by Kaylin Lee
I’d expected Weslan to call after me, perhaps to give me some sort of farewell embrace, but he’d let me go without a word. No doubt he’d seen all that I felt on my face, and in the fact that I had rushed off like a heartbroken fool. I’d humiliated myself with my show of emotion, and he’d said nothing.
I had no one, now. Not Weslan. Not Zel and the girls. Not even Gregor. My chest gave the usual painful clench when I thought Gregor’s name, and I had to stop scrubbing for a moment and wait for it to fade. I’d spent my whole life taking care of other people, and now, all I had was myself.
My face grew hot at the memory of my last moment with Weslan, so I scrubbed the floor even harder, wishing I could scrub the embarrassment away. To distract myself, I thought of my new apartment on Thrush Street—its high windows that let sunlight stream in and brighten the room without any need for a luminous and the quaint nook in the corner by the main window where I planned to sip my morning coffee and read the Herald.
From the Herald, I learned that Flavian had been a high-ranking mover mage in the Transportation Ministry. He’d been close to the top of the mage authority structure. If he’d succeeded in his plot to use Zel to assassinate the human leaders over him, he’d have been able to do unimaginable damage to the city.
The paper related that the surviving Blight fighters had been arrested and were being questioned to find out the names of their collaborators in Asylia. I could only hope the Sentinels would relentlessly follow every lead.
I had to believe this was over. If nothing else, the man who had stalked me so relentlessly for so long was gone. Perhaps Asylia would never be a truly safe and peaceful haven, not with so many mages and humans packed within its walls. But this time, at least, we had won.
~
The next day, I spread the bright white coverlet over my bed, pulled it tight, and smoothed it with my hand. I’d slept soundly during my first night in the new apartment with not a single nightmare to plague me. It was strange to wake feeling so rested and relaxed. The room smelled of lavender and shone with the early morning sunlight. From east-facing windows, I could see all the way to the Theros River, glittering like a fat, lazy snake on the other side of the city.
I splashed cold water on my face and put the kettle on for coffee. Then I dressed in my new sky-blue house dress. For once, I left my hair down, brushing it into soft waves that spilled over my shoulders. I glanced in the small mirror in the creaky old bathroom that was tucked into my apartment.
I looked different, somehow. Only two months had passed since the Blight attacked my classroom during final exams, yet I felt years older. I was still fearful, sometimes. There were moments when I thought I glimpsed a scrap of red out of the corner of my eye, and I whirled around, heart pounding, wondering if somehow he was back.
But the fear wasn’t quite so overpowering anymore. At times, it hovered like fog over me, thick and heavy, but like fog, it didn’t control me anymore. And, like fog, it would dissipate. I’d looked my nightmare in the face, felt his hand grip my throat, and heard him order Zel to kill me, but instead of dying, I’d survived. I’d watched him die instead of me. I wasn’t Cinderella anymore.
Tomorrow, I would report to the new committee on mage regulations. Today, I planned to explore my new neighborhood in the Common Quarter and go to Theros Street Market to see how Master Marus was getting along without us.
I’d seen him once, last week, after everything. He’d been disappointed to hear that Weslan and I wouldn’t be back, and he’d bemoaned the fact that I’d be busy with the committee for the coming weeks and months. “I could use someone like you at my side,” he’d said with a hearty slap on my back.
I’d left, promising to visit again, but then I’d wondered. What if he had need of an apprentice? He owned several small markets around the Common Quarter, besides the one at Theros Street. Perhaps he might hire me after my sentence had been completed.
Footsteps creaked on the stairs, followed by a gentle knock at my door. “Ella?” It was Mrs. Florence, the sweet, motherly landlady who lived on the first level and rented out the other levels. She’d hung bunches of dried lavender in my apartment and invited me for coffee when I’d first arrived.
“Come in,” I said.
She opened the door with an uncharacteristically mischievous grin on her face. “You have a visitor, dear.” She stepped aside to reveal Weslan. He wore a crisp white shirt, tailored slacks, and a nervous expression.
My heart tumbled in my chest. What was he doing here?
Mrs. Florence looked from me to Weslan with obvious delight. “I’ll leave the two of you to it, then.” She stepped back reluctantly and went back down the stairs, looking over her shoulder so many times I worried she might fall.
Weslan lingered on the landing outside my door, looking uncomfortable.
“Well, come in, then,” I said, hating how breathless I sounded. But why should I be embarrassed anymore? I’d shown him my feelings. What did I have to lose? I gave him my warmest smile as he entered, and was shocked to see his ears turn pink. I smiled wider. “Would you like coffee?”
