A knock on the door made her jump, and she dropped the gown.
“Your Highness,” Amie’s voice called, “I must speak with you.”
She got to her feet after shoving the jewel bag next to her shoes and the dagger. She closed the trunk lid and left the dresses on the floor. Amie had hardly said a word that morning as she had helped Cinderella prepare for the day. Her silence had been unnerving, and a part of Cinderella was overjoyed to see her again. She unlocked the door and opened it wide. “Come in.”
Amie rushed inside. Her breaths were quick and hard. “Your Highness, have you seen anything outside your window?”
“No.” Cinderella ran to the window and pulled it open. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. The day was pristine and beautiful. She could smell spring in the air.
“Perhaps nothing has happened yet.” Amie began pacing the room. “I have just heard the most terrible news,” she said with little gasps. “Some of the servants who came back on the food carts are whispering a rumor they’ve heard in town—a raid on the castle.”
“Right now?” She turned back to the window. Nobody could possibly raid the castle. The ice on the moat was only large floating chunks now, and William’s troops were much too strong. “That’s all it is, Amie, a rumor. Rowland has spoken of those rumors before, and nothing comes of them.” She let out a short laugh and headed toward her mother’s gowns still on the floor. “What else is wrong?”
“Nothing, Your Highness.”
Cinderella opened her trunk and lifted the first gown. “You’ve been so quiet and unlike yourself. Is it Geoffrey? Eolande?” Saying her godmother’s name made her throat swell. She pushed her thoughts forward. Anything was better than talking about the execution or Geoffrey. “A sprite told me you aren’t allowed to perform magic, Amie.”
Amie folded her arms around her waist and stared at the floor. “It is true what the sprites have told you. I was in love once, as I said before, and that is what led me here. Please, Your Highness, do not ask me to explain.”
Cinderella decided prying would get her nowhere and picked up another dress. A thought spread its way to her tongue. “Amie, if you know magic, can you tell me what will happen if I choose to perform the blood spell? Will I be able to come back here?”
A cloud drifted over the sun and the light in the room dulled to a shadow. Amie lifted her eyes and smiled. “I know that if you are not happy, you must follow your heart elsewhere.”
“But what if it’s the wrong choice? Can I go back?”
Amie shrugged and uncrossed her arms. She walked to the open window and ran her fingers along the edge of the windowsill, a longing expression on her face. “Be sure of your choice, Your Highness. There is no going back.”
Most of the guests had extended their stay to show their condolences to Cecily in any way they could. That afternoon, Cinderella and Amie walked behind the king and queen, who led the guests across the drawbridge. Carriages pulled up, but no one stepped inside. Instead, everyone turned to face the castle where Rowland and three noblemen carried out Geoffrey’s body on a board draped in velvet. A red silk covering had been placed over him, and the wind made it ripple like waves over his still limbs. Cecily, her hair blowing in tangles around her face, wept as the body was put into an empty carriage and two servants in black urged the horses forward.
“I am sorry for this,” Amie whispered as Cecily’s cries whipped past them in the breeze. “I am sorry for the spell I taught you. I am sorry for Eolande. I am sorry for Geoffrey and for Lady Cecily’s broken heart. It is the worst sort of pain.”
Cinderella followed Amie’s gaze to Rowland, who stood alone in the middle of the road, his crown a brilliant gold, his royal clothing pristine and pressed and beautiful. The curls at the back of his neck made Cinderella’s heart flutter. She saw him watch Geoffrey’s carriage as the horses pulled it down the road, and she dug her heels into the dirt and held her breath. She had grown used to a great weight bearing down on her, but something darker was seeping into her mind and limbs, almost paralyzing. She wondered if Rowland noticed a weight on his shoulders too, or if he had grown accustomed to it. She wondered if he felt the darkness, if it was because of the deaths, or if it was her own doing.
