xix.

WAS THE MOON SEATED AT THAT TABLE TOO? ISADORA Tremaine wondered as her gown's hem trailed over the dark night grass and her eyes remained transfixed by the table set up that had been laid out for The King, herself and her son.

The King, in all his confident stride and bold glory, didn't seen surprised by the luxurious display presently glimmering under the moonlight in the gardens. Maybe that was because he'd had it arranged in front of him, or maybe he'd just seen it beforehand.

The round table was awash in delicate golden light that radiated from a glittering glass carousel placed in the stark center that held slender white wax burning candles-soft, delicate flames dancing gently with the sway of the sleepy, cool night wind.

Plates were arranged on the table, three arrangements for three chairs. It struck Isadora with how intimate the set up was. Her heart raced each step she was forced to take closer to it, and as her feet grew heavier, Archie's steps grew lighter and more care free.

He was excited with the promise of being taken to the stables, and that was his driving force-a little of which could also be attributed to the fact that he was hungry.

Footmen stood at stand by to serve, having just placed steaming hot dishes around the gleaming table center piece.

As they arrived close enough, The King walked forwards towards a chair, which he pulled out and his eyes met Isa's.

She felt her heart pound in her ears now, as she glanced at the standing footmen. What will they think? Watching their King pull out a chair for a mere common girl who wasn't even from their kingdom?

Isa had never in her life cared enough for what other people thought of her, but now, her entire sense of self was wavering in front of King Alexander Casimir.

If only to hasten the process, to have nobody else see, she glided over to the chair he had pulled out for her.

"Thank you, your majesty," She spoke, keeping her chin low as she managed a smile and adjusted herself while The King pushed the chair slightly inwards and Isa took her cue and sat herself gently.

She was aware of him near her like he was fire, and her skin was darkening with the ash of him. Every hair on her body seemed to stand up, chills upon upon chills cascading down her back like rivulets-and she couldn't understand if it was only her or him, or the both of them.

King Alexander Casimir stood by her, even when she had sat, for a few beats too long. Isa was compelled to turn over her shoulder to look upwards at him, and their eyes met in an infusion that made her heart throb with it's force.

His soft brown eyes carried the flames of the burning candles inside them as he gazed into her eyes. His facial features remained stoic, though she could sense-from amidst the burning of his eyes into hers-a vein throbbing in his jaw with how hard he was holding it.

And then, that spell was broken suddenly when little Archie made a slight grunting sound. Isa turned her eyes to look at him, her heart beating wildly in her chest from The King's scorching gaze, only to find him plopping himself down on his chair after the effort he had made to drag the thing closer to his mama.

The boy seemed satisfied, after perhaps his earlier distaste at the distance between his own chair and Isa's. Now that he had sufficiently dealt with the issue, he seemed duly satisfied. A s a result, the seating arrangement was altered in a much preferable way for Isadora, giving some respite to her bothered heart. Now, with Archie seated right beside her, it felt as though she were two, facing one.

King Alexander Casimir removed himself from behind Isadora, clearing his throat silently as he moved towards the only chair left-his seat-as he sat himself down.

As soon as he did, one of the footmen came forwards and started serving the parties present, taking the dishes and making portions of it in their plates until they gestured to stop. The server had first sauntered towards The King, but he'd held his hand out, indicating that he'd like Archie and Isadora to be served first.

It was a kindly gesture, yet Isa could only-trained for such things as she was-force herself to acknowledge the horrifying impropriety of it. He was the King of this foreign kingdom she was in, then why would he act like this? Force Isa and her son to disregard the heavy importance of his crown by gestures like these? Being asked to be served last? Letting a common child call him by an intimate nickname that only his mother seemed to use? Asking her and bringing her to his kingdom at all when truthfully her connection with Cinderella could most definitely not warrant for a celebratory invitation?

He liked her. Isa could tell that from his passionate words, his equally passionate gaze. She was not some sort of entirely impudent woman who could not figure the attentions men gave her. But all her life, she had understood those attentions. The ones the village men gave her, some only doing it from a distance because Isadora-often tormented by the antics of her mother and sent to the marketplace-wore herself such so that they felt threatened to even approach. She understood the attentions she received by the village doctor-a man with frothing courage at hand because though he stuttered, he approached her always, regardless.

