“You're not trying hard enough, you idiot! Let me do it!”
Gaia swatted the soldier's hand, reclaimed the glass slipper, and rammed her foot in. It was such a tight squeeze, her crushed toes had her warbling in agony.
“My lady...” the soldier reluctantly spoke up, “Do you think... maybe... it's a bit too small for you?”
“No!” Gaia screamed. “It's not! This is my slipper, I swear!” Nearly an inch of her ankle was hanging off the back.
“But my lady, I--”
“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! I don't want to hear it!” As she wailed, Gaia punched the top of the slipper. By some miracle, the rest of her foot was crammed inside. It was painful, but necessary. Through gritted teeth, she gloated, “See? I told you it was mine!”
“Well... you are the first young lady who's managed to get it on,” the soldier reported as he studied Gaia's foot. Her flesh was flowing over the sides of the uncommonly small shoe.
“That's because it's mine!” Gaia claimed. “Tell the prince you've found his lady! I'm sure he'll recognize me when he sees me!”
“Very well,” the soldier acquiesced with a sigh. “I'll report to His Highness and see what he thinks.”
“He'll be thrilled! That's what he'll think!” As soon as the soldier was out of the room, she whimpered to her sister, “Oh my god, it hurts so bad!”
“Then why don't you remove it?” suggested Terra, who was busy with her needlepoint.
“Because I'm trying to dupe the prince, you idiot! Isn't that obvious?” Gaia snorted.
“And you really think that'll work?” Terra asked as her needle plunged through fabric. “It isn't as if the prince is blind.”
“The ballroom was dark! He'll believe it!” Gaia whimpered as she studied her aching foot. “You don't understand, Terra, I'm desperate! If I had to, I would have hacked off my toes to fit into the blasted thing!”
“That's certainly very... determined,” Terra said with a roll of her cerulean eyes. Her eyes were her best feature. The rest of her face was, as her mother put it, terribly plain.
In front of the cottage, the soldier reconvened with the prince. For the last twenty-four hours, Prince Sharman had been scouring every village for females of marriageable age—or rather, his soldiers were doing the work for him. He wasn't foolish enough to do the legwork himself.
When the carriage door popped open, Sharman lowered his looking glass with a roll of his eyes. Until his voluminous brown curls were perfect, he didn't want anyone to interrupt his preening session. “What is it, Pyrell? For once, you better have good news!” the prince grumbled.
“W-well, sir... I believe I might have found her.”
“Seriously?” Sharman knocked Pyrell aside as he scrambled from the carriage. “Where is she? Take me to her at once!”
“I should have put more emphasis on the might, sir,” Pyrell muttered. “If I were you, I would not get my hopes up.”
“At once!” the prince ignored the soldier's reservations and repeated his command. “Let me see her! I'll be the judge!”
Pyrell escorted him to the cottage's interior, where they saw Gaia grimacing at the constricting slipper. As soon as her eyes landed on Sharman, her pained expression was replaced with a coquettish smile.
“Your Highness!” Gaia exclaimed as she raised her slippered foot. “How wonderful to see you again! You remember me, yes?”
Prince Sharman's face hardened as he studied the woman's beak-like nose. His nose puckered at her small, dull eyes. When his gaze dropped to the unusually large mole on her chin, his jaw twitched.
“You remember me?” she repeated the question. “We danced all night! It was glorious!”
Without a word, Sharman seized his soldier's elbow and dragged him into a distant corner of the room. “Pyrell!” he hissed. “Did you really think this was the right girl?”
“Well, uh...” Pyrell hesitated. “I wasn't sure, sir. The slipper did fit, so--”
“Barely!” The frustrated prince dragged a hand through his fluffy brown curls. As the locks tumbled through his fingers, his voice dropped to a marginally audible whisper. “Did you really think I would go to such lengths to find this woman? She's borderline hideous!”
“Uh...” Pyrell had no excuses for himself. “Sorry?”
“There shouldn't have been a shred of doubt in your mind, Pyrell! Are you thick? Do you have eyes?” When Sharman's gaze wandered back to Gaia, he forced himself to smile. “You've put me in an extraordinarily uncomfortable position. Now I have to look her in the eye and tell her she's not the one.”
“Sorry,” Pyrell murmured another apology as the prince drifted back to Gaia's side.
“Madam,” the prince began, “I'm sorry, but you're mistaken. You are not the young woman I seek. Will you return the slipper, please?”
