Cinders, Stars, and Glass Slippers: A Retelling of Cinderella (The Classical Kingdoms Collection Book 6)

by Brittany Fichter

  “You gave Alison my gown.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

  But Dinah reached down and grabbed a handful of Elaina’s hair. Elaina had to restrain herself from shoving the wench down the stairs. Instead, she forced herself to look demurely at the ground. Alison’s bony fists left bruises, but Dinah’s thick forearms could break bones. She’d done it to Aspen once.

  “I know she put you up to this,” Dinah said, pulling Elaina’s face up to hers. Elaina tried not to breathe in the pungent perfumes the young woman wore. “If it happens again, I’ll make sure you hear of it.” She shoved Elaina onto her back, and Elaina didn’t move until Dinah’s thick black hair had disappeared down the stairs. Then she stood, dusted herself off, and continued her journey to the kitchen.

  In the two years that had passed since Elaina had come to live under Matilda’s roof, she’d eventually settled into a routine. And though at first Matilda had not been happy in the slightest to learn that Elaina had strayed into a part of the house to which she had not been invited, she’d quickly realized that Elaina would be much more useful there than not. So taking care of Matilda’s aging mother had become Elaina’s responsibility along with the rest of her chores.

  Cynthia had complicated Elaina’s plans far more than she had ever dreamed possible. Escape had continued to linger in the future, just out of her grasp, but every time she thought of leaving, she knew in the back of her mind that the old woman probably would not survive more than a week in her absence. Her granddaughters never went to visit her, and Matilda acted as though her mother had already died. And though Cynthia had hardly been warm to Elaina’s attentions at first, they had eventually found a kinship in the common knowledge that Matilda despised them both.

  Still, when the brothers had escaped during that first month of captivity, Elaina had promised herself she would follow. Several months ago, on her twentieth birthday, she had even gone so far as to store away enough food for a few days in one of the empty wardrobes in the attic. But every time she saw a chance to go, there was Cynthia.

  There was no denying, of course, that her time with Cynthia at the beginning and end of each day was what made her life bearable. The other slaves had one another, but Elaina had never been accepted into their circles. Not really. Now and then, Lilly would try to sneak her an extra blanket, and Gram had pieced together a cloak out of scraps when the last winter had made Elaina so ill she’d nearly died. But there was an emptiness inside that Elaina tried not to think about, just as she tried not to think about the one who had left it there. And in pouring all her efforts and love into the old woman, Elaina had found some respite.

  “Come, Jacob. You can help me carry the peaches,” she called as she reached the kitchen. Grabbing a basket, she didn’t even stop to call for Ivor, who stood by the door waiting for her.

  The market was scant today. Still, Elaina did her best to trade smiles and greetings with the vendors as she passed them. The smiles she received in return were about as sparse as the thin, lonely vegetables sitting in the bottom of nearly empty stall boxes, but many merchants still were at least polite enough to nod in return.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Rosse.” Elaina put her basket on the woman’s stall.

  “A blessed morning to you, Cinders.” The heavyset woman gave Elaina a broad grin and wiped her hands on her apron. “The usual?”

  “Yes, please. Jacob, don’t touch those. We’re not supposed to buy cherries today.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve less than I did yesterday. What with the siege and all.”

  “Whatever you have will do,” Elaina assured her. “Penelope understands.” In truth, Penelope would probably give Elaina an earful for bringing home such a small hunk of pork. But there was little Elaina or Mrs. Rosse could do about that, and Penelope knew it.

  As she waited for the butcher’s wife to wrap the meat, Elaina didn’t miss the troubled looks the older woman kept sending at her bracelet. She said nothing, though. No one had in the two years that Elaina had been coming to the market. With Felix or Ivor always hovering nearby, or the possibility of someone breathing a word of treason to the Shadow and his men, Elaina had learned the worth of a mere sympathetic smile and an extra slice of bread when the guards weren’t looking.

