Cinders: Necessary Evil (Magic Mirrors Saga Book 1)

by Sky Sommers

  ‘When will you talk to him?’ Ella asks, biting her lips.

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘You’re going to tell the king ALL of it? ALL?’

  Ella

  Tuesday, June 11th

  I’m not going anywhere. And I don’t really know what the future holds.

  When the cart in which I had procured passage stopped a few miles outside of the village, I thought the palace guards had found me. Instead, it was…Grace, who yanked me from the cart and motioned the merchant to move on. He tossed me my satchel and rode off without looking back, like ladies ran away from their parents all the time.

  Grace put my things into our landau and we started back. I kept thinking that I would need to find a new way to leave the kingdom. If not today, then tomorrow or the day after. Soon. Before I start to show. I also thought that as I had paid all my savings to that merchant, I would need to get more money somewhere, somehow. Maybe I can ask Father for money for things I don’t really need, not buy them and squirrel away the money?

  Grace demanded to know where I thought I was going.

  Since she didn’t seem too pleased with me and had never liked me, I thought maybe if she wanted to be rid of me and I told her I needed to leave, she would help me get the money together or find a way to make it happen faster. Or if stepmother was very concerned about the family name, maybe she could arrange for me to settle with a merchant from a neighbouring village. When I would be sent off, on the way I could escape and go live my life the way that I wanted, without being saddled with a spouse who would have no love lost for me.

  I told her I didn’t know what else to do.

  She kept thinking ridiculous things that I’m running from the law because I had killed someone, so I told her everything.

  First, Grace was irate at how this could have happened. She accused me of trying to seduce the prince to which I objected, telling her that I am pretty certain that he, in fact, seduced me. She tried blaming it on the length of the hem. I blamed it on the wine we had with her cake. Stepmother lamented my mother or Mellie never teaching me to…take care of things. I told her the truth. That Mother never instructed me in those things, Mellie never bothered either and that the witch told me she wouldn’t help me again.

  Grace realised I had…taken care of things before…and that silenced her. I heard her swearing mentally over me taking care of things and over my cat-like-luck at getting pregnant.

  I was bracing myself for another tirade when, to my surprise, Grace hugged me and told me there was no shame in having a baby.

  I had always assumed I was alone in this. Like Betty, who took care of…things…without John… I thought stepmother wanted me married off as soon as possible…I thought she was only worried about my reputation and me making an advantageous marriage. Now that she knows I’m not fit for an aristocratic marriage anymore, I thought she would want to get rid of me altogether. Marry me off to a merchant in a neighbouring village.

  Grace even thought about relocating the whole family on my account. I didn’t even know I had the option to stay at home and keep the baby. I assumed that the shame of being an unwed mother would be too much for my family to bear… Who knew that Grace and Father are more liberal than our conventional kingdom folk? They arrived here only a few years ago… If they are so liberal where Father and Grace come from, maybe we really could go there?

  Except then I would never see Nick again. No, I knew I would never see him again when I was running away, but… When I thought of Nick, I suddenly saw in my mind’s eye how I would tell him about our baby and he would be happy and … Except what if he thought I had done it on purpose? He would hate me!

  I wish I would still be where I am, but having taken a different route to get here. I wish Nick and I and the baby would be a happy family. I wish I could undo…not how we made the baby, but what Nick might think of me or… Oh I don’t know. There are no do-overs in my position, but I told Grace that if I could, I would undo…certain things. That I didn’t want Nick to hate me.

  Grace nodded and without a word disappeared upstairs. I think she went out in the middle of a storm because she was dripping wet when she came back ten minutes later!

  I don’t know what I was hoping for. A spell. A wand. A fairy godmother.

  Grace informed me things cannot be undone and asked me what I wanted to do.

  I told her I wanted to keep the baby. But not straight away.

  I asked stepmother why she would help me, expecting her to say things about the honour of the family or my Father’s name or her reputation.

