Chapter Twenty-Three:

Rescue

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The night of the fourth and last ball, Clara did not go. She did not dress up into her mother's gold gown as she had planned, and she didn't have to wear the glass slippers, that though bemoaning them constantly in her head, she secretly missed.

Instead, Clara had spent her entire evening gazing steadily out the window. She had heard her stepfamily leave for the ball, and she knew her siblings were downstairs in the kitchen, Harriet probably scheming to get her out, but yet she couldn't bring herself to go over to the door when Harriet knocked. Eventually, her sister gave up, probably assuming she was asleep, but Clara was anything but.

For hours she stared off into the distance towards the royal palace, the royal palace that currently seemed to be the symbol for her failure in every sense of the word. Her traitorous mind imagined how the whole evening would go.

Maybe Frederick would look for her at first, but then he would finally take notice of his betrothed's pretty smile and he would stop. He wouldn't remember the glass slipper, assuming he still had it. He would give his betrothed the chance that he hadn't before, and by the end of the night, he would forget all about the poor girl whose brother was dying. Maybe he would use the glass slipper as a paperweight, or perhaps smash it the next free moment he got.

Clara knew she was being bitter, but what else was she to do? She was left only with her thoughts and her worries, and as the night wore on they consumed her. She barely registered the sounds of her stepfamily coming home for the night hours earlier than normal, and when the sun was beginning to rise she still had not moved.

It was like she was frozen where she sat, her back stiff, her eyes clouded. She just wanted to watch the lights from the palace forever, because as long as it was still dark enough for the lights to glow so noticeably, she could convince herself that maybe she hadn't failed.

However, like it always did, the sun rose, and all the night accomplished for Clara was to give her red-rimmed eyes from the silent tears she hadn't noticed were falling, and a strange empty feeling where she could've sworn once beat her heart.

She was being melodramatic, and she knew it too, but that didn't stop her. Not even when Linette came in and placed a tray of food at the foot of the attic stairs did she move from her perch by the window. She didn't budge when Linette spoke to her.

"I was unable to find a willing patron," Linette said, her voice ringing around the room like the sound of a bell, despite the fact it was a good deal wearier sounding than it normally was. "I-" Linette paused. "I am sorry. I'll let you out once I return from the parade so you can say your goodbyes."

Clara heard the door shut quietly behind her stepmother, the key turning in the lock, and finally, she let herself slouch, if only slightly. That was it. That was the confirmation. Everyone who had tried to help James, even Linette, had failed. She brought her hand up to her cheek expecting to have it come back wet with tears, but there was nothing. She felt numb, but in the way one feels numb after being cold for too long. She was simply feeling too much to really pick out just one emotion to focus on.

She watched from the window later that morning as her stepfamily left to go to the parade, her head feeling stuffy and strange, but she couldn't have missed the flash of red that streaked down the road after them. Suddenly her head cleared, and her eyes snapped to attention. Standing up abruptly, she let her chair fall to the ground while she leaned halfway out the window to see who had left.

Sure enough, she knew that distinctive red rat's nest of hair anywhere, even when its owner was running at breakneck speed in trousers. Part of her wanted to laugh. Standing there almost hanging outside her window, she couldn't contain a small and shaky smile.

Clara might've given up, but she knew she never should've expected Harriet to. As she watched the mop of red hair disappear around one of the bends in the road she had to wonder what on earth her sister was doing. Was Harriet trying to go to the parade in trousers? What would that accomplish?

Clara wanted to shake her head at her sister's actions, but if she knew Harriet, it was probably because she was trying to run somewhere very fast. In fact, Harriet had always hated wearing dresses, especially when she wanted to run.

Clara leaned down and set the chair back on its legs, almost falling as she swayed on the spot. She put her hand to her head, letting out a groan. Seeing Harriet, even if it was just her hair and her small form, had done the trick. But then again, Harriet had always been the one to bring Clara back to reality when she was in a panic, and now was no different.

Her head slightly clearer than before, and her mind very much aware of her grief, Clara had to give in, if only for a little bit. She had to rest. If her pounding headache and weak limbs were any indication, she desperately needed some sleep, if only for a little while. Plus, Linette had told her she would come up to get her after the parade was over.

Clara moved away from the chair and sank down in front of her mother's chest. She had changed into her nightclothes a night ago, but she had been careless with her mother's dress, which was now almost reduced to rags where it lay strewn across the floor just by her. Pulling it to her, she held it close, putting her head on the wooden floor of the attic as she used the dress as a makeshift blanket.

Her last thought as she went into a doze was that the gown still smelled like her mother, after all this time.

However, she didn't sleep for long. Suddenly, she found herself sitting up straight, her posture rigid. Someone was banging on the door, making it rattle on its hinges, and it did not sound like one of her siblings or even her stepmother.

She was just stumbling to her feet when the door flew open and she heard a muffled curse.

"What on earth? What is this?" The voice was decidedly masculine and it took Clara a moment to recognize it, but when she did, her heart reasserted its presence by sputtering to a stop. How was this possible? "Who leaves food..." The man was still mumbling about the food he had clearly stepped in when he came up the stairs, but as he caught sight of Clara he stilled and she stiffened.

It was him, it was Gus, or rather Prince Frederick. Clara was the first one to speak, once she regained the use of her vocal chords, though not dropping his gaze.

"What are you doing here?" Frederick seemed to swallow and then gather himself, coming up the rest of the steps, but he still stayed several feet away from her.

