Cinder & Glass

Also by

Melissa de la Cruz

Snow & Poison

THE QUEEN’S ASSASSIN DUOLOGY

The Queen’s Assassin

The Queen’s Secret

THE ALEX & ELIZA TRILOGY

Book One: Alex & Eliza

Book Two: Love & War

Book Three: All for One

HEART OF DREAD SERIES

(with Michael Johnston)

Book One: Frozen

Book Two: Stolen

Book Three: Golden

WITCHES OF EAST END SERIES

BLUE BLOODS SERIES

BEACH LANE SERIES

THE ASHLEY PROJECT SERIES

DISNEY DESCENDANTS SERIES

CHRONICLES OF NEVER AFTER SERIES

The Ring and the Crown

Something in Between

Someone to Love

29 Dates

Because I Was a Girl: True Stories for Girls of All Ages

(edited by Melissa de la Cruz)

Pride and Prejudice and Mistletoe

Jo & Laurie and A Secret Princess

(with Margaret Stohl)

Surviving High School

(with Lele Pons)

G. P. Putnam’s Sons

An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York

First published in the United States of America by G. P. Putnam’s Sons,

an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2022

Copyright © 2022 by Melissa de la Cruz

Excerpt from Snow & Poison copyright © 2023 by Melissa de la Cruz

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

G. P. Putnam’s Sons is a registered trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

Visit us online at penguinrandomhouse.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN 9780593326657 (hardcover)

ISBN 9780593463086 (international edition)

ISBN 9780593326671 (ebook)

Photo Illustration © 2022 by Michael Heath

Frame Courtesy of Shutterstock.com

Cover Design by Jessica Jenkins

Design by Marikka Tamura, adapted for ebook by Michelle Quintero

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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Contents

Cover

Also by Melissa de La Cruz

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Light

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Cinder

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Glass

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Magic

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Crown

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Author’s Note

Acknowledgments

Excerpt from Snow & Poison

About the Author

_148347070_

For Mike & Mattie, always,

and

for all the princesses in my life:

Marie de la Cruz

Sophia Evans

Dagny Hartman

Christina Hossain

Caitlin and Whitney Jones

Lois and Bonnie Robinson

I wish you all the most magical happily ever afters

Versailles, 1682

I believe that the histories that will be written about this court after we are all gone

will be better and more entertaining than any novel,

and I am afraid that those who come after us

will not be able to believe them and will think that they are just fairy tales.

—Lady Elizabeth Charlotte, Duchesse d’Orléans, sister-in-law to Louis XIV, King of France

Light

O happy childhood! Blessed youth!

But once we know thy potent power;

But once we live all careless free;

No cross to mar our love-lit bower.

—Ardelia Cotton Barton

Chapter One

I was meant to be listening to Claudine explain how best to pack for the move to Versailles. Instead, I was staring out the window in Papa’s study, watching Elodie and Marius clamber about in the orchard at the edge of the lake behind our château. Marius was hoisting Elodie up so she could reach the branches of the gnarled little trees. My friends picking cherries without me. I couldn’t blame them. The most wonderful cherries grew there, sweet and fresh, with just a hint of tartness. And it was a beautiful early summer day, perfect for cherry picking. I wished I could be out there with them, but I was already fifteen years old, no longer allowed to just do as I pleased.

My feet itched to run out of the room and join my friends, and I tugged impatiently on a lock of hair that had escaped my chignon. My long, wavy golden-brown hair was no longer allowed to flow freely down my back. Now that I was getting older, it had to be styled and set every day.

Cendrillon. Are you paying attention? Claudine said sharply. Cendrillon? She looked down at me with a disapproving frown. Our housekeeper used to scare me, as she was tall and towered over everyone else in the château. I wasn’t sure how old she was, maybe Papa’s age or even older. Her hair, always worn in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, was slate gray, and her face was lined with wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. But they were mostly from laugh lines, as Claudine could never be mad at me for too long. She was devoted to my family and had been with us since before I was born.

