That night, blood was going to be spilled. Hers or her target's, she didn't know.

Ella looked at herself in the mirror. The dress was marvelous: layers and layers of tulle, the same blue as her eyes, pooling like a waterfall at her feet. Her golden tresses were styled in an elegant chignon, few curled strands left out to frame her pretty face.

She looked like a normal girl, eager to attend the Ball held at the Royal Palace. The Crown Prince was searching for a suitable wife and, that night, he was going to select one. But Ella was not a normal girl, she knew that well, and she wasn't an aspiring princess-to-be. The reason behind her attending was completely different.

"This is the last one."

Seline handed Ella's favorire dagger to her. It was as beautiful as deadly. The hilt had been carved in a crystal the size of her hand, made especially for her. Like a tailor-made dress, there was not a better fit for it than her hand.
Ella picked up the weapon from Seline's hold, trying to mask the trembling of her fingers. The old woman watched her with knowing eyes, placing an hand on Ella's shoulder in comfort.

"For your freedom", she whispered.

Sweet, old, caring Seline. She had taken care of her for the past years, ever since the day earth had shattered under Ella's feet and her life had changed forever. Seline took care even of the other orphan girls in the household, acting like the mother they didn't have. And she seemed to appear out of nowhere every time someone needed comforting. Those were the reasons why she earned the title of Godmother.

"Remember," Godmother added, "you have until midnight. The carriage won't wait any longer and you'll be on your own."

Ella met Seline's gaze and nodded. That night, she was going to earn her freedom. Either by fulfill her mission or either by dying. That night, her slavery would end. She wasn't going to be her stepmother's pet anymore. After midnight, she would be free.

——

Her stepmother was surveying her with cold and cunning eyes, her stepsisters flanking the lady's sides. The three women were dressed in their finest dresses, but Ella knew that under all those layers of expensive fabrics were hidden deadly weapons. Just like the ones she was hiding herself, strapped to her thighs and ankles.

"Cinderella. What a beautiful dress you're wearing. I'm wondering how you could afford it."

Cinderella. That name. The name they had been calling her for the past years. A suitable name for someone as irrelevant as her - her stepmother had said. She didn't even remember the sound of her true name; she hadn't heard it since...since the day her father had left and never came back. That day, she had stopped living. Now, she was merely surviving.

Lady Tremaine, after a very short period of mourning, had showed her true colors. Interested only in her father's fortune, the lady had remarried in order to sustain her very secret, very illicit business. She managed an organization where young girls, most of them orphans, were trained to spy, to seduce and, sometimes, even to kill. Ella's house - her family house - was now the headquarters of her  stepmother's organization. And she couldn't do anything about it. No more than a slave to her master, Ella was obligated to obey Lady Tremaine's orders. She had no money of her own, no other place to go. But tonight..tonight she would buy her freedom.

"It was a gift from Godmother, Lady Tremaine."

Her stepmother turned her mouth in a sneer, clearly displeased that Ella was wearing such a fine dress. Then the sneer became a vicious smile, a smile that promised pain and suffering.

"It doesn't matter. Anastasia and Drizella are stunning tonight. One of them will surely catch the attention of the Prince. Remember what it is at stake."

Ella knew. Her freedom. Her stepmother had made a bargain with her: complete the task and you're free. But what Lady Tremaine wanted wasn't ordinary...it was an act of treason against the Crown. Seduce the Prince and kill him, Cinderella, and you're free - the Lady of the house had said. She had to kill the Prince and his blood would stain her hands forever. She didn't know why her stepmother wanted the Prince dead, but she was tired of being good and kind. For once, she wanted to be selfish. But Ella wasn't the only one having those plans that same night. It was a game, a competition. Her stepsisters had the same orders: whoever conquered the Prince's undivided attention, conquered even the right to kill him.

Anastasia and Drizella looked at her with sly smiles and calculating eyes, as to dismiss her as a competitor. Ella knew that her stepmother had made this bargain with her only because she was sure that Ella wouldn't succeed. Not when her daughters were prettier and more expert in seducing men.

But Ella would show them. She would show them that she wasn't the meek and kind girl she played to be in the house. She was a threat. And tonight, they would know.

—-

Ella arrived purposely late to the Ball. She wanted to make a grand entrance, catching the attention of every Lord or Lady attending. More specifically, she wanted for the Prince to notice her, to look at her, to desire her.

And that was exactly what happened when she bolted through the ballroom's door, interrupting the ongoing dances. Everyone turned to look at her and she commanded herself to blush, a rose tint now coating her cheeks. She lowered her head in fake embarrassment, peering at the room through her long eyelashes.

She saw him.

Standing in the middle of the room, the Prince had a lovely lady dressed in a red gown in his arms, their dance now forgotten. His attention, however, was on Ella. She turned her mouth in a shy smile before bowing and looking away.

The game was on.

She spent part of the night throwing glances at him, their eyes meeting every time, and then disappearing through the dancing crowd every time he tried to approach her. Men loved to hunt. She wanted to let him believe that she was a prey and him the hunter. She even saw him dancing with Anastasia and Drizella, but she wasn't worried. His eyes were always searching, scanning the crowd for her, even when he held her stepsisters in his arms.