But the King was a different matter entirely. How do you tell that you're being courted by a King? In no etiquette class given by her mother had she ever been taught that. Even by the teacher of noble birth that Lady Tremaine had once hired, using the forced charity bestowed upon the Lucinda and Isadora by their late father's sister-even that teacher, prim faced and stoic as that gentleman was, had never taught Isadora that.

So she didn't understand it. Didn't Kings seek wealth and fortune in their brides? Weren't they discouraged against making poor matches-Mon Dieu, they knew not to make poor matches for themselves. It had never happened, it was simply not done.

For perhaps the fiftieth time in this day, Isadora found herself questioning whether she was just being tested and tried like that glass slipper Lucinda had tried to force her thick foot in, lying to the Grand Duke and claiming that her feet were merely swollen by the evening spent dancing with the Prince. Was Isa being tested like that? As though she were a glass slipper and someone else was just trying to figure out if they fit her?

Isadora Tremaine blinked, forcing the vicious thought out of her head as it instantly latched onto her heart and started strangling it. With the grass softly brushing against her heels, the softly cushioned chair underneath her, and a plate of steaming dinner in front of her as the stars shone overhead high in the night sky like they were but jewels that Marie Antoinette herself had plucked from exotic places and gathered for her personal treasury, Isa forced herself to realize one thing.

If she was indeed a glass slipper being tested, then she had nothing she could do but wait and see if the other person decided she was enough. Because she couldn't pick up and leave even if she wanted to now. She had come too far and now she couldn't leave midway and go back on her own.

"Are you alright, my lady?" The King's baritone exploded in her senses, his voice deep and low as she startled out of her reverie and met his eyes.

"Yes," She breathed, blinking herself out of her stupor as she glanced briefly at her son, who was busy eating his food with a golden fork clutched tight in his grip.

Isa looked back at the King. "I'm alright, your majesty."

"Do you not like the food?" He prompted then, his light brown eyes hard and full of brimming concern as he eyed her. "If not, I'll have it changed. I'll have something else brought out for you."

"No," Isa let out, terrified at the thought of such exclusions being made on account of her on a King's table.

"No, I'm quite alright," She hastened. "The food is perfection, your majesty. Forgive me, I was merely just lost in thought."

Alexander Casimir nodded a small nod, his eyes still on her as he took a spoonful off of his plate into his mouth, keeping the spoon to a side afterwards as he chewed and grabbed a napkin to brush off his hands with.

All the while, Isa was conscious of the contours of his dark face from her periphery. His skin seemed to gleam under this candle light and scare moonlight, the gold rings he wore on every finger seemed to boast colorful jewels. He was a vision, and she was terrified of lifting her head if only to boldly look at him-to have herself considered disrespectful, illiterate even, to gaze at a King so.

"May I ask what occupies your thoughts?"

It was then that she looked at him, lifting her head to do so. He had addressed her again, and that gave her leave to look at him, didn't it? All of Isadora's training and knowledge was being sifted through each second she was in his presence. Everything she had ever learned was at test, and she was desperately conscious that she could fail it with one wrong, uncalculated, move.

"I was just thinking of my father, your majesty," Isa lied slightly.

She hadn't been thinking of her father, she had only been thinking of the gentlemen who was hired as part of her late father's sister's courtesy to teach Isadora and her sister noble etiquette, alongside subjects such as mathematics and geography-even if the latter was done with Lady Tremaine merely having the intention that her daughters become interesting for suitors to talk to.

Isadora had also been thinking about the specifics of the knowledge that the King was courting her, without even expressing his wish to do so. Or maybe he wasn't, because he hadn't labelled anything that he was doing? Isa had been trying to understand that, and that was what she had been thinking.

But of course, she couldn't say that to the King.

"He must've been an excellent man," The King of Angria offered, his eyes glinting in hers.

"He was," Isadora managed, trying to think of her father.

