The day started with embroidery, etiquette lectures, and Madame Pirouette trying to convince us that smiling politely was a personality. Spoiler, it isn't.
"The Prince values grace, poise, and refined conversation."
I raises my hand. "Do bad jokes count as refined conversation?"
"Absolutely not."
"What about puns?" Drizzy asked.
Madame Pirouette visibly ages five years.
Cinderella sits nearby sewing ribbons, not included in lessons, but apparently in the blast radius of elegance.
"Ladies must sit straight. No slouching."
I straighten my back. Drizella straightens too. Cinderella straightens out of sympathy.
"Smile politely. Display interest. Refrain from unseemly opinions."
I whisper to Drizella, "So basically be pretty wallpaper."
Drizella snorts so loudly the tutor glares at her like she murdered manners. Cinderella hides a smile behind the ribbon.
Noticing Cinderella eavesdropping on our lessons, mother sent her to gather mushrooms in the woods - a task she loved because the trees didn't yell at her and mushrooms didn't critique her manners.
* * *
She had barely reached the forest when a horse burst past her, reins flying, eyes wild.
She recognized him instantly: same horse from the forest... same horse that belonged to that mysterious rider she refused to keep thinking about.
"Easy," she whispered, stepping toward him.
The horse stilled. Animals trusted her, not because she was magical, but because she wasn't trying to be anything else.
A young man rushed out from between the trees - cloak askew, boots muddy, hood low.
"You caught him," he said, breathless.
"Well, he stopped," Cinderella corrected. "I only negotiated."
The boy laughed, eyes warm. "You negotiate with horses?"
"When they run faster than reason, yes."
He watched her curiously, maybe impressed.
"You're very strange Ella," he said.
"And you're very bad at chasing but good at remembering names, Kit."
He laughed again, not offended, more delighted than anything. They talked for a few minutes like they were old buds.
Before they parted, he said quietly,
"I hope I see you again."
She didn't promise, but she smiled, which felt close. Then she slipped back into the trees.
* * *
When she returned, her cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkly. I suspected forest romance. Or secret mushroom joy. Hard to tell.
I was teasing her for her natural blush when out of the blue a pink pouch dropped hanging right in front of me. I followed its trail and found mother on the other end.
"Take this money, and go buy some fabric and decorations for both of your dresses. Take Drizella with you."
"Okay mother!!"
Generally anyone would buy a new dress for a royal ball but we are in no position to buy something like that, so here we are.
Town was crowded, full of chickens, carts, and opinions.
We decided that I will look for fabrics and she will look for decorations but she is not allowed to buy. I can't trust her with that, who knows maybe she has a dressing sense like our mother.
I was arguing with fabric prices when someone walked directly into me - two bodies, one collision, zero grace.
I flailed. He caught me by the elbows before I face-planted into some fabric.
"I'm-sorry-!" he sputtered, hood still over his face.
It felt like I know this voice but I just can't remember from where.
"You should slow down," I said. "Before you turn the whole town upside down."
He blinked, then laughed - genuinely, not the polite noble kind which I have been forced to practice.
"What are you buying?" he asked.
"Fabric. Apparently looking good is socially important."
"Is it?" he teased.
"To some people, yes. To others, it's survival."
He paused like that sentence hit him harder than the collision.
"You speak boldly," he said.
"I think boldly," I corrected. "Speaking just follows."
He tilted his head, trying to see my face, I realized.
"There is nothing to see of this ugly face." I kept talking while rummaging through the fabrics.
"No... You are not... Ugly."
"I know but that's what standard of the society says. Behind my back obviously."
This hit him hard again, maybe too much for a soft guy like him. I tried to see his face, but his hood was positioned like a conspiracy.
Someone shouted from behind us, "Sir- I mean- Kit!" He winced.
"Is your name Kit?" I asked.
"It is for now," he said, like that was normal.
We stood there, not awkward exactly, just... suspended. A moment that didn't want to end yet.
"I should go," he finally said.
"You should slow down," I reminded.
He grinned, then vanished into the crowd like a secret poorly disguised.
* * *
While Anastasia was busy being verbally assaulted by fabric prices, Drizzy was unintentionally starring in her own sub-plot.
She had cornered the tall, suspiciously well-built "commoner", the one who yelled "Kit!" earlier - next to the stables.
"So you're Kit's friend," she declared. Not a question. A dictionary definition.
The man froze. He had the posture of someone who was prepared to wrestle wolves, not talk to civilians.
"I suppose I am," he said carefully.
Drizzy studied him like he was a puzzle she wasn't interested in solving.
"You don't look like a Kit," she said.
"I'm not Kit."
"Then why do you yell it?"
"I don't- yell it. I yelled it once."
"Lies. Cowardice. Suspicion."
He blinked, struggling to keep up. Most people did.
Then Drizella took a step back while judging him and tripped over absolutely nothing. She didn't even fall dramatically, just a quick half-stumble that would've gone unnoticed by anyone not paying attention.
He noticed. His hand shot out, steadying her by the elbow with the reflexes of someone trained to catch daggers, not clumsy girls.
"Careful," he murmured.
Drizzy stared at his hand like it had personally offended her.
"I'm always careful."
"You just tripped."
"That was strategic."
There was a pause - the kind that would be romantic in a book, but in real life was mostly just awkward and warm. He released her slowly.
"You're... different," he said, like he was admitting something to himself.
"Thank you," she replied, assuming it was a compliment and already bored.
She turned away to inspect another shop with decorations for clothes, while he looked at her like she was a very confusing sunrise. Not pretty in the traditional way, but oddly compelling.
She paid him no mind.
* * *
I am in my bed preparing for the slumber. Wearing those handmade PJs and DIY mask.
I had a hectic day today, those lessons and going for shopping in a totally new place. On top of that with Drizzy.
But I'm glad she is a social butterfly, knows her way around and has fashion sense far better than our mother. That was unexpected but helpful.
And somehow Cinderella got to meet with the prince charming again, in the forest.
Is this a glitch in the story or there is a connection between prince, Cinderella and forest.
I am having all kinds of thoughts. I rinsed my face with the hot water brought by Cinderella which has turned warm by now.
I got back on the bed and went to sleep, getting tired already thinking that I have to take those lessons tomorrow, all over, again.
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SIDE NOTE: I want to break the stereotypes that only beauty can only attract romance. So I'll give Drizella her own plot. And that boy will be so my type😉
If you like my story then give it a star and share it with your friends, this will help me to keep motivated and write new stories.