Chapter Six: Carlos

Carlos brushed aside his recent encounter as he would a pesky fly, and walked briskly back into the woods. It was unfortunate, this dull cat and mouse game, but it was one that must be played. Cinderella had destroyed far too much, and Carlos never forgot.

It was seven years ago. Sven was his partner then, a man whose soul was as dark as Carlos' own, even while his hair and skin were pale and white. He was Carlos' opposite in looks, and his equal - yes, Carlos admitted it now - for skill, cunning, ruthlessness, and capacity for pain. They had been working a job at the other end of the Kingdom, and the opportunity arose to involve a third person. Carlos - in his young impetuousness, he thought bitterly - had argued that another agent would make the process swifter and hasten the end of the target. Sven had disagreed, not vehemently, for Sven never was carried away by emotion, and they had fallen out over it. In the end Carlos got his way and brought Cinderella in, and Sven had come in according to the original plan, trying to cut her out.  If it hadn't been for a last-minute, instinctive check at the end, Carlos would never have known how he had been betrayed. He saw it all from the turret, how Sven had fallen  from the top tower to a very grisly death. If Carlos was a nightmare man (having, not giving), he would still be troubled by the thought. But he had centred all his energies on revenge - no, not even revenge, for Sven was merely a partner, and partners were replaceable. No, it was more like punishment. Cinderella had broken the rules of engagement and there were consequences for such actions.

"How did it go?" he had asked her later when she came walking briskly up, blonde hair tied neatly back and hanging like a silk skein down her back.

"Like clockwork," Cindy had said calmly, packing away her things efficiently.  He had watched her carefully, but saw no sign of remorse, fear, or even concern. If she had not betrayed him she could have been a worthy partner, he thought. Although even Carlos realised that in this slim young thing he had very nearly met his match. She was no more likely to welcome a partner than he was. Connections meant emotions, and trust. Both let you down at the most critical moments, and Carlos didn't get paid the kind of money he did to let people down.

"And Sven?" Carlos asked calmly.

"Didn't make it," Cinderella said shortly, and closed her case with finality. They walked away and no more was said.

Carlos had never revealed to Cinderella, by word or action, his extreme disappointment. He found that words were often excessive, and actions much more effective. And enjoyable. Carlos took a perverse pleasure in punishment; sometimes, he thought, it didn't matter what the reality was: it mattered what he had decided it was.

They hadn't done any further jobs together, as such, but they held an uneasy truce kept in place by Carlos' remarkable ability to wait. He liked to think of himself as a jaguar - still, silent, black...and very, very dangerous. When he heard of the plot against the future king, Carlos' mind had worked swiftly. It was as though the plan had been simmering for seven years, and now here it was, flavourful and rich, ready for fulfillment. He and the FGM went way back - Carlos didn't care much about magic one way or the other, but he recognised its capacity for making some jobs that much simpler. If the FGM wanted a little revenge of her own - and revenge it was, for she was angry and passionate, and those emotions went well with revenge, even if they slowed it down - then who was Carlos to hold her back?

She had come to him for the wand, hoping, he could see, that he would simply provide the raw material and not want to be involved. But that wasn't Carlos' style. He had no intentions of letting anyone else own this situation, and this time it was his turn to be the one left standing.

"Can you do it?" the FGM asked, knowing full well he could. Carlos refused to rise to the bait.

"it will be ready by the Thursday before the ball," he said.

"isn't that a bit late?" the FGM asked, frowning. She liked everything to go according to plan - her plan. This time it would be Carlos' plan that took priority, and he needed a little extra time. If truth be told (which Carlos didn't care much about as it impacted others), he also wanted to make the FGM worry a bit - it would increase her reliance on him.

"It's Thursday or nothing," he said, as though he couldn't care less, and the FGM frowned and agreed. "One million."

That did shock her. "What?" the FGM stared, and then scowled. "Carlos, that's too high."

"You're probably paying Cinderella two million," Carlos said, and had the pleasure of seeing that he had nailed it right on the head. "She can't do it properly without the wand, and you can't do anything, can you, my dear?"

He had her there and she knew it. No one else could get the wand done in such a short time, and because of the king's edict the FGM couldn't do it herself - she'd be caught.

"After this you can make as many wands as you like," Carlos said, and the deal was done. Nothing needed to be signed for the FGM to know Carlos would keep his word. He always did.

The wand would be a beautiful thing. Steel-enforced wood, a double blade on the one side (that was tricky), smooth finish, almost the length of the arm. Easily slipped down the inside of the leg, and just as easily thrust into a throat, a side, a gut. Rather gruesome, but effective nonetheless. And Cinderella would be effective: that is, until the very magic she was fighting to return to the Kingdom would be used against her. Sven would have loved this moment, this plan, this pitiless vengeance. Sven who was now seven years gone, leaving Carlos just that little bit less effective than he could have been. And it was all because Cinderella - but Carlos stopped mid-thought.  He wasn't one to dwell on the past. Sven was dead, and Cinderella soon would be.