  It wasn’t as though she was the only person in the market with a gold bracelet. Others came and went, each with his or her own color of gem, but few came from households with as many slaves as Elaina. There was too much to lose should the war turn sour.

  “They’re coming!”

  Elaina and Mrs. Rosse looked over toward the wharf to see a young man leap off a boat onto the dock, breathless.

  “The Shadow’s fleet returns!” He continued to pant, sweat clumping his hair and running down his face.

  “Jacob, come here.” Elaina reached out and grabbed the boy’s arm, pulling him tightly against her even as he squirmed and protested.

  But when he saw the ships, even Jacob froze.

  Out of the morning fog they came. Dozens of ships, many in flames, appeared from the gray. Watching them was like seeing the ghosts of a fallen navy emerging from the depths of hell. Elaina put the package of wrapped ham in her basket and clumsily dropped a few coins on the table, but Mrs. Rosse just shook her head slowly as she stared open-mouthed at the boats.

  “They’ve never had a battle like this,” she whispered.

  Elaina unconsciously moved forward, and for once, her guard didn’t rebuke her. He instead followed suit, as did many others. Some cried out for sons or husbands who had been on the ships. Others ran away. But Elaina could only watch, mesmerized.

  “What happened, Cinders?” Jacob whimpered.

  Elaina rubbed his fuzzy head. “I don’t know.”

  “Doesn’t matter how much the Shadow offers next time.” One man jumped off a ship, stumbling when he reached solid ground. He looked to be in his forties, seasoned enough to have seen more than one or two voyages. “I won’t be going back. Not for all the gold in the world. He can find himself other boats for hire. Mine is done with this bloody war.”

  “What happened?” Ivor called out.

  “They must have amassed their entire navy. The prince himself was there.”

  Elaina’s heart stumbled, and it was a long moment before she could breathe normally again.

  “Fought like a devil was in him, he did. Calling out orders like there would be no tomorrow.”

  Despite the tangle of anger and pain that still sat in a charred lump at the bottom of Elaina’s chest, she said a prayer for Nicholas and his men.

  “The Shadow isn’t going to like this,” a woman behind her said.

  “You might not get a choice about going out again,” someone else told the sailor. “Remember what happened the last time a captain disobeyed him.”

  The crowd that had merely gathered on the dock out of curiosity started to grow more agitated. Shouts rang out that didn’t belong to sailors, and arguments broke out as to whether or not this war was worth fighting at all. Whether it ever should have been fought in the first place.

  “Come.”

  Elaina jumped when someone nudged her shoulder. She looked back to see Ivor frowning around at the crowd.

  “We need to go.”

  Gripping Jacob’s small hand, Elaina followed him back through the crowd toward the manor. For once, she and the guard were in agreement.

  Elaina managed to burn the pastries, spill a bucket of milk, and drop an entire supper plate on Dinah’s lap. The fuss that the young woman made might have been amusing, had Elaina not had her hands whipped and been denied her supper for the mistake. Lilly and Aspen traded glances over her several times throughout the day but said nothing. Elaina saw and knew they were curious, and possibly concerned, yet nothing she did could keep her mind on her work.

  “Put that down and sit before you hurt yourself.”

  Elaina looked up from the teapot she was trying to fis
h the spoon out of. “Pardon me?”

  Cynthia waved a hand dismissively at the teapot. “You’re so distracted that you’re going to drop that pot, cut yourself on its shards, and bleed to death. Now sit.” She pointed to the chair beside her bed. When Elaina sighed and obeyed, the old woman took her hands and held them. Elaina closed her eyes and basked in the sensation of human touch.

  “Is this about Dinah? I heard her confront you in the hall.”

  Elaina shook her head. Her clashes with the girls were commonplace enough, but none had been able to upset her like this.

  “Then would you like to tell me what has you so muddled?”

  Elaina glanced at the window. Though most of the fires were out, the evening had come fast as the sky had filled with blackened smoke that made it nearly impossible to breathe outside.

