Chasing Midnight - A Cinderella Retelling (Once Upon a Curse Book 3)

by Kaitlyn Davis

  “You think I’m your purpose?”

  “Well, no.” He releases a dejected little exhale at my disbelieving tone, then grins. “Though that would’ve been a good line. I think it’s bigger than me, or you. I think it’s something important—something I haven’t quite figured out. All I know is that when I saw you on the terrace, with stardust in your skin and magic in your eyes, I felt as though everything I’d ever done had led me to that moment. Suddenly, the timeline of my life split into before you and after you. I couldn’t fight the sense that my whole world was about to change, but unlike with the earthquake, this would be a new beginning rather than an end.”

  I want to tell him he’s crazy.

  But I think back to my nightmares, to that puddle of oil on the ground, to the pictures in that book, to the priestesses I never believed who always said I was made for something more, and suddenly I’m not so sure.

  Was I supposed to end up in this world?

  Was I supposed to find him?

  Was this Mother’s plan for me?

  And if so, why?

  “God, I sound mad,” the prince mutters and takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “Must be the lack of food.”

  He pulls his bag across the ground, then digs through the contents before taking out a red pouch and ripping it open. Circular brown balls that resemble animal droppings topple into his open palm. I almost gag when he tosses one into his mouth. Then he has the gall to offer the pouch to me.

  “Malteser?”

  “No, thank you.” I cringe away.

  He laughs so hard he almost spits out his food when he turns to see my expression. “Try one.”

  “Prince Frederick—”

  “Call me Freddie.”

  “Prince Frederick—”

  “Seriously. We hijacked a plane together. We’re fugitives from the law. I think we can drop the titles.”

  “Frederick, then.” I sigh and he rolls his eyes. I don’t want to get more familiar than I have to, though I fear the time for that might’ve already passed me by. “I have no interest in eating what I can only describe as something that looks like poo. So no, thank you. I’ll stick to my berries.”

  “It’s chocolate.” His grin widens as his brows scrunch. “You’ve never had chocolate?”

  I shake my head.

  “You should start with Cadbury, then. I’ve got a bar in here somewhere…” He digs through his bag again, this time retrieving a purple stick, which he unwraps to reveal another dark brown substance. I’m beginning to question what the people of this new world spend their time eating if this is what the prince deemed essential before we left the plane. “Aha! Take a bite.”

  “No.”

  He stretches his arm closer, waving the so-called chocolate before my nose. It does smell sweet. “Just a small taste.”

  A crinkle catches both of our ears, and we turn at the same time to find one of the deer with its tongue inside the bag of Maltesers. I snort, then cover my mouth to hide my smile.

  “Clear off,” Frederick says, waving the doe away. But the move backfires. She doesn’t flinch, and drawn by the commotion, the three other does step closer while the fawns lift their heads from the grass. They grunt a little and sniff the air. “Oh, all right.”

  He sighs and empties the bag into his palm. One by one, they each take turns eating from his hand until the little buffet is gone. Then they continue to stare at him, eyes seemingly growing rounder and larger by the second.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he scolds and shakes the empty bag. “There’s nothing left, and you’re not getting the Cadbury. Now…” He turns back to me and holds out the purple bar again. “You need—”

  “Is that chocolate?” Ella murmurs, blinking as she eases to a seated position. A moment later, her eyes go wide. “Ooh, Cadbury!”

  She snatches the bar from Frederick’s hand without even asking and takes a huge bite, then sighs contentedly. He turns to me with a brow raised.

  “See what happens when you hesitate?”

  “What else do we have?” Ella chirps.

  “I grew tons of berries, and I can make tomatoes or peppers or anything from the ground really. Trees take a little too long, though I would love an apple.”

  Ella stares at me, then turns to the prince. “What have you got?”

  “I have crisps.”

  “Ooh, crisps. Yes, please.”

  “What’s a crisp?” I ask as he tosses a bag in her direction.

  “A potato that’s been cut into thin slivers, deep fat fried, and then doused in salt.”