Chapter Five: Ugly Stepsister No. 2

Lucinda sank down by the window, alone at long last. One of the worst parts of this job was having to be "on" all the time. She pulled a lacy ribbon out of her hair and laid it on the pretty table. They did have some nice things, she had to admit.  But if she had to simper and scream about Prince Edward one more time, she'd just lie down in a good old-fashioned fit. She sighed and opened the window, letting the light evening breeze come in and lift her hair - and her spirits - lightly. 

She wondered what would happen when this was all over. If everything went to plan...but then, often nothing went to plan, so they had to be prepared with a Plan B...and C, and D...

Lucinda rose from the window and swished her way out the room and down the winding staircase. This house was creepy - she needed an out.  She peeked her head round the corner of a small room off to the left, where her "stepmother" sat writing at an even smaller table.

"I'm away for a walk, Mother," Lu said, wrapping a coat around her as she spoke.

Dame Montel raised an inquiring eyebrow and opened her mouth to speak.

"I know, I know," Lu said impatiently. "I'll be careful."

Diana frowned, glanced backwards, and then shrugged as if to say , "On your own head, then," and went back to her writing. Lucinda never ceased to be impressed by the woman's ability to centre all her energies on herself. There was hardly a matronly bone in her body. Lu lifted the latch and went out.

The night was cool and clear, with a sprinkling of stars. Despite everything else that was difficult about this assignment, Lu loved the country. She set off on a makeshift path that headed to a clearing not far away. Even Dame Montel couldn't rebuke her for that. She did wish she had brought one of the transmitters they had set up for the ball, but it couldn't be helped. She was a bit spontaneous, Lu was - and most of the time that wasn't a bad thing. Spontaneity also meant quick first impressions and followed hunches, and she was very rarely wrong. She admitted she looked like a bit of a fluff sometimes, but she got the job done.

Lucinda took another deep breath as she reached the clearing. Everything was still....almost too still. She frowned slightly, and glanced around. No wind, no movement in the trees, no animals....no animals. She repeated the last to herself and was suddenly a little afraid. Shed never seen the woods like this, which meant....

There was a loud whooshing sound, a flurry of sudden wind, and then the clearing stilled again. Only now Lucinda was not alone.

"Carlos," she breathed, almost inaudibly, and he grinned, as though they had planned to tryst here, and he was merely showing up. He was the perfect villain. Tall, lithe, slicked-back dark hair, dressed in black leather, everything about him proclaiming, "Money." Ill-gotten money. Blood money. He had long thin hands, and on the left a garish ring with a blood-red ruby sparkled in what was left of the starlight. He wasn't good looking in the slightest, thought Lucinda, but it was impossible to see the man without his ever-present haze of evil. The words "murder", "viciousness", "cruelty" seemed to literally hang in the air before him. He carried nothing, yet always managed to have everything he needed, when he needed it. He was often all in black, though Lucinda had seen him in white more than once. Evidently he also enjoyed prowling around under guise of am angel of light. He was in black today, all the way down to black boots, seemingly polished only moments ago even though it was to be presumed he walked here like everyone else. Of course Carlos wasn't like everyone else. Or like anyone else.

She scowled.

"What in the kings name are you doing here? I ought to call out the royal guard," she snapped.

"Ah, but it's so pleasant, just you and I," Carlos said pleasantly, linking his arm through hers and beginning to walk down the path. Lucinda snapped it back with a strength that surprised even her. Carlos too looked at her almost in surprise, although she was aware that it was unlikely anything truly caught him off guard. She certainly wouldn't mind doing the job.

"well, well," he said after a pause, smile wiped off cleanly. The pleasantries were apparently over. "and here I thought I'd picked the clever one."

He always knew his enemies' weaknesses, Lucinda thought wearily. They were always calling Dru the clever one and her the pretty one, and Carlos knew she hated it.  She was weary of this battle already and it hadnt even begun.

"You're welcome to try your luck with Drusilla," Lu retorted, "but it appears you already knew you'd lose there."

Carlos just laughed. "Well, my pretty, what say we just get to the point?" Lucinda was about to speak when she realised he meant his words fairly literally, and she was looking at the sharp end of a very evil-looking dagger. She schooled herself carefully not to react with fear, and met his black eyes unquailing. She felt she had passed perhaps a second test - but with Carlos, the tests never ended until you were dead.

"let's", she said, and Carlos nodded.

"Here's the deal," he said. It was amazing how his voice could change in an instant. It was demanding, harsh. No room for compromise, said this voice. "I don't care what you do on the night of the ball, and I sure as the prince is currently alive don't care if be stays that way. I want Cinderella dead."

Lucinda had been schooling herself for a surprise, but this was well beyond anything she had anticipated. Cinderella? Wasn't she supposed to be in league with Carlos? In rapid-fire thinking, Lucinda realised that no one was, really, in league with Carlos. He was in league with only himself (and even that was debatable).

"Well." Lucinda said, after a pause, and then stopped helplessly. What was she supposed to say? She couldn't - and wouldn't - promise Cinderella's death, even if it wouldn't be true. Lucinda was a real truth teller and a horrible liar (and Carlos knew it, which is why he had come to her, she figured). She looked at Carlos with loathing and he smiled horribly.

