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The Jilted Bride: A Footnote to Cinderella's Happiness (Fairetellings) (Volume 1)

By Kristen Reed

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Demetria’s pulse thundered more wildly than her favorite mare’s hooves during a fierce hunt as she stared at her reflection in the full-length gilded mirror. The cream-colored satin gown she’d just donned was trimmed with a deep flounce and handmade lace that no commoner could ever afford. Her veil, which was nearly as long as she was tall, was held in place by a wreath of fragrant orange flower blossoms that the seamstress had adorned the expensive, heavy gown with.
As the youngest daughter of Lord Aurelian, the Duke of Isidor, Demetria had been preparing for her wedding day since the moment she was born thanks to the tutors, instructors, and governesses he’d hired to help her become the perfect wife. Their instruction would have been all for naught if she hadn’t inherited her mother’s beauty since many men were willing to overlook a lack of accomplishments or refinement in favor of a pretty face. With perfectly porcelain skin, doe-like eyes the color of coffee, full lips that were almost always curved into a smile, and waist-length dark mahogany hair that blazed auburn in the sunlight, she had impressed her fiancé and, more importantly, his father.
Demetria had heard that King Tresillian was more excited about the match than his son and heir Prince Caspar, but the charming prince had praised her beauty and kissed her hand with a stunning smile after their fathers agreed to the betrothal. At the time, Demetria had silently appreciated his slightly wavy dark blond locks, sapphire eyes, and dimpled chin, but that attraction and mild infatuation hadn’t yet turned into the all-consuming love she craved in her heart of hearts.
Elizabeth, Demetria’s mother, had assured her that true love would come with time. After all, she and Aurelian had grown to love and respect each other deeply during their happy marriage despite not meeting until their wedding day. However, when Prince Caspar spent the entire ball several nights later dancing with a mysterious girl and took off after her when she abruptly tried to leave at midnight, she knew that his heart belonged to someone else.
She’d spent the whole night maintaining her composure and dancing with members of the royal household and other courtiers who no doubt wanted to distract her from Caspar’s poor behavior, but her calm exterior gave way to uncontrollable sobbing once she was alone. Demetria cried herself to sleep in her mother’s arms, fearing that her marriage was over before it even began while her father had words with the king. The next morning, she received a heartfelt apology from the guilt-ridden prince, and he reaffirmed his commitment to marry her with a beautiful ruby necklace. Of course, Demetria had to forgive Caspar and accept his gift, but from that moment on, she had a niggling fear that she would never be the future queen of Aspasia.
Even as she rode to the cathedral with her parents, Demetria nervously played with the lace trim on her gown with unsteady hands and kept her eyes on the passing countryside to avoid their unrelenting scrutiny. Aurelian had been on edge since the ill-fated ball, and poor Elizabeth had been torn between concern for her uncharacteristically anxious daughter and her ireful husband. Thankfully, the ride from the palace to the cathedral was a short one, and Demetria had some time to calm herself with prayer and to make sure her ensemble was in place as the ceremony began.
When the doors were opened, Demetria walked down the aisle and smiled as she saw how handsome Caspar looked. His blond hair shone in the candlelight as it brushed the collar of his red jacket, and the blue sash he wore perfectly matched his eyes. Caspar flashed a disarming smile, but keeping his eyes on her seemed to be a struggle as he periodically glanced at his parents and the three women who quietly wept in the back pew. Demetria’s hands perspired, and she clutched her bouquet even harder, determined not to embarrass herself by dropping the pristine white roses at the sight of Lady Morwenna and her daughters openly mourning on her wedding day.
Just as Demetria reached the altar, the creak of the old wooden doors reopening reached her ears, and the crowd began to murmur. Caspar’s eyes widened, and a rident grin more genuine than any smile he’d ever directed at Demetria stretched across his handsome face. Even though she already had an idea of what or rather who stood behind her, Demetria slowly turned around and took in the girl standing at the back of the room. At first glance, the young bride thought that some audacious peasant had tried to sneak into the ceremony, but her stomach churned as she recognized the girl’s sparkling emerald eyes and halo of blonde hair. Despite the ashes that soiled the girl’s milky white skin and tattered brown dress, Demetria recognized her as the mysterious girl who had stolen Caspar’s attention and heart at the ball.
The cinder-covered girl never even met Demetria’s devastated gaze because Caspar ran to her and pulled her into his arms with a kiss that inspired even more gasps. The bride stood absolutely still, hoping that no one would notice her mortification as the prince’s coachman strode forth with the glittering glass slipper the destitute usurper had foolishly—or maybe calculatedly—left behind at the ball. Caspar knelt before her, his eyes never leaving her radiant face as he wordlessly slipped the sparkling shoe on her dainty foot. His impossibly large grin widened even further as he picked her up and carried her from the room, her beautiful shoe twinkling in the sunlight with every step.
One by one, everyone in the room swiveled back around to face the altar and gave Demetria their undivided, unwanted attention. Her small chest heaved, her quick breathing turning into gasps for air, and the room became blessedly blurry as tears filled her eyes and obstructed her view of the voyeuristic crowd. Demetria didn’t even realize that her parents had risen until her mother took her quaking hand and guided her from the room. The last thing the devastated bride saw as she passed back down the aisle and out of the cathedral with gossiping Aspasians watching her every step was her father boldly walking over to the slack-jawed king with a baleful gaze that would have set the monarch on fire if there’d been any magic behind it.
Once Elizabeth successfully whisked Demetria out of the church, they immediately piled into the awaiting carriage and the jilted bride shook with uncontrollable sobs in her mother’s arms until they received word that they were to return to the palace without Aurelian. As the two women fled the cathedral in the beautifully decorated carriage, Demetria rested her head in her mother’s lap, soaking the blue silk gown with bitter, salty tears as she drifted into a fitful sleep.

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