Upon A Time

Chapter Two

SEARCH FOR SLIPPER GIRL ENDS: CINDER MAID TO BECOME FUTURE QUEEN!

The proclamation was nailed to the largest tree in every village square, announcing the Prince’s betrothal.

“Well, good for them, I hope they’ll be happy,” Charlotte said, reaching into the bag at her waist and pulling out an apple for her horse. Poor old Beau was still expected to keep up his daily duties, even though he’d barely recovered from the long trip to the palace and back for the ball a fortnight ago. Still recovering as well, it seemed, was Charlotte.

“So, he’s going to marry her, then?” A familiar voice spoke nearby, and Charlotte looked up to see her friend, the young apprentice to the village blacksmith. She had known Thomas since they were both too small to climb the tree they now stood before. It became a contest between them as the years went on, until work took the place of play full time. Now, neither could remember when last they’d raced to that tree and grasped bough after bough until they overlooked the whole of their little village.

“Looks that way. They never even made it this far out with the slipper to try it on anyone. Not that I’d have bothered. I knew it wasn’t mine.” Charlotte shook her head. “Imagine, leaving a party in such a rush you lose your shoe.” She reached out as Thomas repeatedly tossed an apple he had brought with him into the air. She snatched it away and held it out toward Beau.

Thomas patted Beau’s swaying back, noting that the horse looked wearier every time he saw him. He didn’t know what Charlotte was going to do when Beau’s days upon Earth came to an end.

The horse gobbled up the fruit and whinnied his approval, nuzzling his nose into Thomas’s hand. “You’re not really disappointed, are you? About… you know?” Thomas let the question hang in the air. He hadn’t liked this idea of the Prince selecting a bride based upon one initial meeting under such strictly controlled circumstances. How could a man ever expect to find a woman to be his partner, his equal, in such a way? Someone with the strength to stand beside him and rule the people justly? For the life of him, Thomas couldn’t fathom the idea, and he was glad that, for Charlotte, any dreams of becoming royalty had ended the night they began.

“About the Prince?” Charlotte shrugged. “I didn’t even get a very good look at him, they had him sequestered in another room most of the night, and then he just danced the golden-haired maid past us all and was gone. I know nothing of him; nothing of his character or spirit. So I can’t say I’m disappointed that I didn’t get the chance to marry a stranger...” her voice trailed off.

“But?” Thomas looked away, examining his rough-hewn hand as if he’d never seen it before.

“The idea of a different life… for just a moment.” She paused, and he looked up at her again as she seemed to try to shake the thought from her head with vigor. “No. Not the life I ever thought I wanted before that cursed invitation arrived. And not the life I would dream of again, now that mother’s old gown is back in the trunk where it belongs, no worse for my having worn it after all those years.” She looked up at the sky, noting the position of the sun overhead. “Aren’t you due to be back at the smithy? Old Rowan will take a stick to you if you’re late.”

“He hasn’t done so in years and wouldn’t dare try now. I’m much bigger than he is.”     

Charlotte laughed momentarily at the thought of ancient, crouched-over Rowan shaking his walking stick at his young, strong apprentice. “Would be a sight to see.”

“Still, I should get back. He’ll be waiting for his lunch, and he especially hates for me to be late when fetching it.” He indicated a basket with handles draped over one arm. “So I bid you good day, Charlotte. Shall I stop by later for a bit of practice? It’s been far too long since I’ve had the pleasure.”