Rest? Who needs rest?
As the title might suggest, I put Jasmine in a dress. We saw Cinderella for the first time a few months ago and the rest was 3,419 words, as they say.
Jaz held her breath as she ducked her head to hide her face and slipped inside the palace with the rest of the attending footmen. The ball would continue for several hours and the hundreds of staff waiting for their lords and ladies would be left to fend for themselves in the meantime.
The fear of being discovered was real. She was a woman in man’s clothing, in a place where she shouldn’t have been, with a plan that could have her thrown in prison.
Not that it mattered. Not of it mattered, in that moment. Bright eyes flicked to and fro as she eased through the edges of the crowd to the nearest exit.
This was her last chance. Last chance at getting away from the Windsor’s, from her beginnings, last chance to see him again. She’d said that day that she would never let some over-inflated fool with a wand dictate her future.
She’d never been more wrong.
The bindings around her chest to help her fit in were constraining, cutting off the lungful of air she tried to draw in. Her palms were sweating as she escaped the din and chatter of the footmen and into a connecting passageway. It wasn’t hard to tell where to go; the strains of the music reached even down here, in the depths of the royal residence.
Urgency burned in her. Jaz glanced over her shoulder then moved forward with purpose. She’d pulled enough scams in her youth to know the best way to blend in was to make sure no one had reason to question your presence.
With hundreds of well-to-do guests requiring food, drink, and entertainment, the palace’s staff would be running around like headless chickens to fulfill all the needs. She would be invisible as long as she didn’t stand out.
Jaz reached up to make sure there were no auburn strands of hair escaping the tricorne hat that had been pulled over her hair. Adele had stabbed more pins than she’d thought possible into her hair to keep the unruly waves in check.
The woman stopped at a crossroads of halls as a passel of servants hurried past, laden with beverages and victuals. No one even glanced her way.
Waiting until they were a safe distance away, Jasmine continued after them at a steady clip, stride long and shoulders back. On the outside, she would be just another of the household staff attending to an errand as long as no one looked too close.
(Adele had made a point of pounding it into her head that if anyone decided to actually take in her face, “those long lashes and soft lips will give you away faster than if you’d paraded around in a dress.”)
Inside, she trembled. It reached her fingertips and undermined her confidence. The fact that this moment would make or break her wasn’t of consequence anymore.
The more steps she took behind her, the more she wanted to turn back. This pull, once caused by that magical bind, now propelled only by herself—please, I want to see him again—terrified her.
Sure, she’d been interested in guys before, done her share of flirting and offering coy smiles, but this was so different. She could—would—shatter over this, something that hadn’t happened since her father left her waiting in their ramshackle home.
Jasmine kept moving as traffic began to pick up.
Some people gave her a distracted look, but when she didn’t look back, continued on her path with single-minded determination, they didn’t pursue the curiosity.
The long slacks Adele had acquired for her ruse were strange to wear now, after so long in dresses befitting of her age and position. Dresses, constraining corsets, pantaloons, slippers…
She almost missed them. If she was able to reach him tonight, she would be a social nightmare, dressed as a man.
The palace was more sprawling than she’d been able to comprehend. Herds of servants became a trail that led her up countless stairs, around numerous corners, and through innumerable hallways, the signs of wealth growing with every floor they rose.
Soon, jade eyes blinked at golden candelabras that watched over well-tended wood floors and side tables of rich color and complex engravings. The dirt on her boots from the courtyard felt impudent by comparison.
The orchestra that presided over the festivities grew ever louder, the sweet strings and notable brass coming together in a harmony unlike one she’d ever heard.
Only the best in the land for his highness, after all…
//
Years of living on the streets and fending for herself lent themselves to Jasmine as she threaded her way through the fringes of the crowd. A dance was taking up the entirety of the ballroom floor and much of the attention of those not joining in, with swinging skirts and clapping hands joining the vivid ambiance.
She paused in a small nook between a statue of someone’s forebear and an ornate pillar to catch her breath and watch the proceedings.
