Flight of Cendrillon

Chapter 7: Dancing Barefoot

The strong scent of acid, bleach, and fluid hung in the air as she opened the door to the tiny bathroom bathed in near darkness save for the sliver of candlelight. Her partner barely noticed her presence, her still wet photographs hanging along a thin clothesline within the room. The green-haired woman ran the last sheet of film through the developer bath, rinsing off the remaining halide solution. Her black apron protected her clothing from the solution, a white blouse, orange vest, and deep green skirt.

"I take it from the speed you're moving that you saw something important today...?"

As she approached the photos drying on the line, she could easily make out the subjects. The pigtailed girl wasn't even trying hard enough to conceal herself. "The assassin? So she made it to the Rhune. Maybe the Dawn turned on her?"

"You've been cooped up too long, Meiko. Haven't you heard the news?"

Finally, the photographer spoke, pinning the last photos to the line. "Take a good look – that has to be him. We both met him."

As Meiko approached the line, even though the black and white photos hid the distinct colors of his hair, she could clearly recognize the shape of his eyes, the firmness in his innocent face. "Dammit! Either that's the best imposter they've ever found or..."

The photographer removed her rubber gloves, resting them on the sink. "We've accounted for the King and Queen, and now their son turns up alive? This coup must be staged! We must get these back across the channel as soon as possible!"

"Maybe..."

It wasn't like Meiko to be so unsure of herself. She prided herself on her bold intuition. And it certainly seemed like this must be the case – the Loyalists were choosing such poor targets, trying to make a show of crippling industry but choosing locations that still preserved the more vital military targets...

And yet...

She recalled the way the Prince spoke to her. At first his eagerness seemed to mirror any of her other fans, wanting her to sign his albums and even proving he knew her songs by heart. He asked so many questions of the places she'd performed, wanting to know every detail. It was no great secret outside of Estmarch that the Prince had never left its borders. She'd even felt sorry for him as she picked up the longing in his voice to escape his caged existence.

But then his tone changed. He spoke of grander ideas. He revealed he wanted such a famous Nordland singer in Estmarch to try in his own small way to preserve the fragile peace that remained. And missing from his pleas were any thoughts of surrenders or rewards. He wanted peace because he feared for the multitudes.

Somehow he thought a singer could stop a war with her heart. So childishly naïve...

... she never thought he'd deserved the assassin's knife he received that evening. Naivety could be fixed – she was proof of that. But that devotion to justice, that will to see the cycle of violence and terror end... that was needed in this terrible world.

"Meiko, we both know that staging the death of their son and letting a revolution run wild and upset the populous would only cement the role of the Shion Royals. It's the most logical explanation."

"Then why leave him alive and make it so damn obvious what happened?"

She gestured to the pictures drying on the lines. "How did you get these photos? Who's he on stage with?"

The photographer could sometimes be a bit strange in dealing with people but... Meiko could always tell from the way she perfectly framed her subjects that she could see through to their hearts even when she couldn't decode them.