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.