“That’s—” his voice cracked strangely, shooting up an octave, and I couldn’t restrain a giggle. He ran a finger underneath his collar. “Ahem. No, thank you. I’m … I’m fine.”
I nodded slowly. “Would you like to sit?”
“Actually, I just … I’m here because …” He ran a hand nervously through his hair, sending the perfectly combed strands into disarray.
Never, not once in the two months we’d spent working together, had I seen him look this uncertain. “You’re here because?” I prompted him when he didn’t speak.
A blush crept into his tan cheeks. He thrust a hand toward me. “This is for you,” he said in a rush.
I stared down at a bouquet of pink rosedrops. He must have been hiding it behind his back. I took them, pretending to admire them to hide my confusion at his strange demeanor. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.” The words came out like a question.
He cleared his throat again, and I looked up. His face was bright red now. “Ella, I have to—” He broke off. “I’m in love with you, Ella.”
You could have knocked me over with a feather. I didn’t dare to breathe.
He spread his hands, palms up. “I haven’t done many things right in life. Well, anything at all. And I love you, and for once, I want to do this right, with you. I want to court you, and marry you, one day, if you’ll … if you’ll have me.”
I couldn’t have spoken if he’d begged me. All I could do was stare at his flushed, familiar face in awe, storing up his words so I could hold onto them forever.
“I left you at the Sentinels’ because I wanted to give you some space before I asked this.” He stepped closer. “I know it’s asking a lot from you. To tie yourself to a mage, to live with uncertainty and constraint, not knowing if mages will ever be free. But I’m going to ask it anyway. I’ve lived my whole life under someone else’s control, Ella. But I saw what Zel did. I won’t be controlled again. I hope the regulations change, I do. But even if they don’t, I’m my own man. I always will be. And I love you. Whatever the future holds, I want to spend it with you.”
I couldn’t wait any longer. I raced across the room and leapt into his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck as his warm hands gripped my waist. I pressed my lips against his ear and whispered the words that fear had silenced too many times: “I love you too.”
Then his mouth found mine, and I lost myself in the warm, persuasive pressure of his lips.
“Find something for yourself,” Zel had said.
I pressed in closer, unable to get enough of him, and was gratified when he shuddered and held me even tighter. Him. I wanted him. Whatever happened in our wild city of hope, he would be mine, and I would be his. And it would be enough.
Afterword
Thank you so much for taking the time to read Ella and Weslan’s retelling of the Cinderella story. I hope you enjoyed this story as much
as I enjoyed writing it. If so, please make my day and leave a quick review! Reviews are often the best way to get the word out about indie books like this one.
There are so many familiar clichés in Cinderella, aren’t there? Stepmothers are cruel. Stepsisters are jealous and selfish. Beautiful girls are helpless victims, and only a handsome prince can save them.
But real life is a bit more complicated.
Sometimes villains have battles of their own to fight, and victims are actually heroines just waiting for their chance to rise. And sometimes the man you fall in love with isn’t the rich, powerful prince—it’s the man who would do anything for you, the man who makes you feel beautiful.
Craving more of Ella and Weslan? Sign up for my new release email list at http://smarturl.it/torn-freebie and get the free prequel novelette Torn, a short story set two years before Fated begins.
Read on for a sneak peek of Book 2 – Hidden: Rapunzel’s Story…
Book 2 – Hidden: Rapunzel’s Story
He ran his hand through his hair again. For all his height and strength, his face held a hint of vulnerability too. He needed shelter. But could I trust him?
I bit my lip. What was the point of trust? A monster like me had no need of it. If he turned on me, I’d just kill him. “Fine. You can stay. For now.”
Young assassin Rapunzel is the most powerful absorbent mage alive, so strong she can drain the life of a grown man with a single brush of her finger.
But the power means little when her every move is controlled by her mistress.
For twelve long years, Rapunzel has known nothing beyond a nightmarish life of captivity, murder, and failed escape attempts.
She spends her days locked away in a tower, dreaming of a different life, and her nights in the city, forced to use her terrible power for her mistress’s political ambitions.
Rapunzel knows she’s a monster. She shouldn’t exist. She doesn’t deserve to exist. But her desperate hope for freedom just won’t go away.
Then a mysterious foreigner climbs into her tower seeking refuge. He should be terrified of Rapunzel, but he wants to help set her free. What kind of madman would ever want to help someone like Rapunzel?
And who is Rapunzel, really? A woman, or a killer?
--
Hidden: Rapunzel’s Story is the second book in the Destined series, a series of overlapping fairy tale retellings all set in the same magical world. Each story is self-contained, with its own protagonist and satisfying happily-ever-after, but they also tell an over-arching story. Turn the page to read Chapter 1 of Hidden.
