Cinderella

A Quarrel

Complete darkness had already fallen outside the castle when someone knocked on the door. Deirdre was sitting at the table, once again studying her schedule. A lot of work awaited her if she was truly to learn all of this, and even a person as simple as she was had to realise that.

Having put the piece of paper back onto the table, the girl raised her head and glanced towards the door, wanting to say come in, but to her surprise, she noticed that the person who had been knocking before a moment had already allowed themself in.

The prince was standing there like some grotesque, ugly doll, his dark eyes fixed upon her as though there was nothing else at all in the whole room. It awoke some kind of anxiety inside Deirdre, but she hoped she did not let him see that.

"Your Highness," she said merely, getting up and curtseying as elegantly as she only could with her knees trembling from fear.

This time, it was Gerard who did not answer. He just approached her and took her hands. Deirdre tensed up a little, and it could not remain unnoticed. The prince frowned and glanced at her intently.

"I do not intend on hurting you," he assured her in such a tone as though her reaction had caused pain to him. His thumbs gently caressed her knuckles, and it was enough for him to spot yet another detail. "You have not put on the ring I gave you."

Having cast her eyes down, Deirdre stood there in silence. She had no idea how to explain that to him, that she did not want to wear anything of what he had given her. That she would sooner agree to walk around in her old shirts made of coarse linen than to accept a present after another in the shape of beautiful gowns and valuable jewels.

She was already opening her eyes to put her thoughts into words when she heard the prince sigh. She looked up at him at the very moment he was shaking his head. He was still holding one of her hands, while his other hand was reaching for the box still lying on the table. Deirdre was internally cursing herself for having not hidden it.

"From now on, I wish you to wear it every day. It is your engagement ring," he explained, taking the jewel in between his thumb and forefinger. "You may be angry or cross with me, my dear, you may refuse accepting anything, but this one gift you may not reject. I do hope we understand each other."

And having said that, he slipped the band onto her ring finger. And although it was surprisingly light, the girl had the impression that some irons were clasping around her wrists, ones she would never be able to take off.

"Your behaviour is absurd, my dear," muttered the man as soon as he felt her hand twitch slightly while he was putting the jewel onto her finger. "This ring is considered to be one of the greatest treasures of this land. I want you to wear it for it fits you. And now, we shall go to dinner, I am certain you are hungry."

"I feel perfectly well, Your Highness," answered Deirdre quickly, hoping she would manage to avoid dining with the prince, despite the fact her stomach was churning in hunger.

"What nonsense, my dear," grumbled the man. "I will show you the way to the dining room."

Although the girl would have rather avoided that, she realised she had no other choice; whether or not she wanted it, she could only follow the prince down the magnificent corridors and staircases which could take one's breath away. And yet, she dared not even look at all those wonders. She did not want them to soften her heart. She did not want the prince's fortune to sweep her off her feet.

Gold always had that peculiar feature: when it accompanied even the vilest person, it always made their faults to seem smaller, easier to bear.

And now, it would be unfair even in the interest of the prince. Deirdre did not want the man to think he had gained her liking while she was in fact enraptured by his fortune. She could dislike him but it did not mean she was to break his heart. It would be better not to change their current situation: both of them were well aware of the fact Deirdre did not like Gerard; moreover, she felt something she bravely called hatred towards him.