  I flinch back in horror. “Why would you do that to a potato?”

  “The real question is”—Ella tears open the bag, then crunches a yellow disc between her teeth—“why wouldn’t you?”

  “Nymia’s never had chocolate,” the prince quips.

  Ella gasps. “What?”

  I shrug and she shoves the purple bar in my face.

  “Try it.”

  “I’m fine,” I murmur and press my palm to the ground. Magic flows into the soil, and a second later, I yank a carrot free, then take a bite.

  “Blimey, have some chocolate,” Ella cries, as though my carrot is a personal affront to her. It’s not. I just like how they taste, which is, I’m sure, far superior to the brown crud in her hands. “Or a crisp! Or better yet, have both. A little salty, a little sweet…” She breaks off a piece of chocolate, stacks it on top of a crisp, then plops both in her mouth at the same time. “It’s the best. Come on, then.”

  “Yeah,” Frederick chimes in, humor coloring his tone. “Come on, then.”

  They both stare at me, imploring.

  “Oh, fine,” I mutter and grab the purple bar, then take the tiniest little bite. I’m not sure what I expected, but as it dissolves on my tongue, I actually like it. There’s something smooth about the taste, sweet like a berry, but in a way that melts in my mouth.

  “Now with the crisp,” Ella urges. “You won’t regret it.”

  I take a yellow disc from the bag, unsure about the shiny residue it leaves on my skin. Then I break a bit of the chocolate off and eat them both at the same time. One bite is crunchy, and the next is smooth. One is salty, and then sweet. The dichotomy sends my taste buds whirling. “That’s, um, wow. That’s pretty good.”

  Ella snorts. “It’s far better than a carrot.”

  “I like carrots.”

  “It still has dirt on it.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  She just rolls her eyes and eats another crisp.

  I shrug it off, thinking, Humans. But I do take my own bag of crisps when Frederick offers. I’m beginning to learn that not all human inventions are totally worthless, their crisp-making machine being one of them.

  “I think we need to educate you, Nymia,” Frederick says. He lounges back, leaning on his elbow for support as he opens a new bag of Maltesers, using his body as a shield against the deer staring him down. “Seems to me you’ve only learned about the bad things humans can do, but there’s a lot more to us than you realize.”

  “Like what?” I’m dubious.

  “Like the beauty of a cold pint straight from the tap,” he responds. “Or the thrill of a good football match, or the utter brilliance of hearing Paul McCartney sing 'Hey, Jude' for the first time. Now that, you won’t turn your nose at.”

  “Ooh, what about the taste of clotted cream on scones with a good cuppa?”

  “Good one, Ella. Tea is an absolute must.”

  “Well,” I counter, “you don’t know what it’s like to run through the forest at night with a pack of wild mustangs, or hear a siren sing to the moon, do you?”

  “No,” Frederick murmurs. While Ella’s concentrating on her food, he closes the distance between us and gently brushes his finger over the bare skin of my wrist, watching as the magic glows brighter with his touch. He draws a swirling shape across the top part of my hand, watching it glimmer and fade before pulling away. The feel of him l
ingers, deeper than the magic, and it burns brighter as he looks up, finding my gaze with a smoldering look in his eyes. “But I’d like to, if you’ll tell me.”

  We travel with the herd for two days before we run into a town populated by humans, but it’s mostly open farmland, so we stick to the woods even after I release the deer from their bond. Frederick regales us with tales from his youth, starting with the time he rode something called a go-kart down the halls of Buckingham Palace being chased by his nannies and ending with his nights in boarding school when he and his friends would sneak out through the windows to go to the pub. Sometimes Ella chimes in with stories from the orphanage, how they snuck into the kitchen for sweets after curfew. So I, of course, mention my nights spent roaming the forests, but I can’t bring myself to mention Aerewyn’s name. Every time I try, the sound gets stuck in my throat, as though there are hooks holding it down.

