Cinderella Unmasked, page 1
Dedication
This story is dedicated to the little girl in all of us who can’t get enough of happily ever afters and Cinderella stories.
Chapter One
“Sebastian, take notes. I’m planning to host a ball.” Queen Ella breezed into the study where her chief steward sat at his desk. Before he could rise in greeting, she’d collapsed into the plush, red velvet chair across from him. “This will be an event for everyone, not just the elite, but the bourgeoisie and even the working class. No one shall be turned away.”
“Yes, Madam.” Sebastian put aside his ledger and took out a new piece of parchment. He dipped his quill in the inkpot. The pen scratched across the surface, turning the queen’s idea into a royal proclamation.
She rolled her neck against the back of the chair, hoping to ease the tension that corded her muscles. It had been too long since she’d had any amusement, too long that the weight of governing the country had burdened her. When he’d abandoned the throne and left the kingdom, Charming’s duties had settled on her like a mantle fashioned of chain mail. The young girl who’d once pinned all her hopes and dreams on romance was gone, replaced by strong-willed Queen Ella, ruler of a nation.
“You think I’m being capricious, don’t you?” She studied Sebastian’s long face as he wrote. As always, he was an enigma. He obeyed her commands and gave her advice on matters of state, but never volunteered an unsolicited opinion. She wondered how he entertained himself on his own time. It was difficult to imagine her serious, reliable chief steward laughing or having fun.
When he offered no reply to her question, she sighed. “Well, maybe I am. A ball is a foolish expense given the precarious state of the economy. There are no political reasons to have a ball, no foreign dignitaries or royalty to impress. Quite honestly, the idea only just occurred to me out of the blue.”
Sebastian lowered his quill and looked up. His dark, heavy-lidded gaze seemed to see into her as if he could read her secret thoughts. Too bad she could never read his.
“You’re the queen. You have a right to host an event for no particular reason, and your subjects will love you for making this inclusive gesture. However, you’ll have to find some way to limit the guest list. You can’t invite every single person in the entire kingdom.”
“No, of course not.” She smiled. “But can you imagine watching swineherds and dukes rubbing shoulders? The idea is intriguing.”
She pictured herself at sixteen in the gossamer gown her godmother had created for her out of thin air. She’d danced until the glass slippers cut into her feet and hadn’t even minded the pain because she was in Prince Charming’s arms—she, a mere servant in her stepmother’s house. Oh how naïve and young she’d been. But would she have chosen differently if she’d known then what she knew now? Would she have been content to marry Johnny, the blacksmith’s son, and live a simple life?
At least with Johnny sex might’ve made up for the lack of money and power. She fondly remembered fumblings in the haymow and stolen kisses when she’d secretly met him at the market in the village square.
“Do you ever think about other paths your life could have taken?” she asked Sebastian.
“Everyone does, I think.” He paused, and Ella waited because when he said something it was usually worth listening to and because she always hoped to learn more about his mysterious past.
“I believe in making your own future, but there are things that happen to people that are beyond their control sometimes. Illness, death, poverty. Those can be difficult to overcome. Sometimes your chosen path is blocked by a boulder and you have to navigate around it.”
“That’s true. I know my life isn’t exactly what I’d envisioned, but there wasn’t a lot I could do to force Charming to stay. He had his own path to follow.”
“An unusual one for a king.” One of his rare smiles flickered across Sebastian’s wide mouth, the curve of his generous lips softening his severe expression.
“Yes it was.” Ella could smile about it now, although the pain of abandonment still stung. In their eighth year of marriage, long after he’d stopped coming to her bed, Charming had disappeared from the castle, leaving behind a signed note of abdication, entrusting the throne to Ella’s keeping.
“You have been a loyal wife, and the failing in our marriage has been mine,” the note read. “Already you are more popular with the people than I have ever been. They accept you as their own. You’re smart, innovative, even-minded, and you should have no difficulty in ruling the kingdom.
