Fractured Slipper Read online

  Tess put Felicia’s leather shoe back on, then the royal servants crowded around and hauled her off the settee. They’d stopped speaking, but their excitement was still palpable… and suffocating.

  “Wait.” Her words drowned among the chaos as they shuttled her out the front door and lifted her into a royal carriage. The viscount plopped in next to her. “Father, we must stop this!” she hissed.

  The door closed and they started forward with a jerk. Sweat pooled at the base of her spine as lavender wafted to her nose.

  “Nonsense, girl,” her father growled. “This is it! How can you even think to throw away this opportunity? We’re going to be set for life. No more pesky budgeting. We can hire back all of our servants, maybe even buy back our old home.”

  “This isn’t right, and you know it!”

  Waving a hand, her father continued to look unconcerned. “Nonsense. You’re a beautiful young lady. The prince will be thrilled to marry you.”

  Blinking, Felicia stared hard at her father, wondering if he’d lost his wits. “Father, my hair is brown. The other woman was blonde. My face is pale and hers was tan. I highly doubt the prince is going to go along with this farce.”

  His lips pulled down and his eyes narrowed in determination. “He sent out a proclamation to the kingdom, and by God, I’ll make sure he keeps his royal word.”

  Sitting back, Felicia rested her head on her hand, wondering how this had happened. What if I actually marry the prince? She pushed the thought aside. She knew the prince would refuse her. But the idea of marriage… didn’t sit well with her. Even when she’d discovered her father’s poor financial state, she refused to marry for convenience – an argument she and her father still had regularly. The fact that Prince Bastion was, well, a prince, did not change the fact that she had worked hard to stick to her convictions. She’d rather stay unmarried than be stuck in a loveless marriage. Besides, Prince Bastion will see that I’m not his mystery girl and send me away immediately, so there’s nothing to worry about.

  Chapter 2

  The steps to the palace entrance loomed before Felicia. Her legs were stiff and she couldn’t move. The five royal servants bounded forward, pulling her up the stairs. The youngest sprinted ahead, presumably to announce her directly to the prince.

  When will this nightmare end? The viscount gripped her hand occasionally, as if he could pump his own enthusiasm into her.

  Felicia’s stomach cramped every time she looked into her father’s eyes. Didn’t he know that the prince would give them the boot as soon as he looked at her? No, of course he doesn’t. Because her father lived in his head and assumed the rest of the world would go along. He always seemed so shocked when things didn’t go according to his fancy.

  But Felicia was a realist. No doubt Prince Bastion would throw them on their ear and take away their title for wasting his time. And then how will we survive? They’d been losing money consistently since her mother ran off. Every year, they’d had to let go another servant or three. It was to the point that Felicia’d had to wear the same formal gown to the prince’s ball that she’d worn three times already. Thank goodness for Tess’ seamstress skills and her godmother donating bits of lace to her. But the other nobles still knew and did all that they could to humiliate her with veiled comments.

  Finally reaching the top of the stairs, the large doors were already opened. It was quite a walk to the Throne Room, and Felicia’s knees threatened to give out with each step. Opulence in the form of exquisite paintings and gleaming chandeliers surrounded her. The corridor smelled of lavender soap and fresh flowers. On any other day, she would have delighted at seeing the clean beauty around her. But now, her stomach was sour with bile threatening to rise up.

  They were still a ways from the Throne Room when none other than the prince himself trotted down the hall. The young servant was with him, a pleased smile on his face as he spoke to his liege. The prince’s light blue eyes were aglow with anticipation. His long strides showcased how eager he was to reach them.

  Felicia knew he wouldn’t be thrilled once he figured out what had happened. What kind of idiot says he’ll marry a girl who fits a certain slipper?

  She watched as the prince and his servant approached. The others around her stopped and parted so she and her father were in the center. She’d never been this close to him. Even though she knew he was tall, it struck her how high he actually stood. Felicia probably came up to his shoulders, and her waist looked like it could be the size of his thigh. He held himself regally and moved with a certain grace that made it impossible to ignore.