Thus far, she hadn’t spotted him. The royal box housing his uncle and a couple of his cousins had been easy to locate, but it’d only taken a moment of studying to know he wasn’t there. Zahn and Matthias, although alike in appearance to him, were cunning where he was straightforward, scheming where he was honest.
It showed in their postures and their movements, marked them even from a distance as not who she searched for.
Please.
That thrice cursed bind had dragged her by the ear to his very feet last time she’d been in the palace with the Windsor’s. Now, it abandoned her. Jaz’s fingers curled into fists, short nails digging into her palms.
She hated magic more than she had words to express.
Two laughing women passed in front of her hideaway, dresses long and full, the colors vibrant. She wished to be allowed to command the room as they did, to belong. To be worthy.
But she wasn’t and never would be.
It didn’t take a brilliant mind to know it and hers was sharper than most.
Taking a breath, building her resolve again, Jasmine stepped out and continued to traverse the room. Her gaze swept every face, focusing in on every dark head of hair she passed.
Ten minutes turned into half an hour. Hope turned to bleak despair.
He wasn’t here.
She went around the expansive room three times, risking exposure to drift further towards the epicenter, never lingering too long, but coming up empty all the same.
Jaz had to bump a waiter and endanger his load to divert the attention of a young lord who eyed her with more attention than she wanted. Her distraction worked but the close shave reminded her that discovery would be easy for anyone with keen focus.
Bowing out of the way of an older couple headed towards the nearest table of champagne flutes, Jaz found an exit from the press of people and slipped out the unassuming door into a well-lit, but empty corridor.
She sank to the floor, back against the paneling, and pushed the hat and white-haired wig off her head. The cloth tied around her forehead, keeping her natural hair in check, was damp with sweat.
Moisture burned in her eyes that she blinked away, drawing in a shuddering breath that was nowhere near as full as she wanted it.
Her fingers shook as she undid the cloth and started working pins from her hair. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. She’d seen the king, had seen Matthias and Zahn, the beautiful Annalise Vaughn who was rumored to be the bride of whichever nephew the king chose as his successor.
But he wasn’t here. No whisper of his presence, only the lingering question on the lips of many a young woman about the missing Mason.
Jaz curled in on herself, pressing her forehead into her knees. There was nothing left to do. Her every hope had rested on him being here tonight, where she could find him before he was removed from reach altogether.
The announcement would be made in the morning of the king’s choice, the new heir’s fate sealed to the throne and a wife. There was not time between now and the wee hours of the morning when the party would disperse for her to search the sprawling palace for him, not being a foreigner to its winding halls.
//
Jasmine resisted the vice-like grip on her arm as the guard dragging her through the halls. Her auburn hair fell down in waves around her shoulders, telling any within sight of her deception.
“Get your hands off me!” She snarled, grief fueling her anger as she lashed out at the man.
The eyes turned on her at her words were hard, unmoved at her attempts to dislodge him. Her fingers dug into his thick doublet and made no impact on him. Jaz felt her breath catch in her throat, becoming aware of the vulnerability of her situation in a rush.
“Listen and listen well, wench,” he ground out at last, dragging her nearer by the hold on her upper arm, his other gauntleted hand resting on the hilt of his longsword. His breath smelled stale. “You have entered the royal palace without invitation, in the appearance of a man, and refuse to explain yourself to me beyond more lies. And now you order me to unhand you?”
The air felt too thin. Jasmine tried again to jerk away to no avail, desperation strangling her. Everything he said was true, but what was she supposed to tell him? That she was searching out one of the potential heirs to the throne to see if he would take her, despite her station and roots?
No. No, he would never believe that.
His gaze narrowed at her silence, then nodded once, as if his suspicions had been confirmed. He started walking again, dragging Jaz along in his trail as if she were no more than a wayward child.
“Where are you taking me?” She bit out, voice tight and with lingering anger. Better anger than fear. Anger kept you alive and gave you a fighting chance, whereas fear just crippled. Jaz knew that better than most.
Strong fingers tightened around her arm, cutting off circulation to the rest of her limb even further. There would be bruises to explain, if she walked away from this.
No answer was forthcoming.