It wasn't that she had no memories of him. She did, and the ones she had were good reflections of a good father. But it was the turn of events that rivalled her senses and memory of him. He had died. He had known he was dying beforehand, yet he'd seen and done nothing to ensure Lucinda and Isadora's futures. To have a wife like her mother must've been grating on him, Isa could understand that. But does hating one's wife lead you to hate your children too?

Love couldn't be measured with money, Isa knew that. She had read it often times in novels, and heard it even from Ruby Alderidge's mouth when they were girls.

But you don't love someone and leave them destitute. Lucinda and Isadora weren't strapping men of eighteen or more when their father had died, they were girls not even ten years of age in a society where little girls were assigned dowries as soon as they were born. Hence Isa knew if her father had left them destitute thinking they would make their way in the world themselves-like some haughty old men do with their spoiled sons and heirs-then he was cruel and his love didn't count for anything at all.

Looking at Archie, she couldn't imagine not giving him every single thing she had, money and jewels included. Isa didn't need to die to give her son everything she had, she would happily give it all to him right now if only he asked.

"Though I feel like nobody is entirely excellent, your majesty," The words spilled out of Isadora's mouth as she looked back at the King.

"People have their faults," She dropped her gaze briefly to her plate, it was still half full. She hadn't eaten much, though she felt like she had. "And some of those faults are very harsh."

King Alexander Casimir nodded, a cool intrigue in his eyes as he kept his gaze on her, not looking away for even a second lest she disappear into thin air.

"True," He spoke. "But if the man had faults harsh enough to hurt you, I must entirely retract my earlier statement."

Isadora managed a smile as she met his eyes again. "Some people's faults aren't intentional, your majesty. They just don't realize that they are hurting others with them."

His gaze dropped to her lips, before meeting her eyes back again. There was a new sharpness in his eyes then.

"Isn't that one in the same, my lady?"

Isadora thought of her own faults then. She had many, even the fairy godmother had pointed out the major ones and Isa hadn't even known the woman for an hour. Lady Tremaine pointed out Isa's faults on the daily, and Lucinda was so indifferent as though her elder sister wore her faults on her face. Had Isadora intentionally been this way? Perhaps, but it was all to protect her peace and that of her son's. She refused to realize the effect she was having on her mother and sister, but then somehow, the entire town had started despising her.

"I don't believe so, your majesty," She offered then. "Some people accept their own faults, and make peace with them for themselves and no one else. When you're at peace with yourself you don't look around to cater to the world around you. You just be."

The King smiled then, a dazzling display of his glinting white teeth against his dark skin. His eyes were sharp still in hers, and the elbow he had on the table held a hand with the pointer finger and the thumb rubbing against each other in a hastened anxiety as his mind considered something.. trifling, perhaps?

"I'm finished!" Archie let out then, pushing his plate slowly away from himself in satisfaction as he looked at Isadora.

"Mama, I finished my plate," He repeated, before glancing at The King. "Can we please go to the stables now? I want to see the horses."

Isa blinked, managing a smile on her face. "Darling-"

"Alright," The King spoke up then, a grin on his face as he pushed his chair back and stood up.

His eyes met hers from his height. "I believe we are done eating, my lady?"

Isa managed a nod, wondering when exactly had the King realized she was full and didn't want to finish her plate. The remaining food on her plate seemed like a waste and Isa didn't want to discard it. At the chateau she had only ever taken for herself as much as she'd eat, but for some reason, here, she hadn't thought to stop the server making portions on her plate until it was too late. Her mind had been too occupied.

King Alexander Casimir held out a hand for her, and she put her gloved hand in his, feeling the warmth of his skin engulf the silk fabric of her gloves against the cool night air as he helped her out of her seat at the table, while Archie jumped off of his own with utter excitement.

The royal stables were lit up like they were but a formal part of the castle-one of the rooms perhaps-by the way a dozen sparkling candles etched into glittering thick glass pieces hung on the wood walls opposite to the stable sections with animals. It was a lengthwise space, and on the left were stable upon stable sporting a grand horse as far as the eye could see. The stable sections were separated with sturdy wood walls, keeping each animal at a distance from the other, though two animals could still be found every minute cohering with each other over the low wall separating them.

