ix.

ISADORA FOUND IT HARD to comprehend the atrocious request she found herself bound to.

King Alexander Casimir had sent for her to be found and brought to the palace, as though she were a mere sheep that had strayed from the shepherd's herds.

Isadora Tremaine felt humiliation sting her brutally, as it erected her harsh fury. She was not Cinderella. She hadn't attempted to seduce a royal and then bolted at the strike of midnight. She had done nothing to be forced into going to the palace against her wishes like a common criminal. Isa had declined the king's invitation and presented her reason for it-chained in the bounds of propriety. What then could he possibly mean by sending the grand duke to fetch her on side of the duke's main errand, despite her refusal?

He was a king, but did that mean he got to force her? She was not part of his kingdom of Angria-Mon Dieu, she hadn't even seen him before in her life.

Isadora felt her irritation morph into fear. He was a king. He could do so much to her that she couldn't even comprehend. He could have her thrown in the dungeons if he wanted to, tearing her away from Archie. But why? What had she even done?

Was it the refusal? Had he been angered by it such so that he'd force her presence? Should she have mentioned her son to him? By doing so, had she given her foremost weakness away to someone so powerful?

Terror churned in her stomach, but she steeled herself as her mother worked on her hair, the woman's lips rapidly spewing words that Isa had been blocking out.

"..I cannot even begin to summon the precise words for her, that conniving little-how dare she? We gave her shelter and work and that slut-she schemed behind our backs. But, God is still on our side still, it seems. You must look absolutely enchanting if you want to capture King Alexander Casimir's attention-but you already have it I suppose. You just need to hold it. Do not condemn our family, Isadora."

"Stop it, mother," Isadora shut her eyes briefly before looking at her reflection in the mirror again.

The grand duke had offered the time, courtesy of Lady Tremaine's insistence, for Isa to change her attire for the king's presence. Cinderella wasn't offered the same, for the request had only been solely made for Isadora.

As a result, the west drawing room downstairs, contained the waiting forms of the duke, his attendee and Isa's nervous stepsister clutching a glass slipper to her chest.

"Let me just-"

"No mother, I mean it," Isadora pulled away, having decided that her hair looked much too grand so far and it didn't matter to her at present anyway.

She ran a hand down the front of the bust of one of her best gowns that she had changed into-a dazzling embellished emerald green, the gown was dark and sultry, courtesy of glittering gems littering the bodice, with black undertones to the embroidered fabric if viewed in dim light.

Isa had been so altered she hadn't wanted to change. But she had, pushing forcefully past her indifference and the rebellion churning in her stomach. This was not the town doctor expecting things of her that she didn't want to give, this was no man from Toulouse gawking at her and making moves to approach. This was a king she was dealing with. Her indifference had to be swallowed if she wanted to survive-her indifference had to be pushed so far back that it's worth ceased to hold any credibility.

The truth was that Isadora didn't know what she was without her indifference. She had, last night, felt something entirely shocking in the presence of the king. He had struck her with his words in ways that he had unraveled her as though she was but a tightly coiled sewing thread. And she had let him, she had dropped her composure briefly. She had faltered in his company.

Now, all she felt without her indifference was disappointment. Why had she expected things from him at all, to feel such a way? It was as though everything he had made her feel was burning to crisp inside her, all because he had summoned her despite her wishes when she didn't want to be away from her son.

"Your grace!" Lady Tremaine cried out precisely half an hour later as everyone gathered into the west drawing room once again, each ready to face whatever was to come.

"What do you mean the family has not been summoned? Surely-"

"No, my lady," The grand duke stuck his sharp nose up, eyes once more half lidded in his willingness. "I am under orders to only bring the ladies. One upon King Reginald and Prince Charming's summons, and the other upon King Alexander Casimir's request."

Isa looked at her mother's anxiety fraught reaction-the shepherdess had been anxious to step into the role, hoping to gain something from both or either Cinderella's or Isadora's newly acquired situations.

"I'm sure, my lady," The duke raised a hand to silence further protests. "That his majesty King Reginald will summon you sooner rather than later, it is after all, your daughter and step daughter being called."

