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“That’s a shame. I’m hearing the girls in this year’s group are the prettiest lot in a generation.” “In that case, is your wife going to have an accident? It’d be a shame if that first step down to your cellar suddenly came loose.”
OH MY GOD
A minimum of one pristine copy of Cinderella will be kept in every household. The annual ball is a mandatory event. Three trips are permitted, after which attendees are considered forfeit. Participants in unlawful, unsanctioned unions will be considered forfeit. All members of households in Mersailles are required to designate one male, of legal age, to be head of household, and his name will be registered with the palace. All activities undertaken by any member of the household must be sanctioned by head of household. For their protection, women and children must be in their permanent place
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A little girl with a crown of bouncy brown ringlets beams as her tiny foot slides into a violet-colored shoe with a tall heel. It’s all good fun until another little girl picks the wrong size shoes and wins a slip of paper with a small portrait of Cinderella’s fabled stepsisters, their faces twisted into hideous smiles. She looks at her mother. “Mama, I don’t want to be like them.” Her bottom lip trembles as she chokes back a sob. A palace guard laughs uproariously as her mother scoops her up and carries her away.
“You know the story as well as anyone. If we are diligent, if we know the passages, if we honor our fathers, we might be granted the things Cinderella was.” “And if we do all those things and nothing happens—no fairy godmother appears, no dress, no shoes, no carriage—then what? Do we still believe it?” “Don’t question the story, Sophia.” Liv steps closer to me. “Not in public. Not anywhere.”
“You must put your faith in the story. You must take it for what it is.” “And what is it?” I ask. “The truth,” Erin says curtly.
“Well I’m still hoping to earn the favor of a fairy godmother,” says Liv. Liv’s plan seems risky. My mother hopes for the same thing but has arranged for my dress on the off chance I don’t find a magical old lady in my garden the night of the ball. If anyone shows up with anything less than a gown fit for Cinderella herself, they’ll risk their safety, and I don’t think the king cares if it comes from a fairy, a dress shop, or someplace else. What matters is that we look like a fairy godmother blessed us with her magic.
I look at Erin. “I wish you’d leave Lille with me. Right now. Leave Mersailles, leave all this behind, and run away with me.” I toss my coin into the water. Liv gasps. Erin’s eyes flutter open, her brow furrowed, her mouth turned down. “And I wish you’d just accept the way things are.” She tosses her coin into the fountain. “I wish I could decide that nothing else matters, but I’m not like you, Sophia.” “I’m not asking you to be like me,” I say. Erin’s eyes mist over, and her bottom lip trembles. “Yes, you are. Not everyone can be so brave.”
The dead number in the dozens, but the missing are more than I can count.
I don’t want to be saved by some knight in shining armor. I’d like to be the one in the armor, and I’d like to be the one doing the saving.
The pieces of my dress are sewn into place to ensure a perfect fit. My mother fusses over the color of the piping along the hem of the gown. Apparently, it’s supposed to be rose gold, not regular gold, so it has to be taken off and reattached. I think the entire ensemble would look very nice at the bottom of a wastebasket, maybe doused with lamp oil and set on fire. No one asked me what color I’d like it to be or how I’d like it to fit.
The seamstress helps me out of the dress so she can pack it up and send it home with us. A plum-purple bruise colors the side of her neck; it has started to turn green around the edges. “What happened to your neck?” I whisper, though I know the likely source of her pain. So many women in Lille carry around similar burdens.
In two days’ time, I could be given to a man I know nothing about, who knows nothing about me. My own wants and needs will be silenced in favor of what he thinks is best. What if he thinks nothing of putting a bruise on my neck?
“I’ve wished that this day would never come,” I say. “So have I,” she says quietly. “But here we are, and we must make the best of it.”
I shake my head. “Is there ever a time when you’re not thinking up ways to marry me off to the first half-decent man you can find?” “Half-decent might be the best we can hope for.” She looks down into her lap, pressing her lips together.
Just outside the palace grounds is the gated section of Eastern Lille, where the highest-ranking members of the aristocracy live. Close enough to the king to make themselves feel special but far enough away so they didn’t get the impression they were equal to him. The people there hoarded their wealth, improving their own lives while the rest of the city fell into decay.
Mr. Langley’s son places the dress box on the doorstep, then clears his throat. I glance over at him, and he flashes another wide smile. I’m about to tell him that he looks ridiculous and is clearly making a fool of himself when my mother calls to me. “Sophia, come inside.” She knows me too well.
Love Sophia
Girls who aren’t chosen by their third ball are considered forfeit, ending up in workhouses or in servitude. But in recent years, several girls have disappeared into the castle and were never heard from again.
I was twelve when I told my parents that I would much rather find a princess than a prince.
braver than me fr
“Don’t you want me to be happy? Isn’t that what matters most?” In the brief moment before her answer, I imagine she’ll say yes and tell me I don’t have to go. I think of what it would feel like to have her on my side. “No.” My mother lets go of my hand. Bitter disappointment envelops me. “What matters is that you are safe. That we follow the laws. They are clear as day. Right there.” She motions to the front door. “Happiness is a bonus, Sophia. You’re not entitled to it, and the sooner you accept that, the easier your life will be.”
