Charm by Sarah Pinborough Page B

away to the ground and as she peeled off her undergarments it was good to feel the air on her skin. Even though it was warm, she shivered slightly with the pleasant sensation. The mouse stood up on its hind legs, its dark eyes studying her. It was a strange little thing, but she was glad of its company.
    ‘Where do you think he goes every night?’ she said, softly, lowering her naked body into the hot bath, and closing her eyes. ‘Am I so terribly unlovable?’ She sighed and then opened her eyes to pick up the sponge and soap. The little mouse was sitting on the edge at the other end of the large tub. It really was a remarkable little thing. She soaped the sponge and ran it over her small firm breasts and flat stomach. Her skin tingled. The prince had awoken something in her at the ball and although she was realising that love was elusive, that fire of lust still burned. ‘Was it all just the shoes? Really? Why would she do that to me?’ Her voice grew softer as her body responded to her own touch. ‘Some fairy godmother,’ she murmured as she grew lost in her fantasy.
    She closed her eyes and shut out the little mouse and the castle around her and she was back on the balcony at the Bride Ball and the prince’s hands were exploring her. Her hands moved across her body. In her mind, his hands were tanned this time, however, and rougher, and when he kissed her she could feel rough stubble rubbing her cheeks. She gasped as her fingers worked, imagining his mouth down between her legs, and then him moving up and inside her, and as she moved towards a climax she was surrounded by the scents of the forest.
    The shouts of ‘Thief! Thief! The thief has been caught!’ woke her suddenly from her fantasy and, barely noticing the mouse scurrying away, she got out of the bath and wrapped a robe around her wet body before padding to the window, pulling back the thick rich curtain and looking down on the courtyard below. Castle life was kept relatively quiet at the request of the queen who was always suffering from some headache or ailment or another. But this morning there was a huge amount of fuss outside as an Earl’s carriage, identifiable by the blue flag hanging from the front, drew up and a fat man with impossibly thin stockinged legs climbed down awkwardly. Behind the carriage was a cart carrying what looked like a wooden cage. Cinderella frowned. Was that the prisoner? She was sure there was someone inside it.
    As the Earl was escorted inside, four footmen ran down the stairs and lifted the cage down. Several of the ordinary servants and merchants who had loitered nearby rushed forward as soon as the Earl had disappeared inside. ‘Thief!’ one shouted at whoever was locked in the box, jabbing a stick in between the bars. ‘They’ll send you to the Troll Road!’ The footmen shooed them back, but still the jeers and catcalls continued.
    Cold flooded Cinderella’s stomach. A thief. Her nerves jangled. It couldn’t be, could it? There must be hundreds of thieves in the city? She pushed the window open and leaned out into the cold morning air.
    ‘Buttons?’ she called down, not caring about the heads that all tilted upwards, staring at her in her clingy robe. ‘Buttons? Is that you?’
    From between two bars, a pale hand appeared and waved weakly.
    ‘Oh no,’ Cinderella muttered, stumbling backwards into her room. ‘Oh, no.’ She grabbed at her clothes. ‘Rose!’ she shouted. ‘Rose! Something terrible’s happened!’



8
‘Take the Troll Road . . .’
     
    T he evidence against Buttons, or Robin as it turned out was his real name, was overwhelming. Caught red-handed stealing two of the earl’s silver spoons – from a collection of one hundred and twenty three which should have been a collection of one hundred and thirty – it did not take long for the masters of various households to marry up visits from the castle boy with small items going missing. It was true in the castle itself, too, where the