“I must leave as I have fallen in love with another, a simple goose girl named Myra. She understands me like no one else ever has. I’m sorry for any pain I’ve caused you and wish you the best in your future.”
That betrayal had been horrible, but Ella had made it through the time of transition. She’d grown into a leader and a stronger woman than she’d ever thought herself capable of being. The second, more humorous blow came a couple of years later, when she’d learned Charming had left the goose girl and was living onboard a pirate ship as the captain’s special friend. He’d embarked on another sort of adventure.
At last she’d let go of her guilt in not being able to please her husband. There was nothing she could’ve done to keep Charming from fulfilling his own unusual destiny.
“So you’ll have a gala to please yourself and invite anyone you wish,” Sebastian continued. “You deserve some pleasure.”
Little do you know, she thought, for there was a hidden agenda to her desire for a masquerade ball. She’d spent too long sleeping in an empty bed and wished to indulge all her wildest sexual fantasies. Sebastian was right: a queen was entitled to some play time. She hadn’t taken a moment for herself since assuming the crown. What better way to meet potential sexual partners than at a masquerade? Of course people weren’t truly anonymous at these affairs, but wearing a mask enabled one to act more freely than usual.
“All right, then,” Ella said briskly. “Take notes. It will be held in two weeks and this is what I want…” She proceeded to describe the theme, the food, the orchestra, the limits to the guest list while Sebastian dutifully took notes.
When she ran out of ideas, her mood was lighter than it had been for months, what with the downturn in the economy and the threat of war with neighboring Malevolin. For a short while she would allow herself to, not put aside her duties because the governing of a country never ceased, but to indulge in a little make-believe, a little magic and mystery. The ball would be beautiful, and hopefully by the end of the evening she’d find a sexual partner to put some spark back into her life—at least for one night.
Ella rose from her chair. “I guess that’s everything, Sebastian. Thank you for your help in organizing this affair.”
“Whatever you wish, Madam. I’m here to serve you.”
Why did his customary reply always send a little shiver through her? Something about the way he said “to serve” made her stomach tighten in an unusual way.
“Yes. Very well,” she stammered, and swept from the room.
Sebastian inhaled to catch a faint trace of the perfume that lingered behind her. He listened for the rustle of her gown and the soft tread of her slippers fading down the hallway. When he could no longer hear her, he sank back into his seat and cast his pen on the desk, leaving a black blot on the list of things to accomplish before the ball.
He should resign his post, leave the castle and find employment elsewhere. The woman had other advisors to help her navigate through the mire of politics. But even as he imagined another life, perhaps with a wife and child, Sebastian knew he would never leave. Duty bound him to Ella with stronger chains than those that moored the ships in the harbor.
She’d relied on him ever since that joke of a king had abdicated, leaving her to shoulder all his responsibilities. Sebastian couldn’t abandon her even if it meant he never had a home and family of his own, even if it meant he suffered at the scent of her perfume. He would remain here and do his job to the best of his ability for as long as she needed him.
Chapter Two
Ella could feel her headache returning. She felt so wound up that she’d unravel if she heard one more, “It is my right…”
“Gentlemen.” It had taken her a while to perfect, but by now she had the tone just right. Her single word, quietly spoken, cut through the quarrelling of her Privy Council like a knife. As one, they shut up and gazed at her expectantly.
Beside her, Sebastian moved, leaning forward to dip his pen in the ink once more. His elbow brushed against her arm in a familiar, secret gesture of support. It spoke volumes for her tension that the brief physical contact sparked through her whole body in a manner that was far from unpleasant.
“Gentlemen,” she repeated. “This is not a matter for negotiation. As you know, I prefer to work with your agreement and support, but this law will happen. Food prices have fallen so drastically in this crisis that the peasantry simply cannot afford to pay you—or me—the same dues. Therefore, taxes will be reduced as I’ve outlined. It will be little enough loss to you, the nobility, but make a great deal of difference to them. The difference between life and starvation.”
