The Stepsister Scheme

by Jim C. Hines

  “You’re still fighting it,” Charlotte said. She sounded impressed. She wiped tears from Danielle’s face. “Maybe Stacia’s curse isn’t as strong as she thought.” She reached for the cup, presumably to dump the contents down Danielle’s throat. She was so close Danielle could see every scar on her face, every stain on her shirt where she must have splashed some of this very potion.

  Those stains. Stacia had ordered Danielle to clean, to perform the same duties she had done for her stepmother. The longer those stains remained, the harder it would be to remove them. That shirt needed to be rinsed under cool water and washed as soon as possible. To ignore them would be to disobey Stacia’s command.

  Danielle’s fingers moved. The pot slipped from her grip as she reached for Charlotte’s shirt. Charlotte made a desperate grab, but missed. The pot shattered on the floor.

  Charlotte slapped her, knocking her back. “What are you doing?”

  “Your shirt was dirty,” Danielle said.

  “You stubborn, spiteful girl.” Charlotte grabbed Danielle by the shirt. “Why do you have to ruin every single thing?”

  Danielle could do nothing as Charlotte flung her against the wall. Her head hit hard enough to make her vision blur.

  Rage turned Charlotte’s expression monstrous. She had been pushed too far, and now she meant to finish what she had started back at the palace. She was going to murder Danielle. Stacia would kill her, but that no longer mattered. Charlotte was too far gone to reason with, even if Danielle had been free to speak.

  As Danielle lay in the pool of spilled tea, she spotted movement by the door. The old, tailless rat stood on his hind legs and sniffed the air. Had he heard Danielle’s silent pleas for help?

  The oil lamp, Danielle begged. Quickly.

  The rat raced up the wardrobe, then sprang through the air. Tiny paws clung to the chain hanging from the oil lamp. The links rattled, but Charlotte was too furious to notice.

  Charlotte stepped away, reaching for the sword above her bed. “If you won’t drink, I’ll cut the damned child out of you myself. Don’t move. This will be over quickly.”

  Please hurry. The rat was running along the edge of the pipe now. He stopped at one of the wicks. This one needed to be replaced. Only a faint spot of flame still burned. Heedless of his own safety, the rat patted out the flame with his paws, then tugged the wick as high as he could. When it would move no more, he began to gnaw at the base.

  “I saw what this cursed sword did to my sister,” Charlotte muttered. She grabbed one of the bedsheets and wrapped several layers over the handle. The rest of the sheet dragged behind her as she walked back to Danielle. “Let’s see it stab me through that.”

  The rat yanked the wick free. He ran to the next flame and touched the end of the wick to the fire. The oil-soaked wick caught immediately, and the rat squealed in pain.

  Charlotte spun just as the rat jumped. He landed on the top of Charlotte’s head, shoved the wick into her hair, and tumbled to the floor.

  The fire spread quickly. Charlotte swore and flung the sword away. The blade barely missed Danielle’s face.

  So close. All Danielle had to do was move her arm. She could take her sword and finish this. But the curse still held her prisoner. Charlotte had ordered her not to move. Until Charlotte or Stacia said otherwise—

  “Help me!” Charlotte cried. Her brown locks shriveled and curled from the flames, and the putrid smell of burning hair filled the air.

  Danielle smiled grimly as she climbed to her feet. She clamped one hand around Charlotte’s arm and dragged her to the pool in the corner. Switching her grip to Charlotte’s neck, she thrust her stepsister’s flaming head into the water.

  White fish cowered in the corner. Bubbles burst as Charlotte struggled, but Danielle held fast, pushing down until Charlotte’s face pressed the algae-covered stone at the bottom. After all, the flames in her hair still smoldered, and Danielle had been commanded to help.

  Charlotte squirmed, twisting her face and clawing Danielle’s arm with her nails. Danielle braced herself. So long as Charlotte’s mouth remained underwater, she couldn’t issue any more commands.

  Charlotte switched tactics. She grabbed the edge of the pool and pushed, trying to force Danielle back.