That night, Rowland held her tighter than usual, as if he knew the decision she was trying to make. When they made love, he whispered that he never wanted to let her go. He went slowly and pleasured her again and again, building tension inside her body that coiled and tightened and then blossomed into a bright, delicious heat. He traced her eyelashes with his fingertips, and in the candlelight the sadness in his eyes faded away.
“Something is different about you,” he said as soon as Cinderella curled herself against him, her heart beating fast. “You’re unsettled. Is it because of Geoffrey’s death? The old woman’s?”
“I ache for them both,” she said, trying to hide a whimper in her throat. She rubbed his hand, pressed against her stomach, hoping she could go to sleep without any more conversation.
Rowland kissed her shoulder. “Is there something else? You seem so distant.”
“I don’t know. I feel strange, but I can’t explain it.” She looked at her trunk next to the bed and memorized the pattern of the brass inlay swirled into the wood. She counted to one hundred and rubbed Rowland’s hand some more. She dreamed of what his words would sound like unaffected by magic. It was a dream more vivid than any she had ever experienced, filled with shells and flowers and Rowland’s voice telling her things from the depths of his heart. He was unrestrained.
Squeezing him tightly, she never wanted to let him go. She thought of the fur shoes in her trunk, the jewel, the blood. It was time to break the spell, but if she discovered Rowland loved her without the magic, what about Kale? She had let her heart chase after him. In so many ways she ached for him, his honesty, his unfinished connection to her. Closing her eyes, she lost herself in darkness.
5
Love
A distant commotion came just before sunrise. Cinderella sat up and saw that Rowland was gone. Muffled yelling sounded from outside and she scrambled off the bed to open the window. She had expected to see a battle of some sort, but all she could make out was a group of peasants from across the moat. They were too far away for her to understand their words. Their torches blazed through the dawn like exploding stars.
She turned to face her bed and tried to blink the sleep from her eyes. Still half in a daze, she felt no immediate threat from the angry peasants. She had heard about attempted raids before and they never amounted to anything. Still, she wondered where Rowland had gone, and knocked on his door. He opened it wide, half dressed in his battle gear.
“Christina, you need to stay in your room.” He touched her cheek and gave her a quick kiss. “I’m sorry. My father thinks this might turn into something bad. We’ve been preparing for an attack for the last few months, and I need to be ready to command the troops if needed.”
“Troops? It’s just a few peasants.”
“Possibly.”
His worried expression reminded her of Amie’s concern earlier, and a pinch of fear landed in her stomach. “You won’t be in danger, will you?”
He kissed her again. “Don’t worry, my love.”
As the morning passed, she paced her room. The yelling continued as she found a satchel in her wardrobe and dropped the vial of blood inside. She fished out her fur shoes and the jewel bag and dropped them in too. Then she told the guard at her door to fetch Amie. As she waited, the king’s soldiers arrested a group of peasants and chased away the rest.
Today was the day. She looked at the sky through the window and took a deep breath. Eolande’s words stuck in her mind. You must control your future now. It is a choice.
Placing the satchel on her bed, she waited for Amie, who arrived in a dress sloppily laced up the back. Her hair was down and wild. “I am sorry for the wait, Your Highness. It is very early.”
“You were right about the raid.”
“Oh, yes, I know, but that was hardly a raid. The real one is coming, I am sure.”
“What?”
“I have already informed His Majesty of what I overheard. I believe he anticipated this earlier as he has already begun to assemble his army. There is to be one attack from a neighboring kingdom, and possibly a second and third until they succeed.”
“Succeed with what?”
Amie gave her a questioning look. “They will try to conquer the throne, of course. I tried to tell you yesterday, but you were not concerned.” She glanced at the satchel on the bed. “Have you decided about the spell, Your Highness?”
“Yes.” She touched her throat, surprised at the fear in her voice.
Amie lowered her voice. “You must perform the spell outside the castle, correct?”
“Yes.”
“I know the perfect place, Your Highness.” She looked into Cinderella’s eyes. “That is, if you wish me to help you.”
