Cinderella A Romantic Horror Story

It's Always the King

She was grateful for the interruption. Not only because she was unsure if she was ready to take the next step with Victor. But also, in the back of her mind, was the incessant doubt swirling in her head. Questioning if Victor was or wasn't indeed the murderer at the castle. Whatever was waiting for them on the other side of the door, the hand of Victor did not cause no matter what it was. That knowledge was a gift, a gift that would let her apprehension fall and finally be her true self, without concealment with Victor.

There was the other part as well. Olga's baby and whatever had happened to Monique made her unrestful. But at least she had this. He could be a jerk, but he was no murderer. Could she conform to that? Could she live with someone who wasn't a gentleman? It wasn't ideal, and she wasn't sure she could love someone like that. In another life, when her father, Nicholas, was alive, she would have looked for love. And searched until the end of time if necessary.

But she was in this life now. Wasn't that the point? To escape it? She had lost focus, that much was clear. Ella was falling for the prince instead of using him for her own personal needs and gains. Love was for the rich, the people who had all of their other necessities covered. Love was for people who had time to waste. Tattoo it in your bum if you have to.

He practically jumped out of the sofa and buttoned his shirt. Victor was about to open the door.

"Wait." Ella covered her breasts with her forearm. "I am not yet dressed."

He nodded and crossed his arms, leaning on the door. She dressed as fast as she could. Corsets weren't meant to be placed by a single person. After a few minutes of struggling, the prince took two steps forward. His hands were warm against her naked shoulders. He leaned into her ear. "May I?"

"Yes," she whispered. He proceeded to twist and turn the threads until the corset was in place. The wailing outside interrupted them. Ella took a last look at the blue porcelain collection and the porcelain flowers that were embedded on the walls. She caressed a porcelain petal and smiled, ignoring the commotion outside.

There was a swarm of people, guests, and servants alike, surrounding the hall that connected the servants with the main castle chambers. Victor and Ella stared at the crowd and then back at each other. They walked toward the circle when someone cleared their throat behind them. When Ella turned, she took Victor's arm by instinct and then dropped it when the king narrowed his eyes.

"Why. Did. You. Both. Exit. The. Same. Room." The king's eyes were red.

Ella made a reverence and then tried to escape the scene, which further infuriated the king. "How dare a servant turn their back on me?"

The crowd stopped talking, and they all turned toward Ella and the king.

"Your majesty, I am sorry."

He shook his head. "Victor. I am disappointed in you. I thought we'd talked about this. You said you understood. Why lie?"

Victor mumbled something.

Ella stared at the painting on the ceiling of angels and clouds. Then she turned back toward the king but said nothing.

"Don't be a whore, miss Font. It's unbecoming of you."

The king's words cut through, accompanied by the collective gasp of the multitude she had forgotten was watching the spectacle.

"I—"

The king ignored her and proceeded toward the scene, his red cape billowing behind him. Victor shot her an embarrassed smile and followed his father. Ella stifled a groan and went after them.