“But I am!” Gaia persisted with the lie. “I am the girl you're looking for! We had such a wonderful time together, Your Highness! How could you forget me?”
“My dear, we both know you're lying.” Sharman held out his palm. “Now... if you would... give me the slipper.”
With an irritated grunt, Gaia tore off the shoe and slapped it into the prince's hand. “Fine!” she roared. “But we could have been happy together, Your Highness! I would have been perfect for you!”
“Ahem.” The prince cleared his throat as he turned to the second sister. “Has this young lady been tested? I'm almost certain she isn't the right girl, but the slipper must be presented to everyone.”
“With all due respect, Your Highness...” Terra pointed at the crutches near her chair, “do you really think you and I could have danced the night away?”
The prince raised an over-plucked eyebrow. “Ah. You have crutches?”
“Indeed.” Terra gave him a nod. “That is precisely what I'm saying.”
“Very well. I accept that you're not the woman I seek.”
As the prince turned away, Terra cried, “Wait!”
“Hmm?” He didn't bother to face her again. He kept his eyes on the door.
“There's another young woman who lives here,” Terra told him, which earned her a murderous glare from her sister. “I believe she's outside with the laundry, if you'd like to speak to her?”
“Terra!” her sister squawked. “Cinderella wasn't at the ball, silly! Mama wouldn't allow it! Remember?”
“Perhaps. But... I thought the prince should know.” With a shrug, Terra turned her attention to the needlepoint in her hands.
As Sharman wandered through the cottage's back door, his hopes were far from high. He had been led in the wrong direction too many times, and he didn't anticipate a change of luck.
And then he saw her. Her blond hair, recently freed from a bun, flowed around her shoulders as she fussed with the clothesline. White linens, whipped by wind, swirled around her. He was awed by the sight.
As soon as he saw her, Sharman knew he was looking at the right woman. The slipper wasn't necessary. He couldn't forget the most beautiful face he ever laid eyes on.
“My lady...”
When he spoke, she was so startled by the sound of his voice, he made her drop a handful of clothespins. As she crouched to collect them, she exclaimed, “Your Highness! I... I didn't expect to see you again...”
Prince Sharman dropped to his knees and presented the glass slipper. “You're her, are you not? The girl from the ball?”
“Of course.” She looked down at the lost shoe he cradled in his hands. “What's this? You found my slipper?”
“I did,” Sharman answered with a slightly devious smirk. “And I would have scoured the world to find its owner. Put it on. Let me see how well it fits you.”
When the woman easily slipped her foot into the glass slipper's confines, his eyelashes fluttered with relief.
“What's your name, lovely girl?” the prince asked. One of the sisters said it once, but he hadn't committed it to memory. “Tell me. I must know.”
“Cinderella.”
“Cinderella...” he dreamily repeated. “When I met you, Cinderella, I knew my heart would be lost to you forever. I've never seen a more stunning woman. Your eyes are more radiant than a thousand glittering stars, your hair is like goldenest sunshine, and your skin is more luminous than a pearl. My innermost prayers were answered the moment I saw your face.” Prince Sharman suddenly seized her hand and pulled it to his lips. Against her knuckles, he whispered, “Marry me.”
“W... what?”
“Marry me!” he passionately repeated. “The purpose of my ball was to find a bride. You knew that, right?”
“I... believe so.” Cinderella felt a slight dizziness in her head, so she flipped an empty bucket and used it as a seat.
“Have I shocked you?”
Cinderella chewed on her lip. “A bit.”
“Do you need time to think?”
“Perhaps.”
Did she need time to think, or was she being a fool? She could either accept his proposal and make herself a princess, or be stuck with her cruel stepmother for the rest of her days.
In the end, it was an easy decision to make.
When she gave her answer, her face was stoic. “I would be honored to be your wife, Your Highness.”
“Good. Excellent!” Sharman leapt from the ground and knocked away the grass that clung to his breeches. “I believe you've just made me the luckiest man in the world.”
“And I'm the luckiest woman.”
The prince didn't try to deny it. With a wicked grin on his lips, he replied, “Yes. You are.” Sharman snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “Would it be alright if I kissed you?”
Cinderella's heart was so thunderous, she could hear it beating in her ears. Her throat was tight, so she answered with a nod.
Prince Sharman practically swooned when he had his first soul-melting brush with the rare beauty's lips. His future bride was the epitome of perfection—and she would be his for the rest of his life.
He wanted to believe they would live happily ever after.
But true happy endings were not so easily attained.