Princess of Midnight: A Retelling of Cinderella (Fairytales of Folkshore Book 6)

by Lucy Tempest

  Aiming for a grip on Darla’s dress, to rip it back, or take her down with me, I clawed air instead, and fell back. I hit the floor hard, crushing the shards littering it beneath me. Many pierced the thin material covering my back, ripping dozens of cuts in it and in my skin.

  Darla smashed the bust down after me, narrowly missing my legs. “If you ever touch me again, this is what will happen to your head.”

  Different textures of pain webbed my body, each screaming for attention as my head lolled to the side, locking eyes with the seemingly agonized ones of the destroyed bust.

  “ANEIRA!” Dolora yelled over me. “I swear, if you make us late I will make you clean up all of this with her!”

  Aneira’s footsteps launched down the stairs, and I heard her stop abruptly after the first flight. A sharp intake of breath preceded her slower descent down the second.

  I met her dazed eyes through my tears as she tiptoed around the sharp fragments. “Mother, what’s going on?”

  “Just reminding Ornella of her place, a lesson you’d think would have stuck by now,” Dolora said venomously. “Get in the carriage, both of you.”

  “You’re picking all this up by hand! We’ll know if you don’t!” Darla sneered at me as she marched out first, yelling for the driver to open the door for her.

  Aneira stopped in the doorway, wearing a look dangerously close to pity. That was the last thing I needed right now.

  “Move!” Dolora shoved her out, pulling the door behind her, still watching me.

  She clearly wanted to savor seeing me like this before she left, crying, sprawled on the floor, in a ripped dress and torn skin, my last hope smashed along with the debris surrounding me.

  Seemingly satisfied with what she saw, a serpentine smile spread on her lips. “Oh, and one more thing.”

  She snapped her fingers with a yellow spark. I heard the chandelier dropping before I saw it.

  Chapter Eight

  A totally instinctive heave of fright rolled me away from the trajectory of the plummeting chandelier. It met the floor with a deafening crash a mere inch from my left side.

  I stared at the twisted wreckage I’d just narrowly missed, its bronze arms distorted, its crystals pulverized and adding to the mess. Somewhere in the reverberating shock, I realized the chandelier wasn’t heavy enough to have seriously injured me. Dolora had wanted me hurt, maybe a little damaged, but alive and functional.

  I couldn’t tell how long I lay there, my unfocused stare wavering over the debris of my foolish attempt to plan an escape. The plan they’d seen through in a second.

  Of course, they had. I hadn’t thought for myself in years, and it seemed I remained as naive as the child I’d been when they’d taken hold of my mind. Now I couldn’t believe I’d thought they would let me get away with wearing that dress.

  But then again, if I’d said I would go in the rags they had me in, they would have told me I wasn’t fit to be seen with them. It was clear to me now Dolora had never intended to let me go anyway.

  What I’d thought clever manipulation hadn’t been so clever after all. She must have seen how much I wanted to go, so she’d let me believe she was worried about their glamor, and that she’d let me come, only so she could enjoy crushing my expectations.

  My ears still rang with the shouted insults and sneers, like the thousands of pieces surrounding me were echoing their destruction. I could hear my heart shattering among them.

  I’d been foolish enough to hope, when losing hope was even worse, and more painful, than despair.

  When I finally pulled myself to my feet, I surveyed the sea of broken fragments, sobbing silently, too overwhelmed to make a sound.

  All this had to be collected, without a broom, by the time they returned or else…or else…

  I couldn’t do it. Not now.

  I just couldn’t.

  Dragging my feet back to the kitchen, I took out the bag I’d left the Autumn Court with and removed the glass slippers. I’d been told they were a prize from the Winter King for one among those who survived the Equinox Games. They were now the one thing that reminded me that my freedom from my stepfamily hadn’t been a dream, but a brief reality.

  At least I hadn’t worn them under this dress, or else they would have broken them as well.

