Dearest Cinderella Read Free

herself. The
most important one, who were they and would they use the
information in her diary against her? The next morning, earlier
than usual, Cinderella hurried to her tree to see whether the
mystery person had replied to her. Her heart beat in her throat as
she dug her piece of paper out from the soil and read.

    CHAPTER
    TWO

    His royal highness, Prince Mark,
was acting very strange. Over breakfast, of which he ate very
quickly, he didn't utter a word. His eyes, they observed, seemed
very eager. After breakfast, when one of the royal carriages had
been drawn, he travelled to the stables where he took one of his
many horses and rode into the woods. He wondered, as his horse drew
closer to the tree, why he was taken so by the diary and whether it
would still be there. Indeed, whether the author might have even
seen his reply. He dug through the soil and to his dismay could not
find the diary. At the bottom of the hole however, sat a single
dirty and crumpled sheet of paper. He unfolded the paper to find a
small message written at the top of the page. It hadn't occurred to
him that she might assume she'd written the message. Perhaps he
should have signed his name. He laughed at the thought, if she'd
been upset over the idea of another finding her journal he could
only image her reaction to finding out her future King had read
it.
    "Clever girl," he muttered under
his breath when he realised that she'd taken the diary with her and
left the pen.

    Mark read over the words several
times before sitting next to the tree to process them. Two facts
immediately presented themselves. The author was a female and she
most certainly was not pleased. Mark drummed his index and
forefinger against his thigh as he considered how he should reply
before settling on something and placing the led on the paper. He
wrote,
    I apologise for my rudeness, it
was very ungentlemanly of me. Please accept my humblest apologies.
If it is to be any consolation I assure you that I only glanced
briefly when I happened to be assaulted by your drawing. At which
point I was compelled to congratulate you on your mastery of the
art. Tell me, what situation could lead a woman to hide her diary
in the woods?
    The Prince returned the paper to
the tree and lent against it once more, tilting his head up to the
sky. He stayed there for an hour, watching the clouds slowly drift
across the sky behind the branches of the tree. He told himself
that he was reluctant to return to the castle because of the girl,
that she might return and they could meet. On some level it might
have been true, but if he was honest the Prince was more eager to
avoid his mother and father. As of last month, when he'd turned
five and twenty, they'd been berating him to find a Princess. The
task of finding a girl suited to becoming the future queen was one
that Mark did not relish nor did he particularly care to hurry. A
conversation didn't go by without their constant reminder that he
was the heir and needed to secure the royal line. He could see the
disappointment in their eyes. Every time they asked him to host a
ball, he would stand in the corner and watch as others conversed
joyously around him. When a female with enough courage asked him to
dance he would of course grant one to her, but there was a limit to
how long he could fake cordiality before his family noticed. The
Prince had no tolerance for prancing about, pretending to have fun,
when he found nothing remotely amusing about dancing and balls in
general. Try as he might to hide it from his parents, he was more
than aware of his failure as a Prince and a son.
    The next morning Cinderella
hesitantly unfolded the piece of paper, expecting only her hand
writing to grace the paper. To her astonishment she found the
Prince's words. Anger filled her at the conformation of another, a
gentlemen no less, or so he promised, reading her utmost personal
thoughts. She wanted to hit him, how dare he read her journal. Oh,
he assured her that he'd