So the imp had been kept hidden by its mother in the palace. Millissa kept her silence and waited for the imp to continue. Its beautiful face wrinkled into a scowl. It hunched on the stool, looking like it could incinerate the spinning wheel with its eyes. “The soldier struck a match on the tinder box, and three monstrous hounds appeared. The smallest had eyes the size of saucers, the next eyes like waterwheels and the third’s eyes were as large as a round tower.”
Millissa gulped, unsure whether she wanted to hear the rest.
“They tore through the court, killing everyone.” The imp gulped. “Even Mother.”
Millissa’s mouth opened, a question on her lips, but the flashing eyes of the creature made her freeze.
“Don’t you dare ask me why I didn’t use my magic to save her!”
“I wasn’t…” Millissa’s words trailed off. She couldn’t complete her lie.
“I was bound to my rooms.” The imp’s eyes glistened. “Still am. I can’t leave unless somebody summons me. And my father never returned after going to Prince Evander for some mission.”
Millissa nodded and left the imp to work in silence. Everyone knew of Prince Evander. He was the lost heir to the Fairy throne who had once been kidnapped by ogres. The story explained why the imp had been born to a Lady. She had probably fallen in love with her own fairy godfather and had a child. The conventional wisdom was that imps were monstrous, twisted creatures of unspeakable horror. Millissa wondered why the rumor persisted when imps were only the offspring of a fairy and a human.
Eventually, she dozed off, but every time she woke, the story haunted her. She’d sat at her own mother’s bedside, watching her lingering on the brink of death from a mysterious wasting disease. It was painful, but she’d treasured those moments. Millissa could not fathom what the imp had gone through, watching its own Mother being torn apart by dogs. The situation was even worse because it could not move out of a place that held such harrowing memories.
“Done!”
She opened her eyes to find the room filled with balls of gold, and not a single strand of straw in sight. The imp stood next to the spinning wheel, making a triumphant pose.
Without thinking, she rushed forward and hugged the creature, careful not to crush its wings. “Thank you so much! And I’m so sorry for what you went through.” She stepped back, gazing into the creature’s wide, astonished grey eyes. “Is there anything I can do to help you stay out of your rooms?”
The imp parted its lips, as though not knowing what to say, but its face twisted into a devious scowl. “My magic keeps me apprised of all the boons hanging over people. Your Tinder King made an interesting one with Princess Acacia. He must never harm his wife, never sleep with any woman except his wife, and if she died before him, never marry another unless she was as beautiful as she.”
Millissa nodded. “But he never remarried. Princess Acacia couldn’t have been the most beautiful woman to have ever lived.”
It shook his head. “Oh, there are many Princesses more beautiful than Acacia. But which King would allow their daughter to marry a usurper who could threaten their throne?”
“I’m surprised King Donovan didn’t threaten them with his dogs.”
A malicious giggle escaped the creature’s lips. It made Millissa’s stomach jump. “Without his tinderbox, he can no longer summon the hounds.” The imp had probably stolen it, and Millissa was glad that such beasts would no longer be able to terrorize people. “Come closer, and I will outline a plan to set me free and bring vengeance to those who have wronged you.”
Chapter 4
The imp had long gone by the time footsteps echoed closer, and Millissa stood from the stool and stretched. Although the creature had assured her she and Father would not be executed, she had her doubts. Spinning straw into gold was sorcery, and that was a crime punishable by death.
The keys clinked and in the silence of the basement, the movement of the lock mechanisms echoed like thunder. Millissa’s heart jumped, and she stepped back and bowed her head.
“What’s this?” The King’s voice was breathy. “The girl can indeed produce gold as you said.”
Father let out the kind of nervous chuckle he reserved for bailiffs. “I told you she was talented.”
“Step forward, child,” said the King.
