The tall butler who was currently leading them through room after room did not remark upon their stares of awe. Initially, he had cast the girls a condescending glance as he wondered why would his employer wish to speak with these commoners in the first place. Certainly, there had been talk about them; who hadn't heard about Rio and Whisper Grimm and their tome of local tales. The butler quietly scoffed. Fairy stories indeed, he thought. Why Lady Smalls would ever request a meeting with the writers of children's stories is beyond my comprehension.
Rio caught sight of the butler's disdainful expression and narrowed her eyes at him. Leaning over to Whisper, she murmured, "He looks like a character from our book- a disgruntled troll under a bridge, maybe."
Whisper stifled her laughter and nodded. "If he's any indication of what our audience with Lady Smalls is going to be like, we might be very sorry that we ever agreed to this." They both recalled the afternoon a few days prior, when they had been celebrating the wonderful response to their book of local fairy tales, stories which used not the formal diction of nobles, but the everyday speech of the common folk. A young messenger, not much older than the two girls, had burst into Tibby's (a popular place for the artistic crowd to sip coffee and discuss their latest works) with a letter addressed to them- a letter that requested their presence at the home of Lady Smalls, one of the most prominent noblewomen in the land. The two girls had paled a bit and pondered over the nature of such an invitation. Curiosity eventually got the better of them, although now, only a room away from Lady Smalls herself, the sisters were anxious yet again.
The butler pushed open a large oak door and announced, "Rio and Whisper, the sisters Grimm, my lady."
Whisper and Rio glanced from behind the man to see an elderly woman seated in a lush chair, made of dark rosewood and forest green velvet. The room was just as lavishly decorated as the others had been, although this one was surrounded by bookshelves packed with heavy tomes and several works of art in beautiful frames of silver or mahogany. One particularly painting caught the both of the girls' eyes- a portrait of a young woman, perhaps eighteen years old, with fair skin, ebony hair, and beautiful brown eyes. Before they could look at the painting more closely, Lady Smalls spoke up in a dignified yet amiable voice.
"Welcome, ladies. Won't you please sit down?" she said, motioning to two more chairs which matched her own. As the sisters moved to sit, they studied their hostess. Although her hair (which had obviously once been a vibrant shade of auburn) was graying and the tiniest wrinkles were apparent at the corners of her eyes and mouth, her bright green eyes spoke of her wisdom and internal strength. Once the girls were seated, Lady Smalls continued, "I'm sure you're curious as to my reason for requesting this meeting with you."
Whisper nodded. "We were rather surprised at your letter, madam."
"We've had some success with our book," Rio added, "but we haven't been called to such an audience before."
Lady Smalls nodded and smiled gently. "I, along with many others, find your collection of folk tales to be quite inspired. This is a huge step forward for the works of local storytellers and the language of commoners."
The sisters glanced at each other and grinned brightly, both sitting up a bit straighter in their chairs. "Thank you, madam," Rio replied calmly, attempting to contain most of her excitement.
"However," Lady Smalls interjected evenly but firmly, "I was quite upset with your version of the Cinderella tale." She cast Whisper and Rio each a somber stare, and the two girls silently sighed in disappointment. They looked to each other again, wondering what could be said in polite response.
"There are so many different tellings," Whisper spoke up bravely, her voice slightly hushed and her cheeks barely stained with crimson, "that no one knows exactly how the story originated. People say that the tale appearing in our book- with a fairy godmother and a magical carriage- is the closest to whatever the truth may be."
Rio nodded resolutely in her sister's defense. "There are those who say that the infamous slipper was made of glass, while others insist it was fur. Others declare that the fairy godmother was the spirit of the girl's mother, or that the father was alive throughout the whole tale." She shrugged and looked directly at Lady Smalls. "I suppose we'll never know the truth of Cinderella, if there is even such a truth that exists."
The older woman paused momentarily, and the Grimm sisters eyed each other curiously, both wondering if they had somehow upset their hostess. Then Lady Smalls shifted slightly in her chair, turning to the portrait of the young woman.
"This," she stated in a much more kindly manner than Whisper and Rio had thought she would use, "is Luna- the owner of the infamous slipper." She bent down to extract a shoe from a beautifully carved box. The slipper was neither glass nor fur, but decorated with seemingly hundreds of tiny diamonds, each sparkling like a star on a clear autumn evening.
Rio and Whisper blinked, studying first the painting and then Lady Smalls, whose expression was just as serious and kind as before.