  “You can’t possibly be upset at the Shadow’s great loss.” Cynthia smiled wryly. “Unless . . . you have someone who was out on that water today.”

  “It’s not like that.” Elaina shook her head and withdrew her hands. “I mean . . . I suppose you could say I was thinking of someone, but I’m quite sure he wasn’t thinking of me.” She stood, cleared her throat, and brushed off her apron. Returning to the teapot, she searched for the right words.

  It was easier to push away the anger and hurt when she was working. And as she was rarely outside at night, she didn’t have to worry about the stars trying to encourage her about her present state, telling her to persevere and not lose faith as they always did on the few occasions on which she got to hear them. But when she was with Cynthia in the quiet of the evening, it was harder to ignore the thoughts that were assaulting her like a barrage of casum balls.

  “My father raised me after my mother died,” she began slowly. “He caught me crying once when I was eight, and he told me, ‘Let someone else make you cry, and you’ve given them power over you. Allowing someone to overpower you means a lost battle every time.’” She shrugged, turning back to the pot and trying to reach the spoon once again. “I was good at it for a long time.” She half smiled.

  “But there was someone who did,” Cynthia said.

  “The hard part is that I knew better. He’d broken so many hearts before I came along. I even watched him! But there was a time where I was convinced he had changed . . .”

  “Ah. And he wasn’t repentant, I take it?”

  “Oh, he begged, pleaded his repentance. But as soon as the tide turned and I was at the mercy of the crown, falsely accused of a crime I didn’t commit, he banished me from the kingdom and sent me to this hell!” Elaina stood and started to gather up clothes that needed to be washed, throwing them furiously into the basket.

  “Do you mean to tell me that you were in love with the prince?”

  Elaina froze.

  “Well, Matilda was right.” Cynthia let out a sad chuckle. “She thought you came from aristocracy, but I had no idea . . .” She sighed. “What a shock that must have been for you to come live here like this.”

  Elaina threw the rest of the clothes into the basket and tossed it into the corner. “I’ve worked hard all my life. It’s the betrayal that’s eating me alive.” She felt her eyes begin to prick, so she blinked furiously and cleared her throat. “I begged my father to let me stay with him, but he decided to send me to live with proper female relatives.”

  “What happened?”

  Elaina shrugged. “I was angry, but when I met them, I thought I might actually have found a place with people who loved me. I thought I might have even found a man who—”

  But she couldn’t finish. Every joke. Every annoyance. Every look. Every touch.

  Every idiotic, loathsome, hateful hope she had ever entertained pounded down on her like a typhoon. Against her will, tears were streaming down her face and her body racked with sobs. “He broke me, Cynthia. I was stupid enough to let him in. And he broke me. And it still hurts!”

  “Cinders, I—”

  “But do you know what the worst betrayal of all was?”

  Cynthia watched her, silent tears running down her own wrinkled face as well. Slowly she shook her head.

  “Growing up,” Elaina sniffled and wrapped her arms tightly around herself, “I knew the Maker would fix everything. He would make it all right. He promised he would in the Holy Writ.” Elaina went over to the window to glare out at the smoke-filled sky. There were no stars visible tonight. “But every time I thought things were getting better, he let them hurt me. He let him break me. He let them sell me.” Her throat ached so badly that it hurt to talk. “I’ve been reduced to cinders and ashes. And he’s only stood back and watched.”

  Soft arms wrapped themselves around her, and Elaina let her head fall onto the old woman’s shoulder. For a long time they stood that way, slightly rocking back and forth.

  “Iron must be sharpened to be useful, you know,” Cynthia finally said.

  Elaina brushed the rest of the tears away from her eyes. “What?”

  “You’re being sharpened here, whether you know it or not.” Cynthia smiled sadly. “Maybe your time here is what you need to serve someone one day who’s actually worth serving.”

