One Night At The Ball: A Sisters of the Curse Novella

by Lisa Manifold

  Her parents and Grizelle all had looks of guilt across their faces. Her shock over all she had learned was tempered slightly. “Why do you all look like that? What is amiss with the mirror? Find the enchantress, and we shall teach her a lesson.” This was not as important as what Aland and Ceridwen had done.

  No one answered right away. The feeling when she’d heard Aland and Ceridwen speaking returned to her stomach. Something was not right. “What is it? What are you not telling me?” She didn’t know how she knew, but there was something hidden.

  “Catrin, your anger is just. Will you hear why we have acted as we did?” Garrick asked. She could see sadness mixed in with his guilt.

  “What do you have to explain? You were not responsible for Aland and Ceridwen, and you certainly weren’t responsible for Bryce.”

  “This is not about them, not directly,” Grizelle said. “But…”

  “We did it out of love!” Roslyn cried. She put her head in her hands and sobbed.

  “Did what?” Catrin couldn’t understand what they were so upset about.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Grizelle. “Well? Are you willing to listen?”

  ”Do I have a choice?” It scared her how easily she jumped to anger and disdain. Grizelle glared.

  “I’ll listen.” She struggled to keep civil.

  Grizelle narrowed her eyes. Could she sense the warring emotion? Catrin inhaled deeply, willing herself to calm. She didn’t want to face an interrogation at Grizelle’s hands. Not yet. This was her gift.

  “When you were born we knew, almost immediately, that you were the one who would carry on the magic. I had no children, and my dear boy, here,” Grizelle smiled at Garrick, “Only had a smidgen of what is needed. While men can possess some of the power of the gift, they can never embrace and bring it to life. That is the province of us women.”

  “Father has the gift as well?” Catrin felt herself interested, in spite of her anger.

  “He does. Rather careless with it growing up, but he became a good steward of it in time.” Grizelle and Garrick shared a small smile.

  “Once you were born,” Roslyn spoke for the first time, “His ability began to wane. We didn’t understand at first. Grizelle noted that even in your cradle you would affect things. You would be crying for me, and though I was hurrying through my toilet to get to you, it wasn’t fast enough. I would feel myself pulled—my feet moving, without being aware that I was directing them. The maid doing my hair nearly yanked it out as I walked away from her. I had to laugh it off, but at that point, we knew it would be strong in you.”

  “Were you pleased?” She controlled the quaver in her voice.

  “Of course we were!” Grizelle answered. “It is a gift, in spite of the fact that one must have strength to carry it. Your father and I were afraid it would end with us. We were all pleased to see that it did not.” She smiled but Catrin didn’t return it.

  “This is all touching, and I am glad to hear it, but what has that to do with me, now, in the present?” She didn’t know why, but she felt she could not afford to wallow in the past.

  “When you were seven, Catrin, your mother, as you know, became ill. Very ill. We nearly lost her.”

  “I know this.” Catrin was impatient.

  “What you don’t know,” Garrick said heavily, “Is that were it not for you, we would have.”

  The connections began to swirl in Catrin’s mind. “Go on.” She didn’t want to put the pieces together.

  “Grizelle didn’t live with us at that time. Your mother became ill, and when I realized how serious it was, I sent for Grizelle. I’d waited too long, however.” Catrin watched his face. He was lost in memory, and it was still painful for him. “I did something that I am not proud of Catrin.”

  “What? What did you do?”

  “I asked for help, help to save your mother.” Now Garrick looked at her, pleading in his eyes, all over his face.

  “What your father is saying is that we realized there was more to the cost of the gift after she got better. She was so ill, and it went on for several months. You, more than any, I believe,” Grizelle’s voice softened, “Wished for her to get better. Your father noted she was always better after spending time with you.”

  “She did,” Garrick said. “She was better. So one day, I took you to her rooms, and I said to you…” his voice broke off. Roslyn reached over and took his hand. Grizelle looked at them for a moment.