"Your sister, she came and got me at the parade."

"My sister?" Clara didn't even know why she was surprised. Harriet didn't do things by halves. If she needed help, she went to the highest in the land, or as near as she could get.

"Yes, she is very-"

"Loud? Stubborn? A bit on the tomboy side?" Clara provided, her stance challenging as she dared him to agree with her, but Frederick shook his head.

"Though those adjectives are very true and could obviously be able to describe your sister, you missed the most important one. She is very brave. She caused quite the ruckus, you know, wearing those trousers of hers at the parade." Frederick sounded almost amused, and Clara could only imagine the reaction of the townspeople when they saw a girl in trousers.

"They're not really hers."

"Then I'll make sure to get her some of her own when we get to the palace. Anyone could see that they suit her."

"Some of her own? Hold on, the palace?" Frederick took a step closer, but Clara took one step back. Why would they be going to the palace? Was he really here to help her? He was engaged!

"Yes, some of her own. I daresay she deserves them after everything she's done today. And yes, the palace," he answered, not making the mistake of stepping closer to her again. "As we speak, one of my men is carrying your brother to the palace on my orders for him to see the court physician."

"You would do that?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He sounded confused and almost insulted that she would even suggest it, but Clara stared at him in disbelief.

"Why wouldn't you? You are engaged! To a princess, no less!" She spluttered the words out, but while she had expected Frederick to not meet her eyes, he met her gaze head on.

"Engaged or not, I made a promise. No agreement or ruling made by my parents would change that." Clara had the oddest wish to look away, but as she was about to, he motioned to the door. "Might we be on our way?"

Clara was about to nod hesitantly when her cheeks flamed as she came to a realization. She was in her nightclothes! Her eyes widened and suddenly it was a lot harder to get the words out.

"Forgive me, your highness, I am indecent," she stuttered out, slipping in his title for good measure. Frederick's eyes widened as well as he took notice of what she did, but he did not blush, instead, he just turned around and started walking back down the attic steps.

"I will wait for you in the hallway while you get changed," he said, not turning around as he clambered down the steps, making sure to step over the tray of food this time.

As soon as he left the attic, Clara let the mortification really sink in. She had talked for over ten minutes with a prince while in her nightgown! She frantically rushed over to where she kept her two dresses, getting ready as quickly as possible. While she did have a bit of trouble tying the laces with her shaking hands, eventually she was dressed. Granted she was bedraggled, but at least she wasn't in her nightgown anymore.

Her cheeks were still flushed as she dashed down the steps, but she misjudged everything rather terribly. Her feet went out from under her as her shoes slid on the mess of food, causing her to fall onto one of the steps with a rather loud bump. Seconds later the door open, to reveal a worried looking Frederick.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I just slipped on the food," she answered, her blush darkening to the point that she was sure it made her look like a sunburnt tomato. Frederick offered her a hand once she finished speaking, and Clara gladly took it, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet.

"I was wondering why that was there," he said to her as he led her out of the attic stairwell and into the hallway, his hand on the small of her back.

"My stepmother brought it up for me."

"And do you often stay in locked attics or is this a new development?" Clara looked away from his inquisitive gaze, her face still burning. She knew he had meant well, by asking, his tone had been teasing, not condescending, but she was still embarrassed.

"It's the room that I share with my siblings, but it is not normally locked." Frederick wisely chose not to comment as they reached the front hallway, and he opened the door for her, allowing her to go ahead of him. Outside stood six of the palace guards, what looked like four knights, complete with shining armor, a smiling Amelia, and a rapidly speaking Harriet.

It seemed that Harriet had taken her first meeting with real knights very well, and was now interrogating them, though most of them didn't seem to mind. However, as soon as Harriet saw her sister and Frederick coming out the doors, her face lit up and she bounded over to Clara, throwing her arms around her waist with such force that she would've knocked Clara off her feet if it weren't for Frederick's steadying arm.

"I told you! I told you he would help and that everything would work out!" Harriet said, her voice muffled in Clara's dress. She tipped her head upwards to grin at her older sister, who was still trying to adjust her footing but was smiling back all the same.

"Sire, we must be going," one of the knights said to Frederick who was still standing by Clara and Harriet. He gave him a curt nod and then turned to the sisters, who gave him their attention, though Harriet grabbed hold of Clara's hand.

"If you will, ladies, we have a carriage that you may ride into the palace," he said motioning to a carriage that Clara hadn't noticed. He walked all three of the Corden sisters to the carriage handing Amelia in first, and then Clara.

However just as she was settling into the carriage, Clara heard Harriet speak behind her as she was being handed in by Frederick as well.

"Clara, how did you get porridge on your butto-" Clara had never been more thankful for the slamming of the carriage door at that precise moment as well as the shades on the windows as they drove off towards the palace. A lot might have happened that day, but she now knew for sure that little sisters, no matter how brave, never really changed that much.

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Surprise Update! Oh Harriet, how I love writing you. :) So what did you guys think? Was it everything you wished for?

So the Cordens are off to the palace and James is off to a healer. That is not to say the story is over. In case some of you have forgotten, we still have an arranged marriage to take care of, a king and queen for Clara to meet, and of course Clara's lovely case of the denial flu.

Do you think that the King and Queen will like Clara? How do you think Clara's first meeting with Frederick's betrothed will go? Tell me your thoughts in the comments!

The song is: "Miracle" by Thomas Bergersen