I love her, and I know she loves me, but that’s not enough. She will not break the rules even if they require me to deny everything about myself.
“It’s cold,” I say. “We should take the carriage.” “But I’ve already got this one ready to go. Don’t you want to sit next to me?” “Absolutely not. And if you’d asked me beforehand, I would have told you to hook up the carriage. But you didn’t, so here we are.”
He places the coat over my shoulders, and I lean away from him, watching his hands and his eyes. I don’t know him enough to trust him, and most times when a man does a woman a favor it is because he wants something in return.
“I was surprised at your outburst back there with the cart. I’ve never seen a girl refuse a man’s request so openly. That’s a dangerous thing to do.”
Oh yikes
I don’t care if I get hurt in the process. I’m not going quietly.
I can’t think of how terrible it is to have to deal with the king’s rules and then go home to have your husband beat you.”
“Hurt you?” He looks puzzled. “Why would I want to do that?” I give an exaggerated look around. “Because this is Lille. That’s what happens here.” “I can’t blame you for feeling that way, but not everyone is like that.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes for a second. I know that. My father is a good man, Liv’s father is a good man, and even Luke’s father seems like a good man. But these good men aren’t making the rules. These decent men are turning a blind eye to indecent acts.
“Are you claiming this wretch at the ball?” Morris asks. Luke bristles. “Why does it matter to you?” I cross my arms. I hate this kind of talk, especially when I’m sitting right here. “She doesn’t seem like your type,” Morris says, grinning as if he’s said something hilarious.
He's also gay
Morris’s broken teeth lie like pearls in the cracks of the cobbled street. “Should we pick those up and return them to him?” I ask. “Maybe put them on a string he can wear around his neck?”
People wear masks so they can fit in and stay safe. Can you blame them?”
I wonder if my parents could forfeit me so easily, the same way Louis’s parents had.
“Now, now, dearie,” she croaks. “No need to be nervous.” They pounce on me instantly, and I push them away as they pull at my dressing gown.
terrifying
I’m reminded that this isn’t about what I want or what I like. It’s about what everyone else thinks is best, and I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.
Would Cinderella really have been delighted to see so many girls unhappy, dreading this moment?
Cinderella’s story is the reason I’m being forced to go to the ball, the reason my parents have gone into debt to provide me a dress and shoes and all the pretty things I could ever need. Her story is the reason why none of the things I want for myself matter.
I choke back tears. Then I give in and let them fall. Maybe letting them flow freely will give me a temporary relief from the crush of sadness that comes with knowing that Erin isn’t saying she doesn’t care about me; she is saying she’s choosing not to. But relief never comes. The ache creeps into every part of me and lingers there, burning and painful.
I figured there would be men who might have something rude to say and that I would be required to keep my retorts to myself. I didn’t think that the harshest words would come from another girl.
“Money won’t keep your future husband from using you as he sees fit. And your privilege won’t keep you safe. You and I are exactly the same in the eyes of the king and the suitors.”
The last of the suitors file in. Some of them are old enough to be my grandfather, but that doesn’t stop them from shamelessly ogling the young girls.
It’s hard to believe that the king found so many like-minded men within riding distance of Lille, and it doesn’t surprise me that even the men considered peasants by the palace are positioned above all the girls here.
“Sophia?” Erin watches Luke with the eyes of a hawk. “Miss Erin.” Luke gives a little bow. “Do we know each other?” Erin asks, an edge of anger in her voice.
Morris frowns. “I bet he thinks his name is Shit,” I say to Luke. “It’s the first thing you say whenever you see him.”
“How did one family end up with two complete fools in the same generation?” “They get it from their father,” says Luke.
At the end of Cinderella’s story, she and Prince Charming embrace, they kiss, and she goes off to live a life of luxury in the palace. It doesn’t say anything about how she hid in the castle while her people suffered, the prolonged illness that took her life, or why she now lies in an abandoned tomb in the middle of the woods.
“Why are you dressed like that?” I ask. She looks lovely, but I’ve never seen a woman wear pants and a tunic before. “The pockets,” she says. She puts her hands in them and gives a little twirl. “I love pockets.”
My father stands firm, and I watch him. This man who I adore so very much has turned into someone I don’t want to know.
oh, that's too relatable
“I’d have offed myself, too, with a face like that.” One of the guards, an older man, steps forward. “Cover her and shut your mouth. This is someone’s child.”
“Come with me,” she says. I look around. The road is empty. No houses, no buildings. The watchtowers loom in the distance, and beyond them, the great expanse of forest known as the White Wood. “Come with you where?” “Are you always so suspicious?” she asks. “Are you always so vague and mysterious?” I ask in return. “I try to be,” she says, smiling gently.
“The palace underestimates the resourcefulness of women forced into a dark and dangerous place.”
