Cinderella Necromancer

by F. M. Boughan

  He grew pensive as the music drifted into softer strains, drawing this particular dance to a close. William escorted me off the dance floor, and I was surprised to notice the pounding of my heart, thudding in my ears like a beaten drum. We stopped only several paces away from a table of giant-like proportions, loaded with sticky sweets and goblets of rich, dark wine.

  “I do not intend to lead you on, Lady Aleidis. I can’t deny your beauty and the richness of your gown, but please understand—there’s something different about you. Something familiar.”

  I swallowed the cry that ached to burst forth, and allowed him to speak his part.

  “I don’t know why I feel comfortable telling you these things, but … most of the other women here, they barely speak a word to me and when they do, it’s only to raise a compliment about the festival, or to praise the King’s social policies. I swear, half of these women have been coached to say things they don’t mean, and the other half seem to think that I’m here for a pretty face and a well-formed pair of—”

  I cleared my throat, lest he become too familiar in public. “Your Highness?”

  “Oh.” He appeared stricken for a moment. “Oh!”

  And as though we sat again in the dim light of the tavern, or in the graveyard against my mother’s stone, or in the town square with a pumpkin at my hip, we laughed together. Well and truly, and loud enough to disturb the guests who lingered nearby. I caught several glares from other women I both did and did not recognize, but also furtive smiles from those who, perhaps like Liesl, felt relief at seeing Prince William spend his precious few moments with anyone but themselves.

  Perhaps it was a good thing we’d come to such a point, for it meant one of the royal advisors could seek us out in the crowd and draw William away to his other duties for the evening.

  “Your Highness,” said a broad-shouldered man with the royal insignia on his coat, “there are a number of visitors here this evening to whom the King would have you introduced.”

  To me, William rolled his eyes, before turning his attentions to the man who’d approached. “I’ll be right with you, Fritz.” To me, “You’ll manage without me for the rest of the evening, I suppose?”

  I could not help but smile. “Indeed, I will.”

  “You may not be rid of me yet.” With a subtle wink, he slipped into the crowd of guests, following his father’s advisor.

  I played our conversation over in my head to reassure myself that I was not quite so much of a fool as I suspected. That my fondness for William grew unbidden, there was no question, but I also knew it would be all the worse if—when—he chose another. Whatever had led me to tell him such a story of my “friend?”

  Despite any affected pretence, I pretended to be someone I was not. Would he feel the same way as I, if I lifted the veil? Above all things, in regard to his attentions, I felt thoroughly and utterly confused.

  I may be a young woman in body, but within my heart rests the flighty uncertainty of a little girl. How is it I could be strong in so many things, but one glance—one touch—from a boy could reduce me to scattered fragments?

  Lost in my deliberations, I barely noticed Liesl come alongside me with a tiny, glossy pastry between her fingertips—and several chocolates clutched in her other hand. For her sake, I hoped they didn’t melt and give her away.

  I didn’t wish to end the evening on an awkward note with my friend—even if she thought me someone else—so I closed the small gap between us and gently touched her elbow. “Liesl?”

  Liesl regarded me with alarm before her eyes softened, and I wondered—who had she seen? “Sorry, for a moment I thought you were … ” She laughed, realizing her parallel error.

  “We’re even, then.” I pointed to a tray of ruby red cherries in honey glaze. “As delicious as I’m sure those are, they look like a dress stain waiting to happen.”

  “Oh, they are.” She spoke with an air of authority, as if the pronouncement came from experience. “But they’re just about worth it. Have you tried any of the oranges? I thought I might faint for the wonder of it.”

  I had tasted oranges before, once. Father had brought one home as a gift from one of his journeys, and refused to disclose to Mother just what price he’d paid for the rare delicacy. I’d never told Liesl, simply because I knew how deeply she’d wanted to try one. And I would not burst her enthusiasm on this day, either.

  “It sounds glorious,” I said. “I must admit, I hold some envy for your lack of concern.”