"Just see it's done," he said as though they were discussing what was to be served at dinner. "Or else -" He drew his dagger thinly, finely across her neck with such practised ease that it left a red line but didn't break the skin. "Or else next time you won't be walking away with this pretty little head intact." He smiled again, almost pleasantly, and Lucinda swallowed hard and tried to keep her eyes calm.

There was nothing more to say, and Lucinda knew that Carlos was capable of waiting things out all night, so she simply sighed, pulled her skirts together, and walked back the way she came, conscious of Carlos' dark stare following her all the way round the bend - and, it felt, long after she finally entered the house.

The plot, as they say, thought Lucinda, thickened.

Next Up - Chapter Six: Carlos

Chapter Four: Ugly Stepsister No. 1

Drusilla sighed with relief as she pulled a myriad of pins out of her hair. It had been a long day already, and she still had several hours of ordering Cinderella around, ordering a new dress for the ball, and hopefully ordering a drink. She rang the bell near her dressing table and decided to scream out for good measure.

"CINDER-ELLLL-AAA!" she screeched, tapping a foot impatiently. At least a minute passed and she was taking a deep breath to go again when Cindy appeared, obviously having run through the house from her upstairs garrett.

"Yes, miss?" Cindy said quickly, and Drusilla looked at her with distaste. It helped that, knowing what she knew, she could genuinely not like the girl. Lucinda, who loved everybody, had a harder time, but Dru was under no illusions. Anyone who could involve Carlos in a plot of this level was evil indeed. Dru had met Carlos once - well, seen him from afar, really. He was slick, crafty, and utterly self-focused. He would murder his own mother for - for no reason at all, Dru reasoned, other than that people would be horrified. Of course, he would also give her gifts and pretend to love her if that suited his needs. Dru had no idea how Cindy had come to know him, but she wasn't about to ask. That girl played the role of the much-put-upon serving girl far too well.

"I need all these gowns put away. Except for the red one, the green lace, and the pink taffeta." Dru purposefully picked a few at random which she fully intended to forget in a few minutes once the others were put away. She wondered sometimes that it was so easy to pretend to be cruel, but she supposed all human beings had the capacity for great evil. She went back to her hair unpinning and then stopped. Cindy should do that, too.

"take these pins out", she ordered, and Cindy obediently set aside the gowns she had lifted and came over to help. She was gentle enough, Dru admitted, but likely that was out of self-preservation. Dru wasn't beyond a well deserved (or undeserved) slap.

Lucinda strolled in through the bedroom door and sprawled comfortably on dru's bed. "Mum says I can wear your green lace." she said lazily, flicking through a castaway copy of Palace People.

"What??!" Dru screamed. "She never! You lie!"

"Do not," Lu replied placidly, still flicking pages. "She knows it looks better on me - ooooh, Prince Edward!"

"Oooh, let me see!" Dru abandoned the pin releasing and the arguing at one go and flung herself on the bed next to her sister. "Ooooh," they chorused. Dru cast a sideways glance at Cindy but she was picking up hair pins from the floor and didn't express any prince interest.

"There's a rumour he's holding a ball, you know," Lucinda said with a smile. "Thomas was in the village today and everyone was talking about it."

"No!!" Dru managed to look appropriately shocked and excited, and this time noticed that cindy's head had snapped up and she was watching the girls carefully. Acting time, thought Dru, but then realised that went for all of them. "When??"

"NO idea," Lucinda mourned, going back to flicking pages. "I wish we didn't live so far out of the way."

"Blame Mother," Dru said grumpily, snatching the magazine. "It was her idea to marry some out of the way nobleman."

"Well, at least he died," Lu said calmly, then scowled. "Give that back!"

"No." Drusilla held it at arm's length, mentally processing the look on Cindy's face. She wondered, sometimes, whether Cindy really bought the whole widowed-and-left-with-inheritance story, but if she was half the spy they expected, she probably didn't really take anything at face value. Drusilla and Lucinda struggled over the magazine for a few moments until Dru, genuinely bored, gave it up.

"So how do we get invites to this ball?" Dru asked.

"well." said Lucinda, sitting up, eyes alight, juicy piece-of-unconfirmed-gossip sending her piqued mood packing, "It's rumoured that every girl in the kingdom is invited!"

Dru stared at her in genuine astonishment and felt, rather than saw, Cindy's head lift. "Really?" Dru said.

"That's what they're saying," Lu shrugged as if she didn't care, then giggled like a small girl. "Ooooh, it's so exciting!!" She hugged herself and rolled off the edge of the bed, landing like a cat on her feet and snatching up the green lace. She held it to her and swished back and forth before the mirror.

"That IS exciting," Dru sighed, and began flicking through the discarded magazine. "I wonder how they'll announce it."

"announce what?" dame Montel stood at the bedroom door, one black eyebrow delicately arched. Dru jumped guiltily to her feet as her purported stepmother turned the arched eyebrow on her. Keeping up appearances was very important to Diana, and Dru wondered if that was at all put on. She suspected not: Dame Montel was a woman of appearances, and she had always done it well.