I turned away from the window to face Claudine and the curious gaze of the footman, who was awaiting my instructions.

I’m paying attention. Of course I am.

"Were you? Because the footman needs to know how to pack up Monsieur de Louvois’s study. You are the lady of the house."

For so long, lady of the house had been Maman’s role, and every time I tried to grasp those words and apply them to myself, they slipped through my thoughts and fluttered off into the wind. Maman had been gone for four years, and though it was hard to believe, her role was now mine.

We were moving to Versailles at the end of the week, and much more would be expected of me there. If I wanted to earn a place as lady-in-waiting to a member of the royal family—perhaps even to the queen herself—I certainly needed to be able to handle something as simple as the management of my own household.

My father’s desk can remain here, I said to the footman. He has another waiting for him at Versailles. The same can be said for the rest of the furniture in the study. But do empty his desk of all effects and pack them up.

Yes, Lady Cendrillon, the footman said with a nod, turning sharply on his heels and heading over to Papa’s grand wooden desk.

Claudine smiled approvingly. Very good, ma chérie. Now we need to discuss what furniture we’ll be taking from the bedrooms. Monsieur de Louvois has allotted us a budget to purchase new furniture, but only a few pieces, so we’ll have to be thoughtful about what we bring.

Her words became muffled and hazy, as if I were eavesdropping on a conversation through a closed door. My chest tightened, making it nearly impossible to draw breath. How had it gotten so warm in this room? Sweat beaded on my skin. What if I couldn’t do this? Be the perfect lady that everyone expected me to be? Maman died before she could teach me about court life, and Papa’s distaste for it kept us away for so long that I never learned anything on my own. If I couldn’t handle the packing of the château, how could I handle impressing the king and queen, much less any suitors Papa might choose for me?

Will you excuse me, Claudine? I blurted out, the words strangled and nearly incomprehensible. I need a moment to . . . refresh myself. I won’t take long.

Without waiting for a reply, I hurried from the study, letting my feet carry me where they wished. And where they wished to go was outside the château, to the wide lawn leading to the lake. As soon as my feet hit the grass, I started running. I needed to see my friends. Just for a moment. Spending time with them always cheered me up.

Elodie’s mother had been our seamstress for many years, with Elodie taking over the position after her mother passed from the same illness that took Maman. And Marius came to us at a young age to be a stable boy after his parents could no longer care for him. We’d grown up together. They were the only constants in my life now that everything was changing.

They were still picking cherries.

Marius, don’t wobble so much! You’re going to drop me, Elodie said, balancing precariously on the palms of Marius’s hands.

"How am I not supposed to wobble? You’re heavy, and I’m no strongman."

Elodie sighed loudly as she stretched into the tree, but she was still too short to reach the fruit nestled in the uppermost branches. She was my age, with round pink cheeks and a messy ponytail. Marius liked to tease her for her fondness of sweets, but Elodie paid no mind and declared she liked how she looked and would continue to eat as she pleased.

You have to lift me higher!

"I can’t lift you any higher," Marius said, grunting with the strain of holding Elodie up.

You’re not tall enough, Elodie, I said, smirking as both Marius and Elodie startled at my voice. Maybe you should let me try.

Cendrillon! What are you doing here? Elodie asked as she awkwardly clambered down off Marius. Claudine said you would be helping with the move today. She blew her dark hair away from her pleasant, ruddy face. She said we weren’t to bother you.

"I have been helping with the move. Now it’s time for a little break."

Marius and Elodie glanced between each other nervously, as if I were doing something that I shouldn’t. Which I was, but I didn’t need them to point it out.

You’re going to need my help if you want those cherries, I said, tamping down my annoyance at their lack of enthusiasm. Marius, are you going to lift me up or not?

Marius backed up a few steps. Do you really think I’m going to go against Claudine over a few cherries if she wants you up at the château? No, thank you. Towheaded and gangly, with freckles across his nose, he had grown taller over the summer and loomed over us now, though he used to be the shortest of us three. Two years younger than us, we both babied him and bossed him around.

