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