"The ball!" Lucinda squealed, still holding the green dress, twirling around like a girl.

"Lucinda, how many times do I have to tell you to act like a woman, not a child?" Diana admonished, and Lu stood tall, chastised, but with a look of mischief still in her eyes.

"Sorry, Mother," she said obediently, laying the dress on the bed and smoothing it apologetically.

"And you may be interested to know that the ball will come by personal invitation to all the eligible young ladies of the land," Diana continued impassively.

"From the prince himself?" Dru gasped.

"No, foolish girl, by his emissary. A lowly foot soldier, no doubt."

"Still," Lu sighed. "Personal invitation."

Dru smirked a little at Lu's excitement, considering they had just been in the prince's presence earlier that day.

"ALL the ladies?" Cindy enquired tentatively, and three well-dressed heads swiveled to look at her. There was a long silence which, to give her credit, Cindy did not break. The girls held their breath a moment. How would this go over.

"Yes, Cinderella, all," Dame Montel said grandly, almost imperiously. Cindy's face lightened briefly.

"But ONLY if you complete all your chores, and only if you can find -something - to wear," Diana went on. Cindy nodded eagerly. "Something appropriate," Diana added sternly.

Cindy's eyes darted to the pile of beautiful fluff on a chair in the corner, but Diana caught it.

"Not one of my daughters' dresses, they'd never suit you."

Dru noticed she didn't say they wouldn't fit...unfortunately for Cinderella, every single dress fit her like a charm. But it was the principle of the thing. If they hadn't known what they did about Cindy's underhanded plans, Dru might almost feel sorry for her. But she guessed there was a pretty exceptional dress being made - or made already - courtesy of the FGM. And no doubt Carlos had even had some input.

"I'll make you a list of chores," Diana said, and even Drusilla and Lucinda were impressed by her forethought. No matter which way she tried, Cindy was going to lose out somehow. Hopefully for her, Dru thought, it wouldn't be her life.

Chapter four: ugly stepsister no.1

 

Drusilla sighed with relief as she pulled a myriad of pins out of her hair. It had been a long day already, and she still had several hours of ordering Cinderella around, ordering a new dress for the ball, and hopefully ordering a drink. She rang the bell near her dressing table and decided to scream out for good measure. 

 

"CINDER-ELLLL-AAA!" she screeched, tapping a foot impatiently. At least a minute passed and she was taking a deep breath to go again when Cindy appeared, obviously having run through the house from her upstairs garrett. 

 

"Yes, miss?" Cindy said quickly, and Drusilla looked at her with distaste. It helped that, knowing what she knew, she could genuinely not like the girl. Lucinda, who loved everybody, had a harder time, but Dru was under no illusions. Anyone who could involve Carlos in a plot of this level was evil indeed. Dru had met Carlos once - well, seen him from afar, really. He was slick, crafty, and utterly self-focused. He would murder his own mother for - for no reason at all, Dru reasoned, other than that people would be horrified. Of course, he would also give her gifts and pretend to love her if that suited his needs. Dru had no idea how Cindy had come to know him, but she wasn't about to ask. That girl played the role of the much-put-upon serving girl far too well. 

 

"I need all these gowns put away. Except for the red one, the green lace, and the pink taffeta." Dru purposefully picked a few at random which she fully intended to forget in a few minutes once the others were put away. She wondered sometimes that it was so easy to pretend to be cruel, but she supposed all human beings had the capacity for great evil. She went back to her hair unpinning and then stopped. Cindy should do that, too. 

 

"take these pins out", she ordered, and Cindy obediently set aside the gowns she had lifted and came over to help. She was gentle enough, Dru admitted, but likely that was out of self-preservation. Dru wasn't beyond a well deserved (or undeserved) slap. 

 

Lucinda strolled in through the bedroom door and sprawled comfortably on dru's bed. "Mum says I can wear your green lace." she said lazily, flicking through a castaway copy of Palace People. 

 

"What??!" Dru screamed. "She never! You lie!" 

 

"Do not," Lu replied placidly, still flicking pages. "She knows it looks better on me - ooooh, Prince Edward!"

 

"Oooh, let me see!" Dru abandoned the pin releasing and the arguing at one go and flung herself on the bed next to her sister. "Ooooh," they chorused. Dru cast a sideways glance at Cindy but she was picking up hair pins from the floor and didn't express any prince interest. 

 

"There's a rumour he's holding a ball, you know," Lucinda said with a smile. "Thomas was in the village today and everyone was talking about it." 

 

"No!!" Dru managed to look appropriately shocked and excited, and this time noticed that cindy's head had snapped up and she was watching the girls carefully. Acting time, thought Dru, but then realised that went for all of them. "When??"

 

"NO idea," Lucinda mourned, going back to flicking pages. "I wish we didn't live so far out of the way." 

 

"Blame Mother," Dru said grumpily, snatching the magazine. "It was her idea to marry some out of the way nobleman." 

 

"Well, at least he died," Lu said calmly, then scowled. "Give that back!" 