  The prince darted his gaze over her and the viscount, then continued to look at each servant. His smile slipped and he glanced around the hallway.

  That’s right, Prince. The real princess is hiding behind that tapestry, ready to jump out and yell surprise. Rolling her eyes, Felicia took her father’s arm. It was only a matter of minutes before they’d be turned out.

  “Well?” Prince Bastion boomed. “Where is she?”

  The servants blinked and looked back and forth between Felicia and the prince. “Sire?” the young servant at his side pointed in her direction. “This is the woman whose foot fit the glass slipper. This is your bride.”

  Once again, Prince Bastion looked at her. This time his eyes inspected her from head to toe. His frown deepened as he lingered at her feet peeking out from the hem of her dress. “It’s not her.” He turned and said over his shoulder, “Keep looking.”

  “But, Sire,” the older servant protested. “This was one of the last ones. There’s a good chance she is the only one petite enough to fit the slipper.”

  “It’s not her!” Though his back was still turned, Felicia saw the stiffness in his posture and the tightness of his fists.

  Not wanting to be the subject of his ire, Felicia turned, ready to go home and back to her normal life. But no matter how much she pulled on his arm, her father wouldn’t budge.

  “Pardon me, sire,” the viscount said hesitantly. “But, by your own proclamation, you are bound to wed my daughter.”

  Pausing, Prince Bastion turned and studied her father. His gaze rested on the boots that were fashionable three seasons ago. “I see.” Jaw clenched, he bowed his head. “My apologies for the misunderstanding. I’ll happily compensate you for this inconvenience. These men will show you to my treasurer and he’ll take care of everything.”

  Her father’s mouth dropped. The prince was once again walking away. Felicia nudged her father. “It’s not so bad, right?” she asked. “At least we’ll have money for next month’s rent now.”

  Looking down at her, her father’s lips thinned. He straightened his shoulders and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “I demand to see the king immediately.”

  This time the prince didn’t bother to turn. “If you see my father, the inconvenience transfers to the royal family and you will not receive compensation.”

  Heat suffused Felicia’s cheeks. The nerve! She didn’t care that this man was royalty; his pompous attitude grated her spine. She certainly hoped she wouldn’t have to marry him.

  Viscount Durand stepped forward. “Take me to the king, then.”

  The prince was out of earshot, but the servants began to escort them forward.

  Felicia couldn’t bite her tongue for one more second. “No,” she said firmly. “This has gone far enough. We are leaving. Now.” She turned and slipped through the servants, but the older one who had given the slipper to Tess stopped her.

  “Beg pardon, milady. But you may not walk the palace corridors unattended.” He glanced at the viscount, who watched Felicia with an impatient frown. “You must stay by your father’s side.”

  Sighing, Felicia’s shoulders sagged and she trudged forward with her father and the servants. She knew some nobility attended court and would see the spectacle that would no doubt happen. She’d be hearing about this for months to come. Maybe I should become a hermit so I don’t have to attend any more soirees. It w
asn’t the first time she’d had the thought. But her father insisted on attending social functions and Felicia couldn’t allow him to go unattended.

  The mood of the servants as they continued to the Throne Room was somber. All the excitement from a few minutes ago had fizzled into surliness. Prince Bastion had already arrived in the Throne Room and was occupying the chair next to his father when they entered. The servants took Felicia and the viscount to the back of a long line of people and left them there.

  Smoothing down her day frock, Felicia glanced at the ladies in waiting. They stood to the side of the queen, ready to take care of her needs and were dressed in fine satins with jewels that shined across the room in the morning light like a stained glass window. Most of the people waiting in line in front of them looked to be commoners with wool clothes and greasy hair. They stood out from both classes, wearing nicer clothes than the commoners, but looking poor compared to the nobility watching the proceedings.