  Still sniffling, I headed out and sat on the stump I had chopped wood on. I ran my rough hands over the smooth facets of the slippers in my lap as cold froze tears on my lashes and turned their tracks into a glaze. But neither it nor the hardness of my seat bothered me. I supposed it was hard to increase my misery, yet somehow, the deep freeze calmed me and the wood beneath me felt soothing, familiar.

  I was so lulled that when I felt something moving towards me, the snow crunching with each step, I didn’t care to look. It was probably one of them, come back to check that I was fulfilling their order.

  I hoped it was Dolora, and that flouting her command would make her lose all control. At this point, I wished whatever hit she landed would end me right here. I couldn’t contemplate a continued existence where this was all I had to look forward to.

  The steps grew closer—and in number.

  They must all be back, their carriage broken down or something. I raised uncaring eyes, only to get jolted out of my numbness by the sight before me.

  Oscar was back!

  For a treacherous instant, my spiraling sadness halted, and a wave of delight at his sight flooded me. That was, until I saw what was riding on another reindeer close behind him.

  A man with a pumpkin head!

  Swooping down, I snatched the axe up before springing to my numb feet, the slippers rolling from my lap to the frozen ground. Either the scarecrow from the Pumpkin Path had fled his post, or this was that headless horseman Keenan’s father had told us about. It carried its severed head and used it as a projectile. Maybe this time it didn’t return to him, and this was a makeshift head. Whatever it was, a good toss of the axe …

  “Don’t throw that thing at me!” a muffled if urgent voice came from the pumpkin head. “It’s me!”

  I lowered the axe, whispered shakily, “Keenan?”

  “Where you expecting some other pumpkin-headed visitor?”

  It was definitely his voice. But in this land where magic and glamor made trolls look like beautiful women, nothing was certain.

  “Pretending to be a dullahan was the best way to clear the roads, and get back here faster,” he said as he started to struggle with the pumpkin. “Now if I can only get this thing off!”

  Like steam from a kettle, my misery and dread fled out my mouth in a relieved squeal.

  I threw myself forward, wrapping my arms around Oscar’s neck, pouring out gasps and tears of relief into his freezing fur.

  “Where’s my warm welcome?” Keenan joked, finally pulling the pumpkin off his head with a pop!

  I half turned to glare up at him, only for my whole face to wobble.

  His smile dimmed as he dismounted his own reindeer. “What happened?”

  “Too much. Where have you been?”

  “Where I said I would be—looking for help.”

  “And did you find it?”

  He scratched under his pointed ear, mouth stretching in an uneasy grimace. “I’ve found a solution, but you’re not going to like it.”

  “I’ll take anything. Anything that gets me out of this situation.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” said a new voice from behind me.

  I jumped around to find a very familiar woman standing by the stump.

  She was tall, fine-boned, and wore a seafoam-green, big-sleeved, glittering gown that matched her large, glowing eyes. Her thick, dark-red hair was done up in a rose-like hairstyle, and her fair skin was more pearlescent than all the fairies I’d seen here.

  It took a minute of squinting before I could finally place her dreamy expression.

  Confusion overtook all other emotion as I incredulously yelled, “Miss Etheline?”

  Etheline, the e
ccentric owner of The Poison Apple, my town’s tavern, smiled at me. “Hello, Ornella.”

  “How is—who—what is she—why are you—” I spluttered, unable to string together two coherent thoughts, before blinking back at Keenan. “What is this?”

  He held out his hands to Etheline, as if presenting her. “Help.”

  “I don’t—” I stopped, scrutinizing her as nebulous memories began to solidify.

  Though most things were hazy during the years I’d been under Dolora’s thrall, I remembered Etheline was a fixture of our town. And though it was clear she was foreign, no one could pin down when she’d arrived, where she was from or why she’d settled in a town at the end of the world, running a tavern of all things. I’d had a few run-ins with her, usually on errands set by Dolora. I remembered one time when she’d tried picking a fight with Etheline. Everyone had cowered before Dolora, but Etheline had just stood there and smiled, as if she was watching a runt dog yip at her.