“It’s a bad precedent, Madam,” said Count Loyola heavily. “Give the peasants an inch and they push for a mile. In addition, word spreads, and our neighbors in Malevolin won’t like it.”
Ella sat back, regarding him till his gaze fell before hers. “Are you really suggesting I rule this country according to the wishes and needs of Malevolin?”
“You may leave the ambassador to me,” Ella said grimly. She’d enjoy kicking the little weasel around her audience chamber—metaphorically, of course. “Shall we move on?”
Her real question was, “Do I have your support? Or do I do this by force?” And they knew it. There were several surreptitious glances exchanged. Mostly, they didn’t want to oppose her, but giving up any of their rights and dues was anathema to their privileged souls.
Sebastian rustled his papers. “I’m sure we all understand that the kingdom’s prosperity depends on the peasantry’s. It is in no one’s interests to have destitute peasants on our estates, land that is unfarmed, producing no food—or taxes.”
As so often before, he’d pushed just the right lever. There was a bit of sighing, a few blank looks while the gears of thought creaked ’round almost audibly. Then heads began to nod sagely. “Of course, of course,” they mumbled. “Let us move on.”
Ella risked a glance at Sebastian. Though he gazed at his papers, one eyelid flickered down in an infinitesimal wink. Laughter bubbled inside her, along with a surge of affection, easing her headache.
“Good. Now, the other matter on which I need your advice is the further buildup of Malevolin troops along our border. Are they really spoiling for a fight or just saber-rattling to intimidate us?”
Count Loyola said, “I suggest we prepare for war while making all efforts to keep the peace. Further talks with the ambassador or with the prince himself, perhaps.”
Ella nodded. Part of her knew she should invite the prince of Malevolin and his wife—her own step-sister—to the ball. It would be the perfect opportunity to show generosity and to discuss differences amicably in an unthreatening setting. But this was her ball. She really didn’t need Euphemia spoiling it for her. Surely she was entitled to one bit of fun after all these years of work?
Entitled or not, she was damned well going to take it.
“Sound advice, Count,” she acknowledged, smoothing his feathers after their run-in over the peasant dues. “You and I shall compose a letter to the prince tomorrow.
“And finally,” Ella added with relish, “a word about the masquerade ball. You should receive your invitations within the next few days. I want this to be a fun event to lift our spirits—all our spirits. To this end, I have invited not only the nobility, but representatives from every estate. I expect you to rub shoulders as graciously with the clerk, peasant and artisan as with the duke or wealthy merchant. Since we’ll be masked, we’ll be equals, so let’s all benefit from the occasion.”
But mostly, let me.
Alone at last in the darkness of the night, Ella let out a long breath and stretched luxuriously in her large, lonely bed. Finally, she could let go of all the vital strands of rule and concentrate on the event looming larger and larger in her mind: the ball.
Surely there would be many attractive men to choose from, many who wouldn’t be able to believe their luck if she invited them to a quiet corner for a kiss. Or a grope. A gloved, masculine hand on her naked breast, a mask surrounding eyes that glittered with lust as she let him press his bone-hard erection against her…
Ella let out a moan of frustration, sweeping her hand down the length of her nightgown-clad body from breast to thigh. Involuntarily, her hips pushed upward, thrusting her aching pussy into her own hand.
Could she do that? A secluded tree beside the terrace, her arms wrapped around it while a large, worshipping builder pounded into her body…
Ella thrust her hand under the inconvenient nightgown and pushed her fingers between her hot, damp folds, beginning to gyrate her hips with the delicious vision of herself and the imaginary builder. When she lifted her skirts for him, he would be unable to believe his luck. He would be strong and rough, his big, calloused hands covering her breasts, kneading them, squeezing her hard, elongated nipples between his fingers…
Oh yes. Ella grasped her own breast with her free hand, pinching her nipple. With her other hand she rubbed her clitoris harder. Her builder’s cock would be huge and blunt, and he’d be afraid to hurt her until she pushed back onto him. Then he’d power into her, slamming her against the tree, the rough bark scraping her flesh…
Ella arched upward with a gasp, thrusting two fingers inside herself. The builder would hammer her mercilessly until he gave her the release she craved. And then….