  You know what she thought? That all she ever tried to do was help.

  Unbelievable!

  Considering she near enslaved us all.

  You would never guess what she asked me next.

  ‘Do you want to be Queen?’

  Grace reminded me whose offspring I’m carrying. She herself is illegitimate royalty, how could I have forgotten. She thinks that despite this mishap, well, actually because of it, I might get a chance to end up with Nick. With his parents’ blessing.

  She said that for her to help me, she needed to know exactly what happened.

  So, I told her everything she wanted to know.

  Next thing she said was that she was going to go to the king and tell him all of it!

  I wondered if she was going to go to the king and play the ‘I’m your step-sister’ or ‘I’m your mistress’ card and tell him what to do and then expect him to persuade Belle.

  I doubt that the king and queen would be happy for their son to wed someone at gunpoint. Even if it is the right thing to do as Grace put it. Well, except for not telling Nick about the baby.

  I cringe at the details she might divulge. Because I did tell her everything.

  And I mean everything.

  I don’t want to lie to Nick.

  But I don’t want to force Nick to marry me either.

  If he should ever find out I lied, he will hate me!

  Most of all, I don’t want him to reject me!

  I’m tired of people not wanting me.

  Grace said she would go to the palace and talk to the King tomorrow.

  I don’t think I can sleep a wink!

  Chapter 24. The King

  Grace

  At 2AM, I still can’t sleep. The storm isn’t helping. The full moon hangs low. The road to the palace must be a river by now…

  Sighing, I decide that I shouldn’t be the only worried parent.

  I check on Henry, tucked next to Greta, his hand in hers. As of late, he has taken to sleeping next to his sister. All our nights are calmer because of it. Maybe her gift is soothing others?

  My cloak…my horse… My king is about to be rudely awoken.

  The guards at the gates look at me like I’m deranged, having braved the storm to get to the palace, but they take my message and let me into the gardens anyway.

  I take shelter in one of the pavilions.

  The lightning keeps piercing the sky.

  One elephant, two elephants, three elephants, I count the seconds between the rumbles and flashes. The storm seems to be spiralling away.

  ‘Tom, we have a problem,’ I say when he appears, drenched to his waist.

  ‘We?’ he asks. ‘As in the royal we?’

  ‘No, as in you and I,’ I say. ‘It’s the kids…’

  There was a pause, ‘I think I know what you’re talking about,’ he says.

  ‘Oh, I doubt it. Because even if you have talked to your son, you only know his side of the story and not how to resolve it.’

  Tom leans against the statue of Apollo, takes out a pack of cigarettes, lights one and hands it over to me. ‘So, tell me the girl’s version.’

  I don’t usually smoke, but what the hay.

  As I exhale, my breath comes out as fog and
I tell him Ella’s version of the story.

  ‘Are you sure that that’s what happened?’

  I shrug and take another puff, then pass the cigarette back to him, ‘I can’t be sure of anything. I wasn’t there. Why? Are the kids’ tales that different?’

  He looks uncomfortable, ‘That’s just it. He has little recollection. When he came to in the morning, Nicholas thought it was she who had drugged his wine and taken advantage of him. He doesn’t remember half the evening. Or her that much, to be honest.’

  ‘Could he be lying? I mean, teenagers…’ I offer. And grown-ups who want to save themselves a hassle.

  ‘Not about these things. He usually comes clean when he has done something stupid. He truly doesn’t remember.’

  ‘She remembers little bits, but from a certain point she, too went into a stupor and zoned out for hours after the wine he insisted she have…. Hang on… Maybe the wine was spiked?’

  ‘What?’ the Beast asks.

  ‘Drugged, laced…’

  ‘Poisoned?’

  ‘Not quite. Just enough to make them insensible.’

  Could the prince have done it himself?

  Out loud I say, ‘Has this happened before?’

  ‘The spiking, as you say?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No,’ the king says.

  That you know of.