 

"No." Drusilla held it at arm's length, mentally processing the look on Cindy's face. She wondered, sometimes, whether Cindy really bought the whole widowed-and-left-with-inheritance story, but if she was half the spy they expected, she probably didn't really take anything at face value. Drusilla and Lucinda struggled over the magazine for a few moments until Dru, genuinely bored, gave it up. 

 

"So how do we get invites to this ball?" Dru asked. 

 

"well." said Lucinda, sitting up, eyes alight, juicy piece-of-unconfirmed-gossip sending her piqued mood packing, "It's rumoured that every girl in the kingdom is invited!"

 

Dru stared at her in genuine astonishment and felt, rather than saw, Cindy's head lift. "Really?" Dru said. 

 

"That's what they're saying," Lu shrugged as if she didn't care, then giggled like a small girl. "Ooooh, it's so exciting!!" She hugged herself and rolled off the edge of the bed, landing like a cat on her feet and snatching up the green lace. She held it to her and swished back and forth before the mirror. 

 

"That IS exciting," Dru sighed, and began flicking through the discarded magazine. "I wonder how they'll announce it." 

 

"announce what?" dame Montel stood at the bedroom door, one black eyebrow delicately arched. Dru jumped guiltily to her feet as her purported stepmother turned the arched eyebrow on her. Keeping up appearances was very important to Diana, and Dru wondered if that was at all put on. She suspected not: Dame Montel was a woman of appearances, and she had always done it well.

 

"The ball!" Lucinda squealed, still holding the green dress, twirling around like a girl. 

 

"Lucinda, how many times do I have to tell you to act like a woman, not a child?" Diana admonished, and Lu stood tall, chastised, but with a look of mischief still in her eyes. 

 

"Sorry, Mother," she said obediently, laying the dress on the bed and smoothing it apologetically. 

 

"And you may be interested to know that the ball will come by personal invitation to all the eligible young ladies of the land," Diana continued impassively. 

 

"From the prince himself?" Dru gasped.

 

"No, foolish girl, by his emissary. A lowly foot soldier, no doubt." 

 

"Still," Lu sighed. "Personal invitation." 

 

Dru smirked a little at Lu's excitement, considering they had just been in the prince's presence earlier that day. 

 

"ALL the ladies?" Cindy enquired tentatively, and three well-dressed heads swiveled to look at her. There was a long silence which, to give her credit, Cindy did not break. The girls held their breath a moment. How would this go over. 

 

"Yes, Cinderella, all," Dame Montel said grandly, almost imperiously. Cindy's face lightened briefly.

 

"But ONLY if you complete all your chores, and only if you can find -something - to wear," Diana went on. Cindy nodded eagerly. "Something appropriate," Diana added sternly. 

 

Cindy's eyes darted to the pile of beautiful fluff on a chair in the corner, but Diana caught it. 

 

"Not one of my daughters' dresses, they'd never suit you." 

 

Dru noticed she didn't say they wouldn't fit...unfortunately for Cinderella, every single dress fit her like a charm. But it was the principle of the thing. If they hadn't known what they did about Cindy's underhanded plans, Dru might almost feel sorry for her. But she guessed there was a pretty exceptional dress being made - or made already - courtesy of the FGM. And no doubt Carlos had even had some input. 

 

"I'll make you a list of chores," Diana said, and even Drusilla and Lucinda were impressed by her forethought. No matter which way she tried, Cindy was going to lose out somehow. Hopefully for her, Dru thought, it wouldn't be her life. 

 Next up: Chapter Five, Ugly Stepsister No. 2

Chapter Three: The Evil Stepmother

Dame Montel strode out of the palace, moving swiftly as she always did.  She had learned a long time ago that lying around achieved nothing - her husband had certainly shown her that. She shook her head contemptuously, then sighed. She didn't have much right for contempt when it was she who wanted all that in the first place - or thought she did.  She paused at the edge of the castle grounds and stared out at them, going back almost forty years in a moment...

The leaves were just turning golden on the trees and a slight chill could be felt in the air in the early morning.  She was waiting for him at the edge of the lake - he had promised they would talk.  She knew he was a man of his word - the future king could be no less - and even at 17 she was not easily spooked.  She had been foolish, she knew that. Surprisingly, it hadn't even been a ploy. Being honest with herself, as she always was, she admitted that she had fallen for this  man-almost-king, and deep down she was already imagining herself on a jewelled throne next to him, even as reason told her it was impossible.  The cousin of the daughter of a tradesman...she laughed shortly. It was like a fairy tale, but badly written. Footsteps sounded nearby, and she brushed off her dress and stood to her full height, which was substantial even then.

"Miss Fontaine."  A guard stood there with a spear in one hand and a letter in the other, and Diana blinked once in the collapse of her dreams. The world kindly stood still for a moment while she readjusted everything in it, allowed the image of a throne, a crown, a kingdom to fade; saw the apprenticeship shiver into solidarity, saw future marriage and children disappear.  Well, it was her bed, she had made it, and she had better lie on it and pretend to like it.  She had always been practical, and reason had never deserted her.  It did not fail her now.  She reached out for the letter, nodded once, and tipped her head as dismissal. The guard, unutterably relieved at not having to threaten with the spear against hysterics or emotion of any kind, almost smiled as he bowed deeply and walked away. He paused after a few steps and turned round.

