Cinderella Necromancer

by F. M. Boughan

He spat at my feet and lunged forward, teeth bared. I gasped and flinched in return, but held my ground as I dared not break the circle and send him back. Not without what I needed first.

  Besides, he couldn’t hurt me. I hoped.

  “You, mistress, are ignorant as a newborn babe. Why is it they cannot die by my hand? Why is it that a fatal affliction serves nothing? You know the truth of it, and yet you refuse to see.”

  I did refuse. I know it now—I didn’t want the truth. Yet it clung to my soul as a leech, despite my yearning to refrain from its acceptance.

  “What are they?” I whispered.

  The spirit’s smile returned. “That, mistress, is the right question. What would you have me do?”

  I shook my head, impatience returning. “What are they?”

  “You already know.”

  And perhaps I did. Still, I could not accept the thought that my stepsisters were one of them. Oliroomim’s kin, so to speak. “I need protection, spirit. There is a plan afoot, and I must stop it.”

  He shrugged, small shoulders lifting and dropping with a sigh. “And?”

  I had hoped for his assistance, but for whatever reason, he resented me openly today. Had my questions of the previous meeting remained at the forefront of his mind?

  Did spirits have a mind of free will to think on such things?

  I flipped through The Book, turning to the page which presented my new course of action. If someone had asked me even a fortnight prior if I would ever do such a thing, I would have laughed and called them a fool.

  Ah, but who is the fool now?

  I spoke the words on the page, and any regret I felt at the beginning was replaced by the knowledge that I did this not for myself and not for selfish reasons, but for the safety of others. For those who could not keep safe themselves.

  “I, Ellison, supplicate you and beg you, by the hand of the only Son of God, that by my words and will, you will bind the King’s son William to me in such a manner that he will revere me above all mortals, never wavering from agreement with me, but always obeying my commands. May he take pains to please me, by our same Lord the Christ who reigns forever and ever. Amen.”

  Silence enveloped the room, but only for a moment, because once the words ceased their ringing in my ears, another sound replaced them.

  Oliroomim laughed.

  Cruel and too deep for a small child. His lips curled back from his teeth and I shrunk inside the circle. Of all things, I hadn’t expected laughter. How could I?

  I drew myself up to full height—which I admit, is not much for a woman of my size—and thrust a hand forward to touch, yes, touch the spirit-child Oliroomim.

  I closed my fingers around the collar of his worn shirt and willed myself to forget the childlike appearance. To forget how deeply he reminded me of my own brother, for Oliroomim was a spirit first and no longer a child, and therefore subject to my commands.

  His eyes grew wide and all laughter ceased as I yanked him forward, pulling him closer into the circle.

  “No, mistress,” he said, voice quivering.

  I will not deny that it pleased me. I felt tired of being subject to the spirit’s whims.

  “Why do you laugh?” I hissed the phrase, my lips inches from his undoubtedly false display of weakness. “Have I not commanded you?”

  His head shook. “To conjure love, mistress, is a complicated thing.”

  I didn’t care. “I don’t have a choice.”

  “You play with free will and forces beyond your understanding. Love isn’t as simple as many believe.”

  That was not what I wanted to hear. “Can you do this or not? It need not be permanent, but a life may depend on it.”

  He took a quaking breath and I hardened my heart at the sight of it. “I will try, but I cannot guarantee what you seek. I may be powerful among spirits, but to conjure love … that is deeper and darker than I.”

  “I care only for protecting my own. Tonight, someone will seduce the king’s son and I’m afraid this means he will come to harm.”

  “Because you love him?”

  My chest grew hot and tight. “Because he doesn’t deserve to be forced to love them … ”

  I realized the idiocy of my own actions once the words left my lips. If Celia would deign to manipulate the Prince’s affections with her power, how did what I planned to attempt differ?

  Truly, it did not.