  Danielle put her full weight onto her arms. Charlotte had never been strong. Danielle was the one who had spent her life at hard labor, beginning before her stepsisters awoke and continuing long after they retired for the night. Add Danielle’s fury over what Charlotte had tried to do, and Danielle was easily strong enough to murder her stepsister.

  Charlotte’s struggles weakened. Her head twisted to one side. Her eyes were squeezed shut, like a child trying to block out a bad dream. A tiny column of bubbles rose from the corner of her mouth.

  The rage began to drain from Danielle. Killing Charlotte wouldn’t free her. It wouldn’t save her baby. It wouldn’t save anyone. Eventually, Stacia would find her here, standing over Charlotte’s body. She would take Danielle’s child, and then she would kill Danielle, the same as Danielle had done to Charlotte.

  She twisted her fingers in Charlotte’s hair and hauled her from the pool. Charlotte slumped to the ground, water darkening the floor around her head and torso. She coughed weakly, spitting water and blood. She must have bitten her tongue or cheek as she struggled.

  Charlotte began to throw up. Once she finished, Danielle grabbed a blanket from the bed and tossed it over her shivering body.

  “Good choice. If she’s dead, she can’t tell us what we need to know.”

  Danielle spun. Talia stood by the head of the bed, arms folded across her chest. A thousand questions raced through Danielle’s mind. She would have sworn Talia hadn’t been there a moment before, when she grabbed the blanket for Charlotte. Nor had Danielle heard the door open.

  She tried to speak, but she couldn’t. For some reason, a part of her found this terribly funny. She could murder her stepsister, but she still couldn’t talk until someone asked her a question.

  Charlotte groaned and reached for the sword. The glass blade slid along the floor. Charlotte lifted the blade, pointing it at Danielle. “I’ll kill her.” The words sent her into another coughing fit.

  “Go ahead and try.” Talia stepped toward Charlotte. She moved with none of the clumsiness Danielle remembered from the cave. Somehow Talia had found a way to throw off Stacia’s curse. “You still don’t understand what that sword is, do you? No matter how hard you swing, that blade will never hurt a hair on Danielle’s head.”

  Talia glanced at Danielle. “Do you remember the fight outside the cave? I wasn’t thinking when I threw the sword back to you. By rights, you should have lost the fingers on that hand when you caught the blade.”

  Talia watched as Charlotte pushed herself to her knees. “My guess is that blade will shatter before it will hurt Danielle,” Talia said. “If I’m right, the sword will be none too happy about it either. Don’t be surprised if one of the shards finds its way to your heart.”

  She sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting. She looked . . . tired. Her eyes were bloodshot. She smelled of sweat and mold, and her black clothes were worn and ripped. Her sword was gone, though she still carried a knife strapped to her waist. Two small sticks pinned back her hair, save for a few sweaty wisps that hung over her eyes.

  “Your stepsister was kind enough to spare your life.” Talia shook her head, making it clear that kind wasn’t the word she really wanted to use. She smiled. “I’m not like your stepsister.”

  Charlotte shook her head and pointed the sword at Talia. “Maybe I can’t kill her.”

  Talia shrugged and reached back to pull one of the metal-topped sticks from her hair. She held it by the tip, then flicked it forward. The stick spun through the air, and the blunt end struck Charlotte squarely in the eye.

  Charlotte yelped and dropped the sword. Talia pushed off from the bed, catching the hilt in midair. The blade whooshed as Talia spun it around, bringing the edge to Charlo
tte’s throat.

  No question about it. Talia’s fairy gifts were back.

  “Now, then,” said Talia. “Why don’t we talk about the curse your sister placed on my princess?”

  To her great annoyance, Danielle found herself compelled to step away from Talia and Charlotte so she could mop up the water that had splashed onto the floor. She used the blanket Charlotte had dropped to soak up the worst of it, twisting the blanket to squeeze the water back into the pool. Worst of all, she was humming again.

  The humming caught Talia’s attention. “Stop that.”

  If only it was that easy. Danielle used a dry corner of the blanket to scrub the grout at the juncture between the floor and the pool.

  “Do you mind?” Talia said, jabbing the sword at Charlotte.

  “Enough, Cinderwench.” Charlotte’s eye was bloodshot, but she still appeared able to see. Tears poured down her cheek, and she was constantly blinking and rubbing the eye.