Millissa stiffened. In all her imaginings, she’d pictured either being seized by guards or being allowed to leave the palace. Still, she obeyed the King’s order. The man’s fingers still stank of urine and ale, but now the warm hum of excrement rose from his skin. He tilted her head up, and they locked gazes. His eyes widened, nostrils flared and his mouth fell open, revealing those yellowed, worn-down teeth.
The King turned to Father. “You did not tell me she was such a beauty.”
“I’m not the sort to brag, Your Majesty.”
“What is her name?”
“Millissa, sire.”
“Very well. Since Millissa has spun her dowry, we will wed on the morrow. Captain Sprout, tell the staff to prepare a wedding feast!”
Millissa’s stomach churned like rancid butter. “But I don’t want to be married.”
The two men chuckled, and Captain Sprout bowed and disappeared down the corridor. The King put his arm around Father and they turned and followed the captain. Millissa stepped out of her cell and watched their retreating backs. Perhaps if she waited for them to leave the hallway, she could escape down the hatch. The King had his gold now, and while Millissa did look better without the wimple, she certainly wasn’t beautiful enough to be a Queen. The words, ‘I’ve had better’ echoed in her mind and she smiled. All that talk of marriage had been a joke.
The King stopped walking and glared over his shoulder. “What are you doing, standing there like a scarecrow?”
Millissa jumped and stepped towards the snickering pair. The King placed a massive arm over Millissa’s shoulders, and a wave of body odor, sharp as vinegar and pungent as cheese collided into her face. She suppressed the urge to buckle to her knees, heaving. Not just because of the smell, but the arm was heavy as a log.
They walked up the stone stairway like that, the two men laughing at in-law jokes. Father’s voice had a nervous tinge, but he seemed pleased enough with the developments. Millissa herself could not believe that Father had gotten her into this predicament. Servants stopped their work and gaped at Millissa as she passed. Why, she had no idea. Perhaps the King was not known for showing affection to others.
A breakfast of roast boar, bread and gravy was served in the strange, tavern-like room. Millissa sat next to the King, and she picked at her food, shooting Father questioning looks. As much as she tried to catch his eye, his gaze was fixed on the King or on his plate.
“No one must know of your skills, my honey,” said the King. Chunks of meat flew from his mouth.
“But the captain—”
“Doesn’t count. He’s my most trustworthy man.”
“What about Gustav and his friends? They probably know everything by now.”
The King set down his leg of boar and frowned. “No one was to know of your stay here.”
She suppressed a scoff at the understatement. “They visited me last night and seemed to know everything about my having to turn straw into gold.”
“Sprout!”
Millissa jumped, and the ale Father was supping spilled from the corner of his mouth.
“Sprout, get in here, now!”
“But you told him to make wedding preparations,” said Millissa.
“Ah, yes.”
A servant poked his head around the door. “Captain is in the kitchens, sire. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Fetch Gustav and whoever came with him to the dungeons last night.”
“Right away.” The servant bowed and closed the door.
They ate in silence after that, and Millissa drank her ale. She had no idea what was going to happen next, or whether the King was serious about marrying her, but she hoped there
would be another opportunity to escape.
Moments later, the servant said, “Sergeant Gustav and his companions.”
“Let them in,” muttered the King.
The door swung open, and the men from the night before swaggered in. Gustav faltered when he caught sight of Millissa, but his grin widened and his stare turned even more predatory than usual.
“Are we hunting today, sire?” asked Gustav, his gaze still on Millissa.
She stiffened in her seat, not knowing whether forcing girls to make gold then releasing them into the forest when they failed was the norm around the palace.
“It’s going to be a slightly different hunt, but yes.”
Gustav licked his lips. “I’ve had my eye on this one for years.” An excitement which made Millissa’s stomach turn tinged his voice. “Thought she was better than the likes of me, but me and the lads will show her, won’t we?”
The other men snickered.
“Sit,” said the King. “Have a drink before the hunt begins.”
Gustav frowned. “Don’t we usually drink after the hunt, sire?”