  Watching the three of them, the rage swelled in Catrin. How sweet, all three were closer and more loving. But what about her? Clearly, something had happened to her, something they all felt horrid about, but there they sat, consoling one another.

  Grizelle started to speak but Garrick held up his hand. “This is my part in this to own, ‘Zelle. I said to you,” He looked at Catrin, “’Why don’t you help Mamma feel better? I bet a big girl like you can do it.’”

  “What did I do?” Catrin kept her voice level. The rage still swept through her, like the waves of the long ago visited ocean, back and forth, sometimes larger swells, sometimes smaller, but always there.

  “You looked up at me,” Garrick began to weep, “And you touched my face, and said, ‘I want to help Mamma. I shall try my best, Papa.’ In that moment, I knew what I had asked was too much, and I said, ‘No, Catrin, don’t. This is not your responsibility, we’ll wait for your auntie.’”

  He sighed. “You had seated yourself near her and taken her hand. Her face was so pale, it had a grayish tinge. You turned around and gave me the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen. ‘No, Papa, we must take care of Mamma.’ I rushed to you, but you’d covered her hand with your other hand and closed your eyes. I could see it, you know.”

  “See what?” Catrin asked through clenched teeth. She remembered this, now that he was telling the story. Remembered being so scared, feeling the worry of both her parents, of crying herself to sleep at night and not knowing why, and the relief—the overwhelming relief—when her father had asked for her help. Finally she could do something, finally there was something to do, rather than wait and feel bad and feel all the hurt and anger of others going on around her.

  “I could see the healing flowing from you to her. I watched you, holding your mother’s hand, and I could see a glow, a light, pass from you to her.”

  Her glow. She’d always had it, apparently.

  “At last, you sat back and dropped her hand. ‘Papa, I’m so tired,’ you said, and slumped in your chair. I caught you and carried you to your room. I vowed, on that day, to never ask you to do anything like that ever again. Watching my child, even though it helped my beloved wife, do such a thing, take so much of herself, I couldn’t do it…not ever again.”

  “And mother recovered?”

  “She did,” Garrick nodded. “The pair of you slept so deeply that night. I lay in bed with your mother, worrying for you, worrying for her. You came into our rooms late in the evening and, without speaking, crawled into bed with her. To my joy, she put an arm around you, and the two of you slept, curled together. I prayed that you would both live, and I would be forever happy.”

  “The next morning, you rose, and your mother sat up, stretching, as though she’d never been ill. You also seemed to have recovered, although you looked tired. I have never felt more gratitude, ever, in my life.” He put his head into his hands.

  “I arrived a few days after, and that is when we noticed, really noticed,” said Grizelle.

  “What?”

  “That your looks were altered. That the tired, washed out look was not something to be slept off,” said Roslyn. “You were such a beautiful child. What you have seen your whole life is who you really are, Catrin. A beautiful young woman.”

  Catrin stood. “Are you saying that my looks faded after I helped to heal you? That I’ve never recovered what I lost that day? That what I see in the mirror—” She gasped. “What I see in the mirror isn’t true? Except for that mirror?” She pointed to the mirror Garrick held. A thought stru
ck her. “And the guests—they’ve been ordered not to say anything, haven’t they?”

  “Why would you say that?” Roslyn looked puzzled.

  “Something Aland said, when I heard him speaking with Bryce, about knowing of the order of the king. What order, Father? What order did you give?”

  Catrin noticed that her mother looked at him as well, equally surprised. Grizelle, she saw, didn’t look surprised at all.

  “I made it known that you had changed after your mother’s near death, and that I would consider it most impolite of anyone to mention it. It was never an order,” he answered with a touch of defensiveness.

  “So you,” She stood, walking away from where they all sat. “You then enchanted the mirrors, after ordering everyone in Nandrenay to keep their mouths shut? Is that when we stopped visiting the other kingdoms, as well?” She turned back. She wanted to see their faces.

  Roslyn nodded. “My recovery, although you made it possible, took much longer. I was very weak and, in all truth, wanted none but my family around me.”