They were going a way she wasn’t familiar with—not that such a route would be difficult to contrive, but they were also descending. The staircase, even at the back of the palace, was wide, spiraling down and made of polished mahogany.
Jasmine had to hurry to keep from being dragged. The guard made no allowances for her shorter stature and moved with what she assumed was his normal pace.
Her jade gaze drifted down to where the stairs ended in another corridor, this one lined with windows overlooking the sprawling gardens that were one of the palace’s many awe-inspiring features. And then stopped on a figure who looked to have been passing by, only to have stopped at the noise of their descent.
Jaz tripped and would have fallen down the remainder of the steps if not for the painful hold the guard had on her arm. Her saving grace was that they were still hidden in shadow by the unlit stairwell.
He turned to snarl at her, having failed to spot what she had. “If I have to tell you to walk one more time, wench!”
Jasmine refused to cringe, not this time—she’d taken a heavy-handed blow from the guard earlier and would not flinch in the face of another.
“Captain.” His modulated voice cut in and the underlying command in it couldn’t be ignored.
She wanted to run. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen, with tears in her eyes and a bruise forming on her jaw, appearance disheveled, but when her captor’s attention turned to the man waiting for them, hers went with it.
The silver embroidery on Renner’s formal jacket glimmered in the candlelight, his dark eyes unreadable. There was a sheathed ceremonial blade balanced in his hand.
Jasmine still remembered what it felt like to have those hands lingering on her arms, keeping her near.
Finally catching up with who opposed him, the guard, retaining his grasp of her, executed a hasty bow. “Milord. I apologize for disturbing you.”
“What are you doing, Captain?” Again, that tone that insisted on an answer, but with the subtlety of one in control of the situation, even if he was the only one who knew it.
“Escorting an intruder to the prison, milord. It’s nothing to fear, just a wench who wanted a little too badly to be part of the proceedings upstairs.” The abrupt change in character from threatening to easy confidence was not altogether surprising.
Jaz felt her mind stopping and restarting, trailing after tangents, then pausing to consider the tingling that was spreading from her fingertips, and not because of the numbness of the guard’s grip. He was here. He was here.
Ren.
He hadn’t seen her yet, right? Surely he would say something, respond somehow. Please, don’t let this just be me.
But his name caught in her throat, got stuck on her tongue as fear won out despite her best efforts. She wouldn’t survive seeing the rejection, or worse, the lack of recognition, on his face.
There was no choice, in the end, of escaping without that final, shattering moment of confrontation.
Not when the pain in her arm was getting unbearable and Renner bade the guard, “Bring her here.”
Her socked feet, boots left behind in the corridor with other components of her disguise, slid off the steps as she stumbled to keep up as her captor hurried to follow his lord’s command.
Jasmine knew that the candlelight would catch on every thick wave of her loose hair, illuminate her profile, bare her to him where the shadows had sheltered. Her gaze dropped to the ground as they reached the passageway, becoming level with the heir. Before any reaction could be had, the guard clamped a heavy hand down on her head to force her into a bow.
“Forgive me, milord,” she whispered, squeezing jade green eyes shut. “I was—searching for someone dear. I meant no disrespect.”
“Quiet, wench—“ the captain’s fingers dug into her scalp, yanking at her hair and it was impossible not to yelp even as she tried to dislodge him.
Tears pricked again—when had she gotten so weepy?—as Jaz gritted her teeth and prepared to throw herself towards the man and catch him off guard.
Instead, Renner’s order came like a blade formed from ice, frigid and forbidding, even as his boots sounded on the stone floors, drawing nearer. “Release her now, captain, and return to your post.”
Both Jasmine and the guard stilled. Confusion and hope pounded at the back of her consciousness.
She wasn’t expecting the over-powered shove that her captor gave her during the release part of Ren’s order, and she lost her balance, toppling to the side, head bouncing off the wall before she went down.
“Milord—“
The guard’s beginning explanation bounced in her ears, disjointed and far off. Vision swimming and with pricking pain on one side of her body and white hot pain on the other, Jasmine almost missed the lashing order as she gasped for breath against her chest bindings.