"I'm sorry, miss; I have instructions to burn the letter upon your reading it."

She stared at him, and then looked at him intently.  "I assure you on my life it will be seen by no other eyes than mine. But please let me read it alone."

The guard hesitated, but something in her coal-black eyes spoke truth. He bowed shortly and turned, then turned back.

"I don't do this often, Miss," the guard said slowly, waiting to see that his meaning was sinking in. "Matter of fact, I never have."

Diana softened slightly, and a smile - of sorts - appeared.  "Thank you. You may go."

The letter was brief - and it wasn't from the future king, but the current one.

"Dear Miss Fontaine," she read.  "I understand you are in a difficult position and we give you two options. If your child is a son, he will be raised in the palace as the future king, but he must never know his origins. You will not reveal this to him or have any contact with him. If a daughter, you and she will be sent from the kingdom. You will be given provisions for your life and her care from the royal treasury. I'm sure you regret deeply your actions, as do I and the prince. We may only add, may you be protected.  Regards -"  and the letter was signed with the king's official seal.

The baby had been a boy.

The following years had, all things considered, been kind.  The old king had died shortly after his grandson's birth, and Diana had not felt any qualms about settling - quietly - near the castle. She married well, her husband a quiet man who only wanted peace.  She struggled sometimes with the feeling that his 'peace' often could be relabeled as 'laziness', but in fairness that could have simply been in comparison to her.  She worked hard and rose quickly, and only ten years ago had risen all the way to the vicinity of the prince, but miracles did happen.  (They were, she believed, largely the result of hard work.)  She almost never saw the king, and was quite happy with that arrangement.  It was highly unlikely he even recognised her, but she took care to bow very, very low anytime she had been in his presence, which was all of twice in the last twenty years.  It was customary not to meet the king's gaze, and that suited her just fine.  She was where she wanted to be - with her son.

Next up: Chapter Four - Ugly Stepsister No. 1

Chapter Two: The Prince

The prince paced back and forth before the palace window. One of the many palace windows, actually, all with bullet proof glass and a sub-security system that few but his most trusted advisors knew about, much less understood. His father certainly didn't have any idea...if it was up to him they would still be in the dark ages. The prince said as much to him one time and got the bland response that serfs were highly underrated and half the trouble in the kingdom was down to the prince's modernities. The prince ran a hand through his hair, sighed, and went back to his "modernities".

He was currently waiting on a meeting with his closest advisor and the heads of his security division. For various reasons all three had agreed to work one location, which the prince found a bit risky, but the intel was too good. A plot on the prince's life had been uncovered - or rather the indications were too strong to ignore - and security for the upcoming ball was being increased accordingly. The prince tapped his foot impatiently. He wasn't used to waiting, but his security heads were in a precarious position. One false move and the game would be up. He hoped the disguises were working well; he hadn't seen the cottage they were staying in but was assured it was no more than a hovel.

"Begging your pardon, your grace," said his chief advisor, rushing in. She was no longer youthful, and yet had kept the vestiges of her youth fairly well. Dark, sleek black hair; fine wrinkles that served almost more as enhancements than detractions from a face that had aged well; a mind sharp as the prince's new double edged sword and, sometimes, a temper to match. She was perfect for the undercover role; whether she felt it was beneath her she never had the indecency to say. The prince's safety was paramount; therefore, she would take a menial role when needed. At least she had a servant.

"We were verifying that Cinderella was indeed meeting with the FGM", she said now, bowing low before proceeding to where the prince stood restlessly by the window.

"Did she?" the prince said quickly, turning from the Kingdom view. "What did they arrange?"

"Our intel wasn't as good as we hoped, your highness," said Dame Montel, as she was now known. "We had to use the mice."

The prince frowned. Magic still existed in the realm, but it was under great scrutiny. His father, of course, supported it fully; the prince was aware that, as with most things, it was excellent when used judiciously, and disastrous when in evil hands. And there were many evil hands at work in the current kingdom.

"Well? What did they report?" he asked.

The Dame had seen the frown and knew what was behind it. "We got excellent feedback, my lord. The mice report that Cinderella is soon to be in possession of a wand with a double-edged blade, and Carlos is involved."

"Carlos!" the prince uttered the name, horrified. He stared for a moment, then straightened. "Let's wait for the girls to arrive," he said, and turned back to the window.

There was a silence, not uncomfortable, while they waited. After several minutes there was a great rustling and the two sisters arrived in a flurry of silk and lace.

The prince stared at them, wondering not for the first time why the girls insisted on being called the Ugly Stepsisters. They weren't ugly in the slightest...although he had to admit that when in full disguise (both physical and mental), they were a little bit scary. He couldn't decide which he liked better, but they were a dual package, really. Impossible to think of one without the other. He wondered at times whether their interest in preserving his life was purely professional, but neither had given the slightest indication otherwise, and most days the prince felt he had enough to worry about without adding the strain of choosing a potential queen, and then deciding whether that queen being one of his security detail was a breach of etiquette too great to overcome.