Now, it was time for the second step in her plan. She let him approach her.

"My lady, you're a very difficult woman to invite to dance."

The Crown Prince was handsome: tall and lean, he had hair the color of midnight and eyes the color of the raging sea. Ella wasn't fazed by his beauty and his masculinity, but she had to act like she was. Men loved quiet and submissive women and for tonight...for tonight she could play that part. One last time.

She blushed and curtsied, shyly looking at him before casting her eyes away.

"Your Highness. That is because I fear of embarrassing myself, should I dance. My mother always says that I have been cursed with two left feet."

The Prince smiled, revealing pearl white teeth, and extended an arm to her.

"Then it's rather fortunate that I'm not afraid of such curse. Would you give me the honor of a dance?"

Ella placed her hand on top of his, accepting his invitation. He led her in the center of the ballroom, hundreds of eyes following them.

There, they danced. And danced. And danced.
Ella was well aware of the stares that were thrown at her and she even caught quite a few whispers about herself. Who was she? Dancing with the Prince for so long? And her dress?
She didn't care. She didn't even care about the deadly glances she was receiving from Lady Tremaine and her daughters. Ella was winning this game, and they knew it. She knew it.

The music stopped and she removed her hand from the Prince's shoulder to fan herself. Her cheeks were now naturally rosy and she increased her breathing in order to appear flushed. The Prince, like the proper gentleman he was, took notice of her flushed state and offered to take her on a stroll in the garden in order for her to cool herself.

Perfect, Ella thought. Everything was going according to plan.

The chilly air of the evening kissed her face, her curled strands gently swishing in the wind. The Prince was beside her, her hand leaned on his elbow. Ella smiled politely to everything he said, keeping her tone sweet and interested while answering him. She could spot different guards hidden behind trees and bushes, but when the Prince led her in a rose garden, she noticed that they were truly alone.

He sat down on a bench, inviting her to do the same. Ella seated, repositioning the numerous layers of tulle of her dress.

"Your mother is quite wrong about your feet. You move very well. And I enjoyed every moment of our dances."

"Thank you, Your Highness. I did enjoy dancing with you too."

His gaze was deep and intense while scanning her face, shifting from her eyes to her lips.

"I wonder..." he whispered, leaning his face towards hers.

His lips, however, never reached her own.

A dagger was pressed against the delicate skin of his neck, the blade shining under the moonlight. Shock etched in the Prince's eyes, but Ella didn't relent. The crystal hilt was firm in her hand and she pressed the blade a bit deeper, still non opening the flesh though. A metallic flash caught her attention and with a leap, Ella dodged the lunge meant for her.

The Prince wasn't harmless. Good.

They were now circling each other, assessing each other, with their blades pointed at each other throats.

"Who sent you?"

The Prince's voice was hard, cold, calculating.
Ella didn't falter in her steps; she was past showing herself as a meek and docile girl. Cards were now out in the open.

"It doesn't matter. Tell me why someone would want you dead."

His laugh was sharp and humorless.

"Many people want me dead. Apparently being the Crown's heir makes you a very desired target. I'm going to ask again. Who sent you?"

Before she could utter a word, shouting came from the Palace. Someone had given the alarm. Ella knew who had been. Lady Tremaine had no intention to free her: enslaved or dead, those were the real options. That was why she had spent weeks preparing for this moment, because she wasn't going to be either. She would be free.

"Listen to me. I'm not here to kill you, I'm here to warn you. There were three women ready to kill you tonight. Be careful. Your chosen wife might not be whom she claims to be. Be prepared."

The shouting continued; the pounding of feet on the ground could be heard in the chilly night. Before the Prince could answer, Ella swiped her dagger at her dress, cutting few layers. The fabric pooled at her feet and she kicked it, freeing her feet.

It was time to flee.

The Tower Clock chimed Midnight. Ella began to run.

One.

Ella ran.

Two.

Faster and faster.

Three.

The Guards were approaching.

Four.

She dodged a bush.

Five.

She commanded her feet to go faster.

Six.

Someone shouted behind her.

Seven.

Her breath was ragged.

Eight.

The wall appeared in the distance.

Nine.

She sprinted towards the wall, but didn't see a branch on her right. Her shoulder throbbed and with a muffled shout, the grip on her dagger faltered, making it land few feet behind.

Ten.

Her dagger. She turned to retrieve it, but guards appeared from everywhere. She didn't have time. She sprinted toward the wall.

Eleven.

She climbed the wall, throwing a last glance at her loved dagger. With a sigh, she launched herself on the other side.

Twelve.

She was free.

————

Three days had passed since her escape; it seemed the Crown Prince was looking for her. To make a bargain- she had caught the words in the market, while she was stealing a piece of bread.

Ella tightened the hold she had on her cloak, watching the scene from the tree she had climbed. It was a tree tall enough to pry inside the Castle's walls, where a competition was being held in the gardens.

They had found her dagger.