The stables had been lit up, which was why the animals were still wide awake and energized.

Archie couldn't hold back his exclaims as he scampered from stable to stable, gazing at each horse in awe and pure wonder, his light blue eyes wide as the horses gazed back at him with the intrigue of being subjected to such sudden fascination.

A footman and groomsman followed behind Archie upon The King's orders, the two men making sure the child-too excited to keep pace with The King and Isadora-was still being looked after and watched in the stables as he sauntered forwards and deeper inside the wide space that he had reduced himself to the size of Isa's thumb from where she watched him, walking slowly beside the King.

"I suppose he approves," King Alexander Casimir let out in amusement then, and Isa couldn't help but let out a small airy laugh, smiling as she watched the two men assigned to Archie struggle to run after the boy as he peeked into each stable, not willing to just simply pass by any horse without giving each a thorough inspection and praise of wonder.

"The extension of the stables leads out from there," The King pointed to the far end of the lengthwise stables where Archie and the two men behind him had become mere dots on a horizon.

"Then there's a turn and a similar presentation behind this wall," He pointed to their right where the wood wall sported glass encased candles, "With more of our horses, that leads you back to where we entered from-if of course one decides to peruse the stables in a singular walk."

"The mare I gifted to you is also here," The King spoke then, turning to look at Isa as she felt his gaze on the side of her face. She met his eyes.

"Would you like to see her?"

"Yes please," Isa smiled then, the fact that she had been gifted a horse by the King still hadn't yet settled into her, so bizarre was the entire prospect of it.

The King of Angria nodded, leading her forwards.

Then Isadora saw the cream mare come into sight in her own stable at their left, no doubt Archie had already given her a confirming inspection before venturing off to pursue other horses.

Besides the two men assigned to Archie, there was nobody else in the stables but The King and Isadora, though now even her child and the two men at his heels were deep into the crux of the stables-out of sight and hearing.

They stopped by the cream mare. The beautiful animal stood still, staring out into space before The King reached out his ringed hand over the low wood door chaining her inside, to gently stroke the animal's forehead, upon which the mare seemed to briefly close her eyelids. Isa blushed at the thought that perhaps even beautiful female animals were attracted to the King of Angria.

"She is beautiful," Isa murmured softly then, into the silence of the stables, her eyes fixed on the animal.

"I know," King Alexander Casimir spoke. "Didn't I tell you she reminded me of you, Miss Tremaine? Though still the animal's beauty cannot compare to yours."

Isa's intertwined fingers at the base of the stomach clenched tighter onto each other as The King turned to look at her, an intense warmth and sharpness in his gaze that seemed to make her dizzy as she held on tighter to herself and her resolve.

"Thank you, your majesty," She let out, not knowing what more to say. Her voice wavered slightly and her heart beat in her ears.

Instead of turning back to the mare, the King brought his hand back to his side and kept looking at Isa, before his lips parted to speak.

"I hope you know what I'm doing, Miss Tremaine, though I find myself a coward to find words sufficient enough to make you understand."

Isa blinked, startled. I hope you know what I'm doing. What was that supposed to mean? She had been trying to decipher it, yes, but was she supposed to know it? Was she supposed to blatantly pretend she knew the intentions of a King? What right had she to know anything about a royal? What right had she to even assume? Even in the depths of her mind Isa had feared such boldness when faced with the King, lest her impudence become clear on her face.

"I-I don't-," She tried the words, but there were none to be found on her tongue.

The King stepped closer to her, and her gifted mare bristled slightly in the stable, watching the scene wide-eyed as if in anticipation or perhaps.. envy?

The King was so close to her now, only a feet in between them that could so easily be crossed and disregarded.

"I'm courting you, Miss Tremaine," He breathed then, as though the words had long been choked up in his throat.

Before Isa could even blink, he swept forwards, grabbed hold of her waist and pressed her flush against his chest. Her hands held the sides of his arms, and she could feel his stiff muscles underneath his hard suit.