  Or, maybe the prince isn’t as bad as someone is trying to make him seem? Maybe he didn’t roofy Ella. Maybe they were both roofied together? I just hope the kid is the Prince’s and that whoever had roofied both of them didn’t take advantage of her, otherwise I’m planting a cuckoo into the Beast’s royal household.

  ‘Could someone have slipped something into the wine they shared?’ I ask.

  It doesn’t account for the both of them going at it like cats after some wine and chocolate. But that could just be the hormones.

  Tom looks at the cigarette and says, ‘Teenagers… He’s 18…’ he mutters.

  ‘Yes, and remember yourself at 18? How did you do?’

  The Beast shakes his head. ‘I was as self-involved as NIcholas is. If it wasn’t for Belle…’

  There is a long pause and I let him reminisce.

  ‘With Nicholas, there have been a few maidens before… but everything was strictly consensual.’

  Maidens. As in plural. And perhaps it wasn’t all that voluntary and one of the maidens had somehow taken it upon herself to show the brat what ‘strictly consensual’ feels like.

  ‘Nobody has complained!’ the Beast says and I can sense the despair.

  So far.

  Out loud I say, ‘Maybe the girls were ashamed to have been too easy…’

  ‘Maybe he is good in bed. Maybe he picked the easy ones…maybe…’ the Beast is rambling.

  ‘I get it. There have been…incidents…’ I choose my words carefully, ‘…before. As you yourself just said. Nobody knows, I’m sure. I mean the girls know and Nicholas… But we’re not talking about them. We’re talking about Ella and the new life growing inside her,’ I say.

  Tom drops the half-finished cigarette and stomps on it with his foot, ‘He’s going to be our future king someday! It’s not like I have other sons to take over so I could send him off somewhere to…’ Tom says.

  Uh-uh. Send him off so he could avoid facing Ella? Not a chance.

  ‘Why didn’t you have more kids?’ I ask the obvious question, perilous as it is.

  He shrugs, ‘Belle was happy with just the one.’

  Like everyone in the kingdom, I am still incredulous that the fairy-tale love of Belle and Beast has not resulted in a litter…erm…endless progeny.

  ‘Well, sometimes, even when you have…’ - how many do we have? - ‘…four in total, it doesn’t mean they all turn out well…’ I say.

  The king growls and I see his eyes turning amber. It’s not often you see the Beast peeking out.

  ‘Careful, Your Majesty,’ I admonish. ‘I’ve always wondered…I’m surprised you didn’t eat Belle the first time you saw her,’ I say.

  ‘Eat - no. I almost ripped her to shreds. Here I was, hoping for a kind soul to come and rescue me and instead I get someone who wants nothing to do with me and refuses every kindness. I’m glad the doors in the palace are made of oak…. Even so, we had to replace quite a few of them.’ The Beast smiles a tired smile and sighs, ‘I wish Caroline was still alive, I’m sure she could fix this in no time.’

  I have it on good authority that non-magical pregnancies need to be sorted also non-magically.

  ‘Caroline?’ I echo instead.

  ‘The fairy who was administering my curse,’ he says.

  ‘Administering? Meaning she didn’t…?’ I ask.

  Tom shook his head, ‘Nope, she cast it, but she didn’t design it.’

  ‘You mean someone came up with a spell, but let someone else cast it?’ I ask and he nods.

  Wow. Someone staying very much behind the scenes. How very Wizard of Oz.

  If the powers that be that I know cannot help…

  ‘Can you ask whoever did design your curse to undo what’s been done here?’ I ask.

  I’m sure Ella would prefer to be child-free for a while. Plus I could do without being stuck with changing her baby’s nappies. I’m sure Ella will find a way to have someone else take care of the baby and I’m sure somehow, I’ll become the obvious choice. I’m sure her GODmother will find a way to make herself scarce and leave for better pastures. She always does.

  ‘Ask Morgana for a favour?’ Tom smirks. ‘There’s a thought…’

  ‘Morgana as in the Fairy Queen Morgana?’ I ask and he nods.