She nodded. She still did not understand the sprite’s warning about Amie, but she couldn’t imagine performing the spell by herself.
The attack came as Amie helped Cinderella into her clothes. The sound of hooves thundered in the distance, and her stomach sank to the floor. “You were right.”
“Yes, I am not sure you will be able to leave the castle now.”
“You don’t think they’ll actually succeed? Hasn’t this happened before?”
“Not when I have been here.” Amie knelt to lace Cinderella’s riding boots. “You understand,” she said with a glance upward, “that their goal in claiming the throne is to kill or imprison the entire royal family, including you.”
“Yes, I understand.”
Rowland’s voice sounded from outside the main door. He came in a moment later, his sword unsheathed, his eyes as steely as the blade. “Come,” he ordered. “They’ll find you here if they get inside.” He reached out his hand, and Cinderella took hold of it and nodded to Amie to grab her satchel and follow.
They ran down the hallways with Rowland squeezing her hand and Amie at her side. “Where are you taking us?”
“Near the prison. There’s a secret passage and chamber where you’ll be safe until this is over. My mother is already down there.”
“What about you?” She slowed her pace, but Rowland urged her to move faster. A group of guards followed, all dressed in armor with swords at the ready.
“I must fight next to my father if he needs me.”
“It isn’t only peasants, then?”
“No, King Osborne is striking, and he has a strong army.” His breaths echoed down the main hall as they walked.
Cinderella had heard of King Osborne. He ruled the neighboring land to the west, and even before she had married Rowland, she had heard many people speak highly of him.
She held tightly to Rowland’s hand and followed him to a dim room lit with sconces. Marion sat on a chair in the corner, several children kneeling around her ornate gown, all of them crying. She patted their heads as she hummed a tune Cinderella had never heard before. Moss grew on the walls. The air smelled of iron and the sounds of scampering mice came and went between the drip, drip, drip of water.
“Christina, I love you,” Rowland said before he left. His kiss was quick and hot and Cinderella tried to remember what it felt like before he disappeared.
She turned to face the room filled with female servants, one of whom she recognized as the radish-carving girl who now held a small child’s hand. Amie gave Cinderella the satchel and then knelt next to the children around Marion. She took one in her lap and joined Marion in her humming. The satchel hung heavily from Cinderella’s wrist. She looked at the children and stepped back until her shoulders collided with the wall. How strange that Marion was comforting the children. She had always seemed so harsh to Cinderella in the past. Now there was a new side of her showing, like that side of Rose crying in the night. Footsteps echoed from the other side of the door, and a moment later two guards entered with Isabel.
Between the dripping water and moaning children and Marion’s singing, Cinderella could hardly hear the battle outside. Although it was distant and muffled, it sounded considerable. Her entire body tensed at the thought of Rowland risking his life. She picked at a string on her satchel and studied Isabel’s face. A bruise was on her cheek, overlain with a web of broken blood vessels. Cinderella couldn’t take her eyes off it. She wanted to ask if William had given it to her, but with Marion in the room, that was impossible.
“Are we going to die?” one of the children suddenly cried.
Amie stroked the boy’s head and whispered, “No, no, no one will die,” but Cinderella caught the fear in her voice. It clawed its way into her heart.
Isabel inched her way closer to Cinderella. When she was finally close enough to speak, she whispered, “Did you... get...”
“Yes.”
Marion’s voice boomed behind them, “Isabel! Christina! Come here and help calm these children.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Isabel turned and curtseyed to Marion before rushing to the children. Cinderella followed and knelt on the dirty floor, but unlike Isabel, she was unable to take a child into her arms. The little creatures with wet noses and eyes made her squirm inside. She tried to conjure memories of her mother stroking her head and singing, and then of Eolande pulling her into a motherly-tight grip, but nothing helped. She clasped her hands in her lap until Marion leaned down to her. “Try, Christina,” she said, and cupped her face with her large, bejeweled hand.