  “Father,” she whispered. “We can’t win this battle. Time to go.”

  The viscount didn’t move. “I know what I’m doing, girl. Mind your place and let me be.” His shoulders were stiff and his posture unyielding. Felicia knew his stubborn streak all too well. There was nothing she could do to dissuade him.

  Frustration threatened to choke her, but she swallowed it down. No way would she lose control in front of the royal family and everyone else at court. Taking a breath, she listened to the farmer pleading for soldiers to patrol his land and protect the crops from the borderliners.

  The king listened patiently to the case and granted four soldiers to patrol daily in exchange for two percent of his crops. Felicia’s brow raised at the decision. It seemed like a fair enough deal. Clearly it was in the farmer’s interest to have the soldiers around to protect his farm and what the king asked in return was very reasonable.

  The next man approached to air his grievance about an indentured servant he’d bought and felt that the auctioneer had conned him about the purchase.

  Listening to all the people and their various difficulties fascinated Felicia. She was surprised at how many people came to court for such mundane things. Can’t the cobbler and the tanner work out their differences on their own? Why should the king have to tell them to stop harassing each others’ customers?

  If she did marry the prince, would she be able to participate in helping the commoners that attended court? The idea intrigued her.

  They slowly walked forward, getting incrementally closer to the front of the line. Many people had entered after them and Felicia knew that court would continue until late in the day.

  Only two more men in front of them. Felicia’s heart rose to her throat. There’s no scenario where this ends well for us. What if the king evicted them? They were barely making ends meet as it was.

  When it was time for her and her father to step forward, Felicia could hardly take in a breath. She trembled out a curtsy while her father bowed.

  “Sire, I appreciate your time while you aid me in a most sensitive matter.” The viscount held himself tall while still showing the utmost respect. Felicia was distracted by the imposing presence he held. Her godmother, Lady Ella, had told her stories of how her father was once known for commanding his way through any party. But Felicia had never believed it because she’d only seen her father as the brunt of everyone’s jokes most of her life. But now, seeing the viscount hold himself tall and looking so calm and collected in front of everyone, she wondered if her godmother had been right after all.

  “What is this sensitive issue you speak of, Viscount Durand?” The king leaned back, his grey eyes wandering over the people behind them in a bored fashion.

  “It’s about the proclamation your son sent out this week, Sire.”

  The king glanced back to the viscount with narrowed eyes. “What of it?”

  The prince was staring at something in his hand. Felicia wondered if he even knew they were talking about him and his silly proclamation.

  “He commanded that all maidens try on the glass slipper, Sire. So my daughter did as commanded.”

  The king’s lips thinned. “I’m aware of what it said. I apologize if the slipper was too small for your daughter’s foot, but the proclamation clearly states that the prince will only wed whomsoever can wear the slipper.” He waved a hand as if dismissing them.

  “But Sire,” her father protested. “It did fit my daughter.” The buzz around the room quieted. The king’s full attention was suddenly on Felicia, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening.

  “What’s that you say?”

  “It fit her foot perfectly. We were whisked away to the castle directly after, but the prince claims that he won’t marry my daughter.”

  Face grim, the king slowly turned to his son. The prince glanced up, unconcerned. “It’s not her, Father.” The king glared. “I offered them compensation, but this man insisted on seeing you instead.”

  “Your Highness,” her father stepped closer. “As you yourself said, you know what the proclamation reads. Was there a clause that perhaps I did not see? One that stated the prince could change his mind if a girl did, in fact, fit the slipper?”

  “No, it did not.” The king was stone-faced, but the prince finally perked up.

  “You can’t honestly expect me to marry her, can you, Father? Everyone knows her father is in debt. She’s clearly a fortune hunter trying to take advantage of my predicament.” When Prince Bastion pointed in her direction, Felicia felt every gaze boring through her. Gasps and excited whispers carried throughout the room.

