Beauty's Cursed Prince

by Mary E. Twomey

  Errol snarled at the attention Connor was getting. “I thought you said you didn’t make the rules for your home.”

  Ella lowered her chin. “I don’t. It’s the best I can do.”

  Remus shook his head, buttoning his satchel. “Ella, your stepmother would have them killed the moment she finds out about them. Sometimes they howl in their sleep. They would be found out the first night.”

  Ella clung to Connor’s neck. “That can’t be it. There’s got to be a way for me to help you.”

  Connor’s voice was low and smooth, offering comfort, though he was the one in the rough spot. “We’ll be alright, amorelux. We’ve survived worse winters.”

  “Worse than this?”

  Guadalupe hissed. “Don’t call her that. She’s not likely to take a mate from the Lupine. Look at her. She’s gorgeous. She probably already has someone warming her bed. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Connor. Always romantic but never practical.”

  Ella’s eyebrows rose, and her cheeks pinked. “Oh! I… Um…”

  Connor chuckled, as if nothing could ever ruffle his feathers. He licked her cheek before pulling away to stand with his pack. “When will I see you again?”

  Ella glanced at Remus. “They want to know when we can bring them more food.”

  Connor tsked her with a slight tease, circling her and dragging his tail around her legs. “You know very well that’s not what I asked. It’s been a long time since anyone’s been as compassionate to us as you. Tell me I’ll see you again soon. Sometimes we have Remus, but feeling your arms around me? Tell me you’ll come back to us.”

  Ella’s cheeks reddened, and she looked away with a bashful smile that Connor chuckled at. “That’s up to Remus.”

  Remus extended his elbow to her. “Depending on the weather, we can make another trek out here in three days’ time. That’s when I pick Ella up for her tutoring. I can bring more food then.”

  Connor’s tone turned sharp. “You’re shivering. Tell Remus he shouldn’t bring you out here unless you’re dressed for the weather.”

  “I’m not that cold,” she insisted, but didn’t pull away when he moved forward to shield her legs from the chill, and instructed Guadalupe to hem her in on the other side. Errol moved around to her back, and the three formed a tight circle around her to keep her lower half from freezing. “You guys are wonderful. I don’t…” Ella gulped back her emotions, but decided she wouldn’t chicken out on making her gratitude known. “I’ve been cold for a long time, but not many stop to show me any warmth. Thank you.”

  “You belong to our pack now,” Connor explained. “I’ll be counting the days until your return.”

  Before she left on Remus’ arm, Ella indulged the three in embraces, tummy rubs and cheek kisses. She wanted to stay with them, but knew she’d indulged in enough affection. She’d long understood that her life wasn’t meant to be filled with snuggles and companionship, so the breaking of her heart wasn’t anything she hadn’t soldiered through before.

  Still, as she trudged through the snow on Remus’ arm, the howls of Connor, Errol and Guadalupe stayed with her, bringing emotion up to tighten her throat.

  25

  Because You’re My Sister

  Ella had known life back at her house wouldn’t be filled with the same joy she’d been lavished with while staying with her new friends at Remus’ home, but the steep divide was harder for her to swallow, now that she knew there was a possibility of freedom. It dangled like a shiny bauble just to tease her. She knew the freedom was tainted. If she went off with Henry and let Lady Tremaine spread what rumors she wanted, there wouldn’t be more than a few days of liberty to revel in. Still, Ella considered the offer more heavily when, every twenty minutes, she was bombarded with yet more inquiries of how she’d spent her time at Remus Johnstone’s home.

  She recited the lie that dug at her soul when she did anything terribly duplicitous. “Every morning I started cleaning all the bedrooms. Then I helped the chef in the kitchen. Then I cleaned the kitchen until every surface sparkled. Then I started fixing Mr. Johnstone’s lunch.”

  “What does he eat?” Anastasia asked, leaning forward on her pudgy elbows. She remained seated at the table while Ella scrubbed out the congealed mass that had crusted on the bottom of the oven. Ella couldn’t even tell what it was, it was so bubbled and blackened. She’d chiseled at it for twenty minutes, her head swimming from the harsh oven chemicals.