"I'm taking Archie," Isadora Tremaine spoke then, her voice levelled as she garnered the abrupt attention of everyone present.

The duke pursed his lips. "No, Miss Tremaine, the king-"

"I am taking my son, or I am not going."

The words were rocks on Isa's tongue. She did not want to leave Archie on his own so soon after last night, and without her presence there to engage with him, her mother and sister would only treat him like a mere pest-or even disregard the four year old entirely, threatening his safety. She hadn't ever let herself risk it. She hadn't ever left him alone with Lady Tremaine or Lucinda. Last night had been the first time for her leaving him at all, and God knew how much she'd tossed and turned at night with her regret of it. The regret carried through even now, and Isadora realized that if she hadn't gone and left him alone, King Alexander would have no one to summon to the palace come morning.

"I beg your pardon? Your son?" The grand duke raised a brow, remotely alarmed.

Isadora knew that look. There was no man in the house, and the nobleman had come to know at present that none of Lady Tremaine's daughters were married.

"Oh, your grace," Lady Tremaine blanched and jumped in, anxious to save the precarious situation.

"He's merely adopted," The woman shook her head, laughing a nervous laugh as she clasped her bony fingers together. "An orphan child, you see. My Isadora is quite the humanitarian."

"I see," The duke's thin lips twisted slightly before he looked at Isadora. "Regardless, Miss Tremaine, you cannot-"

"I'm taking him or I'm not going, your grace," Isadora folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head slightly as she observed him plainly.

"I'm sure your effort to grasp this simple statement is costing you time that the royals would not appreciate."

"My," The nobleman grimaced at her words, holding his chin higher in distaste.

"Very well," He spoke then, eyeing her briefly. "You may bring the.. child. I suppose you can explain it to King Alexander yourself."

The duke turned on his heels to exit the drawing room, with his attendee and Cinderella following quickly behind.

"Leave the child," Lady Tremaine furiously hushed before Isa could move to follow. "You will jeopardize this! I won't let that boy ruin our chances!"

Isadora kept her features schooled, though frustration gnawed at her. "Pour yourself some tea mother."

Taking Archie along would be a slap to King Alexander's face-if he was merely angry that she had refused his invitation on account of her son. It was definitely not the best idea to expose her only weakness to someone powerful who could channel their anger onto her. But Isa had no other choice, she would rather have Archie by her side than stuck alone with people who bore grudges against his four year old self that he couldn't comprehend. She would rather protect Archie herself.

With her last spoken sentiment, she turned and exited the west drawing room of the chateau, heading for the gardens to find her little boy and oblige the waiting carriage parked out front.

-🥀-

The chateau-clad in thick wild vines wound tightly around its brick form-plunged deeper backwards into the distance as the carriage rolled onwards.

The ride was comparatively smoother than any carriage ride Isadora Tremaine had ever had, but that was on account of her family's calculated spendings-Lady Tremaine's calculated spending. Isa was glad for it, for had her mother been entirely frivolous, Isadora would've had no dowry left to spend for Archie.

The four year old sat snug beside Isa, leaning into her side, his attention alternating between his tiny wooden horsy and the landscape rushing by outside.

Cinderella and the grand duke sat opposite to the pair, the former keeping her anxious yet hopeful eyes fixed outside, while the latter silently eyed little Archie with a curious scrutiny.

Isadora kept her arm wrapped around the boy, irritated by the grand duke's showcase while simultaneously trying to push her indifference back.

"Mama," Archie looked at her after a while, his sky irises glistening brightly at her. "Is the palace far?"

"A little," Isa managed, forcing a smile on her face for him, when in truth she would at present rather be taking him anywhere else but the palace.

The boy nodded, fidgeting with his toy horse again before he looked up at Isadora again.

"I think I watered our plant too much, mama. Do you think it will die?"

She pushed a brown curl softly away from his fair forehead.

"We can plant another one, sweetheart."

"But-," Archie's brows pinched together. "I will still feed sad if it dies."

Isa frowned gently. "I know, but it's nature, sweetheart. We will take care of the new one together."