And now, every girl in the Kingdom had been invited by the Crown Prince himself to take part in the tournament. He wanted to know to whom that dagger belonged to. The rules were easy: every girl had one shot to score a direct hit in a target 100 feet away.

Ella had spent the last hours watching girls failing the task, one after the other. They were bound to fail, no matter their training or their strength. That dagger was meant to be branded by Ella alone, having been created following her measurements: her height, her weight, the width of her palms. It fit her and none else.

Godmother had gifted her that dagger and Ella wanted it back. It was the only reason why she had decided to stay in the kingdom. For days she had tried to devise a plan, but she then understood that she had no other choice than participating in the Prince's competition.

She had to be sneaky. And clever.

Ella jumped down from the tree, landing on the soft ground below. She neared the walls and climbed, swiftly landing on the other side. Hiding herself behind some trees, she studied the situation. Guards were stationed near the booth where the girls gave their names, some were near the target, but there were no guards in sight where the competitors were waiting for their turn. When no one was watching, she sneaked out from the trees, disappearing through the crowd of waiting girls.

Ella then dared to look in front of her, where the next participant was preparing herself to throw her dagger. Her heart leaped in her chest. The girl was none else than Drizella, her dark hair tied in a braid. Next to her, stood Anastasia, her face red from rage. It seemed like she had already tried, and failed. Her stepmother, however, was nowhere in sight.
Drizella sent the dagger spiraling in the air, but as expected, the weapon landed few feet away from the target. Her stepsister screamed in rage and then stomped away. Ella's face was hidden by her hood, but she turned away as she wanted to be extremely cautious.

Then, she waited. And waited. And waited.

One girl and then it would be her turn. Her muscles were buzzing in tension, her stomach clenching in anxiety. The girl threw. And failed.

It was her turn now.

The guard assigned to deliver the dagger was still retrieving it when Ella felt an hand clamp down hard on her forearm. She knew that grasp well.

The raging face of her stepmother greeted her and for a moment Ella felt her knees weaken. How did she recognize her? What was she going to do?

"Ungrateful brat, you have no right to be here! You failed! And now you'll come back with me! I own you."

Before Ella could answer, the guard arrived.

"Is everything fine here, Miss?"

Lady Tremaine wasn't going to give her a chance to answer, she knew that. Masking her previous rage behind a fake expression of concern, her stepmother spoke.

"Of course. I was just bringing my daughter back home. She doesn't know how to throw a dagger, she will only hurt herself."

The guard furrowed his eyebrows, looking at the tight grip on Ella's arm.

"My Lady, it's an order coming from the Prince that every girl has to take part in the tournament. Your daughter has a right to do so."

Ella couldn't be more grateful to the guard right now. Prying her arm free from her stepmother's hold, she accepted the dagger, feeling the smoothness of the hilt under her palm. She knew her stepmother was fuming right now, but she didn't care. Everything she could see was the target standing at 100 feet from her. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself. And threw.

The dagger sliced through the air, sharp and strong. It landed with a thud.

Center.

She had hit the target in its center.

Silence.

Everybody was silent. Ella removed the hood, showing her face. She then scanned the bleachers for the Prince, her eyes sharp. When their gaze met, he smiled. It looked like a feral smile. He got up, advancing towards her.
The guard on her left murmured something, offering the dagger to her, and she took it, the feeling of the cold crystal comforting.

"Here she is, the mysterious spy. The girl who spared my life and warned me about a possible danger."

Ella didn't know what to say, so she kept staring at him in the eyes, never faltering.
He looked at her, surveying the hunting clothes she was dressed in, and spoke again.

"I have a proposition for you."

Ella flared her nostrils, tilting her chin up. She knew it was an act of defiance, especially when her interlocutor was the Crown Prince, but she didn't care.

"And what proposition could it be, Your Highness?"

The Prince smiled, amused by her behavior.

"You proved your worth to me the other night. I want you in my personal guard. What I'm offering you is an high ranking position in my army. My Personal Guard and maybe...even Head Spy."

Ella stood there, motionless. It was an... interesting offer. She would earn a lot of money and gain honor, a roof over her head and a full belly, but at what cost? What was she going to loose if she accepted?

Her freedom.

She had just freed herself from her stepmother's tyranny and she wasn't going to be a slave for someone else. Not even for the Crown Prince. None was going to own her anymore. She was her own possession. And it was enough.

"Your offer is very tempting, Your Grace. But I'm afraid that I must refuse. I have no interest in such positions and no interest in working for you."

The Prince was shocked, his eyes wide. He was offering her a position in his court and she was refusing it. She didn't give him time to speak though, motioning to Lady Tremaine with her hand.

"The other night you asked me twice who sent me, here is your answer."

Before commotion could break from her statement, Ella bolted through the trees, leaving the garden behind. Guards followed her, but she was too fast. She climbed the wall with agility, perching on the top to look behind one more time.

Her stepmother was now on her knees, handcuffs adorning her wrists. Guards were fussing around her, shouting orders. The Prince, however, was looking in the direction she had disappeared in, not caring about the screaming woman in front of him.

With a last glance, Ella jumped.

Vanishing like cinder in the wind.

———

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