There’s
a moment when I look into his eyes where I can see the future. It isn’t this
glittering rush of silk gowns and sound, though. That life--this life we are in
the midst of now, I suppose--is not a life I desire, nor is it a life I am able
to lead. What I see is so much more. It’s a future where I am finally safe.
There is more love and security there in his eyes than I have experienced in
what feels like an eternity. This life I can see ahead of me is a life of
emotional comfort, not temporal enjoyment. It’s my hair in the wind and the sun
on my neck. The way I see it, it is far more than I deserve and so much more
than I could have ever dreamed for.
He
smiles sheepishly and looks down at his hands for a moment, fidgeting in a way
that I know means he wants more than whatever is between us now. I’m not a
fool. I may not have been in love before, but I have read many books. In the
great romances, love is described as lightning. But I feel as though between he
and I, it’s more like a stampede. Lightning is a sudden and brilliant spike
across the sky. A stampede is a build-up, something that starts small and is a
sudden terrifying roar. I want nothing more than to run, but then he looks at
me again and that feeling creeps into my heart again.
“Do you
love me?” The words flee my lips before I know I’m thinking them. His eyes
widen along with mine, but he does not shrink away or become timid as I do. “I
am sorry,” I say. “That was rather presumptuous--”
“No,”
he says, raising his hand. “Do not feel ashamed. It was a question that had to
be answered eventually.”
He
looks down at his hands again, but this time his stare is more intense. “I do
not know much about you, princess. That is certainly an indication that I am
not in love.” I nod. I expected no less. “Love requires time and effort,” he
continues. “It requires patience. It is not an immediate thing.” He glances up
at me then, but his look of concentration is gone. Instead, there is wonder.
“But it is different with you, princess. I feel as though I already know you
somehow. It is as though we have skipped all of the steps, beginning at the end
of the climb.” He gently reaches for my hands and I allow him to take them. “I
know nothing more than that I wish to marry you.”
I can
feel the tears come before I even have the strength to smile. “And I you,” I
whisper, astonished that I could possibly have found someone who feels this way
about me. The only people who had ever loved me are gone, and I have been
forced to endure life under a hand that was far crueler than I had ever thought
a person could be. “I have not lived an easy life,” I say, searching for the
words even as I speak them, “but when I see you, I know that no matter what
trials life may offer they will be nothing if you are at my side.”
In a
blur, he’s whispering my name and we’re leaning towards one another as I hear
the clock begin to strike midnight. Unthinking, I pull away from him as hard as
I can, anxiously noting the pain in his eyes as I do so. “I must leave,” I
stutter as I attempt to stand, tripping over and around the heeled shoes I
still don’t know how to move in. He grabs my arm, and as I hear his voice speak
to me, message garbled by the panic that now flows through my veins, a sudden
clear thought enters my mind and the world suddenly eases into place. As I move
my eyes back to his, I see the worry and the heartache in them, and I know that
this decision is possibly the most important decision I may ever make.
“Come
with me,” I whisper as the third bell chimes. “Please, I beg of you, please
walk me to my carriage.” And I see in his eyes that although he is confused, he
is willing to escort me to what I alone know is our destiny.
We’re descending
the stairs as the eighth bell chimes, and somehow there is no more fear left in
me. There is only determination. My footmen and my driver call to me
frantically. The driver is practically squawking, a sign that I may have cut it
too close. “Please, stop here,” I ask the man on my arm as we reach the final
steps. “I have something I need to show you.” Uncertain, he places my hand in
the hand of one of the footmen and I wince at the kindness I don’t deserve. As
the footman turns towards the carriage, I pat his hand gently and shake my
head. “It’s all right,” I whisper. “Thank you for your kindness tonight, but I
won’t be needing the carriage again. I’ll walk if need be.” The footman’s eyes
dart to the man standing on the stairs and then back to me before he warily
drops my hand and scurries back to the others, whispering hurriedly. He’s
telling them what I’m about to do as the clock strikes ten and I turn back to
face the man I’ve somehow inexplicably fallen in love with.
“I love
you,” I say to him as I grasp his hands, and he smiles, wide eyes falling into
warm slits as the smile reaches his eyes. “But you have to know what I am
before you can say that you love me. It wouldn’t be fair to you if you didn’t
know, and I can’t do that to you.”
I see a
flicker of something in his eyes. Distrust, maybe. Confusion, more likely. I’ve
let my accent slip. I no longer care about seeming as though I am noble. What I
thought was going to be a distraction from my life, a small slice of justice I
had worked hard to earn, had become infinitely more. If he still wishes to wed
me, he must know what it is he weds.
“Did
you ever hear tales of fairy godmothers?” I say, my throat constricting in fear
and anticipation.
“Aye.
My mother read the old tales to me every night.”
“I
don’t mean to distress you, honest, I don’t. And I don’t expect you to believe
my words, but I promise they’re true. I’m not a princess. I’m just incredibly
lucky.”
I hear
the last chime, and as I step away from him, I feel bubbly--it could be my
dress or it could be my stomach, I don’t suppose I’ll ever know--as the last of
the magic fades away in a whisper. All except for my shoes, I notice, which
remain a sharp crystal, rainbows refracted in them still. My love’s eyes widen
again as they dart behind me at what I know is now a pumpkin surrounded by
hosts of mice and lizards.
“This
is the real me,” I say, a calm that I don’t possess easing over my voice and
tears. “You deserve to know what I am.” As much as I want to show that I am not
ashamed to be standing before him in my rags, I can’t bear to look at him.
Instead, I look down at the shoes I thought I was to lose when the rest of the
magic faded and wait to lose him, too. I wait to lose him just like I’ve lost
everything else I’ve ever loved.
The
length of three more chimes passes as we stand across from one another and I
try to keep my tears from spilling onto my face. How could he want this girl
standing before him, this girl that is covered in grime and soot? No one else
has ever wanted her, so why should he be any different?
It is
then that I feel his hand tilt my chin up towards his eyes, eyes that seem to
echo everything I feel. “This may be what you are,” he whispers, “but it is not
who you are. And I love who you are.”
And it
is then that he kisses me.