At present, her mind was reeling with the notion of facing King Alexander Casimir, and she feared it had rendered a blow at her ability to have a conversation with her son.

"Alright, mama."

The boy's attention went back to his toy, a new determination etched in his features.

Isa's eyes fell on the grand duke, who was, much to no surprise, still fixated on Archie. The nobleman met Isadora's eyes and quickly turned his attention away, clearing his throat and straightening himself.

It was an unspoken fact that young noble ladies in France-or anywhere else in this timeline of the 18th century-were not supposed to be mothers before marriage. Adoption was unheard of, much to the point that it had almost become a barbaric notion. In the grand duke manner, Isadora saw the gist of all of these damning thoughts.

In Toulouse, the marketplace, the boutiques, the streets-Isa had been habitual of the same judgement, but somehow in the grand duke's manner it felt extreme. This was a noble man with a considerably sized brain, unlike all the townspeople she encountered on a day to day basis. There was no doubt in her mind that if the grand duke thought of something a certain way, the kingdom's royalty shared more or less the same opinion. After all, weren't certain types of people raised on certain ideas?

So then, was the king of the kingdom of Angria merely summoning her to voice these judgements? No. The king could not possibly know that Isadora had adopted Archie, that was information only recently privy to the grand duke, how could the king know of such a thing? So what then was this summon?

Was the king so much like his royal cousin, Prince Charming, that the man-considerably older than the prince-would resort to a similar extreme?

Prince Charming was but a mere petulant child, his desires much too mindless and seemingly prudent in their irony. As Isadora glanced towards the nervous flutter of anxious excitement that was her stepsister Cinderella, she realized just how much other people were willing to ignore things she couldn't look past.

To imagine that the foreign king would turn out to be similar to Prince Charming, was overwhelmingly disheartening in a way that Isa couldn't fathom. When exactly had she come to such a height with her expectations that she felt as though she was now being let down? She shouldn't have allowed herself to assume or imagine anything concrete about King Alexander Casimir. If she hadn't, she wouldn't have been in such a precarious situation mentally.

The castle-a sleek glittering silver gem clustered with it's many beaming ivory towers-looked wondrously elegant underneath the morning sky as it pulled into view of the carriage. From the chateau, Isa had seen the castle often times, but never in the day time. In the day time, petulant clouds would obscure the view of the castle, which was the size of Isadora's fingernail from her vantage point. In the night time, that same fingernail sized castle glowed like a miniscule gem.

The point remained, commoners were not welcome in or near the royal palace at daytime and night time unless they were employed there as part of the castle staff or were delivering stocked goods for the castle's pantry.

The truth was that last night had been the first time of her life that she had been to the palace. Such was also the case for perhaps most everyone in Toulouse who had attended. For the royals had not held an event like this since King Reginald's great grandfather, who had once gathered both commoners and nobles together to mark the start of a new year. But that was years and years ago, a feat never to be repeated since.

Her mind carried her off to distant lands, from which she was abruptly yanked back as the carriage came to a halt in front of the main entrance of the palace.

Isadora hadn't realized when the carriage had crossed the palace gates and entered the vicinity. In the day time, the palace looked formally bright, like a bride on her first morning after her marriage-looking at her new life with pearl eyes.

The grand duke made to get off, and the carriage jostled slightly as the man jumped off onto the gravel with his head held high. After which, the man turned to offer his hand to Cinderella, as the girl graciously took it, stepping off the carriage with his assistance. Meanwhile, Isa held her arm across Archie's form, having him nestled close to her as though something should happen suddenly, causing him to be pulled away from her.

When Cinderella had stepped off, the grand duke spoke something to her at a side, upon which the girl replied enthusiastically, a bright smile dancing on her face as her lips formed words. Engaged in a conversation, the grand duke seemingly forgot of Isadora's existence, or perhaps he merely wished to not be forced to exchange words with Isa's sandpaper-esque nature as opposed to Cinderella's butter smooth one.

Desperately wishing that the carriage would turn around back towards the chateau, and then realizing that such a thing won't happen, Isadora Tremaine braced herself and took a deep breath. Gesturing towards Archie to remain seated, she made to get out of the temporary safety of the enclosed carriage.