“Go, now. Your commander will be spoken to. Do not let me see your face again.” An abrupt end to the man’s military career was promised within the sharp commands.
“Yes, milord.” The stiff note to his tone would’ve been funny if not for the way her body burned because of him. Heavy footsteps retreated and everything was still for an aching moment.
She flinched when there was a clatter nearby; Renner’s sword being cast side. A cool hand brushed her cheek, pushing her hair aside and sliding behind her neck. It was impossible to say if the tremor to his touch was from her or was his own.
“Have you broken anything?” His voice was a low murmur, scarce more than a breath. The same yearning and agony that had swirled in her for weeks now was in those hoarse words.
Jasmine forced air into her lungs, flailing her unimpeded arm to gain motor control over it again and then reaching up to find his wrist with her own hand, clinging tight. “Ren.” Speaking alone cost her dearly, setting back her efforts to regulate her breathing, but she had to.
“You will not be harmed again.” Renner whispered, fingers spasming under hers as his other hand joined the first in supporting her head from the other side. His thumb brushed across the aching spot on her jaw, fingertips lost in her hair.
“I’m okay,” she managed, forcing her eyes open to look at him despite the fire burning in her head. His dark eyes were close, brow lowered and jaw tight with agitation. Despite her night straight from the gates of hades, Jaz smiled.
Tears filled her gaze, unbidden, as she struggled to maintain her uneasy connection to consciousness. “I’ve missed you.”
The heir and lord ducked his head down to press his forehead to hers, a harsh breath leaving him. “And I you. I was leaving to search for you when the guard—“
Laughter bubbled in her chest, stemming in the relief that flooded her system, and then caught in her throat as her restricted lungs tried to meet the needs for air. Jaz’s fingers tightened around his wrist. “You found me. You found me.” The sweetness of it burst across her tongue, cascaded through her senses in a rush.
“You found me,” Renner corrected, and she could hear how the anxiety had fled him as well in the simple remark. He was silent for a beat, and then, “You still struggle to breathe properly. What’s wrong?”
Jasmine did not want to roll her eyes at him, but she was tempted. “I’m dressed as a man. My partner in crime helped too well in hiding my female assets.”
The quiet lasted longer this time and she accepted to herself that she was going to have to cut herself out of the chest bindings soon, or black out when she wanted most to be aware.
Ren withdrew from her, shifting back, although his left hand remained splayed beside her head, keeping it from the stone floor. “If you’ll permit it, there is the apartment of one of my cousins within this section. You are welcome to borrow some of her things.”
His proposition made her wilt with relief at the prospect of freedom. “I would be grateful.”
Once the time-consuming task of escaping the confines of her disguise was completed, Jasmine bundled up her clothes and stuffed them under the bed. Renner’s cousin was almost a perfect match in size, just a deep breath in bigger. She checked her appearance in one of the many mirrors in the room, satisfied with the gray, unremarkable dress that she’d dug from the depths of the closet.
Tugging her hair over her shoulder, Jaz took an extra moment to examine the purpling bruise on her jaw. It’d been a temptation to dab some of the face powder from the washroom on it. But she’d never been that vain and Renner was already aware of its extent. With no plans to linger at the palace, covering it up would be a waste of time.
Jasmine stepped into the shoes she was borrowing then pushed her way out of the Mason woman’s bed chamber, gaze finding Ren a heartbeat later where he stood watching out a window, motionless.
The magical bind that had been woven over them no longer trembled in her breast, insisting that she search for him with every beat of her heart. As if it knew that once Jaz had found him, she wouldn’t need it to draw them together anymore.
Even if she would have willingly cursed the bind to the gates of hades and back, there was no denying what it had done for her.
Renner turned before the thought could be completed. His attention dropped down to her changed attireand back up before a smile flitted at the corners of his mouth and he crossed the room towards her.
Yeah, it's 85% complete. Better than usual, yes? These two shift in personality with every different AU that I do. Don't be surprised if more of said AU's continue to crop up, because I have more in the works.
Ad astra per aspera.
To the stars, through difficulties.
