Gareth didn't return the night before, a fact that Cinderella relished. She begged me to fix her up lovely again. When she demanded to practice eating in a nice dress, I tapped her nose and asked if she'd consider a regular frock.

"We don't have many, darling. And we must look perfect for parties."

Big blue eyes wide, she nodded. Her enthusiasm was infectious. We waited in the hall, Poppy and Piglet dressed somewhat casually but carried themselves with grace. Once we were in a line, I started down the stairs and Cinderella mimicked us. She looked splendid. Even her entry into the room was well versed.

I gazed at this tiny chameleon, smitten.

With the cook freshly fired, I expected a less-than-stellar breakfast. That was not the case. Everything was set out perfectly.

But with Gareth, the monster gone, I supposed the new villain was I because...Edmond did not serve me.

Cinderella noticed right away. "Edmond." When the man in question paused to regard her, Cinderella remembered her faux breeding and sat up straight, saying, "And Stepmother?"

Two white eyes, dotted with dark pupils, rotated from her and settled in my direction. With that, Edmond marched out and returned. He plopped the bowl of soup before me, uncaring that it spilt over onto the tablecloth.

The girls gave off an audible gasp.

I...drew in my breath. He was angry. Rightfully so.

But with the eyes on me, I bowed to my children and said, "Sometimes, such things may arise. But do not lose heart. You persevere."

Cinderella gave an eager nod and said, "And complain?"

Poppy gasped. "No. You do not complain. The servant will be fired...or slapped."

"Or whipped," Piglet chimed.

Still staring wide-eyed, Cinderella looked between them. "And this is bad?"

That notation had me surprised.

I leaned to the right so that I would catch her gaze. "Cinderella, darling, you wouldn't like that to happen to you, would you?"

"But I am not a servant," she said, confused.

I couldn't counter her point. The chance faded when Edmond walked out.

We ate in silence after that. Poppy complimented Cinderella's grace. It still needed polish, but I saw the potential.

My focus should have lain here, but instead, I worried about Edmond.

Because this was a practiced meal, it took quite some time to come to an end. I nearly forgot my status and ran to exit the house. Each time I hiked up my dress to hurry, I reminded myself to stop.

The girls went about their chores and I found Edmond doing his own. He returned with firewood which he began to chop.

Winter was some months off, but the thought had me hurrying toward him. Even the chill of autumn he hated. "Be sure to keep a good amount for yourself."

Silence.

He chopped the peg. Perhaps imagining me on the other end of that axe.

No matter, I knew Edmond. He was a talker and a man of reason. He'd see reason soon enough.

But as the time drew on, he hardly behaved like the Edmond I'd known.

This manor, this estate held painful memories for us, but surely it also held some good ones.

"I will seek your forgiveness," I said.

He ignored me.

As I made my way back into the house, I decided to find a small room for him inside this fall, long before winter. Once I found myself in the cellar, I got into action, unable to stop. I cleaned it of the cobwebs, and the critters. It took the better part of the day running up and down those steps. Out went the old chairs we could break down and use for firewood. In came a small table we hardly ever used anyway. Most things required me holding my breath until they were outside due to the mildew and age. The dust had me coughing and once it was livable, I scanned the barren cellar...like...an...imbecile.

What had I been thinking?

This was no place for a human being. When I focused on the good comforters I'd dragged from my own room and put on an old mattress I'd brought down, I was mortified.

Now, rather than Edmond finding it, I struggled with a way to exit this wretched place lest he come looking for me and find me building a rat's nest for him.

My feet made a horrible sound as I stomped out up the stairs. Once I shut the door, hiding my moronic idea, I pressed my back against it. One would think I'd just hidden a body.

Heart thumping, head spinning, I traced the smooth door with my fingertips, confused about what to do—more confused about what I was doing.

I wanted him here. I wanted him in this house. I wanted him...in my bed.

That thought had me reeling for so long that I lost time.

"That is not it," I whispered to myself.

Everything in me repelled the idea, so much so that I feared I'd vomit. But equally, I couldn't say why it came as a comfort as well.

And with that, I decided that Edmond needed to remain in his little hut, at least for this winter. For both our sakes.

Now with these awful ideas in my head, I avoided Edmond rather than sought him out. He must have noticed. That didn't matter, I would get control of this, of all of it.

After supper, I entered the family room to witness Poppy making a fatal mistake.

"A dance, ma'am?"

"Yes," Poppy replied, "I suspect you were shown to the king a time or two. Surely there were dances, perhaps with other girl servants such as yourself, were they not? People love to see rare things on display."

I drew in a deep breath and marched to put her in her place.

"Forgive me," Edmond said, bowing low, "but I must see to the kitchen. After I'm done, we can finish our game of chess."

This promise satisfied Poppy enough for her to miss the insult Edmond had brushed off. She and I would have to address that at a later date. Edmond's skills of deviation rivaled Poppy's directness.

I felt relieved. Still, when Edmond passed by, I thought to say something. A scream drew me from my intent and stopped Edmond's escape.

Piglet covered her mouth when she saw me zero in on her. Beside her, Cinderella sat at an awkward angle, her cheeks puffed.

No investigation was necessary. "It's all right," I said.

My daughters stared at me as if I were a ghost come back to life.