Watching her form appear, a footman instantly raced to her side, offering her his gloved hand. Isa took it, feeling the footman's curious eyes on her face like the glow of a fireplace. It was not public knowledge that she was summoned by King Alexander Casimir. Cinderella's summon was the only public knowledge. Perhaps the footman assumed that the slipper had indeed fit more than one woman.

Isa almost scoffed at the thought of her being brought forward as a potential bride for Prince Charming of all people. Such a notion was security for a woman in her position, of course. But not all kinds of security was desirable. Sometimes security felt like a weight, pushing you down continuously under it's strength.

The chateau felt like security too sometimes, but it wasn't. It was her home, but it offered a fake security that was like a wayward leaf in autumn.

Her feet pressed on the gravelly ground as she spun to help Archie out of the carriage. The four year old's appearance was enough to have the footman gawk, along with the other footmen and guards who were placed along the entrance for assistance. Curiosity was eminent in the air above them all, as Isadora took hold of Archie's hand and the grand duke finally extricated himself from the conversation with Cinderella and looked at her and the boy, his expression resolved.

"Ladies," He cleared his throat, glancing at both Cinderella and then Isadora, "And ah-little boy, please be so kind as to follow me. His majesties King Reginald and King Alexander will meet you in the throne room along with the Prince."

Isadora felt humiliation prick at her. Was she to face King Alexander Casimir in front of King Reginald and the Prince? And her stepsister? What would they think? What would she even say? This wasn't where she was supposed to be. The slipper was Cinderella's, so what in fresh hell was Isa doing here with her son?

She felt anger thrum in her veins, what sort of man would resort to humiliate a woman just because she refused an invitation to be hosted? But Kings weren't men, were they? They were different kind of men.

Little Archie tailed along beside her skirts as Isa held his hand and led him behind the grand duke. Cinderella had taken to walking right at the duke's heel, closer to him than to Isadora and Archie. Isa noticed, but she didn't let it consume her mind.

Cinderella was no longer a part of the family. Even if she had only namely been one, even if they were all just acting a part. But from now onwards, Isadora probably wouldn't even see her younger stepsister again. That fact alone wasn't melancholic, it didn't make Isa sad. That fact alone was just.. jarring.

That fact alone made Isadora feel as though time was running out. She had to ensure a proper means of security for herself and her son, now that Cinderella would be out of the picture. Lady Tremaine's anger would froth over each day when this realization hit every morning. The chateau would become a toxic hub of curses and glass shattering, while Archie's brightness suffocated in a corner. The mental image that her mind conjured up made Isa's stomach churn and her heart drown.

She had to get out. For Archie's sake, and for her own. Isa refused to be left behind in the mess that would follow Cinderella's royal departure. She had to get out.

With controlled breathing, Isadora stilled resolve into her manner as they walked through portrait adorned and crimson carpet clad hallways after arriving at the top of the main stairs.

This was just a setback. This humiliation that King Alexander Casimir had lined up for her would only sting if she let it, because no one could ever make her feel inferior without her consent. And Isa refused to give her consent. She wouldn't let anyone have it.

The entrance to the ballroom passed Isadora Tremaine by as she felt her gaze linger before forcing herself to look ahead. Last night was merely a dream, only her present was her reality.

Soon, the throne room neared before Isa even realized it. From her vantage point, as her heels clicked against the flooring, she saw the bright red and gold etched throne loom over in the distance at the end of the massive and empty throne room. The chair was occupied with the form of King Reginald, the stout king dressed in all white, as Prince Charming and the familiar form of King Alexander Casimir stood at each side, arms pinned behind their backs.

From Isadora's vantage point, they were but dolls the size of her thumb. That was how massive and daunting this throne room was, yet with every step Isadora took, she felt her heart batter against her chest as dolls of plastic morphed into people of flesh and power staring down at her and son as if holding their futures by the throat and squeezing and squeezing..

***

A/N:
hi long time no see? I'm hopefully back to working on this. Please vote and comment, it motivates me to update this book!