  “Oh, but Aleidis, you have the Prince’s attentions. That is something everyone here envies you for.”

  If only she knew. “In a way, yes. But I’m afraid not much will come of it.”

  “Because of how far you’ve come? I wouldn’t want to live that far from my family, either. I don’t care if it’s the ‘lot of a woman,’ I’m not leaving this city if I can help it.”

  Oh, my dear, dear friend. How I have missed you. I would have loved to spend the remaining hours in my friend’s company, but as I reached across the table for a sugared biscuit, movement of a familiar sort moved across the edge of my vision.

  Celia. Chatting with one of William’s attendants. Lorenz? No, Cromer.

  Not again.

  Liesl’s voice grew distant as I strained to catch the refrain of Celia’s melodic speech. Could I interrupt? Save William’s attendant from becoming an unwitting pawn in her schemes? But even as I questioned whether such a thing would be possible, she loosed a girlish giggle—something more befitting one of her daughters, I thought—and reached forth to place her hand over his.

  Cromer stiffened and I bit my tongue to stop from crying out.

  Hesitation begat failure. I could only watch, helplessly, as Celia led this man through the crowd, smug satisfaction clear and bright across her face.

  Charlotte and Victoria followed behind.

  Victoria, alive and well, her visage appearing as bright and full of life as it had ever been, new hat perched delicately upon her head.

  She should not be here.

  It did not make sense.

  And when the crowd moved to hide their progress from me, I did the only thing I could do. I followed them.

  I realize now, poor Liesl must have wondered at my rudeness, for I left her mid-conversation—but what else could I have done?

  Seconds felt like hours as I searched the room for their presence, finally spying their target: William. Of course.

  If I pushed through the crowd, I would be too late to see or hear their meeting. If I circuited the room along the outskirts, I might make it—so I did the latter, stepping as quickly as my uncomfortable, heeled shoes would allow, all the while praying to reach William before Celia and the herd of bodies under her control.

  They returned to my view just as Celia placed Charlotte’s arm across Cromer’s, as if to have her introduced directly. Victoria followed with a morose expression, appearing less enamored of the situation with each step. And Celia?

  She, no doubt considering herself the cleverest of all, circled the place where William stood in deep discussion with men who were easily recognizable as foreign visitors and royal advisors. How curious. Should he not have been dancing with eligible women instead of conducting palace business?

  I drew closer, hoping to gain some sense of understanding of Celia’s intentions—and understand I did, as she and Charlotte approached from opposite sides. Celia intended to subdue William with the same touch she’d used on Cromer, and Baron von Veltheim before that, and my father before that.

  The woman had some sort of magic, that much was clear, and I would learn the truth of it for the sake of my family—but now? What and how did not matter.

  It only mattered that she did not succeed.

  I pushed through the crowd, excusing myself as best I could. I am sure I stepped on at least several toes.

  I watched as she lifted a hand, reached forth toward William’s clasped hands at the small of h
is back—heard Charlotte being introduced as Cromer interrupted the small gathering—

  And at that moment, I ‘stumbled’ on the hem of my dress and pitched forward to plant an elbow in Celia’s back. She, too, lost her footing in the assault, and whirled to see from where the attack came … but I had already drawn away, and stood behind another guest.

  While this did not foil her grander plans—for William’s hands were now occupied with greeting Charlotte—at the very least, I had bought a little more time to consider how I might stop her from using that seductive touch on the man I cared for.

  But there was still Charlotte.

  The spirits had yet to carry forth my commands, but surely it was only a matter of time. Besides, it was too late to change what I’d set in motion, and so I closed my eyes where I stood, and waited.

  I did not have to wait long.

  A wail pierced through the gentle melody of violins, soft at first, growing in strength, and rising to a feverish pitch until the rumble of the crowd became overwhelmed by her—yes, Charlotte’s wails—and I heard the music no longer. I pushed back through the crowd until I had her within my sight, and oh, what a sight it was.