  ‘The very same.’

  ‘I know someone who knows her, but not well enough to ask for favours,’ I say. ‘In fact, I think they have had a bit of a tiff.’ Seeing how Morgana botched up Loretta’s wedding to her prized only son.

  ‘Really, Grace? I knew you were well-connected, but…’ he whistles.

  ‘Do you know Morgana well enough to ask for a favour?’ I ask.

  Ella won’t get to be Queen, but she’d get her old life back. Maybe.

  ‘Belle might. She was in a right state after she came back from the fairy kingdom after her ‘girl talk’ with Morgana, but at least she got the green light, so it was all good,’ the king says and I can’t help but raise an eyebrow.

  Morgana greenlighted Belle’s marriage?

  Part of me feels smug for having this found this out.

  Another part of me can’t shut up with all the questions.

  Who the hell is she?

  What else does she go around controlling?

  If she is in charge of making some fairy-tales come true, is she like a creator goddess where mortals of this kingdom are concerned?

  And why does nobody know about the extent of her powers?

  ‘For Belle to help, we would have to tell her. Which might be perilous as we don’t know how she’ll react.’

  Considering Belle has made Grizelda swear not to abort royal babies, Belle will be delighted.

  ‘The real question is, do you want to be in Morgana’s debt?’ Tom finishes.

  I have too many deals going on as I do, I don’t want to owe another person yet another thing. Especially when it’s not my life that’s on the line.

  Out loud I say, ‘If Morgana is powerful enough to approve your…’ fairy-tale, ‘…marriage, she may be able to correct Ella’s and the prince’s story into a better one. But can’t we do that by ourselves, Tom?’ I offer.

  ‘What do you suggest?’ the Beast asks.

  ‘Marriage,’ I say. ‘Babies are born a few weeks ahead of time all the time. Nobody would ever suspect.’

  ‘That would make the boy grow up and face the consequences of his actions pretty fast…’ he admits. ‘But it would be
a loveless marriage for Ella, is that what you want for her?’ he asks.

  ‘I would never wish that upon anyone, not even a stepdaughter, no matter what the storybooks say about stepmothers. Which is why we have to go about it in a sneaky way. We have to make them fall in love,’ I say.

  ‘Oh? Do tell,’ Tom lights another cigarette and sidles up to me. I inhale the aroma and explain my plan.

  ‘That…is pretty devious,’ he says after I finish telling him.

  ‘You mean ingenious,’ I smile. ‘It’ll take a bit of effort. You throw another ball, I’ll change her appearance, she’ll play hard to get, he’ll be intrigued, she’ll disappear at midnight to give him a chance to pine after her, they will be happily reunited at a luncheon a few days later, she won’t have anything to do with him unless he is serious about her and a hop skip and a proposal later, they are wed, the baby is on the way and the honour of both families is intact. So, how about it?’

  He nods, takes my hand and grips it to his chest, ‘Deal. I’d have him grow up sooner rather than later. Plus, we’ve never had such consequences before…’

  That you know of.

  ‘Drugged or not, he should take responsibility for the consequences of his amorous liaisons,’ the king says, his mouth a taut line.

  ‘How quickly can you throw together another ball?’

  He sighs, ‘The masque was a success. I’m sure Belle would be delighted to have another festive occasion at which to look over the swarm of potential brides. Give me one week.’

  It’s been ten days since the incident, one week until the next ball, one week for the dilly-dally, one week or a few days to arrange a wedding.

  One month.

  ‘One month early for babies is still ok,’ I nod. ‘By the way, what physical type does he prefer? So I can fashion Ella into someone…irresistible.’

  ‘You are a wicked woman,’ Tom laughs.

  ‘Not wicked, resourceful,’ I correct him.

  ‘At least he’ll be marrying the virgin he deflowered,’ the king says before he turns to go.

  I try to keep a straight face.

  She must have cut her hand or somesuch.