The King grinned. “This one is rather special.”
The men sat at the bar, and the female servant poured drinks into tankards. While they drank and shared bawdy jokes, the King beckoned over another servant and whispered in his ear. The man bowed and left the room. The King turned to Millissa and winked.
She turned to Father, whose face had broken into a sweat. Millissa supposed that his plans had backfired, and Millissa was going to become prey to these men, and Father would be forced to watch. It felt disloyal to think it, but Millissa couldn’t help getting satisfaction from him being in the presence of a bigger bully.
A servant took the platter of boar to the bar where the men were making merry and brought over a platter of sweet cakes.
“I have it, sire,” whispered the servant from before. He knelt on the floor, holding aloft a broadsword.
The King grunted and stood. With a benevolent smile, he took the weapon and calmly approached the men at the bar. Without a word of warning, he swung the sword at the first man’s neck. Blood spurted over the King’s face, as the man fell on his companions, toppling them to the floor.
Millissa screamed, bringing her hands to her temples. Father dropped his ale with a whimper on his lips.
King Donovan stabbed, plunged and slashed at the fallen men, grinning at their screams. The front of his uniform was so drenched with blood, only a few patches of white remained
Gustav crawled away with his back to the ground. “But why, sire?” Sobs wracked his body. “We’ve done everything you said.” He scrambled to his knees. “Is it because of the girl? I can get you better ones.”
“Silence! No one is to speak of the new Queen in that manner.” He raised the sword and decapitated the other man.
Millissa awoke to the smell of roasted chicken and a dull throb in the back of her head. She had probably fainted from seeing Gustav’s head fly across the tavern room. Her stomach roiled at the memory of all that carnage. She opened her eyes to find herself within the white canopy of a four-poster bed. Someone, she hoped it was the servant and not that awful King, had changed her into a silk nightgown. She checked her hands. They’d been cleansed of the blood spatters, too.
She sat up, ignoring the pain in her head, and swung her body off the bed. She opened her curtains to find herself in a plush, bright bedroom. Everything in the room, from the drapes to the seat cushions and the wall tapestries, were in shades of white. The only thing that stood out was a painting of…herself? She padded to the portrait. It was of a woman about her age, perhaps a year or two older, with the same aquamarine eyes and blonde hair, the same nose and the same deep cupid’s bow.
“You’re up, then?” Father emerged from another room, holding a tankard.
“What is going on?” She pointed at the eerie picture.
“I knew the second the King saw you, he’d propose. You look so much like Queen Acacia.”
“Is that why you told him I could spin straw into gold? To get his attention?”
Father shrugged and walked back to the other room. “Worked, didn’t it?”
Millissa gaped at the man. The shock of his callousness coalesced into a cold anger she’d never felt before. She followed him into the other room, seething as he downed a bottle of wine. All those years she’d to endure his drunken rages, being cut off from Mother's side of the family and for what? To be handed over to a barbarian of a King because of a fleeting resemblance to his dead wife?
She snatched the bottle from his grip and slammed it on the table. “How could you do this to your own daughter?”
Father’s face hardened, and he barked out a vicious laugh. “I knew from the moment your mother got pregnant that you weren’t mine.”
Millissa’s heart stuttered, and she stepped back.
“You see, a witch cursed me sterile when I lived in Monsoon, and no father would marry me to their daughter, so I moved here to Autumn. Of course, I told no one of this, and ended up marrying your mother. Strangely enough, four months after we wed, she gave birth to you.”
Millissa gulped. “How could you even trust that the witch was telling the truth?”
“Look at that hair, and those eyes.” He pointed at the portrait of Queen Acacia. “Both your mother and I were dark haired and dark eyed. But you’re the spitting image of her.”
“Are you saying she’s my mother?”
“I didn’t bring you up to be an idiot. Work it out for yourself. Your mother made ale for the King, but that wasn’t all she brewed for him.”