"She's not joking," Rio, her eyes widening slightly, murmured to her sister in surprise.
"So it's true, then?" Whisper inquired, moving forward in her chair. "The story is actually-"
A smile began to suffuse over Lady Smalls's lips and she nodded serenely. "Yes, this is more than a mere fairy tale- far more. It is the tale of internal strength, immense bravery and true love with overcame so many obstacles." Her smiled widened further as she looked from the slipper to the stunned young women before her. "If I may set the record straight?" She raised the slipper slightly, so that the diamonds glittered even more radiantly, sending tiny rainbows soaring throughout the room. The words of Lady Smalls danced in the air with a fiery brilliance all their own.
The air was bitingly cold as Luna Morgan woke and rose from bed. She clutched a threadbare blanket around her slim body and moved silently, so as not to rouse those still dreaming around her. Although no light filled the servants' quarters, as the sun hadn't yet risen and the girl didn't wish to light a candle, Luna moved with swift and confident movements in the darkness. She slipped on a pair of boots two sizes to large for her and tied her ebony hair into a messy ponytail that trailed down her back. Tossing the blanket back onto her bed, she shivered and willed her teeth to stop chattering as she made her way out of the room and into the frigid morning air.
A slight fog had risen over the land, causing the ground to almost blend in with the gray sky. She had to strain to see the fields and the gardens. Although she couldn't make out the shape, she knew that the manor stood proudly in the near distance. She paused a moment, trying to see the place where she had lived so happily for the first eight years of her life. Against her will, her heart swelled at the memories.
A piercingly solemn voice interrupted her nostalgic thoughts. As if you have time to brood about all day. Medda will slay you for sure if your morning chores aren't done by the time she's awake.
With a barely audible sigh, Luna began the long walk to the orchard, at the other end of the grounds.
As she strode through the fields, she couldn't help but frowning in regret. She recalled days long past, when seemingly hundreds of servants had tended to the fields, producing the freshest produce and raising the finest livestock for miles. Now, as only a few teenage servants were left to work (and as Luna's stepmother, Medda, spent money as quickly as the servants could make it for her, Luna remarked to herself with a scoff), the manor was not even a tenth as successful as it had been. Without proper tools, the soil seemed as hard as a rock. Scores of servants had been fired, leaving less people to care for the fields as well as the manor. Occasionally, after glowering at another diamond necklace wrapped around Medda's throat, one of the young servants would shake his head and mutter that they most likely wouldn't have a manor to live at if this behavior kept up.
I won't let that happen, Luna doggedly vowed to herself, picking up her pace as she marched into the orchard.
As she began to gather the newly grown apples, Luna's mind wandered to memories of her childhood yet again. Her hands moved mechanically and her eyes glazed over as she recalled when her formerly happy world had taken a dramatic change for the very worst….
The sun was just beginning to break over the lush green horizon, casting orange and yellow streaks of light against the gray stone of the manor. It crept into the kitchen, unusually silent and empty, and darted around fresh tomatoes, jars of golden honey, and day-old loaves of wheat bread. It rushed through the fields were diligent servants would begin to work in moments, planting vegetables and tending to the livestock. Finally, it spilled into the attic of the servant's quarters, where several young children, all no more than nine years old, were dreaming in cocoons of warm blankets. Occasionally, one would murmur incoherently or twist uncomfortable in reaction to unpleasant dreams, but overall they appeared peaceful and contented.
An elderly man, scant white hair disappearing from his scalp, trudged into the room and shook his head at the slumbering group. He drew a deep breath and shouted loud enough to be heard in the palace, "Get up! Work to be done! The master's comin' home today!"
Groaning and blinking sleep out of their eyes, the children obediently (if not willingly) sat up in bed.
"Aw, Maurice, let us sleep for just a little while longer, huh?" a dark-haired girl muttered groggily and leaned back onto her pillow.
The older servant's frown deepened as he eyed the girl solemnly. "Sun's been up for almost hours now, SB, and there's a lot to be done before the master returns. No more arguing, get up."
"Hey, how's about I roll you for it," a sly voice piped up from under a blanket, "double or nothing?" Racetrack yelped when Maurice smacked him smartly over the back of the head and swiftly climbed to his feet in fear of receiving more of a beating. "I was just kidding," the servant boy mumbled as he, along with the other young servants, made their way to the water pump.
"Really?" inquired Mischief in surprise.