Well, she couldn’t really imagine what then. Massive orgasm there would certainly be on both sides. And no risk of pregnancy or disease since she would have taken the magic potion her godmother Lucinda provided her. Besides, she was probably barren—she’d certainly never conceived with Charming
But enough of such mood-dampening thoughts! Perhaps a tree in the open with a builder would not be best. Perhaps a lover with more finesse…a man she’d take to this very bed, who’d undress her slowly, kissing her breasts for a delightfully long time, teasing her and pleasuring her at once. He’d lick his way down her naked body, his own lean and hard and ready. But he wouldn’t just take her. He’d kiss all of her first, latching his clever mouth to her lower lips, sucking and licking at her clitoris.
Ella’s fingers moved frantically. She’d be on the verge of orgasm when—hell, bring the builder back. She’d have his cock in her mouth and he’d be groaning with ecstasy while she writhed with joy under the more skilled lover’s mouth. Then, as she began to come, the refined one would plunge his cock inside her pussy and she’d be pleasuring them both at once. They’d tie her to the bed, take turns fucking her all night, take her both at once, in her mouth, her pussy, her…
“Oh God,” Ella whispered, and fell into ecstasy at last. Her imaginary lovers vanished, leaving nothing but the joy tearing her apart.
The usual coldness crept through her as soon as the pleasure began to fade. But the excitement remained. She had no idea how it would turn out; she ached simply for a man, a lover, and right now she didn’t care who or what he was, or in what circumstances she took him. She wanted sex, dirty, fun, amazing sex. She wanted everything.
And for the first time in years she had a reasonable hope of getting it.
Sebastian’s quill broke, snapping him out of his reverie and alerting him to the unnecessary force with which he’d been pressing pen to paper. Completely unnecessary since he hadn’t actually written anything for ten minutes.
Throwing down the broken quill, he swept his fingers through his hair till it came loose from its black, confining ribbon. He pushed back his chair.
He’d done everything he needed to for this damned ball, anyhow. Decoration was almost complete, food and wine was ordered, guest list vetted, approved and invitations delivered. He’d sent dressmakers to the queen to prepare her costume, and chosen his own simple mask in case he troubled to wear it. By tomorrow night everything would be ready. And by the following morning…
Sebastian stood abruptly. He didn’t want to think about that. He wasn’t stupid. He understood what this ball was really about. He couldn’t blame her. The poor woman hadn’t been laid in years—and if rumor was true, she hadn’t been laid much before that, either. Given Charming’s recently revealed preferences, that was hardly surprising, but a woman as passionate as Ella needed far more than pretty words and flowers. She needed a man.
He didn’t begrudge her a little snatched happiness, but everything in him revolted against helping her find it like this. Apart from anything else, he wasn’t convinced it wouldn’t be aiding her political suicide. The people accepted her because they’d put her on a pedestal, which she seemed determined to dive off head first and legs akimbo.
Without their acclaim, her position was untenable. And his. What price then the ambition that had driven him from poverty to the second highest power in the land? If she fell, so did he.
Intriguing idea. At least then he might get some sleep.
Finding himself at the window, he threw the casement fully up and stuck his head out into the fresh, cooling air. His “apartment”—a tiny room that served as both bed chamber and private office—was on the ground floor, and looked out onto one of the kitchen courtyards. As if he needed anything to remind him about his true position in the queen’s life. Useful, as a pen or a piece of furniture was useful, and taken for granted to the same degree. Did she even see him when she turned those huge, blue eyes up to his in yet another request or demand? She’d look right through him tomorrow night to get at some handsome, unscrupulous rogue who could cause the kingdom untold damage, even let Malevolin in…