  “Oh, Cynthia! I didn’t mean I wanted to leave you—”

  “Stop that right now,” Cynthia snapped, and for a moment, Elaina could see a frightening resemblance between the old woman and her daughter. “Do not think for one instant that I’m trying to garner pity. Now help me back into bed, then sit while I drink my tea, and maybe you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

  Elaina, too tired to argue, obeyed, seating herself on one of the many trunks.

  “I was not always a helpless, frail old woman, you know.” Cynthia sat up straight. “I was a woman of power and influence. I could catch any man’s eye and have any life I wanted, thanks to being the daughter of one of the wealthiest traders in Solwhind.”

  “What happened?” Elaina asked.

  Cynthia merely shrugged her thin shoulders and took a sip of her tea. “Time stops for no one. Matilda grew up and married, and my own husband died. He was my third, you know.” She sighed. “It all started out with a harmless cold. Matilda had lost her own husband by then, so when I fell ill, she brought me into her home to live with her and Dinah and Alison. Before long, however, she was sure their home was too cramped, despite having lost her husband recently. So she insisted that we all move back into my home.”

  “Where was your home?”

  Cynthia gave her a hard smile and gestured to the walls. “This is my home. By title, I am mistress here.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t look so forlorn. Maybe if I had been sharpened a bit more in my youth, instead of getting everything I ever wanted, I might have learned the value of having a softer edge. And maybe,” Cynthia grimaced, “I might have raised my daughter to have a kind bone somewhere in her body, and we wouldn’t all be in this dreadful situation.”

  “How do you do it?” Elaina blurted out. “How do you keep your sanity, stuck in this room day after day knowing what was taken from you?”

  This time, it was Cynthia who looked out the window. Her sharp expression softened a bit, and she gave a little smile. “I’ve had a lot of time to spend with the Maker since then. And, upon reflection, have found that I’ve been treated much better than anything I deserve. Particularly when he sent me you.” She smiled at Elaina, her milky blue eyes warm. “In my youth and beauty and prime, I had little in mind but to see just how far I could spread my reach. It wasn’t until I became a prisoner in my own home that I began to realize how many years and resources I had wasted in pursuing pleasure. But you.” She held her hands out.

  Elaina came forward and took them.

  “I don’t know why the Maker has allowed so much pain to come into your life, but don’t ever think it in vain. It may not be visible right now, but sometimes . . .” She took a deep breath. “Sometimes you just have to wait and see.”

  “But I—”

  “No. You are the kind of per
son to push and push until you either fall off a cliff or you die trying. I know because I’ve seen you nearly do it here. All you can do is your best. Then the best you can do is trust and let go.”

  Elaina put her thumb to her lip. “I don’t like letting go.”

  Cynthia laughed. “I can tell. But you are not the Maker, Cinders, and the more you try to be, the harder your life will get. Now,” she lay back against her pillows, “I think we should both get some sleep. But Cinders?”

  Elaina paused, her hand on the door. “Yes?”

  “About that prince.”

  Elaina’s throat was suddenly too tight to answer.

  “I’ve been around power enough to know that sometimes those who seem the most powerful of all are often those most at the mercy of everyone else. Your prince might have been as much in control of the situation as you were.”

  35

  Absolutely Not

  Nicholas rolled over, but before he even opened his eyes, he sensed another presence close by. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he blinked a few times to find not one, but two people in his bed.

  The morning light was warm as it streamed through the windows. Its golden rays made the two bodies beside him glow like angels, and Nicholas’s breath fled.

  The little girl snuggled between them was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. Hair the color of honey stuck out in every direction as she breathed, her little chest rising and falling peacefully. Her chubby little cheeks were rosy in the late spring sun, and though her eyes were closed, Nicholas recognized the shape of his own.

  How was it possible to love someone so much only a second after laying eyes on her? And yet he somehow knew in his heart of hearts that he would gratefully give his last breath for the child.

  The woman lying beside the child was a vision all her own. One arm was tucked under her head and the other was wrapped around the little girl. She sighed in her sleep, and a small smile lit her face.