Shut Up, Cinderella

Follow Him

They jumped apart.

In the door to the entrance hall stood a man. He was tall, middle-aged, pale-skinned but dark-haired, though his temples were silver. His features were serious and grim; his clothes were clearly those of a nobleman—no, even for a nobleman they were too splendid and opulent.

But even if it hadn't been for that, his resemblance to Gem in face and build would have been more than enough to give away who he was.

"Your Majesty," Cinder said quietly, backing away. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Of course he had been taught the etiquette for talking to nobles—but nobody had ever told him what to do if he found himself face to face with the king himself.

Especially not if he had just been caught kissing the son of said king in the entrance hall of the palace.

The king ignored him. Instead his eyes went straight to Gem, their expression unreadable. "Gemstone," he said, his voice calm but cold. "What is going on here?"

Gem stepped closer to Cinder. "I don't know what you mean," he said, trying to look calm himself, but Cinder didn't miss the way he tensed up.

"Who is this person?" The king motioned to Cinder with one gloved hand. "Why are you kissing him in the middle of the palace?"

Cinder wondered if he should speak, if he could speak without facing punishment, but before he could make up his mind Gem answered for him. "Father, he's my beloved from the ball," he said. "He's also my best friend and the person I want to marry."

Slowly, deliberately, the king's eyes moved over to Cinder, sizing him up and down. They were dark like his son's, but where Gem's eyes were full of warmth and emotion, the king's eyes looked completely blank. Where his son's eyes were the eyes of a living being, the king's gaze was brown like a pair of polished stones.

"Identify yourself, visitor," he said. "What is your name, and what is your errand?"

Cinder nearly shrank under the weight of his gaze, but he forced himself to stay firm as he took a low bow. "My name is Cinder, Your Majesty," he said. "I am a shoemaker from the country, and I came here to speak to your son."

"Speaking," the king replied, "is a very creative way to describe what you were doing."

Cinder blushed. From the corner of his eye he caught Gem doing the same.

"My son plans to marry you, he says," the king continued, pacing up and down before me. "Now tell me, what are your plans with my heir?"

"The same as his, Your Majesty." Cinder spoke quietly, but he spoke with conviction. "I love him and want to marry him."

"Is that so."

The guards on both doors made to leave the hall, but the king stopped them with a motion of his hand. "No, stay," he said. "This is no personal matter. I do not recall sending you away."

Hesitantly, they stayed, exchanging worried glances. Cinder's blush deepened. He had completely forgotten he and Gem hadn't been alone.

"Now tell me...Cinder the shoemaker." The king regarded him the way a man might eye a pest that had crept into his home, trying to determine how best to kill it. "What is it about my son that has your...love...the most? Is it his wealth?" he asked. "His status as the only heir to the kingdom?"

He was taunting him, Cinder realized. He was convinced Cinder didn't actually love Gem, he was only taking advantage of him. And deep down, he didn't blame him. If he was king, what would he think if his son suddenly became engaged to someone from a much poorer background?