  I would be no better than she if I carried it forth. Yet, I didn’t place threats upon the lives of others. If Celia and her daughters left our home for the palace, perhaps then I might believe us safe, but what of William? And after what I had seen and heard last night? I couldn’t believe Celia had finished with Edward or me.

  We were not safe, nor William. And only I had the power to prevent future affliction.

  “Can you do it?” I released the Oliroomim from my grasp. “Will you do it?”

  He grimaced like a baited bear. “I can’t make him love you, mistress. That sort of deep enchantment is beyond my control. There may, perhaps be another way.”

  I nodded. “Speak.”

  “Would you accept an elimination of choice?”

  Elimination of choice? Such as the removal of certain personages? “Tell me what you mean, exactly.”

  His smile returned, reserved and yet with a touch of eagerness unlike before. “I cannot change his will, but I can ensure that you, mistress, are his only choice when the night comes to an end.”

  Certainly it sounded like what I wanted, but Oliroomim hadn’t exactly proven himself trustworthy in all things.

  “Might another spirit be able to carry out my wishes?” I thought of Curson and shivered.

  The spirit stomped a foot and crossed his arms like a spoiled infant. I hated that I pitied him still.

  When he didn’t respond, I relented. “Fine. You may carry out this and only this. If only I remain, he must choose me. Whether I accept or decline is my choice alone.”

  Oliroomim bowed his head. “As you wish. The Prince will consent to marry the last woman standing when the clock strikes midnight and brings forth a new day.”

  A wave of relief flooded my senses. In only a few hours, William would be safe from Celia’s influence, and with it, Edward’s and my future secured.

  In fact, I felt more trepidation at the thought of marriage than anything else … but if the offer meant protection for my family, so be it.

  31

  The Third Ball

  I arrived as before. Crowds of attendees still swarmed the steps to the palace, as I should have expected, even though I’d been delayed far longer than my arrival on the evenings prior—well after sundown—for tonight’s entrance. However, on this third and final evening of celebration, it appeared as though no one in all the kingdom or kingdoms beyond wished to refrain from partaking in a moment of spectacle. Truly, the people would gossip about this night for years to come.

  I searched for Liesl upon arrival, scouring the crowds for her youthful features. I thought I saw her once, traversing the steps in a gown of peaches and crème, brother chaperon on her arm. I thought she saw me and I waved in greeting, but she turned away with such speed that it couldn’t have been her.

  Though of course, it was. I shouldn’t have abandoned her last night. I did not blame her resentment, for my unintentional rudeness remained at fault.

  Still, I had no shortage of those who sought to assist my ascent, but upon reaching the landing, I felt abandoned as before. Every other woman had a brother or cousin, father or uncle on her arm. I stood alone, despite the extravagance of my gown and the open stares at my person.

  They couldn’t be faulted. After all, I wore a gown of spun gold, jewelled with rubies and diamonds, paired with slippers of the most delicately gilded glass. Uncomfortable to be certain, but further proof of my delicate and distinguished personhood—under the illusionary effects of spirit-bestowed dignity and honor, that is.

  On
ce announced, I descended the ballroom steps for a third time, admiring the further prodigality of such an event. Gold and purest white stretched across the hall from floor to ceiling, and the dance floor had even been given new tiles of purest white marble and inlaid gold.

  The room shone like a vision of heaven, and before I reached the bottom of the steps, there stood William. Of course, he also wore a suit of gold that matched his ever-present medallion, and again I wondered how the spirit always knew. I should thank Feremin, one day. But unlike other nights, William held both hands behind his back and stood as though jolted by some kind of shock.

  Fear shot through my belly. Had Celia already acted? Had I come too late?

  “Lady Aleidis,” William said, bowing stiffly at the waist. “Welcome.”

  He took my hand—which I offered—and once again raised it to his lips. He did not release me and instead moved closer.

  Only then could I see the sweat on his brow. The trembling of his lip, the wild uncertainty in his eyes.

  William felt afraid.