  “We didn’t wish to expose you to the unkindness of others.” Grizelle interjected.

  “How do you think that worked? I’ve felt the full weight of that unkindness now!” She glared at the three of them, the words she’d overheard coming back to haunt her. That she was a consolation; that jewelry had to be used as a bribe to take her on.

  “Catrin—” her mother leaned to her, hand outstretched.

  “No. You do not get to further assuage your guilt. How does it feel, to know you’ve stolen from your own daughter, Mother?” The words were so laden with anger that Catrin was surprised at herself.

  Roslyn drew back with a flinch. “Wretched,” she said. “How do you think I feel? Not only had I taken from my daughter, we knew that your magic was stronger than any seen in any known generations, and we had to consider that as well when thinking of your future.”

  “What does that mean? Is it not a gift?” Not that she cared what they said. It was a gift, and it was hers. It was so powerful that she had the ability to cheat death—that death was subject to her will. The thought was overwhelming. Then, the anger returned. She’d never felt anything like this level of anger before. It was big, so big that she nearly felt overwhelmed. At the same time, it was powerful. She could feel something crack within her. Her rage ripped her open and left a gaping wound. But then…there was her magic. It was dark and angry, like her. It flowed to the wound, and slowly, as a bucket in a well, she could feel the wound becoming less. How she knew this, she couldn’t tell. But it was there. A part of her liked it, liked feeling that she had such power.

  What could she do if she used this feeling in conjunction with her gift? How powerful would she be then? Powerful enough that the careless words of a thoughtless prince would never bother her again? That she would not need friends who kept information from her. That her family’s horribly selfish decisions would never trouble her again?

  Her thoughts were pulled to the others in the room. Grizelle was answering her question.

  “While the gift is prominent with the women, it is not something that families which possess it openly discuss. A woman with powerful magic is not seen as a desirable mate. She can overpower her husband by means of enchantment. What man wishes to take that risk?” Grizelle leaned back, a frown on her face.

  “You mean, in addition to a plain and sallow woman. Where’s the benefit in that? Is that what you mean?” The words slashed at her family as with a knife. Catrin didn’t care. They’d ruined her life, made it so that the man she thought she could love only saw her as someone to consider if he couldn’t have what he wanted. Cruel as he’d been, Bryce had been right. She was a consolation prize.

  “Would you rather we continue to lie to you?” Grizelle asked. Unlike her parents, Grizelle was not cowed by Catrin’s words. “We made the best decision we could for you.”

  “Catrin,” her mother said, through her weeping. “I wanted you to feel as beautiful and as loved as always. You gave me something precious. I didn’t want you to have anything less in return.” She stopped, her crying increasing.

  “Yet here we are, with the same outcome you feared. I am unwanted, an albatross,” said Catrin. “No one wants me because of what they see. You’ve failed, Mother. Any love I felt has been dashed away. Now that Aland will marry Ceridwen, I will also be known as the one he failed to offer for, in spite of evidence to the contrary.”

  “No, no,” cried Roslyn. “We must speak with him.”

  “You’ve lost your wits,” Catrin said flatly. “I will not be married off to someone who doesn’t love me, who would resent me, now that he knows Ceridwen loves him in return.” Was it possible to feel one’s heart breaking? She put her hand to her chest, wishing she could quell the ache. “Please let me order this in my thoughts. Am I hearing right? That my gift with magic, that all my other attributes—they pale beside the fact that I am plain?”

  “To ensure a good marriage and your future, yes.” Catrin had always appreciated Grizelle’s blunt manner until now.

  “Why must I marry? I am heir to this kingdom. With my skill, why must I marry at all?”

  “Do you wish to die alone, childless?” Garrick asked, his words like iron. “No mate to help you rule, no one you know you can trust? Is that what you wish?”

  Catrin stood. “If it means that I will not be made a mockery of and pitied behind my back, then yes! Why did you not just let me be? Why did you fool me into thinking I was beautiful?”