She managed a quiet, “Yes, Marion.”
“Not for me—for you.” Marion lifted a little girl’s hand and placed it inside Cinderella’s. The girl had braids wound across the top of her head. They were tight and perfectly spaced, and the rest of her hair flowed down in soft curls. Cinderella looked at the tiny hands marred with calluses and cuts. Without thinking she began to hum, “Lavender’s blue, dilly, dilly...,” until the child settled into her lap and the fighting outside grew silent.
Hours passed before footsteps sounded outside the room. Cinderella looked up, hoping to see Rowland with a victorious smile on his face. Instead, there was the clang of swords and a few yells before a boot kicked in the door and a heavily armored man headed straight for Marion. His eyes blazed as he raised his sword.
“She’s here!” he yelled, and more men filled the room. The children screamed, and losing all sense of herself, Cinderella jumped to her feet and stood in front of Marion. Isabel and Amie joined her because that was their duty, but the man backhanded Isabel and knocked Amie against the wall. Lowering his sword, he squinted at Cinderella’s crown and a low grunt came from his throat. “Princess,” he said. “Step aside.”
A familiar strength spread through her. It made her stand straight and tall and look the man in the face. “You will not harm the queen.”
“Christina, move away,” Marion said, and touched Cinderella’s shoulder. “They have won.”
“They cannot—”
The man grabbed Cinderella’s arm and pulled her to the side. He lifted his sword and ran it straight through Marion’s ribs. Screams rose through the air, but Cinderella remained silent. She heard nothing when the man pulled out the blade. It dripped red. Cinderella looked at the blood, barely comprehending the fact that it was blood. She heard nothing when Marion hit the floor. She heard nothing when Isabel ran at the man and he pushed his sword through her, just as he had Marion. She heard nothing when he looked up, his lips moving, ordering her to do something. She didn’t understand why his sword wasn’t running her through. She didn’t understand why Rowland and the king had lost. She looked at the children crying around her and then met Amie’s gaze that reminded her of magic and light and the satchel hanging from her wrist. With her magic, she could save the children. She had to try. In her silent, panicked haze, she raised her arms and screamed the spell that had killed Geoffrey.
A light burst through the room, knocking over every figure except her and Amie
. Every throat fell silent. Every pair of eyes lay open.
“Your Highness, that was... how did you kill all... you have killed the... children. Everyone.”
A scream bulged in Cinderella’s throat, but she forced it back down. The young girl she had comforted moments earlier was collapsed near the other children, her braids still pristine. One of her delicate hands lay in a pool of the queen’s blood, the other across Isabel’s stilled chest.
Something inside of Cinderella died.
“We must leave,” Amie said before Cinderella could dwell any more on what happened, and pulled her out of the room. They made their way to the emptied stables where only Princess and some work horses remained. There was no time for a saddle or bridle. Amie helped Cinderella mount the white mare and then climbed up behind her. Cinderella wrapped her arms firmly around the beast’s neck and they left the stable. The battle had advanced in the other direction, and she hoped nobody would spot them. “Where are we going?”
Amie grabbed hold of Cinderella’s waist. “North, to the forest.”
Cinderella kicked Princess’s sides, and the beast bolted forward at a speed Cinderella didn’t think possible. She slipped to one side, but Amie helped her back up. There was carnage everywhere, dead bodies strewn about with their limbs at odd angles. She thought of the dead children and her heart sank. She had caused so much death. Her life felt off balance and dark, as if a hand was pushing down on her, drowning her. “Are we being followed?” she asked.
“No, Your Highness.”
As Princess galloped through the battleground, Cinderella looked at the dead bodies blurring below. She tried to see their faces and wondered if Rowland was dead. She didn’t want to imagine his blood on a sword. Her throat constricted with fear as her satchel bumped against Princess’s side. She would swallow Geoffrey’s and Cecily’s blood. There was no turning back now.
Bonded: Three Fairy Tales, One Bond Page 10