A Twist In The Tale

The Prologue

I slowly walk up the stairs to the highest chamber in the palace – the infirmary. My legs shake, not because of the abundance of stairs I have to climb to reach the tallest tower, but because I am scared. Scared, for my dear mother. For the past three years she has been sick with an incurable illness, never seen before by any of the hundreds of doctors my father has called upon to try and help my mother. One year ago, they thought mother was getting better, that a miracle had occurred, and that she would be okay. At that point in time, the entire kingdom let out a sigh of relieve, one we had been holding for two years. But, only a few weeks ago as my mother was gracefully exiting the coach that had taken my mother, my father and me to a royal event held to celebrate my aunty – Queen Miah – on her thirty-fourth birthday, she fell to the ground and lay unconscious for five days. Father and I were terrified, fearing the worst for my mother. When she awoke, we were thrilled, though silently worrying that it may happen again. Which leads to today. The most recent doctor my father has hired seems to have found an antidote for my mother. While we have been told not to get our hopes up too high, he is fairly sure it will work. He said that she must be unconscious for the procedure, and he explained to my father and I that we should go and talk to her now, before the procedure begins.

Carefully, I push open the large wooden door of the palace infirmary, the door creaking as I enter. Many eyes turn my way, those of my mother's sister Miah, her brother Julian, three surgeons who are preparing for the operation, and the depressed eyes of my father, who sits by the side of my poor, sickly mother, semi-conscious as my father whispers words of sympathy and  compassion to her. As I walk towards the bed where my mother lies, my father tells her I am here to talk to her, and after giving her one final, lingering kiss on her forehead, he turns and leaves out of the infirmary door, with one last glance back before he closes the door. I sit down on the side of my mother's bed, hoping, praying, that she will get better. She whispers something inaudible, and I lean closer to hear what she is saying.

"Cinderella, dear, please listen to what I am about to tell you, and do as I say without hesitation. Do you understand?" I am confused, but I tell her I understand. "Good. Do you remember the pictures of your father from when he was a young man that have always hung in the corridors in the left wing of the castle? Now, do you remember seeing any pictures of me from when I was a child?" I shake my head. "That is because," she deeply inhales, "When I was young, I was a member of a society that is not welcome in these lands. I wish I could tell you more, but if someone overheard, even though I am whispering, your life, and father's, could be in deep jeopardy for something you know nothing about. But, I still need you to know about who I am." My mother pulls a book from beneath the sheets of her bed and inconspicuously hands it to me. She gestures for me to hide it, and I tuck it the large pocket of my petticoat, which was originally designed to hold my spinning wheel tools. "Right now, you are too young to understand who I am, only a little ten year old girl. But, after your sixteenth birthday, I need you to read this book, and do what you must. Until then, you have to keep it hidden from everybody... including your father. Whilst he knows I did once work for this society, he does not, and cannot know that I have secretly been working with them whilst I have been married to him, something I vowed not to do. I am sorry, but I have already said too much. Please, do as I have told you." I nod, and stand up from the edge of her bed and give her a hug, one that lasts for what feels like hours, days, but at the same time, it feels like it was too short. I reluctantly turn and leave the infirmary, as I turn to watch her, I see that the doctors have already made their way to her, and are preparing her for the operation, I look at my mother, who blows me a kiss as they lift her off the bed and onto a care bed. As I watch her leave around the corridor into the operation room of the infirmary, I blow her a kiss.

That was the last time I saw my mother.