  “Because true beauty, which we don’t learn about until we are older, is from within. We felt that if we helped you feel beautiful, it wouldn’t matter what you looked like. You would be beautiful and remarks about your looks could be put in proper perspective.”

  Catrin drew in her breath. “Does that mean…” she almost couldn’t articulate. “That means all the mirrors in the castle are enchanted. Everyone else sees me as I am except me. How have you managed to enchant nearly every mirror in this castle?” The thought made her speechless, and she sat down, overwhelmed. First Aland and Ceridwen, and now her entire family. No one was trustworthy.

  “Your father and I worked together. We pooled our skills and, with your mother, put our memories of you into the mirror. That is the girl you’ve seen through the years. Our memories. It’s not a complete untruth.” Grizelle met her gaze again.

  Catrin stood and walked towards the windows. Normally, she loved the glass where she could see out of it. Not many castles had it. Tonight she had to tuck her hands under her arms to keep from smashing them.

  She hadn’t even been able to see who she really was. She was seeing herself through the eyes of loving parents, as they thought she should be. It wasn’t enough that she’d saved her mother. It wasn’t enough that her gift was powerful. No, they had to lie to her, pretend she was something she was not, force others to lie—all to cover up what they had done. Her heart twisted. They were no better than Aland and Ceridwen. She was not good enough. Once she’d lost her beauty, she was never going to be good enough.

  “This was not your choice to make,” she said, not turning around.

  “Oh, yes it was!” Grizelle had gotten up from where she sat with Roslyn to stand near her. “It is always the job of your elders to do as they see best! We wanted to make you as strong as possible! You blame us for that?”

  “A lie is nothing to build a foundation on.” She kept her gaze on the darkened windows. She could smell the candles. Beeswax, scented with lavender. Her favorite. These had been made just for her. At her mother’s orders.

  How could her mother be so attentive, so caring to the point that she had special candles made simply because Catrin loved the smell of lavender? Good enough for the extra work, but not good enough to present to the world on her own merits.

  Her parents had built that love, that caring, that attention, on a lie. On who they wanted her to be, rather than who she was.

  She made a decision, and turned to face her fami
ly. Roslyn and Garrick now stood behind Grizelle. Garrick had his hands on Roslyn’s shoulders, and Roslyn held one of Grizelle’s hands. What a tableau they made.

  “I would like you to leave me. You have given me much to consider, and I need the time to think on my own.”

  “Give me your word you will not utilize your gift in any fashion,” said Grizelle.

  Catrin glared at her. Always, always it had been Grizelle who understood Catrin immediately. Now it was clear why.

  “I will not do harm to anyone,” she said through tightened lips. Who did this old woman think she was? This was hers, her gift, and it had been harnessed and held back for years. She’d not made a peep of complaint, for the most part. She’d followed instructions, not daring to question too much.

  Why? Because she loved them, respected them, and felt they loved and respected her in return.

  This was not love. This was fear and the desire to control out of fear.

  “Then we will speak tomorrow.” Grizelle nodded and went towards the door.

  Her parents didn’t move, just stood, looking at her. Tears were falling down Roslyn’s face. She reached a hand to Catrin, as she’d done before.

  As before, Catrin did not take her hand. She just stood, gazing back at them. For all the words and the tears and the explanations, all she saw was guilt. It surrounded them like a red mist.

  A thought came to her. “I have another question.” Grizelle stopped, and her parents looked at her hopefully. “You told me,” she nodded at Grizelle, “That using the gift for yourself takes from you. Why, if I used it to help Mother, did it harm me?”

  Grizelle looked sad. “We do not know. We have not been able to figure it out.”

  “Is that why you banned me from further magic?”

  Her parents darted a look at one another, and then back to her. “Yes. We didn’t want it to…to…drain you further.” Roslyn didn’t look away, although Catrin could see what it cost her to speak.

  Too bad. Roslyn wasn’t the one who looked like a washed out scullery maid. They were ashamed of her and it showed. It was written all over them. The rage swelled again, and she struggled to contain it. She turned to the window, turning her back on her parents.