Racetrack flashed as roguish a grin as he could muster at sunrise. "Not really. But it was worth a shot. Too bad Maurice doesn't like gambling."
"Too bad the master doesn't like marrying," grumbled Skittery as the group staggered out of the small building that the servants all resided in and moved to the water pump. Splashing his face with icy water (which always served to rouse even the sleepiest of servants), he continued, "Three more people to take care of."
"A baroness," Maniac added, using the rippling pool of water under the pump as a makeshift mirror as she tied up her dark brown tresses. "She'll have to get used to manor life rather quickly."
Mush nodded his agreement as he laughed, "I can just imagine the Baroness de Meadowlark strolling through the fields with a pink silk gown."
Snaps shrugged and cupped her hands, filling her palms with the cold water. "The master and Luna aren't difficult to wait on at all. I don't think these three will be very different," she assured her friends and sipped at the liquid warming in her hands.
Snipeshooter was just about to dispute this point when Maurice stuck his head out of the servants' quarters and cast the group a disapproving stare. "Are you planning to wash up all day? Get moving, now," he ordered the group firmly, in the manner of a matronly aunt. "Lots to do today. Louise'll give you some breakfast if you hurry."
The prospect of breakfast proved to hurry the servant children. Visions of fresh strawberries and biscuits dancing through their heads, they rushed to the kitchen, momentarily forgetting about the arrival of their master and the new additions to the family.
Luna was dreaming. She had been unable to sleep for most of the previous night, and had spent her time gazing up at the clear summer sky. Now her dreams were filled with glittering stars and glowing moons. She sighed blissfully in her sleep and snuggled deeper beneath the warm blanket when a sharp sound tossed her from the heavens and back to earth. Blinking away her dreams and wondering if stardust would still line the inside of her eyelids when she awoke fully, she furrowed her forehead and thought, Hale? The noise resonated through her room once again and, sitting up straight in curiosity, she realized that the sound came from someone tossed tiny stones at her window. She tossed her blanket aside, leapt to the icy stone floor, and dashed to the window. Throwing open the pane, she caught sight of a young girl standing on the ground, poised to hurl another pebble into the air.
"Finally!" Maverick exclaimed as she placed her hands on her hips. She narrowed her deep emerald eyes. "I thought you were going to sleep all day!"
"Not today!" laughed the young girl as she pushed a lock of ebony hair out of her pale countenance. She had been barely able to get to sleep the night before with the excitement of her father's return before her. It had seemed like an eternity when he had last been at the manor; and now, according to his last letter, he was also bringing home a new family. At the thought of the arrival, Luna frowned solemnly. "What time is it, anyway?"
"Just past ten o'clock already," Maverick replied with a small grin. "I told you that you had-" She was, however, unable to finish her remark, as Luna had dashed from the window with a cry of distress: "They'll be here any minute!" Then, as Maverick moved to run back to her own home, the sounds of horses' hooves pounding against the dirt road and a small voice cheering in delight echoed in her ears.
By the front door, the master, a tall man with hair as dark as a raven's feather and well-carved features, stood smiling at the sight of his home. Several of the servants had gathered to view his arrival, including many of the children. "Where are they?" demanded Mischief as she gazed at the carriages filled with trunks holding gowns of silk and satin.
"Maybe the master decided that he'd rather stay single," suggested Snitch with a small shrug.
"Yeah, so we don't have to do as much work," Snipeshooter replied, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. "I'm sure that's all that the master has in mind." Just as Snitch opened his mouth to debate that remark, one of the older servants whacked him over the head and motioned to the scores of luggage. "Why are you standing around here?" the servant demanded in the manner of a disapproving, matronly aunt. "Go and help them, for goodness sake."
As the youngest servants rushed to the carriages in response, they heard a shriek of joy emitted from the entrance of the manor. "Papa!" Luna exclaimed, leaping through the doorway and into her father's open arms.
Her father laughed pleasantly and studied his daughter with sparkling mahogany eyes, almost the shade of Luna's own. "Look at you, still in your nightgown and past ten o'clock already," he chuckled. "I suppose that you spent half of the sent staring up at the moon as usual." Luna blushed slightly, bringing color to her fair cheeks and grinned, while her father shook his head good-naturedly. "It's so good to be home again."
