Shoutout to DanielleUpchurch for reading, voting, and commenting on my stories! Thank you so much for the support.

***

Despite finding comfort in her sisters, Cinda continued to spend her free time locked in her room, her main motive to avoid Eladorie until the ball was forgotten. Ever since the last night of the festival, her stepmother had been watching Cinda with a wary eye, judging her every step. Honestly, Cinda thought she knew, but was simply denying the idea, passing any clues off as a ridiculous coincidence.

At least that meant Cinda was safe from punishment. As long as she continued with her chores and kept her mouth shut, the whole thing would simply blow over. The fact the prince had danced and expressed interest in her daughters would surely keep Eladorie off Cinda's back as well, and Cinda allowed herself a single congratulatory thought for the accidental stroke of genius that stemmed from her love for her sisters.

It had been three days since the festival when the letter arrived.

~ Due to the success of the recent week-long ball, his highness the King has decreed that over the next week, his son, the Prince, shall take a bride. Prior to this, however, members of the Royal Guard shall be visiting every household in the kingdom with a single slipper of glass belonging to the Runaway Maiden. Every eligible maiden is to be compared with the slipper, and all who fit shall be gathered for further inquiry. ~

When Eladorie read the words aloud, Cinda let out a sharp gasp, smothering her mouth with her hand not a second later, causing Ana and Dolcie to glance over at her, knowing in their eyes.

"Well, my darling girls, this is excellent news!"

Dolcie raised a brow at her mother. "And, beg my pardon, why is that, mother dearest? Neither of us belong to that slipper."

"Yes, but it may fit. The prince took a liking to the two of you, remember. One of you may indeed be a bride after all!" Glee in her steps, Eladorie danced around the room, swirling Ana and Dolcie when she passed. Her gaze sliding over Cinda, she returned her attention to her true daughters, lavishing them with joyful hugs before whirling out of the room, skirts swishing around her ankles.

A fluttering sensation of déjà vu settled upon Cinda, mind flashing back to when the first letter from the palace had made its way to their door.
As soon as Eladorie was gone, Dolcie grabbed Cinda's right arm as Ana grabbed her left, jolting the blonde out of her thoughts, and they dragged her up the stairs to her room.

Ana swung Cinda's door shut behind her, an almost too-wide smile stretching on her lips. "Cinda!" The tiny raven-haired girl lunged forward, arms outstretched. In barely a second, Cinda was encased in a soft fabric and sweet perfumed strangle-hold. "Do you know what this means?!"

"No, Ana, the fact that mother just read the letter out loud means she has no clue." Dolcie's voice cut in dryly.

Ana's smile dropped for a moment, just long enough to shoot a burning glare at her sister, before her lips turned up sweetly once again."Ignore Princess Sarcasm over there, Cinda. It means your prince is coming to find you!"

Cinda let out a nervous giggle. "Ana, dear sister, you are simply deranged."

A scowl tugged at Ana's lips.

Dolcie sighed and hung her head.  "Mother reads the letter out and the silly girl still doesn't get it."

"Get what? That the prince has the entire guard searching for the one whom the glass slipper belongs to? Why would that be anything to get worked up over? I mean it's hardly like he will believe it was me he danced with or even fancy me after he sees me and it will never work and what is even the point in hoping and-" Cinda's voice rose in pitch and volume as she spoke, before being cut off by a sudden coughing fit.

"Cinda! Are you alright?" Ana hurried to her stepsister's side where Dolcie was crouched, rubbing Cinda's shoulder.

"I'm fine. I do believe I just forgot to breathe." Cinda wheezed her answer and Ana giggled a little.

"Silly Cinda. And anyway, of course he's going to fancy you and recognise you and whatever else it is worrying you." She grinned excitedly at Dolcie. "We're going to be princess-in-laws. We'll be kinda nearly related to the prince." The youngest sibling's sing song tune was cut off by an indignant Cinda.

"Ana, no. The prince can never find out I was the runaway maiden. He shan't ever wish to marry a simple serving girl, no matter how much we danced. He shall find a wealthy blonde who insists she is I and they shall wed, and live happily ever after."

