Cinderella and the Colonel by K.M. Shea Page A

door behind him.
    Cinderella approached the Colonel’s desk with trepidation. “How am I supposed to find my book in this mess?” Cinderella muttered.
    There were army accounts, activity reports, and patrol timetables stacked together. Cinderella tried to turn a blind eye to them as she shifted papers. She finally found a book near the bottom of the paper mess. It was bound leather, dyed blue, and titled: The Growing and Harvesting of Flowers .
    Cinderella wouldn’t have thought it was her book, but there was a scrap of paper poking out of it that read “ Cinderella .” Plus, the Colonel was insistent she try growing flowers. It was no surprise he mislead her about the book’s subject.
    “Still , a book is a book. If it is useless I can sell it,” Cinderella said, flipping through the volume before seating herself in one of the free chairs.
    The book had helpful drawings of various flowers, gave detailed planting instructions, the desired conditions, the necessary types of soils, and more. Cinderella read enough to conclude she should hold onto it—in case she did ever venture into the flower selling market—before she realized she had been left alone for some time.
    Cinderella opened the door , earning herself a nice view of Ensign Kurt’s broad back. “Excuse me, where is the Colonel?” Cinderella asked when the ensign turned around.
    Ensign Kurt blinked at her.
    “The Colonel, Colonel Friedrich?” Cinderella repeated.
    Ensign Kurt bowed and started down the hallway . His great thudding steps made the floor shake.
    Cinderella ducked back in the office. She plopped down in the chair and studied the office some more.
    Judg ing by the building, it seemed the Colonel’s regiment was settling in for the long haul. Like the Colonel’s office, the building layout was simple, but comfortable. In the hallway, there were maps on the walls and rugs on the floors, and in the Colonel’s office, the glass windows had storm shudders fastened to them.
    The A rmy was planning to stay in Werra. Probably permanently.
    Cinderella wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
    “Think ing of me?” the Colonel said, stepping into his office.
    “Hard ly,” Cinderella said.
    “Ensign Kurt tells me you called me by my name ,” the Colonel said, smirking.
    “I called you Colonel Friedrich ,” Cinderella protested.
    “Close enough.”
    “Not at all.”
    “It’s on ly a matter of time before you cut the title,” the Colonel said.
    “We shall see.”
    “So, what do you think?” the Colonel asked as he opened his window—the only real luxury of the room.
    “About?”
    The Colonel gestured outside, where a company of soldiers practiced mounted maneuvers. “Of them. Of my men. Are they not what you expected?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “When you think of the Erlauf A rmy, I can only guess you picture a mindless hoard of barbarians who kill and slaughter.”
    Cinderel la tapped a foot on the floor. “Was that why you paraded me through here? To show me they’re still men? That they talk and laugh just like everyone else?”
    “ Perhaps,” the Colonel said.
    Cinderella j oined the Colonel at the window. Before meeting the Colonel, it was easy to paint a negative portrait of Erlauf soldiers…but somewhere between helping her break into the library and basket-weaving, Cinderella’s view of the Colonel had altered.
    Similarly, i t would be easy to look at the soldiers and wonder how many Trieux men they had slain, but it was also easy to see how they were like any other human being.
    “Nobody wins in war . At least, that was what my Father said,” Cinderella said.
    “I agree ,” the Colonel said.
    Cinderella looked to the Colonel , surprised he should feel the same. Even Cinderella wasn’t entirely sure what her Father meant by the phrase. The Colonel’s voice was coated with something . Cinderella couldn’t quite identify it, but it sounded like wistfulness. “But it doesn’t mean Trieux wasn’t wronged in the