I turned to Elodie, but I could tell from her frown that she wasn’t going to take my side. She put her hands on her hips. Is there a reason why you’re so reluctant to leave? I thought you wanted to go to Versailles.

"I do want to go to Versailles," I said far too defensively.

I wasn’t being untruthful. At least not about all of it. The palace of Versailles was said to be the one of the most beautiful palaces in the world, dripping in luxury and large enough to house the entire court. I wanted to walk through its grand halls and mingle with lavishly dressed courtiers while being wooed by a handsome prince.

Before Maman married Papa, she had been a lady-in-waiting to the king’s sister-in-law, Lady Palatine, Duchesse d’Orléans. So many of Maman’s bedtime stories featured the wonders of court life, from being honored with attendance at the king’s and queen’s daily rituals and meals, to the fabulous midnight balls and garden parties that featured the best food in France and the most talented musicians. Maman had dreamed of this life for me. But I was scared to embark on it without her guidance and support.

Are you not going to let me pick cherries with you? I asked. Why can you do it and I can’t?

I knew I sounded childish, but I didn’t care. When I got to Versailles, my blissfully simple country childhood would be over. Couldn’t I be a child until we left?

"Because you’re a lady, Elodie said with an eye roll that she’d never give to anyone but me or Marius. A noblewoman. Lady Cendrillon de Louvois."

I opened my mouth to protest, when I heard a loud voice coming from the direction of the château. Cendrillon! Marius! Elodie! Come inside this instant!

Claudine was standing at the back door, all the way up the hill.

Come on, Elodie said, snapping me out of my thoughts. We should go before she gets mad.

Marius, Elodie, and I ran back up the lawn toward Claudine’s imposing figure.

Her imperious stare was in full effect as we reached the château. She thought we were all too old to be climbing trees. Slowly, she stepped to the side, allowing us inside, and followed us, shutting the door with a decisive whoomph.

Marius, the stables won’t clean themselves. Elodie, you need to start packing your fabrics into the empty trunks. They’re downstairs in your chambers, Claudine said.

My friends ran off, and Claudine and I were left alone. I turned to face her, waiting for my reprimand. She opened her mouth to speak, but her eyes fixed on my face, and with a few tuts she licked her thumb and began vigorously rubbing at my cheek.

You had a spot of dirt, Claudine said, her expression lightening as she tapped me on the cheek. I remember the day your maman gave birth to you, and now here you are, about to go off to the royal palace to be a lady of the court.

My throat felt tight and sore. I wanted to tell her that being a lady of the court was exciting but also terrifying, but Claudine wouldn’t entertain such a notion. She would tell me that it would be good for me, that Maman had excelled at being a courtier, and that I would too.

The moment passed, and Claudine went stern again. Now, I won’t have you putting off packing your things anymore.

Hello, hello! a man’s deep voice called.

Papa! I said joyfully.

My father walked into the kitchen, a wide smile on his face. He kept coming and going between the château and our new home adjacent to the palace, both to prepare for our move and to perform his duties as the king’s closest advisor.

When Maman was alive and Papa was home, the three of us would spend every evening together. Maman would read to us from one of the books in the library, or we would play card games in Papa’s study, maybe go for a walk in the gardens or visit the village.

After Maman died, Papa tried to keep up our old rituals, but it was hard not seeing him when he was away.

Happy to see your old papa? he said, chuckling.

I smacked him gently on the arm.

"You’re not that old. You won’t be needing a sedan chair for at least a few more years."

Thank you, ma fille. Your confidence in my abilities warms my heart, truly.

Laughing, I sat down on one of the stools at our heavy oak kitchen table. I didn’t like to think of it, but my father was getting older. His hair was more gray now than the caramel-brown color that used to match mine exactly.

Good evening, Claudine, he said. How goes the packing?

Good evening, Monsieur de Louvois. The packing is going well, apart from a certain someone’s procrastination.

Claudine fixed me again with her stern gaze before bustling out of the kitchen. This was the only room in the château that wasn’t half-empty, with sheets covering up the furniture.