  I couldn’t look away. She appeared as an image from an awful dream, one that seems to last for a lifetime and from which you can never wake.

  Her mouth gaped like a chasm, eyes grown wide and round and unfocused … no, they were focused, but on what?

  I looked to the crowd and to William, who stood still as marble, composure broken by the second girl to have lost herself in his presence, and most unfortunately for him, not in the way one might hope for a future wife.

  The thunder and clank of the palace guards in their heavy garb rose from the far corner of the room, but even then, Charlotte’s wail shifted as if playing a measure of music, becoming an unearthly scream that resonated throughout the hall.

  She lifted one finger. At William? At the balcony? No, she pointed at the ceiling, but when I looked, I saw nothing. My eyes roamed back downward with the crowd’s attentions.

  Charlotte lay in a heap upon the floor, but none so calm and still as Victoria had the night before. Where she lay, my stepsister writhed and twisted, clutching hands to her head, eyes opening and closing amid her screams. I made out one small phrase within the noise, and felt a pinch of alarm at the words: “Save me.”

  I rushed forward, pushing aside those who surged ahead to see clearer the suffering of another. Oh, how I wanted to run once again, but more so—even more so—I felt sorrow for William, who’d had his second ball disturbed by my doings.

  Charlotte screamed once more as I fell to my knees aside her thrashing form.

  “Char—” I stopped, for I’d nearly given myself away. “Miss? Miss, can you hear me? What is it?”

  In an instant, she ceased moving. My heart skipped a beat. But rather than acknowledge my words, she lifted her face to the elegantly high ceiling of the ballroom, and raised one arm with finger cast to follow. I looked up and again saw nothing, but a cold breeze brushed against my cheek, even though I saw no windows or doors open to the night air.

  Next to me, in the softest whisper that only she and I might hear, Charlotte spoke one word.

  “Demons.”

  The breeze became a blast of wind, rushing past my ears like waves on water, and Charlotte screamed once more as a rush of air that smelled of rust and the musk of deepest night blasted across her body and into—merciful heaven, into?—her throat. A sharp crack resounded from somewhere on her person as her back arched off the floor, higher and higher as though drawn by some otherworldly master of puppets.

  But demons? I imagine those who watched believed she’d gone mad, and I admit, at first I doubted whether this could even be my doing at all. I had no dealings with demons. To my knowledge, anyhow. Believe me, if that had been my intention, I would have found another way from the start. The words of Oliroomim, the child-spirit, echoed through my skull … the flames, already lapping at my heels? No. I wouldn’t accept it.

  And then William was shouting, looking to his father the King upon the balcony. I only saw him vanish into the crowd, for as the palace guards reached the place where Charlotte and I remained on the floor, she screamed once more, her back bending and twisting and cracking no doubt every rib in the corset of her gown. I hoped that was all that cracked.

  Of course, that’s a lie. One small part loosed a private smile, to see her broken and crushed as my mother’s necklace. To see her in pain by my hand, rather than being at the mercy of her will and her indifference to my life and the life of my brother.

  “Mother … ” she squeaked.

  I regarded Charlotte with curiosity.

  “Mother,” she said, louder and with an urgency in her voice.

  Where was Celia? She’d orchestrated the introduction of Charlotte and William, so surely she and Victoria should be gloating somewhere nearby. Where could she have gone that she wouldn’t know of this, or—

  “Mother, they pull me back!” Her cry sounded of panic and fear and deepest hate. “Don’t let them take me, you promised!”

  “Who?” I shouted, forgetting myself. “Who is trying to take you, and where? No one has laid a hand on you.”

  Wild-eyed, she reached forth and grasped my arm, her fingernails driving into my palm with the force of a hammer against an iron spike.

  “All the demons of hell, come to drag me back,” she wailed between screams, and I leapt to my feet as in an instant her eyes rolled back to reveal blank, white slates. Her lips pulled away from her teeth to loose one final cry, a primal scream that forced me to rip away from her grasp and cover my ears.