"Better let her have them before they ruin that dress," I ordered.

Poppy hurried to pull Cinderella from the settee. As suspected, a cloth bag filled with chocolates rested below her.

Piglet nearly spat. "Now what?"

"It's all right," Poppy said.

"But it's not all right! Those were the most expensive ones."

I closed the distance between us and scooped the bag into my hands. This was bad. Cinderella had eaten nearly all of them.

Guilt-ridden, she stood with her shoulders drawn up.

"Now you've done it," Piglet said, backing away.

I sat Cinderella down and explained, "These were gifts from the wedding, so they were rather expensive. We were able to receive two party invitations there. As we go to these events, we could have split this up and regifted them in new, prettier containers."

One look at Poppy and she was in motion. In no time, she returned to the room with an ornate, purple handmade bag I'd dare anyone to claim was made by any of us. Poppy had talent.

Cinderella's eyes widened and she swallowed.

I couldn't risk her ruining the dresses, so I took out a handkerchief and dabbed the corners of her mouth.

"This is a campaign," I told her, "to get you three recognized with a good reputation."

Poppy sighed. "And she's just eaten a good three-party's worth."

Cinderella took the handkerchief and fiddled with it. The habit reminded me so much of Bella.

Finally, I said, "Do you know that we've never really had anything this pricy beyond one bite?"

Big blue eyes looking up at me, Cinderella remained tight-lipped.

I sat beside her and called my daughters close. "Come. There's only a few left. Why don't we all share?"

To my surprise, Edmond still remained.

Being in this house once more brought back the years we'd been so carefree. The time when we'd trekked across this land with no bigger worry than which tree to not fall from, where to dig up bugs Raphael used to chase us with, or how much fruit we could eat before our bellies burst.

After Raphael disappeared, Edmond all but did as well—into this house. They'd been planning to return home together. I never understood what happened to him. He and Edmond had saved. Then one morning Raphael was gone, and Edmond never spoke his name again.

When I came to visit here last, due to my impending birth of Cinderella, I was in no condition to inquire more about it. All this time, Edmond'd never left, and Raphael had never returned for him.

When did the sweeter things get so far out of reach?

"Would you like some, too, Edmond?"

He looked at me curiously, but it was Cinderella who said, "Father wouldn't like that."

"No," I answered, bitter and uncaring. "I suppose he wouldn't." The sound of the door closing caused me to pick my head up. Edmond was gone.

The door closed now, much like it had the next morning when Gareth left me in Edmond's bed.

I was in no hurry to leave. The moment Edmond shifted, I let out a sob which I muffled by holding onto him.

It took ages for him to say, "What are you doing here? You cannot be here like this."

But even when he turned over, realized his state, and tried to push me back, I just held on, my face pressed in his collar.

He gave me some tentative pats on the back but nothing further.

"You must get up. If someone sees you...."

"I don't care. I don't care about the shaming!"

His hands held my arms. Once I found the strength to lean away and meet his gaze, he told me, "It's not just a shaming we have to worry about. People will misunderstand."

The light of day had come, and it was then that I saw the cuts and scars littering his upper body.

If the grimace he wore was any indication, he didn't appreciate my appraisal.

Even the bicep of his arm had a strange white discoloration...perhaps a burn.... It looked skinned.

He resembled a patchwork doll now more than ever.

"It's not worth it. It's not worth throwing your reputation—your future away on a misunderstanding."

Tears stung my eyes. "But I'm ruined now."

He leaned away, regarding himself in surprise.

"Not you," I assured him, though I prayed he would not ask for details. His dislike for Gareth had always stemmed from one thing—distrust. More than once he'd warned me about letting my guard down. I'd always considered this as Edmond's overprotectiveness. Now, now I couldn't stand the thought of letting him know how careless I'd been. He hadn't been awake last night, and that was enough.

My words calmed him, and he held my face in both hands and said, "You are not ruined. What ruins us isn't what's done to us, but what we do to others. And you are here with me...a thing you have no business doing...in all generosity. But I beg you, leave."

Something was strange about his face. His dark skin looked the same as always, but I risked touching his forehead to find it hot. "You're burning up."

"I am all right. But you cannot be found here."

I refused to move, and he took hold of my arms again, squeezing as he hung his head and begged, "Please. Let me have my dignity."

Twenty minutes later, after I took back my clothes, one layer I forced him to keep, I piled the second blanket onto him. I would find him some clothes, I promised.

The snow was still high but had melted somewhat. I'd reached the house when Raphael rode in. His horse looked exhausted, he looked exhausted. The second horse, I knew, was meant for Edmond. It carried cargo.

He slowed when he spotted me but didn't dismount.

Two haunted brown eyes stayed fixed on me for ages. When they focused on the hut, all thoughts rushed to Edmond's fever and the state he was in yesterday. His healing had come at a price and a lie escaped my lips. "He's gone. Grandmother took him to a doctor."

Raphael stared at me then nodded.

He turned the horse to leave, and I hurried after him. "Where are you going? When will you come back? It's still so cold. Won't you come warm up? Why are you leaving? Did you two fight? Why? You left him in the river for dead! Did you know that? Where are you going!"

But he galloped on and disappeared out the gate. That was the absolute last time I'd ever seen Raphael.