You haven’t started packing yet? Why not? Papa asked.

I don’t know. I squirmed in my seat.

Aren’t you excited? We’re leaving in less than a week. He looked worried, a frown emphasizing the redness of his eyes and the dark circles underneath. Telling him how nervous I was would just make him feel guilty for keeping us away from court for so long.

Of course I’m excited. I just— I— I can’t decide what I want to bring with me. There’s only so much room in my trunks.

I’d like for you to have your trunks packed by tomorrow. The coaches are filling up quickly. Papa paused and then smiled, his eyes lighting up like they did when he had a surprise. He looked the same way when he’d bought me my lovely mare, Rose, for my twelfth birthday. Perhaps a certain visitor coming later today can help you decide what to take to court.

Who’s coming for a visit? Lady Françoise? It has to be!

We didn’t get many visitors other than my godmother. He tapped his nose and continued smiling but stayed silent.

Papa! Is she here?

Patience, patience. You’ll just have to wait and see. He got up and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. Now go to your room, please, and start packing.

Chapter Two

My room was on the second floor, up the curved wooden staircase and tucked away in an alcove at the end of the hall. The task went slowly, but I made progress in the next few hours.

And the first thing that would come with me was Maman’s mirror.

The mirror had been my grandmother’s—my mother’s mother—given as a gift to Maman on her wedding day. Its frame was inlaid with painted wood pieces in the shapes of intricate flowers that curled around one another with birds perched within them.

When I was small, I would lie on her bed and watch as she prepared for a ball or social outing. Claudine would be there, curling her hair, pulling it into intricate knots, and adorning it with flowers or pearls. Sometimes when we were alone, as Maman applied a bit of rouge and powder on her face and dabbed red stain on her lips, she would put a touch on me as well. I don’t remember much of my mother, but those moments are imprinted in my memory, how beautiful she looked in that mirror, how she would smile at me when our eyes met. Maman had soft brown hair and sweet brown eyes; everyone tells me I look like her.

After she died, Papa gave the mirror to me, and it’s been hanging in my bedchamber ever since.

Where is my sweet Cendrillon? said a voice from my doorway, gentle and full of humor. Oh, ma filleule?

I turned to see none other than Lady Françoise de la Valliere entering my room, arms outstretched for a hug.

I ran into her arms. I just knew you were the visitor. Hello, Marraine!

Lady Françoise laughed and said, Why? Your father has no other friends who come to visit?

Of course not, I said, but I didn’t quite mean it.

I was sure that my father had other friends at court, but none of those friends ever visited us at home. Lady Françoise was the only one, which made sense, as she was Papa’s oldest friend. They’d grown up together at court and remained friends to this day, rising through the ranks to become favorite courtiers of the king. I’d known Lady Françoise my entire life. She was my godmother and held me at my baptism. I don’t know what Papa and I would have done without her support after Maman’s death.

Still, you’re the best one, I said.

We linked arms, and I led her to the only settee in my chamber that hadn’t been packed away. Lady Françoise looked beautiful, with glossy black curls piled atop her head. Her red dress was set aflame by the light streaming through the windows.

"Now that you’re coming to court, we’ll be able to see each other nearly every day! But I’m sure you won’t want to spend too much time with me, not when you’ll be making so many new friends."

My pulse jumped at the mention of court. I grabbed Lady Françoise’s hand. That’s not true—I’ll be completely lost at court without you.

Lady Françoise squeezed my hand and peered into my face. What’s wrong, ma jolie belle? You look very pale. Are you feeling all right?

I’m nervous, I blurted out. About going to court. The weight in my chest eased as the words passed my lips, even though my body tensed as I waited for her reaction.

Nervous about court? Do you not want to go? she asked, her expression frustratingly neutral.

No! I mean, I’m excited to go to Versailles, to see the palace, the world that you and Papa live in, but—

But what? asked Lady Françoise, her perfectly arched eyebrows raised in alarm.

