Page 44 of The Midnight King
“Didn’t notice?” Gilda frowns.
“He saidnothingto us about it,” Vashli puts in. “He danced with her anyway and never asked us any questions about her mental state at all. He paid attention to no one else, just her. You promised this would work, Mother! You promised that he’d reject her! You made everythingworse!”
My stepmother blinks, shaking her head as if she’s trying to clear the wine-fog from her brain. “It’s not possible. Look at her—skin chafed, dress in tatters, smelling like a barn—how could he still preferher? Did you insult him, Cinders? Tell the truth.”
“Many times,” I reply truthfully.
“And he danced with you anyway?”
“Yes.”
“Well… shit.” She tugs a flask out of her reticule and sips from it. “We’ll discuss it tomorrow, darlings. Let Mother have her moment. I just won myself this coat and a month’s worth of money.”
“Can I have new ribbons?” exclaims Amisa. “And new shoes, and a new hat—”
“You’re not the only one who deserves new things,” snaps Vashli.
I lean back in the corner of the carriage, watching the girls fight while my stepmother dozes off. There might be hell to pay tomorrow, but at least for tonight, I’ve been spared.
My only regret is that I didn’t get to see theKing.
14
The next day, I avoid my stepmother as much as possible, busying myself around the house, tending to the girls, cooking, and doing the chores. It’s not difficult to stay out of her way, since she spends the whole morning in bed, sleeping off last night’s overindulgence.
In the early afternoon, once she’s up, I go out to shovel the front path—which is technically Worden’s job, but with his poor health, I know he’ll appreciate not having to do it. Besides, it gets me out of the house and away fromher.
Or so I think, until Gilda comes down the steps wearing her new fur coat.
When I spot her out of the corner of my eye, I immediately tug my hood lower over my forehead and pull my scarf up over my nose and mouth. My cheeks are already red from the cold, and with those extra precautions, maybe she won’t notice that my face has already healed. I’ve kept my arms and legs covered today, and although Amisa didn’t notice that my face was healed, Vashli did. I shrugged off her questions, saying that I used a special cream on the abraded skin.
“Something you stole, no doubt,” she snapped, but at least she let it go. My stepmother won’t. If she notices that I’m no longer injured, she will ask questions, difficult ones that I don’t want to answer.
Gilda stands on the cleared part of the path, watching me shovel for a moment.
“What happened last night?” she says at last.
“I went to the ball. I danced with the Prince. I insulted him, as you ordered me to.”
“And yet somehow, despite your appearance, your smell, and your foul words, he is still infatuated with you. Tell me truthfully—did you give him a love potion?”
“No,” I reply. “I don’t believe those exist. If they do, I wouldn’t know where to get one.”
“Then how do you explain his obsession with you?”
“I can’t.” I scoop another shovelful of snow and toss it aside.
“Does he expect you tonight?”
“Yes. He’s sending a carriage for me. He said he wants me to arrive earlier than everyone else.”
“He plans to propose.”
“The fuck he does,” I exclaim. “He can’t believe I would make a good queen.”
“I don’t believe he’s considering the needs of the kingdom at all,” Gilda continues. “He’s looking for a partner he can endure. The ladies at the parties I’ve attended say he’s quite odd—finicky, difficult to please, prone to pontificating on dull subjects, and distressed if things aren’t done precisely as he wishes. They say most people annoy him. Except you, apparently.”
She’s quiet for a few more minutes, then says, “He won’t marry either of my daughters, nor anyone else. He wants you. Therefore he shall have you. Tonight, when he asks for your hand in marriage—”