viii.

LAST NIGHT WEIGHED ON ISADORA Tremaine as though she had strapped on boulders around her neck.

Hurrying back to the chateau, she had found little Archie where she had left him-the boy had merely shifted from the bed onto the wooden floors, his form surrounded by an elaborate scene he had arranged with his toys.

"I was falling asleep, mama," The boy had responded when Isa had asked him what he was doing on the floor.

Though Lady Tremaine made sure Cinderella didn't let dust gather on anything, lately Isadora had become paranoid about most little things when it came to Archie.

"I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to wait for you."

Isa had shut her eyes briefly then, and had picked him off the floor, holding him tight and close before she put him to bed. She didn't budge, and remained seated by his side on the bed until he fell asleep, in her gown and less than perfect hair after the carriage ride.

Archie had slept soundly, much to her relief. Though she had kept fretting if she should've had him eat something even though she'd already fed him dinner before she had left for the ball.

After he fell asleep, Isadora had changed and climbed into the plush bed next to him, resting a hand gently on his chest. The sound of his breaths in the dark and the subtle rise and fall of his chest calmed her and helped her sleep. She didn't realize the hour when her mother and sister returned, neither did she find herself care enough to wait like Archie had for her.

Now, the sun shone hard in the sky through the dining hall's large windows as Isadora picked at her plate of breakfast, using Archie as an excuse for not eating as she focused on helping him finish his plate.

She broke the omelet on his plate, sectioned it into small pieces, and lifted one piece in a spoon towards the boy as he hummed with each bite he took, distractedly chewing as he played with his carved wooden miniature horse.

"Oh for goodness' sake," Lady Tremaine bristled, letting go of her fork with a small clatter. "Will you answer any of my questions, Isadora? Or have I been reduced to a barking dog that you have decided to ignore?"

Isadora didn't look at her mother, her focus on her boy as she gently pushed away a curl of his short hair that was falling into his eyes and irritating him. He was seated right next to her for her convenience, as he always was, on the dining table.

"I am once again asking you about the conversation you had with the royal. Did he show any interest for a courtship? He was clearly very taken with you."

Lucinda Tremaine scoffed. "Mother, he's a foreign prince. Who knows where he comes from-what diseases his kingdom might carry? I shudder to think about it."

Lady Tremaine turned sharply to look at her ignorant youngest, with a look that carried more distaste than she would've shown if the latter had suddenly decided to shut off the world and become a mad hermit in the mountains somewhere.

"He is Alexander Casimir of the kingdom of Angria, Lucinda."

Isadora's attention sharpened at the name. She hadn't had the courage to ask him herself.

"He is King Reginald's deceased brother-King Rudolph of Angria's-son. He isn't merely a prince, Alexander Casimir is the king of the kingdom of Angria."

Isa bit her lip to conceal her gasp. Of course, how could she have been so stupid? He had told her that his father had died, yet she had assumed him still to be only a prince. Samuel Harrison had addressed him-in all the town doctor's ignorance-as his royal highness. That addressing-as Isadora had learned countless times in her lessons-was only for princes and princesses. A King was only to be addressed as his majesty.

The king hadn't corrected the doctor-a testament perhaps to his character, and neither had he corrected her. Isadora felt humiliation surge through her. All those lessons on etiquette and propriety, on the geopolitics of her country and the societal ways of people as well as the proper rules of conduct between the ruling classes and commoners-and she had still made such an egregious blunder.

Lucinda swallowed shakily. "I suppose a prince is still a better catch, mother. Kings are.. unpredictable, I think."

"What are you saying?" Lady Tremaine scrunched up her face, annoyance etched in her manner stemming from her lack of success for her youngest daughter at last night's events.

"Tell me Lucinda, do you think before words come so boldly pouring out of your mouth? Kings are firm, they answer to no one. And their power is unbound, limitless. It is princes who are unpredictable, their only power resting on their fathers' whims. Princes shift more than air does-you saw Prince Charming with that girl, did you not? She wasn't even introduced in the formal presentation. For all he knows, she is probably as distinguished as the driver who drove our carriage last night."