He gazed deeply into her eyes, as Isadora kept her eyes in his, tilting her head backwards and upwards slightly to do so.

"Your majesty."

Words were mere wisps on her breath as she voiced them, her heart pounding so hard her sense of her hearing was being severely affected.

"Zander," He let out then, "You will call me Zander in private until you're comfortable enough to do so in public."

"Because I'm courting you, Miss Tremaine, I'm courting you to be my bride."

His breath was hot on her face, his arm at the back of her waist warm as he held her securely. But despite the proximity, it was his words that chilled her to her core.

Bride.

He did want to marry her. Everything she had thought about him trying her heart for size, comparing herself to one of Cinderella's glass slippers, worrying that she had left her home on a whim and had nothing to go back to-all of it had been for naught.

The King of Angria wanted to marry her, and he had told her so. She had taken fairy godmother's advice, and he had told her his intentions as clearly as he could. Clarity had been all that she'd wanted, hadn't it?

Alexander Casimir raised his other hand to her face, his thumb gently caressing her cheek as it sent flares erupting everywhere on her skin, his eyes still in hers and refusing to break contact.

"I need you to be my Queen-," He let out then, his bottom lip quivering slightly as he shook his head in the disbelief of all that he was feeling. "I need you to be by my side, or I'll go insane without you."

Isadora's eyes stung then, a sharpness that threatened tears of bliss to fall. But still, like the stoic she was in her resolve, she held her desperate heart back for a while and forced herself to face the reality of the situation.

She was a commoner. She didn't have a worthy dowry to appease a King. She wasn't nobility, even though Lady Tremaine had assured Lucinda and Isa be raised in the guise of one. And above all, she had a child.

If she married the King, what would that make Archie in the eyes of thousands and thousands and thousands of people all over France? How would they look at him? What would his future be like? All Isa had ever wanted was money enough from a marriage to ensure his future, but the King? He came with titles and so much worth alongside. What would Archie be labelled by this marriage? What name would he be given and be doomed to carry all throughout his life? For weren't the King's illegitimate children called bastards?

"Why you do you want me?" She uttered, desperation in her voice as her mind assaulted her with the extent of her treacherous thoughts.

"I'm not noble, and Archie isn't-I only adopted him," She shook her head, forcing herself to face the facts.

The cool air hit her face and turned to ice, and it was only then that she realized that tears were cascading down her eyes.

"He isn't my own child," She whispered, fearing her son would hear the ugly words she was saying, even as her heart recoiled in on itself-disgusted by Isadora's own mind.

"His future-I can't risk him." She didn't know if she was saying what she was thinking, because words weren't lining up correctly for her in her anguish.

She met his eyes again, and would've almost stumbled if he wasn't holding her by her waist. Alexander Casimir's gaze was penetrating in hers, intensity and depth swirling in a mix of passion and desire in his eyes, as though every protest she had just made had fallen on deaf ears.

"Why do you want me?" She asked again, her voice cracking midway.

And it was then when The King shook his head, his jaw tight as though he was ready to finally dismiss the blasphemy she had been uttering.

"Want, Isadora? I don't want you. I need you," The royal bent his head closer to hers, his dark jaw set tight as his brown orbs bore into hers.

"I need you to be mine," He husked, his voice etched with firm desperation. "I could raze this entire kingdom to the ground with the fire I feel for you. I would kill for you, die for you. I need you to realize that. I need you to put it in a goddamed glass and drink it in."

And then before Isadora could even gasp at the force of his words, he slammed his lips down on hers, swallowing any further protests she could've made.

Her senses lit up as something sparked in the pit of her stomach. His warm lips tasted like the wine he had just sipped at on the dinner they'd had, as he devoured her own lips, his tongue licking her bottom lip, asking her for sweet permission that Isa's weak resolve granted. He plunged his tongue inside her mouth, meeting hers midway as she tried to hold on against his desperation to get more of her.

Isadora's hand found it's way onto the back of his head, gloved fingers in his dark hair as he seemed to swallow her whole, starved with his blind desperation for her.