  They’re both a little obsessed with all things magic, as I learn when they tell me about their favorite books, like the ones we saw in that abandoned store. Ella likes to read stories of girls in far-off lands slaying dragons and overthrowing evil kings, while Frederick loves mythology. Back and forth, they pester me with questions about the animals of my world. Though, if I’m being honest, talking to them is the first time I’ve been able to remember my past without it feeling painful, like something I’ve lost. When I explain the healing magic of unicorns, or the trickster ways of pixies, or the beauty in watching a giant eagle first learn to fly, I have this sense of hope that maybe, somehow, I’ll see all those things again.

  It’s another two days before we reach a full-fledged city, teeming with people and alive with activity, all centered around their main source of trade—the railroad.

  Frederick goes in with the money while Ella and I wait in a hiding spot on the outskirts of the city. We find a stream and wash the dirt from our skin. Then Ella passes the time braiding my hair in all sorts of intricate designs. The scratch of her nails on my scalp is soothing, something I need as the sun sinks lower and lower in the sky with no sign of the prince. Ella seems unconcerned, but doubts plague me. My skin starts to tingle and my heartbeat quickens with each new question stirring in the back of my mind.

  He said he’d come get us as soon as he figured out a plan, but what if he got caught?

  What if the soldiers found him?

  What if they captured him?

  What if they used their guns on him?

  I almost scream—from shock, from relief, from anger—when his hand finally shoots through the curtain of the bushes I grew and he steps back inside our safe little den.

  “Where have you been?” I snap, surprised by the venom in my tone. It bites.

  Yet when he hears it, the prince turns to me with a grin. “Why? You couldn’t possibly have been worried about me, could you?”

  “Of course not.” I cross my arms. “I was just— I was—”

  “She’s been absolutely mental for the past hour.”

  “Ella!”

  “What? You were.” She shrugs and turns to the prince, who looks quite pleased with himself. It gives me the unrelenting desire to wipe the smug expression off his face. “So, did you come up with a plan? Because, wow, you took forever.”

  “Did you really doubt me?”

  She arches her brow. “A bit.”

  “Are you being cheeky with me?” Frederick turns to me. “Is this what happens when I leave her alone with you for a few hours?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean by cheeky, but whatever it is, I’m sure it’s exactly what you deserve.”

  “This is what I get after spending the whole day diligently planning our escape?” He scoffs and shakes his head in disbelief, yet there’s an aura of humor around him that makes Ella giggle and even brings a slight smile to my lips. He’s teasing. “Yes, obviously, I came back with a plan. A brilliant plan, if I do say so myself.”

  “Which is…” I supply.

  “First things first, I brought back some human clothes for the two of you. Not that I don’t adore the flowery faerie look you both have going on, but it’ll help if you blend.” He tosses a bag by our feet and then turns around so we can change. “There’s a train leaving for the West Coast tomorrow that stops in Denver. Since you have those travel papers from Omorose, I bought you both tickets—a sleeper cabin with beds.”

  “That’s it? We just walk on?” I ask as I pull the pants he bought over my hips. I have to admit jeans have grown on me, even if this new pair is a little tighter than the ones Omorose had given me before. There’s a small part of me that wonders if Frederick did that on purpose.

  “Not quite,” he explains. “Ella’s name at the orphanage was Ella Bush, so the new name on her papers is perfect. No one is looking for an Eleanor Bouchene. And the military has no reason to expect we’re trying to get to Denver, so they might not be watching the trains. But those are about the only things on our side. I’m completely recognizable and I don’t have any papers on me, not that I could exactly use them even if I did. Ella’s name might be different on paper, but she still looks the same, and I’m guessing her face has been flagged for arrest. And, well, Nymia, you still have glowing skin. So, we’re not exactly incognito. We’ll never make it through the security check to board the train.”

  “Okay…” I trail off as I shrug a long-sleeve shirt over my head and tug the gloves he bought over my hands. They’re a little warm in the spring air, but I’ll make do. Most importantly, I’m covered from my chin all the way to my toes, leaving only my face exposed. “So, what do you suggest we do?”