"Anyhow, the mere fact that King Alexander Casimir has taken an interest in Isadora is beyond what I could've ever expected from last night."

Isadora turned sharply to face her mother. "Do not assume, mother. If something was concrete, I would have no reason to hide it from your desperately prying eyes. A dance does not signify anything."

Lady Tremaine pushed her chair back and yanked herself up, putting a hand to her forehead as she paced, his half eaten breakfast plate abandoned on the table.

"Mon Dieu, give me strength," She muttered under her breath before spinning towards the table and slamming her palms on the surface. The semi loud noise startled Archie, before Isa wrapped an arm around his form and squeezed the boy's arm lightly as a show of comfort.

"He danced the honorary dance with you, Isadora! That dance was meant for only Prince Charming, but the foreign king saw it fit to hold your hand and join in. The mere fact that the prince and King Reginald didn't mind says a lot about the respect King Alexander Casimir commands."

Isadora turned her eyes away to Archie, feeding him his remaining omelet. What was she to say to that observation? It was true, yet Isa felt detached from her own authority on the matter.

"Perhaps, mother," Isadora started softly. "You should direct your worries back onto Lucinda. You seem to forget that I no longer value your interference in my matters."

"My interference, she says," The lady of the house spoke to herself, frustration and disbelief marring her tone.

Suddenly, Cinderella came running into the dining hall, a broom in her hand and a pristine sealed envelope in her other hand.

"We have a letter from the palace, stepmother!"

Lady Tremaine startled, shocked eyes glancing at Isadora before she instantly neared Cinderella in two strides and aggressively snatched the letter out of the hopeful girl's hand. Isadora studied the girl's expression, despite being told to move on, Cinderella still had her hopes latched onto last night and Prince Charming. Isa had expected it somehow. Cinderella and Lucinda both, aside from being the same age, were the same in their desperate dispositions-in their naïve stubborn wills.

"Mon Dieu," Lady Tremaine addressed the higher power for second time as her eyes raked rapidly through the words on the letter.

"It's the grand duke," The lady of the house let out a shocked laugh, looking between Isadora and Lucinda once she finished reading the letter.

"It appears the girl from the ball last night who danced with Prince Charming is being searched! She left a slipper behind and the grand duke is to make rounds around Toulouse today, to find the maiden who fits the slipper! She is to be the prince's bride!"

"Oh mother!" Lucinda cried at the same time that Cinderella gasped, the former dismayed and the latter far from it.

Isadora cast a resolved glance at her stepsister. The girl had the other slipper. When the grand duke came by, it would be Cinderella who would fit the slipper he brought, and she would have the second of the pair to further prove herself. Isa wondered then how easy it all had been for Cinderella, and the latter hadn't once stopped counting on it being anything but, regardless of Isadora's persistence.

"Cinderella!" Lady Tremaine cried in shock. "The draperies are still soaking, get them out, dry them and hang them up! And see to the foyer and the west drawing room-I want them all spotless before the grand duke arrives."

"Girls," She turned to her two daughters. "This is our chance, the slipper must fit one of you."

Isadora glanced at her mother in a nonchalance tinged with disgust as though the woman had said the most atrocious thing-which was not out of character for her at all.

"But it isn't ours."

"So?" Lady Tremaine probed in elation. "They are merely looking for the girl who fits the slipper."

"No, mother," Isadora raised a brow. "They are looking for the someone who danced with Prince Charming in that slipper last night. Do you suppose him an imbecile with a case of short term memory loss?"

Her mother looked away, focusing in the distance before she snapped her fingers together as an idea struck her.

"It was dark, perhaps he won't realize."

Isadora tilted her head, scrutinizing her delusional and desperate parent with a certain resolve before shrugging softly and turning away.

"Perhaps, mother," She agreed nonchalantly as she pushed her chair back and took Archie's hands in hers as he jumped off his.

"You can test the scheme out on Lucinda," Isadora glanced briefly at her mother. "I, for one, will not be partaking for lack of interest and care."

She started making her way out of the dining hall before Lady Tremaine rushed forwards and gripped her elbow, halting her.