  Danielle dried her hands on her shirt and stood.

  “Watch your manners,” Talia said.

  “What does it matter?” Charlotte grabbed a sheet and wrapped it around her shoulders. She was still shivering. “If you don’t kill me, Stacia will.”

  “Lift the curse on Danielle, and maybe we’ll keep you alive,” said Talia.

  “Stacia and Rose cast it, not me. Only a kiss of true love could break it now.”

  “So get Armand down here,” said Talia.

  Charlotte gave a tired, bitter laugh. “He doesn’t love her.”

  Talia glared at Charlotte. “Princess Danielle obviously obeys you. So command her to obey her own wishes.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “I’d be commanding her to break the curse. I’m not strong enough to do that.”

  Talia studied Charlotte’s bedraggled appearance. “Witchcraft and treachery aren’t working out so well for you, are they?”

  Charlotte glared, but said nothing.

  Talia rested the blade of the sword on her shoulder. “What about you, Danielle? Do you know of any other way to break this spell?”

  Danielle tried, but she couldn’t speak. The questions had to come from Charlotte or Stacia. With a sigh, Talia jabbed the sword in Charlotte’s direction and said, “Tell her to answer me.”

  Charlotte waved one hand. “Oh, go on.”

  “Only by killing Stacia,” said Danielle. “If we break the curse on Armand, he could kiss me and end the spell. But he’s with Stacia and the Duchess.”

  “So either we fight our way up the Duchess’ tower to kill your stepsister and save your prince, or else we find someone else who truly loves you.” Talia glanced at Charlotte and snorted. “I won’t bother asking you to plant one on your stepsister’s cheek. So I suppose there’s only one thing left to do.”

  Before Charlotte could respond, Talia turned on her heel. The glass sword flicked out at Danielle’s face.

  At first, Danielle thought Talia had missed. Then her cheek began to sting. A line of blood trickled down the side of her face.

  “You said the sword wouldn’t hurt me!” Danielle said indignantly. She froze, realizing what she had just done. She touched her cheek, marveling as her arm obeyed her will.

  “So, are you free?” Talia asked.

  Danielle went to the bed and reached beneath the pillow, pulling out a half-full bottle of wine.

  “How did you know about that?” Charlotte demanded.

  “I’m the one who spends hours working the wine stains from your clothes,” Danielle said. “I fluff your pillows, change your sheets, and dust your room. I also polish the tin flask you keep hidden in the back of your trunk, and I clean the algae off the bottle in the back of the pool.”

  Danielle upended the bottle over Charlotte’s bed, watching the crimson puddle soak into the sheets and mattress. She waited, but nothing compelled her to clean up the mess. Nothing more than her own need for tidiness, at any rate. “How—?”

  “Don’t you remember what I taught you, back in the queen’s labyrinth?” Talia spun the sword, offering the hilt to Danielle. “The lightest kiss of steel is all you need. Or glass, in this case.”

  Danielle took the sword with both hands.

  “That sword was a gift from your mother,” Talia said. “When she first died, her spirit stayed behind in the hazel tree so she could watch over you. When your stepsisters summoned the Chirka demon, she trapped it within herself to protect you.” Talia’s voice was distant, almost sad. “Love doesn’t get much truer than that.”

  “She’s still here, isn’t she?” Danielle whispered. “In the sword.”

  “A part of her.” Talia nodded. “Otherwise you’d still be cursed, and likely missing some fingers from that clumsy catch outside the cave.”

  Danielle couldn’t stop herself. She wrapped her arms around Talia and squeezed.

  “Watch it,” Talia said. “You’re going to cut someone’s arm off, waving that thing about.”

  “You really think I could hit you with a sword?” Danielle asked.

  “In your dreams, Princess.” Talia sighed and hugged Danielle back.

  Movement near the door made Danielle break away. “Oh, no.”

  Danielle knelt and set the sword on the floor. The tailless rat raised his head and sniffed. Most of the fur around his head and front paws was burned away, and the skin was red and blistered.

  Her eyes watered as she cupped the rat in her palm.

  “What is it?” Talia asked.