She broke away to breathe, and he clasped his warm lips at her jaw, gently kissing her skin as he breathed hard against her.

"As for little Archie," King Alexander Casimir spoke, raising his head to meet her eyes. She could see the lust and need dance in his light brown irises, as though their color had somehow darkened by these emotions.

"When you allow me to marry you, I will raise him as my own. He will be my heir, no matter how many sons we go on to have. Do you understand me?"

Isadora's stomach lurched at the thought of having sons with The King of Angria, as his wife, as his Queen. She felt as though she'd float away into an abyss if he let go of her now. She felt like she'd break and shatter onto the ground like glass.

She tried to recuperate herself enough to form coherent words, but before she could even do that, the King moved her and pressed her against the chained wooden door of the mare he had gifted to her.

The cream mare inside bristled some more and distanced itself as the door to it's chambers slightly rattled with the force of the King's careful desperation.

"Your majesty," Isa tried to say something-anything-if only not stay mute.

"Zander," The King muttered then, his head diving into her neck as he tightened his hold on her waist, pressing her still against the wooden door of the stable.

He breathed in her scent, his lips kissing the nape of her neck as Isa stifled a moan, her gloved fingers still in his hair.

"I'm Zander to you."

She breathed hard as she bit her lip, nodding fervently with closed eyes. "Zander."

He stopped lavishing hot kisses on her neck as he looked at her, satisfaction sweeping over his features as he grinned at her, his irises now dark in his need for her.

He leaned in closer, brushing his lips against hers as he spoke. "When your family comes, I'll be asking their consent to formally court you. I will do this with as much goddamn protocol and propriety as you want me to. I will do it all."

Isa stilled then, her heart suddenly freezing in her chest.

Lady Tremaine was not a benevolent mother. She would play with Isadora if she found out that her eldest daughter's happiness depended on a consent that could only be acquired form her cruel lips alone.

Yes, she had turned Isa out of the chateau if nothing became of The King of Angria's attentions, but she hadn't said what she'd do if something did become of them. With Lady Tremaine, you were a fool if you didn't have two answers to anything she posed forwards, and Isa found herself realizing suddenly that she had been foolish in her haste.

Her heart tightened in itself, retreating backwards into the depths of her being. Lady Tremaine, ever envious of her eldest daughter, but would she be envious enough? How far could the woman go? Would she refuse her consent, even though she knew Isa had no home to go back to?

Isadora Tremaine looked at the King. She saw the desire for her swim in his eyes, she saw the intense passion he held for her. She wondered if he saw it replicated in her own eyes too. She wondered if her heart spilled into her eyes like his own seemed to do.

How was she supposed to tell him that instead of securing her happiness, he had put it on the mercy of a woman who hated Isadora, and had hated her for all of Isa's life? How can she tell him that Isadora had spent herself raw trying not to depend on her mother for anything more than she had to, but now The King had crippled her himself.

She looked at the King, searching his eyes. They were different, she hadn't been wrong to dwell on that. He had a mother who loved him dearly, and she didn't. What did they both have in common except for this intense love that they felt consuming them? Except for their admiration for Archie?

If Isadora had steeled her heart, this wouldn't have happened. She could've been sure of the consent from her mother. But she had gone and weakened herself, and Lady Tremaine would be able to tell that, and she would revel in it, even if it meant putting herself and Lucinda's future lives at peril. Lady Tremaine would do anything in the world for her eldest daughter to feel ugly and unwanted-both at once-for once in her life, for hadn't those two things been what their late father had made that woman feel?

Isa's lips parted then, to say what, she didn't know. But before she could say anything at all, Archie's excited voice was heard echoing in the silence of the stables.

"Mama! I saw a golden horse! It was shining!"

The boy came running from the distance, and Isadora disengaged herself from The King, who reluctantly maintained a distance, instantly respecting the propriety and respect she carried within herself.

Isa swallowed as she saw her little boy approaching her, and the only thing she could think was that the propriety and etiquette she had been force-fed growing up, had tightened like a noose around her happiness in the end.

***

A/N:
this chapter makes me giddy. happy new year you guys<3