"If you fit the slipper you will see King Alexander again at the palace, even if Prince Charming doesn't oblige you. Think of it! He's taken with you, seeing him again would-"

Isa yanked her arm away from her mother's hold, willing her disgust at the contact to die down. The warmth of her mother's hold burned on her arm, she had the sudden urge to scrape her own skin-where she'd been grabbed-off with a knife.

"If you are so desperate for him, perhaps you should shove your own feet into that slipper, mother. Who knows, perhaps when Prince Charming rejects you, King Alexander might be the one to ask for your hand."

"Do not jest, you ignorant child! You are wasting an opportunity!"

"I'm not wasting it, merely offering it to you. I think it's called a kindness mother, you should look up the term."

Isadora started walking away, but before she exited the threshold of the hall, she turned and faced her mother one last time. She was acutely aware of Cinderella's presence in the hall. The girl hadn't yet been dismissed and was likely being traumatized by Lady Tremaine's schemes to usurp her happily ever after. Isa paid her no attention.

"When the grand duke comes, don't overdo it mother. I should hate for you to embarrass our family's standing-for that is my job," Isadora turned her teasing gaze to the little boy at her skirts, bending down to kiss his cheeks. "Is it not, my sweetheart? Mama causes so much trouble for grandmama."

Archie didn't understand the context, for the boy had been thankfully engaged in his own world. Having heard the words though, he shook his head in innocent defiance and stance with Isa.

She laughed, picking him up in her arms as she pressed a kiss on both his cheeks in turn. "Ever mama's supporter."

With that, Isadora left the dining hall with Archie in her arms, leaving her scheming mother, her oblivious sister and her anxious stepsister-to figure out their intricate plans and problems on their own.

-🥀-

The grand duke arrived precisely at half past two in the afternoon. The carriage he had come in was lavished in the kingdom's flags-miniature ones that seemed to stick out from every geometric corner of the vehicle.

The nobleman-a surprisingly thin form with a glistening monocle resting over his right eye-had with him a short and stout attendee who carried the glass slipper with pride and caution on a crimson satin cushion. They held their noses high, eyes half shut as they entered the chateau and responded in small hums and grunts as Lady Tremaine rambled on, desperately trying to give a warm welcome and miserably overdoing it entirely.

They were taken promptly to the west drawing room, and as the grand duke perched himself on the edge of a sofa, he was handed a scroll by his attendee and he began to read aloud from it. The words were the same that had been encased in the letter the family had earlier received, and Lady Tremaine-giddy with hope and desperation-grew increasingly frustrated.

"Your grace," The woman blurted, clasping her ringed fingers together. "I assure you, we are all quite aware of the proclamation. Why don't we just get on with it?"

The grand duke narrowed his eyes, visibly bothered at being disrupted. "I see," He spoke then, as he gestured to his attendee who rushed up front, the glass slipper encased crimson cushion held high.

Lady Tremaine hastily gestured to Lucinda and the girl hurried over to the nearest sofa and held the hem of her skirt as the attendee sauntered over to her with the slipper.

Isadora Tremaine-present only on grounds of propriety and not wish a wish to participate-turned away, not having the desire to observe the unfolding scene further. She walked up to the window of the drawing room, and she could see little Archie clearly huddled in the garden as the boy patted the mud with his chubby hands, replanting a shoot he had already planted with Isa a few days ago.

Isadora smiled. He was quite impatient for it to grow, and impatience had led to doubts that maybe perhaps he hadn't planted the shoot right at all. The gardener of the chateau was a distance away, having been given strict instructions from Isa early in the morning to not come in her boy's way and upset him in his endeavors.

"Well, this is distressing," Lady Tremaine nervously spoke in the background. "Perhaps it should fit if you hold it like that. Yes, yes, just push on it."

"My lady, it doesn't fit," A blunt voice-not that of the grand duke's-spoke, and Isa turned to spot the sweating attendee at Lucinda's feet as he wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

"What do you mean? Of course it will fit!" Lucinda cried, before letting a nervous and anxious laugh escape her. "It is mine, you know. My feet must've gotten so swollen last night from all the dancing. Yes, it must be that."

