suddenly grown too tight. Amelie came home from the peach orchard without her sun hat, her face flushed. Chantal lost her temper and gave her a scolding. Amelie went upstairs and did not come back down. After that, my stepmother took to pacing back and forth in the great hall, opening the front door as if she heard Anastasia returning, then closing it again on no one. I often swept the great hall at this time of day, and once a week I scrubbed the flagstones. But it was apparent I would get no work done on this particular afternoon.
“Raoul would never let anything happen to her,” I finally volunteered, worn out by my stepmother’s pacing as if I had been doing it right alongside her. “He’s the best horseman in the county. And he knows every inch of de Brabant lands. He would never let Anastasia come to any harm.”
Chantal de Saint-Andre started, as if shed forgotten I was there.
“Gracious, Cendrillon,” she said. “You startled me. And it isn’t that I’m worried, it’s just . . .” She broke off, raising a hand to her forehead, as if to brush away unwelcome thoughts.
“I am so edgy today. Everything about this place still feels so foreign and wild, and Anastasia can be soheadstrong. She’s always been that way, ever since she was a child. But since we came here, I . . .” She shook her head, as if to clear it. “All day long, I have felt afraid without quite knowing why. I know it’s foolish but . . .”
She broke off as we both heard the clatter of hooves. My stepmother was at the door almost before I could blink, flinging it open wide. She dashed out onto the steps, with me close behind her, just as Anastasia swept into the courtyard.
Gone was the prim and proper maiden who had departed just that morning. In her place was a young woman with her emotions barely under control. Anastasia’s long, dark hair had come unbound to stream across her shoulders and down her back like an inky waterfall. Her eyes were enormous. The color in her cheeks was high. It was clear that something had happened, and that it had affected her deeply. The question was, what?
She brought the mare to a quick and sudden stop just as Raoul cantered in behind her, his own face the match of the threatening thunderclouds overhead. He dismounted quickly, moved to where Anastasia sat, still as a marble statue on her horse.
“Not you,” Anastasia said, her voice slightly breathless. “Go get someone else. I do not want you to touch me.”
“My touch is no different than it was a few moments ago,” Raoul answered, his voice cracking with temper and something that ran deeper, a thing I could not quite identify. “Besides, there isn’t anyoneelse and you know it. Why must you always behave like a spoiled child?”
Anastasia’s flushed cheeks paled. She pressed her lips together, looped her reins over the pommel, and leaned down. She braced herself on Raoul’s shoulders as he reached up and swept her from the saddle so swiftly that her long dark hair tumbled forward over her shoulder to stream across his own, obscuring both their faces for the time it took Raoul to set her on her feet. Then Anastasia stepped back, brushing her hair from her face with a fierce gesture.
“Anastasia,” said her mother, as she moved down the steps. “Thank goodness you are home.”
“Oh, Maman,” Anastasia said. She turned away from Raoul, but her long hair would not quite release its hold. It clung to his shirt, like a sweetheart not ready to be parted from him, Raoul turned away, lifting a hand to brush it aside.
“
Maman”
Anastasia said once more, and I heard the way her voice broke.
“Heavens,” her mother exclaimed, as she reached her. “What is it, my child?”
“Nothing, It is nothing,” Anastasia said fiercely. “I stayed too long in the sun, that’s all. And the weather today makes me feel so strange.”
“It’s because there’s a storm coming,” her mother said. “It makes us all feel that way.” She put
“Raoul would never let anything happen to her,” I finally volunteered, worn out by my stepmother’s pacing as if I had been doing it right alongside her. “He’s the best horseman in the county. And he knows every inch of de Brabant lands. He would never let Anastasia come to any harm.”
Chantal de Saint-Andre started, as if shed forgotten I was there.
“Gracious, Cendrillon,” she said. “You startled me. And it isn’t that I’m worried, it’s just . . .” She broke off, raising a hand to her forehead, as if to brush away unwelcome thoughts.
“I am so edgy today. Everything about this place still feels so foreign and wild, and Anastasia can be soheadstrong. She’s always been that way, ever since she was a child. But since we came here, I . . .” She shook her head, as if to clear it. “All day long, I have felt afraid without quite knowing why. I know it’s foolish but . . .”
She broke off as we both heard the clatter of hooves. My stepmother was at the door almost before I could blink, flinging it open wide. She dashed out onto the steps, with me close behind her, just as Anastasia swept into the courtyard.
Gone was the prim and proper maiden who had departed just that morning. In her place was a young woman with her emotions barely under control. Anastasia’s long, dark hair had come unbound to stream across her shoulders and down her back like an inky waterfall. Her eyes were enormous. The color in her cheeks was high. It was clear that something had happened, and that it had affected her deeply. The question was, what?
She brought the mare to a quick and sudden stop just as Raoul cantered in behind her, his own face the match of the threatening thunderclouds overhead. He dismounted quickly, moved to where Anastasia sat, still as a marble statue on her horse.
“Not you,” Anastasia said, her voice slightly breathless. “Go get someone else. I do not want you to touch me.”
“My touch is no different than it was a few moments ago,” Raoul answered, his voice cracking with temper and something that ran deeper, a thing I could not quite identify. “Besides, there isn’t anyoneelse and you know it. Why must you always behave like a spoiled child?”
Anastasia’s flushed cheeks paled. She pressed her lips together, looped her reins over the pommel, and leaned down. She braced herself on Raoul’s shoulders as he reached up and swept her from the saddle so swiftly that her long dark hair tumbled forward over her shoulder to stream across his own, obscuring both their faces for the time it took Raoul to set her on her feet. Then Anastasia stepped back, brushing her hair from her face with a fierce gesture.
“Anastasia,” said her mother, as she moved down the steps. “Thank goodness you are home.”
“Oh, Maman,” Anastasia said. She turned away from Raoul, but her long hair would not quite release its hold. It clung to his shirt, like a sweetheart not ready to be parted from him, Raoul turned away, lifting a hand to brush it aside.
“
Maman”
Anastasia said once more, and I heard the way her voice broke.
“Heavens,” her mother exclaimed, as she reached her. “What is it, my child?”
“Nothing, It is nothing,” Anastasia said fiercely. “I stayed too long in the sun, that’s all. And the weather today makes me feel so strange.”
“It’s because there’s a storm coming,” her mother said. “It makes us all feel that way.” She put
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