"Well, you girls clean up well," he smiled, noting their fantastic attire. Lucinda grinned at him conspiratorially and Drusilla shook her head wearily. She wasn't a frills-and-fuss girl.

"It's this ball, your highness," Drusilla drawled. "We're convincing Cinderella that it's the greatest desire of our hearts to dance with you at the ball, and I've tried on no less than forty dresses today." She slumped into a nearby chair and sighed, then started guiltily and made to rise.

"No need, make yourselves comfortable," the prince said. "Lucinda? -Or, what are you going by now, Julia?"

"Sometimes I can't even remember," Lucinda said.  She too dropped into an ornate but comfortable chair and kicked off some very fancy shoes. "Did Mum tell you about the meeting with the FGM?"

"Mum?" the prince queried, smiling slightly.

Lucinda shrugged. "Staying in character." Dame Montel was not the girls' mother or stepmother, and the prince would have laid money down that she held that role for no one. She seemed entirely too practical to be motherly...which is why the "Evil Stepmother" role suited her so well. No one knew really what she had spent her youth doing; it was enough that she had risen quickly in the security ranks and in looking out for the prince himself with undeterring loyalty. Quickly, in a manner of speaking, that is; twenty-five years was very short time in the security world. They were always conscious of the threat of double agents, although the prince thought if Dame Montel was a double agent, then he was a pink pig.

"Yes, she did." The prince frowned. "What are the security precautions for Friday night?"

"First, both Lucinda and myself will make every effort to monopolise your dance card," Drusilla said lazily from her chair, plucking pins out of her ornately curled hair. "And we have plainclothes security placed strategically throughout the castle and on the dance floor."

"More like fancyclothes security," Lucinda murmured with a smile, and the prince smiled too.

"Hidden cameras throughout, Mum casing the castle and playing the role of eager stepmother, and Cinderella won't be the only one with recording devices," Drusilla went on.

"Where?" the prince inquired.

"Shoe," the sisters chorused.

"So make sure to whisper many sweet nothings to her while dancing," Drusilla grinned, and the prince scowled. "Ha, ha," he said.

"You'll need to, Edward," Lucinda put in. "Remember, her goal is to make you fall in love with her, and it won't work if she realises you're not interested."

"Best if you spend a good bit of time slagging us off," Drusilla said dryly, examining her nails carefully for any scratch.

"That might backfire, Dru," Lucinda returned. "might be a bit obvious."

"Well, I'm sure you can handle it, Edward," Drusilla said. "Just don't actually fall in love with her, or we're all dead."

Lucinda laughed at the idea, but Dame Montel levelled a sharp glance at the prince. "She is clever, Edward," the older woman said carefully. "Be on your guard."

The prince nodded shortly, acknowledging the threat. It was a mark of his character, or royalty (or both), thought Lucinda, that he didn't simply brush Cinderella off, figuring he could handle anything. He trusted them enough to know that if all three directed caution, he would be wise to attend. Lucinda had great faith in the prince, but she had seen Cinderella in action. Already they had dismissed two menservants, a butler, and their supplier of horse feed. Lucinda couldn't work out what it was - she had been expecting ruthlessness, but found none. Perhaps that was where her great strength lay - maybe she really was a lovely person. Drusilla, seeing her forehead crease, asked her thoughts, and Lucinda explained.

"A lovely person who plots to murder the future king?" Drusilla said, raising one eyebrow skilfully. "Come on, Lu, she's just not what she appears to be."

Lucinda sighed. "I guess so," she said. "I just can't figure her out."

"That's what we're all working on," the Dame said smoothly.

"And what about Carlos?" the prince inquired. He wouldn't admit to worry, but he really didnt like hearing that name again. Carlos had been almost singlehandedly responsible for the destruction of true magic in the kingdom. He twisted things, twisted people. If you were looking for ruthless and mercenary, the prince doubted Cinderella was the primary culprit. She was implicit, that was clear. But no one could match Carlos. When the FGM had been flung unceremoniously from the kingdom, Carlos had maintained contact and often assisted her , seemingly from behind the scenes...but it was more like the machine behind the great Oz than simply a small boy running errands behind a great curtain.

"He's very much involved, your grace," the Dame said. "in fact I'm beginning to wonder whether the whole plot was his to begin with."

"We were so sure it was all Cinderella," Drusilla said, "since she seemed genuinely surprised that the FGM brought him on board. But we are beginning to wonder whether it just so happens that the FGM and Carlos' interests are aligned with Cinderella's. As a matter of fact she may be being used as a pawn by them, no matter how much she thinks it's all her idea."

The prince nodded. "Okay, let's go over the security detail for the ball again," he said, pulling out palace blueprints. "Let's make sure neither Cinderella, the mice, or the FGM catch us off guard."

Coming soon: Chapter Three, The Evil Stepmother

Chapter One: The Beauty

If she had to simper and cry one more time, thought Cindy, she would scream. She adjusted the strap on her shoe and glanced behind her with a scowl. Her two ugly stepsisters, again. It's like they were always behind her, following her, but badly. Surely they knew well enough to at least try to hide themselves. She shook her head and adjusted the shoe again, hoping the transmitter wasn't broken. It should be signalling the FGM, but it was hard to tell. She would give the stepsisters the slip in the orchard - they weren't smart enough to follow her there.