Millissa’s hand flew to her mouth. She couldn’t believe she was the illegitimate daughter of the dead King, but the evidence didn’t lie.
Father smirked. “Everyone knew the Tinder King couldn’t marry unless it was to one as beautiful as his dead wife.”
“So you went round telling people I could spin straw into gold until someone brought you to the King?”
“How was I to know he’d believe my story? No harm done. Tomorrow, you’ll be Queen.”
Millissa stared at Father’s gloating face. Everything made sense now. The drunken tantrums where he would rant about being burdened with a bastard, the way he would hurl a tirade of insults, ending with ‘you’re no daughter of mine.’ Even forcing her to wear the wimple made sense as did turning down all those proposals of marriage. He had a plan, and it had finally paid off. She looked around the suite of rooms. It was far finer than her room in the mill house.
“If you’ve been raising me just to hand me over to that brute, I’m leaving without you. There are people loyal to the old King, my real father.” She straightened. “As soon as they realize there’s a viable heir, they’ll help me overthrow the Tinder King.” In her haste to reach the door, she missed Father’s fist, and it struck her on the temple.
“Guards!” he shouted. “My daughter is getting pre-wedding nerves. Is there somewhere more secure she can stay until it’s time for her to wed?”
Soldiers rushed into the room and shackled her to the posts of her bed, ignoring her cries of protest.
Chapter 5
The next morning, the King visited her bedside. “I understand you are talking of running.”
Millissa’s eyes widened. Father hadn’t repeated her talk of overthrowing the King, but then, words like that could get them both executed.
“I know you are scared.” The King smiled and brushed the tears off her face. “But you must understand, the boon I made with Acacia said that I would never harm my wife, and that applies to you if we wed today.”
“And if we don’t?”
His face hardened. “One wench jilted me already, and you will not escape me. If you are not my bride by the end of the day, I will turn you over to the hunt, with your father as my lead huntsman. And there will be no guarantee that you will survive it.”
Gustav’s taunts of putting her in her place echoed in her mind and she swallowed.
“I think we understand each other.” The King’s voice was soft. “Now, when the bishop asks whether you will take me as your lawfully wedded husband and master, what will you say?”
“I do.” Her voice cracked along with her heart.
The King stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “The servants will ready you for our wedding.” He gave her an almost fatherly smile and backed away. “Good girl.”
A horrible idea flashed through Millissa's mind. She immediately thought of Donkeyskin and wept.
The walk down the aisle of the empty palace chapel was excruciating. Not just because Father had punched her in the stomach for being insolent after the King had left. Each step was a move closer to an even worse life with an even more violent man who had a whole tavern of drink and a private army to fuel his rages.
Father’s fist clamped hard around her arm, and he whispered, “You owe me your life, girl. I could have poisoned you along with your mother, but I kept you, fed you, and even clothed you. Do not mess this up.”
A sob escaped Millissa’s throat, but the orchestra drowned out her cry. “Why would you do such a thing?”
He sneered. “She was pregnant again. One bastard was enough, but two? Don’t make me laugh. She and that worthless King got what they deserved.”
They reached the top of the aisle where King Donovan stood, facing the bishop. He turned and grinned, unaffected by Millissa’s tears. The ceremony was brief and mostly a blur, but she was pulled out of her torpor by Father’s tightening grip every time she needed to speak.
When the bishop announced them man and wife, Father let go and stood back. King Donovan grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed his hairy maw onto Millissa’s lips, his teeth and tongue devouring her. A couple of soldiers cheered, and a lone fiddler played The King’s Banquet.
Finally, he let go and swept her into his arms, she squeaked at the sudden movement. A toilet soap-scented cloud engulfed her senses. “Eat, drink, Barlett. The new Queen and I must consummate this union!”
Millissa: A Rumpelstiltskin Retelling (Cendrilla Perrault Chronicles) Page 3