  She had employed Bonnie’s friend Adelaide, and they’d spent a lot of time in the tavern, and once tried convincing me to join them there—before both of them had disappeared.

  When Bonnie and her father had returned, and saved me from Dolora by taking me along on their trip to Faerie, the last thing I remembered seeing as my stepfamily chased us was Etheline on her tavern’s steps, calmly waving at us.

  And now she was here. In Faerie. And this meant …

  “You’re a fairy!” She only nodded with a serene smile. It explained so much. But not everything. “What were you doing in my town?”

  Her smile grew amused at my interrogating tone. “Keeping an eye on Bonnie. I originally tracked down her mother there, but by the time I arrived, Belaina was dead, and her daughter was too young for me to make use of.”

  “Make use of?” I exclaimed.

  She sighed. “I would have thought Bonnie told you about her mother.”

  She hadn’t needed to. Once we’d arrived at her uncle’s home in Autumn, and found him married to the queen, her father had admitted the whole history he’d kept hidden from her—that Bonnie’s mother had been a runaway fairy princess, who’d broken an engagement to flee with Mr. Fairborn to the human world.

  “You wanted Bonnie to take her mother’s place, didn’t you?”

  She nodded. “But it’s too late for that. She got wrapped up in a different issue I hoped to resolve.” The look she was giving me became intent. “That’s where you come in.”

  Of course. Her help came with a price.

  I stepped away from Oscar and towards her, trying to school my trembling face. “You were in Aubenaire for years. You knew about Bonnie being half-fairy, so you must have known about Dolora.”

  “I did, yes.”

  That fed the flames of my banked fury, making me shake with the urge to yell at her. I instead hissed, “You knew what they were doing to me, and you did nothing.”

  Her shrug was serene. “Well, I’m doing something now. It’s up to you whether you accept the offer.”

  I let out a heavy sigh, vapor blowing out like smoke. “What is it?”

  Etheline began to stroll around me, the glow of her eyes subsiding. “As you’re aware, someone tried to assassinate the King of Winter, and I have no doubt that whoever it was will try again at the ball.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the first attempt was a failure?”

  “No, I mean why do they want to kill him?”

  “I honestly don’t care for the ‘why,’ I just need to find out the ‘who.’” She gestured to Keenan, seemingly pleased with him. “Keenan will be there to help his sister and her husband scope out suspicious characters, and while they do that, all we need you to do is occupy the king.”

  I blinked the last of my frozen tears away. “Occupy him how?”

  “Talk to him, dance with him, prevent him from being left alone with anyone else, and if possible, lead him away from the crowds where the assassin could be lurking. Do that for the entirety of the ball, and I’ll help you.”

  “Like I said, I’ll do anything if you get me away from here. But first—” I lifted my leg and pulled off the ruined skirt of my dress, pointing to the anklet. “Take this thing off me.”

  Etheline barely glanced at it. “I will, when you’re done with your end of the deal.”

  I goggled at her. “Why not now? What’s the difference?”

  “Forgive me, Ornella, but you’re quite flighty right now, so I don’t believe you’ll commit to this deal if I free you. If I take this off, your first instinct will be to escape.”

  “So, this was what you meant about me not liking it,” I grumbled to Keenan.

  He set a hand on my shoulder, making me flinch. “It’s how it is when you deal with us. We appreciate exchange, even if it’s not of equal significance, like when trolls like your stepmother swap human babies for changelings.”

  “What are you expecting in return then?” I gritted at him, the cold finally sinking into my bones. “Just so I’d get all my debts in order?”

  “Nothing. I told you this was fulfilling my promise to Bonnie.” A devilish glint appeared in his silvery-grey eyes, as he leaned closer with a leer. “But if you want to give me a bonus, I won’t say no.”

  My anger at Etheline, for her passive stance during my years of suffering, and now her unwillingness to help me before I fulfilled her assignment, gave me the nerve to shove him away. Luckily, he wasn’t my stepfamily and his only response was a laugh.