  “Nothing too wild. He eats pretty healthy. Oatmeal, vegetables, fruits, baked chicken. Things of that sort.” Ella tried to stick to the scripts she’d worked out with Remus. She’d known she would be grilled for information, so he gave her tidbits she could divulge.

  Lady Tremaine sipped her morning coffee while she watched Ella. Her tight smile was always most smug when Ella was on her hands and knees. “How does he take his coffee?”

  “Black.” Ella was resolved not to be obstinate, but loathed every bit of information she shared. Remus had been wonderful to her, and she felt like a traitor for revealing even the smallest of details about him.

  “Does he have our slow drip model, or has he upgraded to the new ultra-slow?” She glanced with a prideful sneer at her coffee contraption that Ella loathed.

  Ella kept her face hidden in the oven, and her tone light. “Actually, he has a regular coffeemaker with an espresso feature on the side. Swears by it.” She left the bait at that, hoping it would sway Lady Tremaine to turn in the slow drip mechanism for an easier to use machine.

  “Oh? What brand?”

  Ella responded with no hint of persuasion, and continued scrubbing.

  “What of his sheets? What’s the thread count?”

  Ella hadn’t changed Remus’ sheets, so she picked the thread count closest to what Lady Tremaine preferred. She grimaced in the privacy of the oven, feeling dirty discussing the man’s bedding.

  “Did he have any women over while you were there?”

  “His niece visited for dinner once, but she didn’t stay long. I stayed out of sight, so I didn’t have much interaction with Lady Aurora Johnstone.”

  Ella’s response seemed to cause Lady Tremaine pain. “What is the point of having you there if you’re not going to bring us back any useful information? Is Remus Johnstone single?”

  Ella cast around for the correct response. “He doesn’t talk to the help about his private life. You taught me to stay out of the way when important people are in the room. Do you want me to be more visible next time, so I can try to find out more?”

  Lady Tremaine let out a labored sigh. “Honestly, it’s like you have no interest in getting ahead in life. Of course I want you to be useful to us while you’re there. If he’s seeing someone, we can bend her ear about the vote on Lethals. Then perhaps she can sway him. Think it through, you idiot.”

  Ella bit her tongue to keep from spouting back that it was entirely condescending to both genders to assume that one could sway another’s political views with mere flirtations. “I can keep an ear out, sure.”

  Drizella ran into the room, her phone on display as if it had news that was sure to blow the world away. Her hair was still partially in sponge curlers, and she was wearing only her slip as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. “Did you see the news on Royal Watch? The event after the yearly votes are cast isn’t going to be just a Dinner for the Elite, but a grand ball open to everyone! There’s even a note at the bottom that all eligible women should be ready to introduce themselves to the king for consideration for marriage to his son, Prince Henry!”

  Anastasia leaped up from her seat and seized Drizella’s phone, which led to a chase around the kitchen and into the living room. Drizella pulled Anastasia’s hair, and Ana slapped Drizella across the face.

  “Ladies, ladies,” Lady Tremaine tsked them, plucking the phone from Anastasia’s grip seconds before her daughter tumbled over the arm of the couch and slumped onto the floor. Her eyes skimmed the webpage with satisfaction. “Why, yes. The Baron
mentioned this was in the works. Though, I did think you’d be presenting yourselves to Prince Henry himself.”

  Ella kept her head in the oven, her chest tightening at the news that was certainly new to her. Had Henry known about this? She listened to one of her birds cheeping on the sill quietly, singing her a song to soothe her palpable ache. Last night when she’d checked her secret phone, she’d found fourteen missed calls from him, and several panicked texts. She’d sacrificed one of her five allotted hours of rest, texting back and forth with him, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about the ball—only that he wanted to bring her to the palace to meet his father.

