1416934715(FY) by Cameron Dokey Read Free Book Online Page A

Niccolo said, his expression sobering. “News I must share quickly, for there isn’t much time. Etienne de Brabant is married again. His new wife and daughters follow close behind me.”
    “Married!” I exclaimed. I put a hand out, as the world began to whirl, and felt Niccolo’s hand grasp mine. “My father is married? When did this happen?”
    “Just last week,” Niccolo said. “Chantal de Saint-Andre is your stepmother’s name. She is a wealthy widow, and a ward of the crown. None may marry her but by the king’s command.”
    “And now the king has married her to my father?” I said. I knew I sounded stupid, but I could not seem to get my brain to function. “But why?”
    “That,” Niccolo said succinctly, “is the question to which all the court would like an answer. Your new stepmother and stepsisters most of all.”
    “Stepsisters!” I cried. “I have stepsisters?”
    “Two,” Niccolo answered. “Their names are Amelie and Anastasia.”
    “I think.” I said faintly, “that I would like to sit down.” In fury and desperation, I had wished for a mother and two sisters. And now my father was married, and his wife and two stepdaughters were on their way to my door.
    “I can’t tell you more. I’m sorry,” Niccolo said. “I’m afraid there isn’t time. They should be here any minute. I only rode on ahead to try and give you some warning.”
    “Why did you bring them?” I asked. “Do you serve my father now?”
    “Because I was convenient,” Niccolo answered. “I knew the way, and besides—”
    “You are from the queen’s home country,” I filled in. “No matter what the king commands my father to do, you may be relied upon to keep the queen’s interests in mind.”
    “Something like that,” Niccolo acknowledged. “Cendrillon, there is one other thing that you should know.”
    But before he could finish, there was a great clatter of hooves as a coach swept into our courtyard. The spokes of its wheels were coated in mud; great spatters of it rose halfway up the doors and sides. Even the coachman was covered in the huge clumps tossed upward by the horses’ hooves. He pulled back hard on the reins and brought the two broad-backedhorses to a halt at the bottom of the steps that led to our front door. Their hot breath steamed in the air; curls of steam rose up from their backs and flanks.
    Niccolo released my hand, and moved toward the coach at once. Raoul stayed beside the dappled gray. Old Mathilde made a gesture, and together we moved to stand at the top of the steps, a welcoming committee of two women, one young, one old. That would be all Etienne de Brabant’s house could offer his new wife and daughters. Mathilde pulled one of my arms through hers, tucking my fingers into the crook of her elbow. I held on for dear life.
    Carefully, so as not to tumble fresh mud on the occupants inside, Niccolo opened the coach door. He unfolded the steps, then extended one hand, his body bent at the waist in a bow. And it was only at this moment that I truly understood what should have been obvious to me at once: My new stepmother was of noble birth. She and her daughters would be unlike anything the great stone house had seen in a good long time.
    I
wonder if they will have seen anything quite like us,
I thought And then I ceased to think at all. For just then, a hand emerged from inside the carriage, its fingers encased in supple leather gloves. It grasped Niccolo’s, held on tightly, then was followed by the rest of the arm. A head emerged, neck bent down so as not to knock the top of it against the inside of the door. Next, a pair of shoulders, wrapped in a dark blue cloak. And now, finally, one foot was upon thecarriage steps and the woman inside the coach was straightening up. At this, my mind came flowing back.
    Oh,
but she is so beautiful
I thought.
    My stepmother’s skin was as pale as our best porcelain dishes. Peeking out from beneath the hood of her cloak, her hair was midnight