"I don't suppose feet swell five sizes more on account of a brief period of dancing, Miss Tremaine," The grand duke raised a brow from where he sat in the distance. "Unless you have a condition."

"What? No I'm not sick!" Lucinda blurted, horrified at the idea that she might be dropped as a result of a disease she most certainly did not have. "It's just the air I suppose. The weather makes me feel quite faint."

"Hence your swollen feet?" The grand prompted.

"Will you drop it?" The girl snapped, before hissing as her mother dug nails into her shoulder. "I mean, no, your grace. I-goodness I should not speak at present I fear."

"I see," The grand duke pursed his lips in distaste, before waving a vague gesture. "We must get on with it."

He turned then to scrutinize Lady Tremaine before grimacing. His half lidded eyes then found Isadora standing by the window, her arms wrapped across her chest.

Suddenly, he startled, recognition flooded his features as he popped his monocle out quick and rubbed his handkerchief aggressively against its glass before popping it back on his right eye. His eyes were wide now, and Isadora realized that the half lidded-ness was merely a matter of choice.

"Miss?" The duke probed, pushing himself to the edge of his seat. "Are you the lady who danced with his honorable majesty, King Alexander Casimir, at the ball?"

Isadora didn't respond, keeping her facial expression plain as she turned away from the grand duke's shocked scrutiny and returned to watching her son gardening with eager hands as the boy licked his lips with focused eyes on his work.

"Ah, yes," Lady Tremaine bustled in, apologetic for Isa's lack of response but eager to recuperate the situation at hand. "Yes, she is, your grace. King Alexander Casimir did indeed dance with my eldest daughter."

"I thought so," The duke affirmed. "I happened to see some of it, Lady Tremaine, and I assure you, I do not forget faces. Especially not the face of a lady who managed to capture the attention of King Alexander himself."

"Oh?" Lady Tremaine feigned curiosity as she poured the waiting tea into cups and handed one to the duke. "Does the king not dance with ladies usually?"

"King Alexander does not participate in balls, Lady Tremaine," The duke sipped his tea and grimaced slightly, before putting the tea cup aside, unfinished. "He is known to host them, but he doesn't engage in the dancing."

"Oh, that is news. I must say," The lady of the house mused, a lilt in her tone.

The attendee cleared his throat, to which the grand duke jumped up. "The time! We must get on with this. If the elder Miss Tremaine danced with King Alexander, the slipper is definitively not hers, so I believe there is no need to try it on her."

Lady Tremaine's expression fell.

"Are there any more ladies in the chateau?"

"No, your grace, we don't have-"

"Wait, please," Cinderella's anxious voice was heard as the girl rushed into the west drawing room, her hair disheveled and her hands dripping in wet soap as she wiped them self consciously against her apron.

"My, Miss, who might you be?" The grand duke inquired before Cinderella spoke her name.

Isadora Tremaine watched then, a resolved expression on her face-which was a stark contrast to Lady Tremaine's horror and Lucinda's shock-as Cinderella was sat on the couch and the slipper fit precisely onto her feet. Upon which, the girl produced the matching one from behind her as the grand duke's eyes sparkled in realization and relief at having completed his given mission.

The nobleman jumped up and clapped his hands together in delight, his earlier composure dissolved in the wind.

"We must head for the palace," The grand duke started, addressing the ladies present in the room-varying expressions marred on each of the women's faces.

"As is public knowledge by now, by the order of King Reginald of Valence, the girl who fits the slipper is to be brought back to the palace," Then the nobleman's eyes clad in intrigue fell onto Isadora, and she tilted her head slightly, observing the thin man with resolve in her onyx features.

"And as is not public knowledge, by the discreet command of King Alexander of Angria, a visit is to be made to the household of the family Tremaine, whereupon the girl he danced with at the ball is to be addressed and is to be brought back to the palace as well."

Despite her steel composure, Isadora stilled, and her heart missed several beats in her chest all at once.

***

A/N:
ok i feel like this book is only starting now lmao