  Ella had declined the invitation, warning him that it was too risky and far too soon. But now, as she was covered in oven grime, woozy from the chemical stench with her fingers aching, she wished she could tell him anything that would get her out of this mess. The thought of her stepsisters posturing and posing for him made her stomach turn. When Ella factored in every eligible woman in Avondale prancing about for their chance to have a place next to Prince Henry, she felt bile churn in her gut. She wanted to be selfish and ask Henry right then to forgive her for putting him on hold, but part of her knew that his life would be far more complicated with her in it. Perhaps he deserved better than what he wanted. Perhaps his father already knew about them, and this was his attempt to force Henry to widen his prospects to someone more suitable.

  A solitary line of sweat dripped down Ella’s face, and when she swiped it away, she accidentally brushed soot across her cheek.

  She didn’t have time to rectify the mess, squeaking in frustration when one of her stepsisters yanked her out of the oven by her ponytail. “Come on, dummy! Why are you wasting time doing that? No one cares about the oven right now.”

  Lady Tremaine’s upper lip curled in disgust at Ella’s appearance. “Do whatever my girls require so they’re ready to meet the prince at the ball. I don’t think I need to explain to your tiny brain how important it is that they look their best for the occasion. It’s in three weeks, so there’s no time to waste, especially if you’re to earn your keep four days a week at Remus Johnstone’s house.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ella responded with her chin lowered. She removed her gloves and plopped them in the sink, leaning in to splash water on her face, but she was cut short.

  “Come on! Take this seriously, Ella. Nothing we have in our closets will do for a royal ball.” Drizella rose up on her toes again, clapping like a little girl being promised a toy. “A royal ball! I can’t believe it!”

  Anastasia danced around with an imaginary date, raising her chin and composing her face to look like a proper lady. “When Prince Henry chooses me, I’ll let you stay in the palace, Drizella.”

  Drizella reared back, a haughty head-swivel controlling her tone. “Oh no, you don’t. I’m marrying Prince Henry. I’m the only one who cares enough to know his favorite color, what he drinks at clubs, and that his childhood goldfish was named William Sharkskin. I’m clearly a perfect fit for him.”

  Ella bit down on her bottom lip as it dawned on her that she knew none of those things. She knew what his tongue tasted like, but not even something as basic as his favorite color.

  Drizella and Anastasia went into heavy planning mode, shoving a pen and paper at Ella so she could make sketches of the dresses she was to design for them.

  “I want something sleek and form-fitting,” Anastasia rattled off. “With gold trim around the cleavage.” She motioned to a spot just above her belly button. “Cut the neckline down to here. Give him something fun to chase.” She gave a little shimmy, causing not just her breasts to jiggle, but her tummy, thighs, chins and backside as well.

  Ella’s mouth drew to the side. “I’m not sure I can make that work. What sort of bra will you be wearing?”

  “The best kind.” She waggled her eyebrows and giggled. “None at all.” She grabbed her breasts in her fists and pushed them up. She frowned as she glanced down to see the shape of her round body. “You’ll figure something out.”

  When Anastasia grabbed a carton of ice cream from the fridge, Drizella knocked it out of her hands, not caring that it splatted on the freshly-cleaned linoleum. Her finger leveled in Anastasia’s face. “Don’t you dare eat ice cream right after breakfast. You’re going back on a diet first thing. It won’t do to wow the king and get him to give me his blessing, only to take one look at you and renege on the whole thing.” She whirled on Ella, her pointy features stern. “See to it she doesn’t eat a thing until the ball. Not a single grape.”

  Ella’s mouth popped open. “Lady Tremaine won’t let you starve your sister.”

  Ella knew she’d grown too bold with her time spent able to speak her mind at Remus’ home. Never would she have dared contradict Drizella openly before, and she quickly realized her mistake when Drizella smacked her across the face, and then repeated the action twice more for good measure. It wasn’t until Ella remembered the way to end Drizella’s assaults was to get down on all fours that her stepsister’s temper passed.

  “Would you look at what you did? My hand is filthy now! Wash it off, or I swear, Ella…” Drizella’s fingers dug into Ella’s ponytail, and she hefted her up just so she could slap her again.

  Ella turned quickly to the kitchen faucet, cranking on the water and guiding Drizella’s hand under it to wash off the soot from the oven. She flinched, but didn’t make a noise when Drizella body-checked her into the sink, making Ella Heimlich herself so hard she almost vomited. “That’s too cold!”