  “He saved me.” Just like the dove back at the palace, the first time Charlotte had tried to kill her. And like the dove, the rat had paid with his life. He was old and dying, and there was nothing she could do.

  “It’s a rat,” said Charlotte.

  “Take her pillow,” Danielle said. “We can at least make him comfortable.”

  “What?” Charlotte grabbed her pillow with both hands. “You’re not putting that filthy thing on my—”

  Talia grabbed Charlotte’s arm and twisted. She plucked the pillow from Charlotte’s fingers, then shoved. Charlotte staggered toward the wall, one foot splashing into the pool before she recovered her balance.

  Danielle set the rat in the middle of the pillow. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure he could even hear her anymore, as badly blistered as his face was. “Thank you for saving my son.”

  “What would you like to do about her?” Talia asked, pointing a thumb at Charlotte. “Want me to finish what you started?”

  Charlotte’s good eye widened. “Danielle, I tried to help you. I warned you not to come, remember? I warned you again, back in the cave, but you wouldn’t listen. I tried—”

  “You tried to keep me away so you could have Armand to yourself.” Danielle picked up her sword. “You tried to murder me. You tried to murder my son.”

  Charlotte tried to back into the corner and nearly stepped on one of the fish. “Your life was so perfect. All I wanted was that same happiness.”

  “That’s because you never learned to find your own,” Danielle said. She turned to Talia. “Can you tie her up so she can’t escape?”

  Talia rubbed her hands together. “It would be a pleasure, Your Highness.”

  They used Danielle’s sword to slice the sheets into strips, which Talia braided into ropes. By the time Talia finished, Charlotte could barely breathe, let alone escape. Charlotte lay on the bed, stretched diagonally across the mattress. Ropes bound her at the ankles, knees, wrists, and elbows. Another loop of rope secured her wrists to one bedpost, while her ankles were tied to the opposite post. Finally, Talia looped a gag around Charlotte’s mouth.

  “At least it’s one of the wine-soaked scraps,” Talia said. “Suck on that while you wait for someone to find you.”

  Danielle used the remaining rope to tie her sword on.

  “What now?” asked Danielle. “There are darklings in the hallway. They’ll be on us before we can go. . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she stared at Talia. “How did you get in here wi
thout anyone catching you? I never even heard the door open.”

  “Doors are too conspicuous.” Talia reached into her shirt and pulled out a black and white leather pouch.

  “That’s Ambassador Trittibar’s,” Danielle said. “Trittibar is here? He’s helping you?”

  “Not exactly.” Talia shrugged. “I thought that shrinking magic of his might come in handy, so I nicked his pouch before we left the palace. There are only a few spores left. Hopefully, it will be enough for us to reach Snow without being seen.”

  “You stole from the ambassador? After everything he did for us? Talia!”

  Talia grabbed the wine bottle from the floor where it had fallen. Little more than a swallow remained in the bottom. Talia gulped it down, then grimaced. “Tastes like dirt.” She tossed the bottle into the pool.

  “Would you like to yell at me, or would you rather save Snow?”

  “Snow. But when we get home, you’re apologizing to Trittibar.” She studied Talia more closely. “I don’t suppose you brought something we can use to wake Snow?”

  Talia ignored the question and ran her hand along the wall. “The stone behind the wallboards is pretty rough. Plenty of room to squeeze about. Do you know where they’re keeping her?”

  “The common room near the end of the hall,” said Danielle.

  “Guarded?”

  “Only the darklings in the hall. The common room is usually empty.”

  “Good.” Talia leaned over Charlotte. “A strong, healthy woman could probably squirm free by the end of the night. For you, I imagine it will take at least a day.”

  She turned away. “Let’s get going.”

  “Wait. What about—” Danielle looked at the rat and realized there was no point. The pillow around his head was a mix of soot and watery blood. The rough, spastic breathing had stopped. She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Never mind.”

  “Over here,” Talia said, leading Danielle toward the rathole by the pool. She handed one of the spores to Danielle.

  Danielle touched the spore to her tongue. Moments later, she and Talia were squeezing into the darkness past the pool. Talia glanced back and shook her head.