the best,” Friedrich agreed. “I’ll go first. I will see you there?”
“Of course.”
“Good, just double checking. Until then,” Friedrich said, fumbling for Cinderella’s bare hand before he kissed it. “She is all yours, ladies,” Friedrich said, joining the lady’s maids in the hallway before pulling off the blindfold.
“Your Grace,” the head lady’s maid said, planting her fists on her hips. “It is good you are concerned for the welfare of this nation, and it is very admirable that you push yourself to learn for our sake. But you must stop for the rest of today.”
Cinderella sighed in defeat. “As you wish. Margrit, there’s no reason for you to waste your time with me. I believe Julien is saving a seat for you, yes? You may as well join him,” Cinderella said.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Margrit curtsied.
“Be sure to sit on my side of the cathedral!” Cinderella called after her secretary.
“Why does the side matter, Your Grace?” a lady’s maid asked, bribing Cinderella from Friedrich’s rooms with the question.
“Does Erlauf not follow the tradition where one side is meant to be the bride’s family and friends, and the other side the groom’s?” Cinderella asked.
“No, that is an Erlauf tradition as well.”
“Ah, well, that is why. I fear my side will be dreadfully empty, as most of my family is gone, and the majority of those whom I invited are not the type to attend—besides the other Trieux nobles of course,” Cinderella gloomily said.
She had invited all of her servants from Aveyron, but none of them would commit to coming. They were probably counting down the days until their untraditional mistress would be out of their hair.
The lady’s maids exchanged glances, but none of them said a word as they bustled Cinderella down the hallway.
When they finally reached the cathedral door—the Trieux royals were apparently so lazy that when designing the palace, they smacked a cathedral in the thick of it so they wouldn’t have to leave their comfort for church—Cinderella could hear the music creep through the doors.
A lady’s maid handed her a bouquet of white roses—a gift from Prince Severin and Princess Elle of Loire (as flowers were hard to come by in the middle of winter, Cinderella had no idea where they procured them)—and adjusted her veil.
Cinderella drew her shoulders back and took a deep breath before the door was pushed open.
Sure enough, Cinderella’s side was only half-filled—a stark contrast to Friedrich’s side, where military officers, governmental employees, and various lords and ladies were packed in like sellers in a market.
All of the Trieux noble families were present. Marcus and Cerise sat together—waving on the sly so they would not be chastised by their parents. Lord Leroy was perhaps the least surprised and scandalized of the bunch. He brushed tears from his droopy eyes and smiled widely at Cinderella as she walked past.
When Cinderella glanced at Friedrich’s side, she realized many of the Erlauf officers and soldiers she met during the past fall, summer, and spring wore small squares of scarlet red cloth sewn over their hearts on the jacket of their uniform. Ensign Kurt stood with Gustav and Ivo. All three men saluted her when she passed him
Lord Diederick and Colonel Merrich, seated near the front of the cathedral, bowed—although Merrich offered Cinderella a sly wink.
The second and third rows from the front were filled with foreign dignitaries—mostly ambassadors, but a few princes and princesses had deigned to attend. Prince Severin and Princess Elle were there. It was shocking, but Princess Elise of Arcainia had accepted the invitation—which had been delivered to her thanks to her loan-shark ties to their country—and stood with her youngest foster brother, Prince Gerhart. Prince Viggo from Ringsted attended, as did Princess Astra of Baris.
To Cinderella’s relief, Lady Klara, Mariska, and even snarky Silla stood in the very first row of seats. Lady Klara offered Cinderella a brief, underwhelming smile, but her eyes were soft and happy. Mariska was beside herself with joy. She cast a handful of flower petals before Cinderella—to Silla and Lady Klara’s horror.
Marie and Armel were also seated in the first row. Armel looked spooked—marrying a duchess had scared him pants-less, but the fact that his wife’s best friend would one day be queen terrified him to the core—but Marie was crying and blowing kisses in Cinderella’s direction.
Queen Freja, her Consort Commander Lehn, and Prince Johann stood directly opposite from Cinderella’s step-family and friends.
Commander Lehn gave Cinderella a warm smile. Prince Johann wriggled his eyebrows—earning a grin from Cinderella—and Queen Freja nodded once, indicating her approval.
Friedrich was now just a few steps away. His eye was hooked on Cinderella, his expression intent, although there was a customary curl to his lips. When Cinderella hesitated at the base of the dais Friedrich climbed down them, took her hand, and helped her up.
When they reached the top, Cinderella could see out into the open air courtyard. The shutters and drapes had been removed for the day so anyone who wanted to could see Prince Cristoph Friedrich VI and Duchess Cinderella exchange their vows. It made the cathedral chilly—as winter had arrived—but Cinderella hoped it might be a small step towards mending the country’s bitterness.