  Glowering at both of them, I threw my hands up. “Fine, I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “You don’t need to look so pained. I’m actually doing you a great favor. You wanted to go to the ball, didn’t you?” She gestured to my ruined gown. “Besides, if you’re successful, the reward you’ll get for stopping the would-be king-killer, will be far more than what you now wish for.”

  “Does that include punishing Dolora, or will you let her continue her criminal activities as you have so far?”

  Her dreamy expression tightened into mild displeasure, as if she didn’t appreciate my lack of enthusiasm towards her, and couldn’t truly grasp the reason for my rancor. “Your stepfamily will eventually get what they deserve.”

  Keenan clapped, regaining our attention. “Now that’s settled, we really need to get going. If I arrive while they’re serving dinner, Sorcha will shove an apple in my mouth and roast me.”

  “An apple—that would be an eye-catching design.” Etheline hummed thoughtfully. “It will guarantee she gets the right kind of attention.”

  “But I have to avoid my stepfamily’s at all costs,” I said. “If they see me there, I’m dead. I’m not even exaggerating.”

  Keenan eyed me, yet addressed Etheline. “Since she’s arriving with me, we could pass her off as someone from Autumn, a guest of my family’s—which she was. Can you make her look like something else?”

  Etheline nodded as she joined him in examining me, a mysterious smile curling the corners of her lips. “A melia would be fitting.”

  Keenan hummed thoughtfully. “I guess one wouldn’t be too out of place in my Court.”

  She nodded again, seeming pleased with herself. “Now, we’ll need that memorable way for her to arrive. Do you have any apples here?”

  “It’s too cold for those. But I have this.” He raised the pumpkin. “It’s already hollowed-out, so you won’t need to expend that much magic.”

  Everything they’d exchanged for the past minute had gone totally over my head, making me gape between them. “What are you two talking about?”

  “This.” Glittery, green lights danced between her fingers, then with smooth gestures, they danced in the air, floating where she aimed them at the pumpkin.

  As the sparkling lights spun around it, the pumpkin levitated from his palms, then started to expand. It soon overtook him in size, then tripled even that, with green vines growing from underneath it, curling into large wheels, with the gaps carved into its side to mimic eyes and a mouth
morphing into windows and a door.

  Extra vines extended from the front, roping in both the reindeer, before a bridge grew behind them and linked to the carriage, a seat for a driver.

  By now, I’d thought that nothing could surprise me anymore, and that if it did, it would only be an even uglier addition to my bleak worldview.

  But this…this had me stunned, had a childlike fascination spilling me forward to run shaking hands over the pumpkin carriage in wonder.

  “I suppose not all magic is bad,” I whispered as I pressed my cheek to its smooth side. It still smelled like a pumpkin, reminding me of the pie my mother used to make.

  Etheline frowned. “Whoever said it was?”

  The bitterness that had been ever-present since I’d broken Dolora’s thrall rose unbidden. “My experience with it.”

  “How about you two debate the pros and cons of magic later?” Keenan said. “People must be filing into the castle by now, and for all we know, one of them is about to off the king.” He stopped to wiggle his eyebrows. “Or they already did—and you can take your time.”

  “Prince Keenan, this isn’t a joking matter.” I blinked at the word Prince. I kept forgetting this was what Keenan was. “But you’re right, we should hurry.”

  Etheline turned her attention back to me, aimed her glowing hands my way, scrutinizing me with deep thought etched in her features.

  The last thing I wanted was to be on the receiving end of a fairy’s magic. But once the light wrapped around me, my protest died in my throat.

  Ribbons of faded green and silvery white light cocooned me, seemed to coat my every inch, remaking my every detail within its confines. Enraptured, I watched with bated breath as my gown was unmade into thousands of glittering threads then spun into a new material, smooth, ethereal, layered, and overlaid with a sparkling coat. Matching jewelry wrapped around my wrists, my neck, half my fingers, and weighed down my earlobes.

  I could see my skin changing color, but wasn’t certain if in the emerging moonlight if it was bluish or greenish. I also couldn’t tell if my features changed or not. As I felt around my face, they felt the same—apart from the growing points of my ears.