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as far as she could see. It must be madness if she thought a man as wonderful as the prince would ever think of marrying a lump like Rose. It was impossible. And Rose, Cinderella suspected, knew it.



4
‘All beauty is magic’
     
    O n the opening night of the Prince’s Bride Ball the thick grey clouds that had coated the kingdom throughout winter cleared and the curious sky looked down on the magical proceedings occupying the city so far below. The stars sparkled like diamonds on a midnight blue dress and the bitter wind dropped, as if nature itself didn’t wish to damage the carefully styled curls that had taken hours of primping and preparation.
    The frantic atmosphere that had gripped the city for the previous two weeks finally eased into happy excitement. The dress fittings were all done. The carriages were booked. The moment the ladies of the land had been waiting for was finally here. Tonight, they would all dance with the prince, and by the end of the next Ball one of them would return home engaged. Although each girl protested aloud that of course he wouldn’t choose them, in their hearts they hoped and hoped he would.
    All the starving had worked and Rose’s crimson dress fitted perfectly. Rose Red, her step-mother had called her, smiling proudly at the culmination of all her hard work. Cinderella didn’t say anything, but she had to admit that Rose looked quite pretty. If not beautiful, then perhaps intriguing and elegant. Her step-mother wore a dress of chaperone brown as was the custom, but it was rich taffeta and the colour suited her. Cinderella watched them from the doorway of the sitting room as they waited in the hallway to leave, and she had never felt more like a poor secretary’s daughter.
    Her father, standing on the stairs, caught her eye and smiled at her, but she ignored him, and slunk past them all and down to the kitchen. Her father would say she was sulking, and perhaps she was, but he would never understand. How could he? Ever since the newspaper had been shut down, his ambitions only went as far as writing his stupid novel or stories or whatever it was he did locked away in his attic study all day. He didn’t care about visiting the castle or fine clothes and dancing. How could he possibly understand how unfair all of this felt to her? But then, what did she expect? He’d already said he’d have left her poor mother for that silly cow of a step-mother if she hadn’t died. He was as horrible and selfish as the rest of them. He should be on the outside, like her, not approving of all the spending that had taken place just so Rose could go to a ball that would come to nothing and leave them all in debt.
    She opened the back door and crept out onto the steps leading from the basement to the pavement level. Frost bit in the air, but without the sharp wind the night was comparatively mild, and she sat on the cold, damp stone and watched as Ivy’s beautiful carriage pulled up and Rose and her step-mother, their hands warm in fur stoles that matched the elegant wraps over their shoulders came out, laughing, and climbed aboard.
    Cinderella stayed on the step long after the carriage had carried them away to the castle, staring up at the night sky and fighting back tears. Was this how her life was going to be forever? Always in drudgery, working in the shadow of Rose and Ivy? The poor step-sister? The commoner? Maybe that was how it had to be, but all she wanted was one night. One night of feeling special. Overhead, a star shot across the dark sky. She squeezed her eyes shut. Just one ball, she wished. If only she could go to the castle just once.
    ‘It would appear I’m late.’
    Startled, Cinderella opened her eyes, just in time to see the last of the sparkles of light disappear in the frosty air, leaving a beautiful woman in their place. Her blonde hair, so light it was almost the colour of ice, ran freely down her back and against her black dress her skin was pale. Her blue eyes were like