  For what? My William of the graveyard hadn’t been afraid, nor had the William who’d ushered me to safety after witnessing a murder or the William who had slunk around my family’s stable and courtyard at strange hours of the day and evening. But this William, he feared something. I ached to ask what, but before I could, he glanced upward and I followed his gaze. The King watched from the balcony above, looking over the crowd with a palace guard on either side.

  Curious. Perhaps William’s nerves were due to the two incidents of nights past? Still, it was most disconcerting, more so than it may have been otherwise, for tonight I would remain his only choice, though I knew not how.

  I nearly cursed aloud. I should have asked how.

  “Lady Aleidis, I’m very pleased for your return.” His greeting sounded as stiff and formal as the starched coats of the palace guard.

  “Simply Aleidis, please, if you recall. And I thank you, and likewise.” I pulled my hand from his grasp. “I should say, best wishes on the day of your birth. You are one year older, and if the old superstitions are true, one year wiser, though I have yet to see it. How fares the evening?”

  He startled a bit at the loss of my hand, but dropped both arms to his sides as if planned. “I … thank you. Your consideration is very kind. Shall we dance?”

  I shook my head. “Thank you for your offer, but I’d rather not dance with a gentleman whose attentions are forced beyond his own will.”

  As much as I longed for his touch and his company, I preferred his safety and my diligence even more. If he was unwilling to dance, I would place my attentions elsewhere. Keeping an eye on Celia, perhaps. Or him, from a distance, to ensure Celia could not make her move before the spirits.

  “You … decline?” Sharp breaths from surrounding eavesdroppers woke William as if from a daze.

  I nodded. “You don’t seem all that excited to dance with me tonight, so I’ll spare you the forced invitation and decline. Now you’re free to—”

  “No,” William shook his head, “no, it’s not what you think, look, it’s just—”

  Our eyes locked and my heart leapt despite myself. “Then explain.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled and he stared as though I spoke some foreign language.

  “You’re asking me to explain why you think I don’t want to dance with you even though I actually do?”

  “Yes.” Oh, how the true Ellison struggled to the surface, beyond the spirit-woven façade. I couldn’t hold her back. “No one’s forcing you to dance with anyone, so if you don’t want to, I won’t indulge what you believe to be an obligation. Therefore, I officially release you from any obligatory actions toward me.”

  His mouth opened into a small “o,” and I couldn’t help but smile.

  “No,” he said again, “it’s not you, and I have to say you’re the most forthright girl I’ve ever—”

  “Woman.” I glanced pointedly at my dress, among other things.

  He cleared his throat. “Uh, yes, woman.”

  “Do you have other duties to attend to?”

  “Yes. No! Wait … ” He pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose and I found the laughter slow in coming. How I loved making him fluster, but tonight of all nights, it annoyed rather than endeared.

  “Look,” he began, extending a hand, “I do want to dance with you, and I apologize if I seem distant. There’s something I have to do tonight that’s rather … how shall I put it?”

  “Critical to the future of the family’s legacy in the kingdom?”

  I wanted to take back the words the moment I said them.

  He stared openly, then, as my hand slid into his. “Yes, it is. But how did you … ?”

  “Rumors.” I waved my free hand and forced a girlish giggle, sounding more like a choking cat than a mysterious princess. My stomach hurt. I missed Gretel.

  “I see.”

  He led me onto the dance floor and we stepped lightly to the center, just as in nights past. Perhaps I could survive one dance—just one—fully present with him. One, only one.

  Part of me hoped it was possible, that I could enjoy these final moments with William in peace. Another part of me berated my foolishness.

  “Have you enjoyed our festival?” William placed light fingers across the small of my back and heat flew to my cheeks.

  “More or less.” I responded with truth and honesty, but also because I wondered if a less-than-favorable response might pique his nerves even further. “The fainting and bleeding ladies have certainly been a highlight.”