"Oh, Papa, I'm so glad you're here," she said, beaming. "So much has happened since you left and…"
The girl's voice trailed off at the sight of another carriage pulling up to the manor, one far more luxurious than any Luna's family had used. She held her breath and, eyes as wide as soup tureens, gazed at the carriage expectantly. A servant dashed to the halted carriage and flung open the door, bowing slightly at the waist. From the shadowy carriage, two small forms became visible. Young girls, roughly Luna's age the servant children guessed, stepped cautiously from the carriage and onto the ground. Both were clad in gorgeous gowns of satin, with tiny pearls decorating the necklines like glowing stars. The taller girl flipped a lock of chestnut brown hair over her shoulder and frowned at the dirt road in disgust, wrinkling her nose at the idea that her delicate slippers were now dusted with grime. The other girl stared at her new surroundings in wonder, her bright blue eyes studying the stone manor, the nearby fields of strawberries, and the scores of servants with curiosity. However, the two stepped aside when an irritated cough from inside the carriage invaded their thoughts.
The child-servants leaned forward with interest and paused their tasks momentarily to catch sight of their new mistress. Flashes of worry and excitement forked through Luna's mind as she gazed at the carriage. As carefully as her daughters had moved, so not to dishevel her appearance in the slightest, Medda stepped out of the carriage and immediately focused her blue eyes on the young girl standing by her new husband's side. She studied Luna's wrinkled nightgown, her bare, calloused feet, and her tangled ebony tresses and a grin slid across her face, as though she realized that she had gained some victory. With gentle fingertips, she reached up to touch her own vibrant red locks (which, the servant children guessed, was not a shade the baroness had been born with) curled to perfection and her deep purple down, tailored to her exact tastes and decorated with tiny diamonds that sparkled in the morning sunlight. Luna, who had been smiling shyly at the sight of her new stepmother, began to frown and blush faintly in embarrassment.
Medda then turned her attention to her husband. "How…quaint, Jean, really," she murmured with a small laugh that seemed somewhat forced to Luna. It was then that the girl began to wonder what her future with her new family- particularly her new stepmother- would be like. Shaking away somber predictions, she assured herself that her father would never allow harm to come to her, not as long as he still drew breath on this earth….
Luna's vision was slightly blurred as she recalled that ominous thought. She brushed teardrops away and forced herself to focus on the task at hand (collecting apples for supper), yet was unable to simply dismiss the memory of her father's death. Not a week after he had returned, he had been killed in a riding accident on his way to business in the city of New York. The young girl vaguely recalled the funeral, and how she had felt as though she were drowning in a sea of tears. She had imagined that nothing could have been worse than that.
She scowled faintly and shook her head as she, standing on her toes, grabbed for another apple. I can't understand how Father could have married her. He would never have allowed her to ruin the manor like this.
The fog was beginning to lift and sunlight was just breaking over the horizon. Luna felt a wave of warmth rush over her and she shut her eyes for a moment, praying for a miracle. Opening her eyes she found that the scene before her hadn't changed in the slightest; the manor was still in near ruins, and she was still forced to work as a servant to keep things running as best she could. It appeared that miracles simply didn't occur in New York.
Gathering the apples she had picked, Luna started off to the manor, where she was certain her fellow servants were already awake and beginning their day. She smiled slightly at the thought of her friends, but the faint pounding of nearing footsteps caused her to turn cautiously on her heel, eyes filled with grave fire.
He crept through the throne room, the moonlight bathing him in an ethereal glow as he moved. He only stopped once to gaze at the thrones, smirking triumphantly. So much for a wedding by the end of the week, the young man thought with a silent chuckle, then quietly rushed out of the palace without causing the slightest disturbance.
He was halfway to the stables when he caught sight of a pair of soldiers strolling towards him. He swiftly leapt into a shadowy corner and held his breath, praying that the two guardsmen would not notice his form pressed against the gray stones. He lowered his clock to completely conceal his well-known features and waited.
"…and he says to me, 'You can't take both of 'em.' And I says, 'Oh, I thought you meant the dogs!'" the taller guard laughed loudly, his mouth barely visible under his rather large mustache.
The guards were so involved in their own conversation that they didn't even glance over to attempt to see the young man hidden in the darkness. He gave a heavy sigh of relief when the soldiers were out of earshot, then rolled his eyes at the severe lack of security surrounding the palace. He didn't know whether to be extraordinarily grateful or absolutely furious.
He was about to dash to the stables when he heard voices drift down from above him. His stomach dropped at his recognized those voices; they could be none other than his parents, Queen Mimic and King Dutchy, monarchs of New York. "He has to learn to obey the crown and my orders," the king said ominously. "The marriage contract has already been signed."