"But I’m afraid too. Worried I won’t be able to achieve what Maman had dreamed for me. She was like you—always so composed, so capable. She could handle anything. I’m not like that," I finished weakly, embarrassed by how immature I must sound.

Lady Françoise smiled softly and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, drawing me tightly to her side and enveloping me in the calming air of her jasmine perfume.

Your mother was a wonderful person, Lady Françoise said, giving my shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "One of my dearest friends. And she loved you more than anything else in all the world. Nothing you do could disappoint her."

But—

No. I won’t hear any argument on the matter. I knew her longer than you did, and I am sure she would be happy as long as you’re happy. You must not allow the fear of disappointing her cloud your mind, because it simply wouldn’t be possible.

I opened my mouth to speak, to protest, to agree, to start crying. I wasn’t sure. And it didn’t matter, because Lady Françoise carried right on, as if she knew I needed further encouragement.

I understand how you’re feeling about court, though. It can be difficult to adjust when you’re new. Adhering to the strict rituals, getting used to the meddlesome courtiers, meeting the king and the royal family . . . It can be confusing and will take time to get used to. That’s normal.

Is it? I leaned against her just as I had as a child.

"Of course! You’ve never been to court before, and your life here is very different from what it will be in Versailles. Why wouldn’t you be nervous? Still, Versailles is more wonderful than even I could imagine. It’s a marvelous circus of parties, and you will meet the most interesting people in France and from around the world! Perhaps you’ll fall in love with one of the handsome nobles or even a prince! That alone makes it all worthwhile."

I slumped back into the cushions and released the breath I’d been holding. Lady Françoise laughed and leaned back next to me, without a thought for her hair getting mussed or her bodice wrinkling.

As much as I loved her, I wasn’t sure I wanted to share the other reason I dreaded the move, the one that kept me up at night: becoming a courtier might mean my two best friends would be taken from me.

On the rare occasions Papa invited his court acquaintances to the château, they would see me playing with Marius or Elodie, smile condescendingly, and comment on how lonely it must be for me, having only the servant children to play with. They said an introduction at court would afford me a whole host of playmates befitting my station. Sometimes they said it in front of Marius and Elodie, and I would see Marius’s cheeks burn red and Elodie’s eyes fill with tears. Then they would pat me on the head and saunter off.

The injustice was frustrating, and there were bound to be even more people at court who thought I should not be so familiar with servants. Would Papa listen to them? Would Lady Françoise? While kind and gentle, she was a still a noblewoman, and I couldn’t be sure that she would understand.

Instead of telling the truth, I chose a safer question. "Do you really think I’ll do well at court?"

You’ll be wonderful. I’ll be there to help you, and so will your father.

It was amazing how much better Lady Françoise could make me feel in the span of a few minutes. Whether I was fighting with Elodie, having trouble with one of my lessons, or missing Maman, I could always write to her with my troubles and she would come for a visit and try to help. Sometimes that help took the form of recommendations for a new tutor and sometimes it was a strawberry tart and a shoulder to cry on, sprinkled with a touch of advice. She had never let me down before, so I couldn’t imagine that she would now.

Do you live near court as well? I asked.

Yes, of course, she said as Papa entered the room.

Ah, Michel, she said. I was just telling Cendrillon to come to me with whatever she needs while adjusting to life at Versailles. She squeezed my hand again.

Well, that’s good. I’m afraid I won’t be much help when it comes to dealing with courtiers and the like. Give me a private audience with the king any day and I’m fine, but balls and public suppers are things I’m still not comfortable with.

Quite right. Do you remember when you made that comment about Duchesse d’Orléans hair at last year’s state dinner? Lady Françoise said, smirking mischievously.

Papa turned about as red as an overripe tomato. Bird nests are . . . are wondrous creations. I thought it was a compliment.

Papa, you didn’t, I said.

Lady Françoise giggled. The giggle turned into a full-blown laugh that soon had her doubled over, clutching her stomach.

Papa’s face was still aflame, but he laughed as well as he dragged my one remaining armchair across the room to sit with us.

When she managed to get herself under control, she said, "Madame didn’t get over that comment for