  “I spent all day watching people come and go from the station. The security check is inside the building, but once you’re through, there’s nothing until you’re on the train itself. All the westbound trains seemed to leave from platform two, so if we can just get there without anyone seeing, we’ll be fine. We’ll be able to walk right onto the train, and then if a conductor comes to check while we’re in motion, you can show your tickets and your papers while I hide.”

  “I assume you have an actual plan?”

  “All we have to do is get through a chain-link fence, hop the tracks, climb onto the platform, and stay out of sight until morning.”

  “Oh, is that it?” I eye him pointedly.

  He frowns, then pulls something out of his pocket. “Oh, I almost forgot. This is for you.”

  “What?” He tosses a small metallic disc in my direction and I catch it. Inside, there’s a fine nude powder with the barest shimmer. It’s more cover-up to hide my skin. I left the one Omorose gave me back in London, but it must be common enough that the prince knew what to look for. When I glance back to his face, there’s a guilty edge to his expression I don’t quite understand.

  “It’s not that I want you to hide what you are, it’s just that—”

  “It’s fine,” I interrupt as discomfort tightens into a knot in my stomach. I don’t know why it makes me upset, but it does, so I turn away from him and find Ella. “Can you help?”

  She nods eagerly and takes the powder from my hands. I kneel and present her with my face. Ella spreads the substance across my cheeks with the grace of someone who’s done it before. I wonder if the girls at the orphanage used to use these powders on each other, or if maybe Ella used to practice on her own, dreaming of the day she could share this with another person, maybe her sister, certainly not me.

  When she’s done, we follow Frederick through the bushes and make our way to the human city. Unlike in London, where even in the dead of night the streets teemed with life, here they’re silent and thick with shadows. Haloes of light are few and far between, and we hardly pass another soul as we cut through the heart of the town. Frederick says the army imposed a curfew to conserve electricity, so no one is allowed out after a certain hour. We’re breaking that rule, obviously, but we have the benefit of my cloaking spell, which we use to move through the darkness unseen, not slowing until we reach the train station.

  Frederick
leads us past the front entrance and around the side of the building to where a long fence stretches as far as I can see, shining silver where it catches the moonlight. When we get close, I see the top is wrapped in sharp spikes, too painful to try to climb over. We need to find another way. Frederick leads us slowly down the line, pressing his palm against the metal every few steps to test its strength, until we reach a section that yields. The bottom right corner of the fencing has detached, curling up along the grass, but it’s not quite enough to squeeze through. Frederick curses under his breath, but I nudge him aside and squat to get a closer look. He and Ella shift so they’re holding my shoulders while I reach out and pinch two sections of the fence between my fingers. I’m not great with metal magic, so instead, I call on the heat of the sun. The area around my fingers glows orange and the metal flares a white-hot yellow as it melts away. I repeat the process a few more times, until the section is wide enough that I can crawl through. Ella keeps a hold of my ankle and follows after me, then Frederick behind her. When we’re safely on the other side, I grab their hands again, making sure the cloaking spell is strong before Frederick leads us back toward the station.

  “Don’t touch the metal,” he whispers as we carefully cross over the tracks. “And keep an eye out for power lines.”

  I squeeze his hand as Ella squeezes mine, but he doesn’t seem afraid, just determined. When we reach the platform, he holds his palms together like a step for my foot and heaves me up onto the raised surface. Ella goes next, with Frederick lifting and me pulling. Then he’s last, pressing his palms against the yellow-painted edge and using pure muscle to raise himself up. I find my gaze wandering to the spot where his biceps bulge from the effort. My fingers heat where they lightly touch his skin. I try to ignore the feeling as he leads us farther down the platform, but try as I might, the feel of his fingers in my left hand and Ella’s in my right are as different as the Mother and the Father themselves, one a comfort and one a mystery, one as steady as the sun and one buzzing to the same erratic pulse as the stars twinkling overhead.