  He laughed at that. “My apologies again. My understanding is that one poor woman lost her breath and the other ate a bad bit of meat that caused some terrifying hallucinations.”

  “You don’t say?” Now that intrigued me, for it placed blame squarely on the palace, freeing Charlotte or Victoria from fault. A scowl formed on my face. Had I sabotaged my own efforts?

  “What have I done now?” William sighed as we turned, separated, and drew together in yet another court dance, this one a simple but energetic piece from a northern region.

  “Nothing, this time.” I offered what I hoped was a reassuring glance.

  “You’re quite impossible, you know that?”

  We continued to dance through the wafting strains of the orchestra, and only when the music had long ended and several newly-bold ladies’ chaperons demanded the Prince’s attentions did William bid me a good night.

  Freed from his arms, I wandered the ballroom, feeling the strangeness of the dagger’s leather sheath against my leg. None of the assembled guests seemed daring enough to engage the woman that Prince William had shown attention three nights in a row. But it was for the best, I thought. The fewer I spoke to, the less likely that I should stumble over my tongue and reveal my true self. Thus, I remained an outcast in a sea of admirers.

  Does the Queen feel this way often? I should still love to ask her one day.

  As I stood beside a pillar, off in a far corner that I might observe the guests without feeling further out of place, I felt rather than saw someone draw close.

  “Congratulations,” said a familiar voice.

  Of course Victoria would find me here. Well, this version of me.

  “For what? And good night to you as well.” Even jealousy didn’t excuse rudeness.

  She snorted, an oddly delicate sound that reminded me of her mother. “You appear to have won Prince William’s affections over everyone else. Well done.”

  “Thank you,” I said, “but I wouldn’t be so certain. There’s still time yet.”

  “Indeed.” She moved closer and I tried to step back, though I couldn’t—with a wall of people only a few steps behind and a pillar to the other side, she had me closed in. “I will give you a tip, however.”

  She lowered her voice and leaned forward, as though possessing some great secret.

  Something about her didn’t soun
d as typical of Victoria. Rather, her voice was more akin to Charlotte’s when I had visited her in her room. I moved to look in her eyes and indeed, they had filled to liquid black. I recalled the need to bend and reach my dagger, but the thought had barely occurred before—

  “He won’t have you if you’re dead.”

  Pain tore through my side. Victoria stood aright, pleasant smile perfectly in place, looking all the more as a beautiful, innocent guest in the palace.

  And she walked away, sliding into the crowd.

  My vision swam and I felt like a draining pitcher. At the bottom, the pain came in waves, and while I didn’t want to look, I did. The world became hazy and tilted as I moved.

  I backed against the pillar to keep from falling and looked a second time. Blood stained the right side of my dress, and I pressed both hands there. Red liquid oozed from between my fingers. My head felt heavy and light at the same time, and I began to slide down the pillar as my legs refused to stand upright.

  In the distance, someone screamed, and cold hands touched my forehead, my arms, and my side.

  I couldn’t see anything but red, everywhere, hot red that pulsed me into darkness.

  A black maw opened across my vision, deep as the night, calling.

  My eyelids fell.

  32

  The Reckoning

  Bright light flashed beyond my eyes.

  “Lady Aleidis.”

  A voice called to me, far away. I ignored it, for it penetrated the warmth and comfort of where I rested.

  “Lady Aleidis, can you hear me?”

  I wanted to tell them to leave me be. To go away. Couldn’t a girl sleep? So, so tired. Only someone of immense cruelty would draw me from this.

  “Lady Aleidis? My God, is there anyone who knows who she came with, or where she’s staying? Surely we must contact her father—”

  Father? No, Father is not here, I thought, he’s long gone. Perhaps I will see him, where I’m going.

  “A chaperon? Brother? Anyone?”

  Brother.

  My eyes opened in an instant, and I gasped at the pain that returned without warning. And then I remembered Victoria’s words, the pain, the dark—