The courtyard was packed with Erlauf and Trieux citizens alike, bundled up due to the weather. It warmed Cinderella’s heart to see the two cultures intermingled, celebrating the day together. Admittedly, the two peoples were a bit stiff, but still. It was progress!
“Are you ready?” Friedrich whispered, squeezing her hand.
“I think so,” Cinderella shivered.
The clergyman smiled at Friedrich and Cinderella before he cleared his voice and spoke. “Today Prince Cristoph Friedrich VI and Cinderella Lacreux, the Duchess of Aveyron, come before this fine state to declare their love and intention to marry. Now, who stands for Lady Lacreux and gives her in marriage to Prince Cristoph and acts as her witness?”
Cinderella had a moment of blind panic. She had told the clergyman specifically he was to skip this part of the ceremony, because there wasn’t anyone to give her away! It was enough that Lady Klara and her daughters stood on her side with some affection, she wouldn’t push for anymore. But what did that leave Cinderella with? Sybilla the fairy godmother wasn’t around to magic another goat!
Cinderella winced in the silence and was about to whisper to the minster to move on when Friedrich touched her arm. When she met his gaze he tilted his head toward the open air courtyard.
When Cinderella looked, a resounding, almost deafening, “WE DO,” blasted in through the open windows.
Cinderella broke ranks and hurried to the banister—Friedrich at her side.
There, standing in the courtyard with the rest of the well-wishers, was every servant of Aveyron. They were headed by Gilbert and Jeanne, and all of them—from the head butler to the youngest chicken girl—wore bracelets or bands of scarlet red silk tied around their foreheads and the arms of their coats. They carried flags with the Aveyron crest, and bowed and curtsied when they saw that Cinderella looked down at them.
“They couldn’t all have possibly fit in the cathedral, so they asked to be outside where they might all stand together as your witness,” Friedrich said, speaking directly into Cinderella’s ear that she might hear him.
Now that she was closer to the courtyard, Cinderella could see almost all of her market-stall friends and neighbors had come as well. The milkmaid and ropemaker stood together, waving scarlet swatches above their heads. The baker, the cobbler, the potter, the tanner and his wife, and the mousy woman who had correctly warned Cinderella of Friedrich’s intensions months ago cheered and shouted with abandon.
Cinderella covered her mouth with her hands to keep from crying. Once again, she had underestimated the love and loyalty of her servants. Her shoulders shook with effort, and Cinderella’s face hurt, for she wanted to laugh and cry at once.
“Thank you,” she finally shouted, blowing kisses to her staunch supporters.
“I am so lucky,” Friedrich said, curling his arms around Cinderella.
“Not as lucky as I am. Luck doesn’t even begin to describe it. I am blessed,” Cinderella said, smiling up at him.
Friedrich’s smile was so warm it made Cinderella’s toes curl. “Can we spend the rest of our lives arguing who is more blessed?”
“Let’s.”
Friedrich chuckled and kissed the tip of Cinderella’s nose.
“AHEM,” the clergyman said.
“Hmm. We should get back to the ceremony,” Friedrich said.
“That sounds right. Shall we?” Cinderella said.
“We shall,” Friedrich agreed, sweeping Cinderella back to the clergyman.
The ceremony was over faster than Cinderella’s dazed mind could take in. She felt so loved and so lucky, the thing she mostly remembered was the intensity of the cheers when the clergyman declared Cinderella and Friedrich married. It was an explosion of noise, shouts, and bells when Friedrich kissed Cinderella, and all of it was happy.
As Friedrich led Cinderella down the aisle, he wiped tears from her eyes. “What’s wrong, Pet?”
“It’s a storybook ending that I don’t deserve,” she said. “I have everything I wanted. I have you; Aveyron is finally safe; my servants love me, and we get to build our country together. It’s so perfect.”
Friedrich smiled. “You deserve every happiness you receive, darling. Although I’m sad to say, it won’t always be like this. Some days our people will get along; other days they won’t. And sometime soon, we will have to deal with the threat of darkness.”
“But we will move forward. We are proof our countries can move forward,” Cinderella said.
“You are right,” Friedrich relented when they reached the church doors. “I love you, Princess Cinderella, even if you have an answer to all my pessimistic thoughts.”
“And I love you, Prince Cristoph Friedrich VI, even if you do have a name that is unnecessarily long,” Cinderella laughed.
The footmen opened the church doors, avoiding their kissing, future monarchs and the four collared mice that scurried around the royal pair.
If darkness came to Erlauf, it didn’t stand a chance.
For an extra chapter of Cinderella, please visit
[Fluffer Nutter]