"I understand that, Dutchy," Mimic replied, her voice unusually tight. "But I cannot agree that this is the right thing to do for him. He simply cannot be thrown into marriage in this stage of his life."
"In this stage of his life he has to realize his responsibilities. And I intend to tell him so immediately."
The prince could imagine his mother rolling her eyes. "Honestly, can't this wait until-"
Her inquiry was cut short when another voice entered the conversation. The man was evidently a young soldier, somewhat nervous in the presence of the king and queen for some reason. "Your highnesses," he began anxiously, "I regret to inform you that the prince is not…ah…that is to say…"
"Then say it," Mimic prompted shortly.
"Prince Spot is…missing, your majesties."
Spot felt his entire body tighten with anxiety. He didn't dare to wait and listen to the rest of the conversation; instead he bolted to the stables and grabbed the first horse he could, a black mare fortunately known for its speed. Without taking the time to properly saddle the animal, he leapt onto its sleek back and rode madly to the palace gates. He could hear guards rushing to their own horses, preparing to capture him and bring him back to his personal prison. "Not if I can help it," Spot murmured doggedly and rode faster still, not even daring to glance back to see if the soldiers were at his heels.
The prince didn't realize how far he had traveled until daylight was breaking and his horse slipped a shoe just outside of a small farm. Cursing madly, he found no alternative but to borrow one of the manor's horses; surely they would understand, and he would return it as soon as possible. He leapt onto the unfamiliar horse and was just considering his plan to be a rather good one when a sharp pain pierced through his skull.
The sight of the cloaked figure riding her father's beloved horse had sent Luna into a calculated rage. Her auburn eyes were bright with fire as she tossed the apples to the damp ground and reached into her back pocket to extract her faithful slingshot. With expert ease she drew it back, aiming at her target as he and the horse flew across the orchard. Without a moment's hesitation she released and struck the thief directly in the head, spending him toppling to the ground and shouting in a combination of pain and surprise.
"You think you can steal my father's horse?!" she exclaimed and shot another marble at the figure who currently lay on the ground.
He involuntarily cried out and attempted to rise to his feet. "I'm not stealing it; I'm just- OW!- borrowing it, all right?!"
"Perfectly understandable," she growled facetiously and narrowed her eyes as she took aim yet again. "And you were just going to return it, were you?"
" Of- OW!- course. Will you quit that?!"
"This will teach you not to come around here ever again," she replied and was prepared to shot a fifth marble at him when he threw back his hood, revealing the infamous features of Prince Spot Conlon of New York. Luna's eyes widened in shock and her heart leapt into her throat. Without thinking, she dropped to her knees and avoided eye contact, praying that her punishment for attacking the heir to the thrown would not to be too severe.
"Forgive me, your highness, I was greatly mistaken," she said with as much calm as she could muster at that point in time.
Spot frowned at the girl before him, although he couldn't make out her features with her face bent toward the ground and her jet-black locks acting as a veil. Rubbing his head, he muttered, "You didn't mistake any of your shots though, did you?"
Luna's stomach twisted into a complicated knot. "I know the penalty for such an act is extremely harsh," she said solemnly.
If he were quite honest with himself, the prince had to admit that he had absolutely no idea what the punishment would be. He cleared his throat, rather taken back that a young servant girl would know more about the judicial system of his kingdom than he did. "Well, then," he said as he remounted the horse, "do not mention my presence to anyone and, ah, this matter will be forgotten."
"Yes, your highness," Luna murmured in relief and surprise, and knew enough to remain silent as the prince prepared to ride off with her father's horse.
He gazed at the horizon for a moment, a sight that was not lost on the young woman. She didn't have time to consider this or the reason why the prince might feel the need to steal her horse, for Spot had extracted a heavy velvet purse from beneath his cloak. Tossing it to the ground in front of her, he explained briefly, "In exchange for your silence." Without another word, Spot directed the horse to the forest. Soon the galloping steed and its royal rider had disappeared behind the massive trees.
Luna lifted the purse with her right hand and didn't need to look inside to know what it contained: gold coins, and from its weight a great amount as well. Her eyes traveled to the woods only once more before she realized that Medda and her stepsisters would be awake by now. She tucked the purse and her slingshot safely into her pocket before rushing off to do battle with another sort of enemy.