Ashes of Cinder

27

The minute those words flew out of your mouth, it sounded so ridiculous that even you could hardly believe yourself. To see him raising his eyebrows and frowning, it was not surprising to you. "I am not completely sure of what you're saying. I thought you had hurt yourself by tripping or something. How would it be possible for... shoes to hurt you? Are you perhaps unwell? Maybe you imagined it happening."

Blinking to yourself as you thought deep and hard, uncertainty filled you whole and wouldn't let go of you. Life and fiction were intertwining with each other, coloring your days of events that couldn't be comprehended. Was he right...? Had you been hallucinating? After all, you did somehow gone from the hallways of the palace straight to the ballroom while unconscious. The trust you had in yourself was dwindling as you continued to stare into the man's confused expression.

"I tried pulling the glass slippers off... but it didn't work," you pointed out, looking unsure of yourself. "And you were able to do it so easily."

"I have no explanations for this, but I still don't understand how that could be possible," he said, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion.

He was right. What you were saying didn't make any sense at all. The cuts on your feet could've come from when you danced with the Prince, tripping over the dance steps. It could also be from stubbing your toes as you climbed up or down from the steps of the palace. Somehow being disoriented, you were fueling on nightmares that psychologically hurt you and made things so much worse. That was... the best conclusion you could come up with. It was the most sensible, so you continued to convince yourself that that was exactly what had happened. Which meant... the shoes that were eating you away weren't real.

"You're right," you sighed. "Sorry, I do not know what is going on with me."

"Make sure to take care of yourself," he said, generously fixing the towel that continued to lay on your forehead. "I do want to talk about one other thing though. Why did you not return to the carriage by midnight?"

His features hardened at this question, his hues digging into you as if he could easily read you. Why did it feel as if you had to tread lightly when answering him? Goosebumps erupted everywhere, the hairs on your arms rising as a chill passed through you. At the idea of this, you mentally chastised yourself: He was a friend and you could always count on him. How could you ever fear him? He cared for you when no one else would.

"I... I must've lost track of time. I'm sorry. I should've paid attention more, but it was too lovely of an evening--"

"Did I not say you only had to follow one rule? It was simple and you couldn't even follow it," he deadpanned, scowling in slight anger.

Lowering your eyes in shame, you weren't sure how to rebuttal. Something about him made it so difficult to argue to, as if he was the one who's always correct. "I apologize. That was rude of me to do after everything you've done for me."

"Who did you dance with?" he inquired, ignoring your explanations entirely. It got you off guard and you blankly stared at him.

"I-I somehow ended up dancing with the... Prince," you responded, stumbling over your words. Where did his question come up from? It was so random and out of nowhere. And why did you answer him so easily? You didn't need to feel oblige to tell him everything, but here you were, babbling away. Squinting at him in curiosity, you tried to read his cold expression. "Why do you ask?"

"The Prince?" he spat out, looking repulsed.

"I-I've told you before! I didn't want to go to the ball because of him. I wouldn't have danced with him otherwise, but... but he came up to me and asked. I didn't want to reject him and seem rude..." you hurried to explain. "Please. I don't want to argue about this again."

Like a light switch, the fury on his face dissipated, leaving behind a calm and serene smile on the lips. He let out a chuckle and shook his head at your reaction. "I believe you. Don't worry [Y/N]. It's not like I can tell you what to do or not. And I know you're not someone who cares about such trivial things."

You eagerly nodded in agreement, relieved to hear he learned his mistakes and chose not to jump to conclusion again. He was so thoughtful to you and especially through the actions he pulled off -- taking you to the ball, bandaging you up, and listening to you -- there was no reason for you not to fully forgive him.

The young man reached his arm out to stroke your [h/c] locks that laid sprawled all over the pillow. Flustered at his touch, your shoulders tensed and your heart started to pound. "Lets get you home soon, shall we?" he pointed out, twirling his pointer finger around a strand of your hair. Seeing you incline your head, he picked you up once more into his arms, your face against his chest. Oh... how warm he was.

Whatever waited for you at home was a mystery. Through the commotion you've made at the ball, there was a chance stepmother had seen you there. But you had to stay hopeful. Thinking of an idea, you leaned your head back.

"Hey... I know you've done so much for me already, but can you do me another favor? If I don't turn up at this shop within three days, can you please check up on me at my house? Worst case scenario, please save me from there."