"Oh? And what will you do in this fine story, hmm?" Dolcie's brow arched.

"I shall stay with my stepmother and stepsisters and look after them until they are sought after by wealthy men and married themselves."

"Wow. What a fine tale."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're mocking me?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps because I am?"

"Well, that's just rude. Now, both of you, leave me be, and prepare for the prince's visit. I shall remain in my room when they arrive, and you are not to mention me. I do believe mother will approve of that splendidly. Now, run along, girls. I have some moping to do."

Cinda hustled the sisters out of her attic bedroom and locked the door behind them, listening to their hesitant footsteps down the stairs. Once the footfalls had faded, she turned her back to the door and slid down it, resting her head on her arms and her arms on her knees.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed, the sunlight filtering through the window illuminating the room and the huddled form of a disbelieving girl as it arced slowly across the sky.

***

Waking up was not a fun affair the next morning. Cinda had dragged herself from the floor when her eyes ran dry, and practically crawled to her window seat, where she lay until the sun went to sleep and exhaustion tugged at her eyelids. Now, she was paying for the awkward position in which she lay, a sharp stabbing pain coursing through her neck and spine swiftly reminding her why she typically chose to sleep in her bed.

Swinging her legs to the side and straightening her back to perch on the edge of the thinly cushioned seat, Cinda blearily rubbed at her sore eyes, almost glued shut from the remnants of her sorrow. The sun blazed on her back, the beating of golden warmth filling her, a substitute heartbeat for the broken ticker inside her chest.

Raising to her feet, Cinda rummaged through her closet for a simple dress and pair of shoes. She had chores to do today, and mother wouldn't let her off the hook if she simply decided not to complete them. Turning away from her closet, clean outfit draped over her arm, Cinda glimpsed a sliver of white by the crack under her door.

Softly stepping towards it, her blurry eyes quickly made out it was a folded sheet of paper.

But whatever for? Her inner monologue was swiftly answered as she lifted the paper to eye level. A letter?

The writing was a mix of Dolcie's swift cursive and Ana's somehow elegant scrawl.

Dearest Cinda,

When you awaken, the house shall be empty.

Mother has dragged us off to go dress shopping so we look 'pretty' when the royal guards arrive. Please save me. I'm too young for my feet to fall off from all of the walking and to suffocate from my waist being practically broken in half from corset ribbons .

Don't listen to Ana. She'll survive. We shall be home in a couple of hours. Take advantage of the freedom, sis. Design a new dress for when the guards arrive. Otherwise I'll get Ana to strangle you with ribbons.

Love you, see you soon.

Dolcie xx (and Ana! xx)

Despite herself, Cinda let out a small chuckle. Her stepsisters were really something. Knowing now she was alone, and not going to be attacked the moment she stepped out her door, Cinda picked up her clothes and took them with her to bathe and dress.

The next few hours she spent cleaning and washing and dusting and sweeping. The sweeping, unfortunately, rendered her helpless against her sneezes once again after a particularly large breath of dust.

I really need to stop breathing so deeply when I sweep. You'd think I'd learn, she thought, with a shake of her head.

True to their word, Ana and Dolcie arrived home minutes after Cinda completed her chores, a few hours after they'd left. Glancing out the window from the front entrance, Cinda turned tail and headed hastily up the stairs to her bedroom.

The door swung open seconds after her hurried retreat and her sisters trilled out a greeting as they struggled through the door with bags upon bags weighing down their arms. Eladorie burst through the door after her daughters, a triumphant look of glee upon her delicate features, and shut the door behind her while lugging in her own set of bags.

"The prince will be powerless to resist you girls once dolled up in these fabrics. Yes, sure, you're pretty now, but soon you'll be beautiful!" She glided off to the direction of her room, pausing for a second to face her daughters. "Now, go coordinate your outfits while I do the same. Whether the slipper fits or not, the guards would have to be insane to refuse you once we're finished."

As the girls headed to their rooms, Eladorie swept through the hall to her ensuite, the mask of joy finally slipping from her face.

She let out a deep breath as she closed her bedroom's double doors behind her and placed her bags on the floor next to her mirror.