  She arched like a wild beast, limbs limp and flailing, hair and garments driven by wind that we couldn’t see or hear or smell and now could barely feel, but for a coolness and a gentle breeze like a summer’s eve.

  And with that, she dropped fully upon the floor as a ragdoll tossed away by a child. A prickle along the back of my neck caused breath to catch in my throat. I didn’t dare move to look to understand why, and so I pledged to remain by her side until the palace guards came forward to finally take Charlotte from the ballroom. Her face looked pale as death, and I feared the worst.

  Had I not demanded she live? Had I not forbade the taking of a life?

  I looked but did not see her chest rise or fall in those moments before she vanished from view, hauled to her feet and lifted into the arms of two strong men.

  And then—only then—did I allow myself to engage the dread that formed the moment the hairs had raised along the back of my neck.

  With a deep breath and growing unease, I turned and scanned the crowd around me, which now moved away from the finished spectacle. Seeing nothing, I looked higher.

  And there, on the second floor balcony, overlooking the very place where both her daughters had fallen, stood Celia.

  27

  The Learning

  I flew to Edward’s room, first.

  “How does he fare?” Breathless, I took in the scene: Gretel, hands to my brother’s cheeks, and Edward, whose pale face should have been so full of life, joy, and not of the pain that contorted it now.

  I stumbled against the door frame, bracing myself with a still-gloved palm. Gretel took me in with wide eyes and no doubt more than enough confusion for the both of us.

  “Miss Ellison?” She looked from Edward to me and back again. “No matter, that. I’m of the mind to not want to know. I cleaned the room once again, but I can’t—”

  I didn’t care about the rug, or my dress, or whatever else.

  “Can you do anything for him?” The words came out soft and stuttering, nothing like the self who’d left hours before.

  Gretel snorted. “Course I can. The doc’s been here, the moment that blasted woman and yourself left the house.” I started to protest, but she hadn’t finished. “I didn’t want you t’stick around worrying.”

  I understood, though sti
ll I wished I had stayed behind. But then, how could I protect my family from behind closed doors?

  I had a thought to ask Gretel. “Cook, have you noticed anything … strange about Celia?”

  She coughed to stifle a laugh. “Where t’begin?”

  “No,” I said, moving to sit on the bed and stroke my brother’s cheek. “Beyond her cruelties and her daughters. Something … more?”

  Gretel squinted as though I’d lost a marble in a bowl of cream. “What d’you mean?”

  I heaved a sigh and wished for Father’s return. “At the ball tonight, Charlotte … well, she had a fit. A horrible, embarrassing fit, right in front of the Prince. Honestly, I thought her full gone, though now I’m not so sure.”

  Gretel gazed at me with an intensity like as I’d never seen before. “Go on, child.”

  I tossed a sharp glance, for her tone held none of the questioning or curiosity I’d expected. Instead, she sounded rather … sad.

  “Through it all,” I said, “I wondered where Celia might have gone, why she hadn’t come to see to her daughter. After all, one might expect her to remain diligent after Victoria’s episode last night. But when I looked around to find her, Cook, she stood nowhere near her suffering daughter, but rather on the balcony overlooking the crowd. And I cannot believe what my eyes saw, but it was as if, well, as if she didn’t care.”

  Gretel remained silent.

  “Her daughter, in the throes of death, and she did nothing.”

  With a sigh, Cook cupped my chin with warm fingers. “Was the crowd too thick? She couldn’t see otherwise?”

  “No,” I said, urgency welling up from some unknown place. “No, that can’t be true. I’ve never seen someone so—”

  A door downstairs slammed with such force that the whole house echoed. Muted voices carried from below, and I realized with horror that I sat on Edward’s bed in my spirit-woven garments. For the ball, the spirits had assured my lack of recognition, but at home, I felt certain the illusion would be ended the moment the three laid eyes on me. And as curious as I was regarding Charlotte’s well-being, I couldn’t risk discovery. Not yet.