  She wished for a witch to appear and turn her into a mouse so she could scurry away. Where’s your magic when I need it, Godmother? Anything was more preferable to standing in court and bearing this humiliating rejection. Even if everyone knew of their financial strains, to have it publicly announced was devastating.

  As if reading her thoughts, the king clapped once. “Court is dismissed for the day. Everyone will please leave.”

  Stepping forward, Felicia grabbed her father’s arm again. “Let’s go,” she murmured.

  “You two,” the king pointed at them, “will stay.”

  At least the prince can reject me more privately now. Of course, it wasn’t that simple. Within the hour, everyone would know what happened. She could already hear the snide remarks of the courtiers who would pretend to offer sympathy. Maybe I can convince Father to move to the country and become a farmer.

  Chapter 3

  After everyone left, the king ordered that a receiving room be prepared with refreshments. The queen sent her ladies to oversee the details.

  It was quiet as they stared at each other in the large room. The prince stood up. “Father, we are wasting time. This isn’t the woman I danced with.” He glanced at her, annoyance evident in his gestures. “My apologies, lady. I thought only one woman had as dainty feet as my love. But clearly I must put an amendment on that proclamation.” He started walking away. “Consider the matter resolved.”

  Viscount Durand held up a hand. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

  The king frowned at his son’s back. “Bastion, you will stay and deal with this disaster you’ve created.”

  Prince Bastion stopped and matched his father’s glare. “I already dealt with it.” He turned to Felicia’s father. “I’m sorry my answer is not what you want to hear.”

  “No,” the kind growled through his greying beard. “I’m sorry that my answer is not what you want to hear.”

  The prince blinked, his wide shoulders tense. “Pardon?”

  “You are of my lineage, Bastion. We are royalty and must adhere to higher standards. That means you always keep your word. Always.”

  Eyes bugging out, the prince’s mouth dropped. “You can’t be serious.” He glanced at his mother.

  Felicia followed his gaze and saw the queen’s pale complexion, making her red lips and blue eyes more striking. She put her hand to her throat before speaking. “Dearest, we promised him.
”

  Standing, the king looked down at his wife. “Yes, we did. But he also promised when he sent out that damned fool of a proclamation. I told him not to do it, but you said he had to do whatever he could to find her. Neither of you were thinking rationally, and now look what’s happened.”

  The queen’s eyes narrowed and she looked at the prince with pursed lips.

  Walking down the steps, the king held out his hand to the viscount. “Best get used to our spats if you’re going to be a part of the family. We have many.”

  Her father grinned and shook the man’s hand. “I’m honored, Your Highness.”

  “I’m not marrying her.” The prince folded his arms as the corners of his mouth tightened. “You can’t make me.”

  The king moved over to his son. “Try me.” The warning lacing his tone spread goosebumps along Felicia’s neck.

  “If I may.” The queen stood and sauntered gracefully over to them. “I’d like to see this slipper and be certain it fits on this girl’s foot.” Her blue eyes shined with skepticism as she looked down at Felicia.

  Prince Bastion pointed at his mother, a smile forming. “Yes, of course. We must be sure it actually fits.”

  The queen gestured for a servant. When he approached, she commanded, “Have the glass slipper taken into the green receiving room.” The servant bowed and exited. The queen gazed back at Felicia, a challenge etched in her haughty expression. “Shall we?”

  Felicia straightened to her full height, wishing she could berate the queen for insulting her in such a manner. Instead, she nodded as regally as she could, showing none of the hurt and anxiety swimming in her stomach.

  Together, they walked out a side door and down a smaller corridor. When they entered the receiving room, Felicia clicked her teeth closed. I knew the royal family lived well, but this is beyond grand. The room was larger than their townhome, and displayed beautiful paintings of fairies and magical forests that took up entire walls. The furniture was a rich, dark green. When Felicia sat in a plush chair, she was certain she could stay in the cushions for hours and never get uncomfortable.