Thirty rows of apple trees later, Cindy sat down on a small bench and waited for the FGM to arrive. It wasn't long before there was what always sounded to her like a sizzling sound, and the image of the FGM appeared in mid-air with a small pop.

"Waiting long, dear?" the image enquired.

"Just getting rid of Oddit and Doddit over there," Cindy said, brushing aside her golden hair impatiently.

"Julia and Brandy?" the FGM said in surprise. "What were they doing?"

"I don't really know, but I don't trust anyone named after that particular kind of drink." Cindy said. "Now, on to business. Have you got the wand?"

"It's arriving on Thursday." the FGM said. "I couldn't get it from Carlos any earlier."

"Carlos!" said Cindy, surprised. "I didnt think you wanted to involve him this time."

"Well he is the only one who can make it to our specifications," the FGM said.

Cindy shrugged. "All right, just promise me he won't go all James Bond on me and try to spoil everything."

"Well, I can't promise anything, but I also know James Bond wouldn't worry your pretty little head anyway." said the FGM with a smile, and Cindy acceded this point with a nod.

"So, the ball is on Friday." Cindy said. "I think the invitation is supposed to arrive tomorrow?"

"That's a bit late notice," said the FGM.

"I know, but we need the element of surprise. I really am starting to wonder if this was the safest safe house we could get." She glanced at the FGM sideways.

"Don't look at me," that lady replied, unperturbed. "You were the one who said living with your stepmother would make everything easier."

"That was before all the cleaning began," Cindy said, rubbing her feet. "And I haven't worn a proper dress in weeks. Is the ball gown ready?"

"It is - would you like to see it?"

"Yes please," said Cindy, brightening up and turning round.

"All right, here it is," said the FGM, and clicked a button somewhere. Immediately her own image dissolved and was replaced by a glorious shimmering thing of white and sparkle and lace.

"Ooooh, perfect," Cindy said, peering closer. "Full skirted, that's excellent, plenty of room there for backup weapons...tight bodice, no problems with that, need the prince to take some notice....lace sleeves, good, the wand will fit well there." she nodded, business-like, and the image dissolved back to the older woman who was holding her own wand.

"Double blade?" Cindy asked.

"Of course. Oh! And I almost forgot," said the FGM with a smile. "Your shoes." Suddenly there before her, in the FGM's hands, was the most beautiful pair of silver shoes she had ever seen. They were so silver they were almost white, and yet had a vintage look to them. The straps were encrusted with what looked like diamonds, but....Cindy peered closer.

"Recording devices?" she asked, impressed.

"Only the best!" said the FGM proudly, as though she had made them herself. "They will capture every conversation in the room if you cover the floor properly, and they will weed out any background noise, including your dancing."

"MY dancing?" Cindy said, pretending to be shocked. "I'm as light as a feather!"

"I'm sure you are, dear," said the FGM, "but those heels may click a little, and I think it's a marble floor."

Cindy nodded. "And the bodice is similar," the FGM said, flicking back to the image of the dress. "This will ensure we have your and the prince's conversation."

Cindy rolled her eyes. "Believe me, it will be excruciatingly boring. 'I love you, you're beautiful, will you marry me, yadda yadda..."

"Well, if all goes well, you won't have to, will you?" inquired the FGM passively, and flicked away the dress. "I'll bring that on Thursday with the wand from Carlos."

"Excellent." Cindy brushed off what she called her 'peasant dress', and got up from the bench. "What about communication to Control?"

"Ah- we did hit a sticky spot there," admitted the FGM, "but I think we'll just go with the shoe, as before. You'll need to use it as the primary communicator."

Cindy frowned. "What, pick it up and talk into it?" she said. "Bit obvious, don't you think, FGM?"

"I'm sure you can handle it," the FGM said calmly.

"That's what you always say when I don't like something," Cindy grumbled, "but you're probably right. Besides, it's a pretty easy job. The prince will be terminated by midnight, and you will be back in business, Fairy Godmother."

"FGM," that lady insisted sternly. "we're not in a fairy tale here."

"We certainly aren't," Cindy retorted. "When do you transfer the five million?"

"Five!" the FGM exclaimed. "It was one on contract and four on completion. I've already paid you one."

"The price has gone up," Cindy said calmly. "You've made things difficult with the shoe, and the wand won't be ready until the day before the ball, which means I'll only have an evening to test it out. Five million on completion."

"Four and a half," the FGM countered.

Cindy was unmoved. "I could go up to six," she said. "Or you could get Rum and Coke to do it for you," she added slyly.

The FGM frowned, but nodded once.

"Five on completion?" Cindy insisted, waiting.

"Five on completion," the FGM agreed, and it was done.

"Fine. Now I had better -"

"CINDER-ELLLLLLL-A!" came a high voice across the orchard, and Cindy winced visibly. "I hate it when they call me that," she muttered, but flicked a hand to the FGM, who disappeared instantly. Cindy headed back down the orchard paths, and behind her all was still.