She tried to stay positive, but she knew it wouldn't help. Though her daughters had danced with the prince, they stood no chance at his hand, for the prince had become smitten with another.

The runaway maiden.

Eladorie closed her eyes while walking towards her bed, spinning to fall dramatically onto the quilt. She paused when she landed on something small that crinkled beneath her. Reaching under her back, she pulled out a small square of paper, filled with the small and neat curly letters of Cinda's script.

Eladorie,

I am aware of the guards visiting our home sometime during the next week, and wish to ask permission to avoid any and all encounters with such a member of the guard. I am sure you will find no issues with this decision, as I did not attend the festival, and allow me to stay locked within the confines of my room.

Thank you,
Love Cinda.

Why would her stepchild hide from the people who could escort her straight to the prince should she fit in the slipper? If it was Eladorie, she would have been jumping at even the slightest chance to run off and live in the palace as a princess. Of course, Eladorie had been raised like a princess, spoilt by her father from a young age, at least until his wife, Eladorie's mother, left him, and he remarried to a beautiful woman named Ingrid, who possessed the shiniest mahogany hair and the sweetest smile.

But with that new woman came a new child, a new daughter, and later on, Eladorie's reasons for bestowing little love upon her stepdaughter.

A pretty little thing, Penelope shared the same glossy mahogany waves as her mother, with an even softer and sweeter smile. That girl was made of pure honey, and like a fly, Eladorie's father was drawn in and stuck in place, doting on her and his new wife like they were the only beauty and happiness in his life. Eladorie was still treated well, no doubt, always catered for diligently by the servants, cooks, and maids, but it seemed as though all but very little of her father's attentions were turned onto his new family.

When she was seventeen, the baker's son expressed a strong interest in Eladorie, and within a few weeks of courting, he asked for her hand. Normally, Eladorie would never have considered being so rash, but to find someone to love her so, and in such a short time, seemed a blessing that could fill in the growing hole in her heart left by her father.

Along with that, Penelope was sixteen at the time, and almost every boy in town had tried at least once to worm his way into her affectionate graces, and to find a boy who sought after Eladorie herself rather than her stepsister seemed a miracle, and on a whim, she said yes.

Another few weeks later and Eladorie and Henrik were wed, Eladorie anticipating a fairytale ending filled with adoration and contentment. Alas, a few short months after birthing Ana and Dolcie, her poor Henrik fell deathly ill. The town doctor believed he contracted sickness from rats that had recently infested the bakery, and not many days after his first fever he slipped away in the middle of the night, leaving behind a young girl with two daughters of her own and a broken heart.

She raised her daughters alone, calling in favours with the townsfolk whenever possible, anything to provide her daughters with the life they deserved. They would always be adored, her first children, and she would never remarry and let them be replaced in her heart by a stepchild, like she had been in her own father's heart.

During a particularly bad winter, however, Eladorie skipped town with her teenaged daughters and fell in love in a new place, with a new man, with the brightest of eyes and the most dashing of grins. And while he had a daughter, she was kind and lovely and adored by Eladorie's own children, and the mother of two was swiftly surprised how much her heart could swell with love, and share that love equally among the members of her family.

Until her second love died. Widowed twice, Eladorie was left to withdraw in on herself, only a sliver of her old self remaining with her persistently loving daughters. Her pain, however, was turned on the memory of her late husband; his daughter.

Truth was, she loved her stepdaughter. But at the same time, how could she? How could she love that child when she reminded Eladorie of everything wrong and sad and painful in her life? She couldn't, not fully. And while the tiniest trickles of affection sometimes leaked through gaps, a large stone wall had built itself around Eladorie's heart, a tall door in the centre only unlocked by the keys of her true daughters' love.

That was the way it was and always would be, and there was nothing Eladorie could do to change that.

***

Omg guys, I finally updated! I've had this chapter finished for so long and hadn't edited and published it, whoops.

I know I don't have heaps of readers, but I have to say that the ones I do have make me so happy. Whenever I see a vote or a comment or an 'added to reading list' notification for any of my stories it honestly makes my day, and my smile, so much brighter!

AliKat xx