  Ella didn’t speak up for herself, but bit her tongue as she adjusted the water temperature and scrubbed soap into Drizella’s palm.

  When Drizella finally stomped away, Ella turned around. Her attempts to recollect her bearings fell to disrepair when she caught sight of Anastasia sitting on the floor, scooping ice cream off the linoleum and shoving it in her mouth with gusto. “No, sweetheart! You don’t want to do that. The doctor said it’s not healthy for you to have this much sugar. Let me make you a fruit salad. That’s every bit as sweet.”

  Anastasia glanced up with a sadness that looked like self-flagellation as she popped the spoon from her lips. “It’s hopeless! I’ll never lose enough weight to fit into a pretty dress.”

  Ella fell to her knees, ignoring the sting of her own cheek as she threw her arms around Anastasia. “We’ll find you something lovely for the ball. You don’t have to be rail thin to look nice. But you do have to stop eating ice cream in the morning, because the doctor said so. You’re going to make yourself sick, eating like this.” She gently pried the spoon from Anastasia’s mouth, giving her a second squeeze. She couldn’t understand why Lady Tremaine would allow sweets in the house, if Anastasia wasn’t allowed to eat them. It was as if she wanted to taunt her daughter, constantly lording the precipice of failure over Anastasia’s head.

  Anastasia’s tears fell hard and fast on Ella’s shoulder. “It’s no use! Prince Henry will never want me.”

  “Then you’ll be no worse off than every other woman in the kingdom who also gets passed over for nebulous reasons. Who cares what Prince Henry thinks? Let’s dress you up for you, not for him. You don’t even know him!” She forced out a chuckle, trying to soothe Anastasia, who was now pliable in her arms.

  Ella didn’t pull away until Ana wiped her tears on her shoulder and blew her nose in Ella’s shirt with a hearty honk. She kept her grimace internal, and moved to the ice cream to scoop it up and deposit the sloppy mess into the sink. “I’ll make you something spectacular to wear for the ball, Anastasia. Your eyes are such a pretty shade of brown; maybe we should make a dress to match them.”

  She sniffled on the floor, legs spread, licking her fingers clean of the sticky ice cream. “That might be alright.”

  “And as far as the low-cut option you had in mind, you might want to consider making him wait to see the goods. If you put it all on display the first time you meet him, that might not give him something to wonder about.”

  Anas
tasia hefted herself to her feet. “Okay, yeah. Maybe something with just a peak at my boobs. Can we make a slit up the side? I like my calves.”

  “Of course, Anastasia. Whatever you like.”

  There was a pause, and Ella almost let out the breath of total devastation she felt whenever one of the Tremaines struck her. But she knew if one breath escaped, a tear might, and she couldn’t have that. If one tear fell, they all would, so she sucked in her breath and spackled up the dam to keep her heartbreak tucked inside.

  Anastasia’s voice was small when she finally spoke. “Ella?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?” Ella glanced over her shoulder to see Ana’s mouth pulling to the side in thought.

  “Why are you nice to me?”

  It was a question Ella had asked herself many times, and had defended to Henry during their days together. “Because at the end of the day, I want to always be myself. In my heart, I like that I’m a nice person. I care about other people, whether or not they’re capable of loving me. I don’t have to answer for anyone’s behavior, except for my own.”

  Ana harrumphed, her upper lip curling in distaste. “That’s boring.”

  “Well, then how about because you’re my sister?”

  Ana was quiet for a few beats, but then scoffed off Ella’s answer. “Whatever. When you finish cleaning up the kitchen, my bedroom needs straightening.”

  Ella turned back to the sink, rinsing her hands and trying to ignore the globby, green-tinged snot stain on her shoulder. “Yes, Anastasia.”

  26

  Sick, Sick, Sick

  Ella barely slept during her three days spent in her house. The women had left the place a wreck for her to clean, with no expectations that it would not be spotless before Remus Johnstone came to pick her up Friday night for her four days of service in his home.