Hidden: Rapunzel’s Story, Chapter 1
It’s been three weeks since my last outing.
Three weeks since I last stole a life. A clan leader’s life—a guilty life—but still, a life that wasn’t mine to take.
Sixteen days since the last time the Wasp Queen’s servant brought a basket of food. Five days since I finished everything but the hunks of dried meat and the rock-hard bread rolls. I’m only grateful I don’t depend on her for water.
Has the Wasp Queen forgotten about me at last? Or has she finally lost control of her clan?
There’s no one to ask. My sole visitors to the tower are foolish birds from the garden outside, and they only twitter senselessly, more interested in worms and twigs than politics.
Would it be better to die of hunger if it means I’ll never be forced to leave this tower again?
“Rapunzel,” hissed a sharp, feminine voice from below my window.
I jolted in my cozy chair, knocking my journal and pencil to the floor. The Wasp Queen. She hadn’t abandoned me after all.
“Rapunzel, let down your ladder.”
I held my breath.
“And Rapunzel … do no harm.”
My shoulders sagged, and I sighed. Too bad she never forgot the second command.
I rose from my chair by the crowded bookshelf, scooped my journal and pencil from the floor, and tucked them behind a row of books. The merciless power of my True Name cinched around me like a leash. Before I drew my next breath, her will controlled me completely.
My feet carried me obediently to the window. I let down the fine, golden ladder and then waited with my hands folded, several polite steps from the window. The warm night air whispered against my skin, sending shivers up my arms. I inhaled the scent of early summer growth from the lush garden and woods around my tower, trying to keep my mind off the fresh nightmares tonight’s outing would bring.
The Wasp Queen swept over the windowsill with haughty grace, managing to look elegant even with her pointy, heeled boots in the air. Her sparkling, mage-craft red skirts swirled around her ankles like pools of wine as she landed on the floor and tossed her long, black hair over one shoulder. She was petite and dark-skinned, with pretty, delicate features at odds with her sharp voice and perpetual frown.
She wasn’t truly called the Wasp Queen. I called her so in my head because I had no notion of her formal title or name. That way, if another clan caught me, I could never reveal her identity. I only knew my parents had sold me to the Wasp clan when I was six, after a starving street dog had roamed into our slum and discovered that the scrawny girl with golden hair was the worst possible choice for dinner.
My parents had been delirious with joy. Their own daughter, an absorbent mage? Even better, I was a mage with the Touch, capable of draining a life in the blink of an eye.
My parents had never exhibited powers themselves. They’d never dreamed of having a child with powers who might earn them a boon from a Dracian clan. They’d rejoiced in their good fortune and promptly traded me to the Wasps for a basket of fresh vegetables and a small pouch of gold marks. They’d learned too late not to do trade with the Wasps. I’d lived in my narrow, dusty tower ever since, controlled by the Wasp Queen.
The Wasp pursed her impossibly red lips and looked me up and down. “We’ll have to get started immediately. You look like a street urchin. I don’t know why I keep you in such fine accommodations when you can’t be bothered to take care of yourself.”
Perhaps if she fed me more, I might take better care of myself. She starved me before each outing, as though hunger might make me a more willing killer.
A sniffling noise came from the window, and then a trembling young woman struggled over the windowsill. Another new appearance mage. What did the Wasp do to her mages? The last girl hadn’t survived two months.
“Work quickly, Helis. We’ve no time for your sloth tonight.” The Wasp narrowed her eyes at the shaking girl, who stumbled across the stone floor to my dusty wooden wardrobe.
Helis removed a sparse black shift from the wardrobe and held it out to me, her hand shaking like a leaf.
I stepped forward and swiped it from the girl’s hand without touching her, but my quick movement caused her to cringe back. If only the Wasp herself were half so frightened of me. With mechanical motions, I put on the dress, ignoring the two women who’d invaded my dark, quiet tower. My smudged wardrobe mirror reflected a gaunt, pale girl with a long, blonde braid fidgeting in a plain black dress. I’d lost weight since my last outing and the dress was far too loose, hanging away from my ribs by a hand’s breadth at least.
Helis hung back. If only I could startle her out of her fear. If she couldn’t get a handle on herself soon, the Wasp would be done with her. Now that she knew who I was and where I was kept, I doubted she’d leave the Wasp clan alive.
“Helis …” The Wasp’s voice was ice-cold. The appearance mage wouldn’t last beyond tonight if she didn’t get moving.
Cringing, Helis lurched forward to stand behind me. We faced the mirror, and she waved a slim hand over my shoulder. The thin black shift transformed instantly into a sparkling gold dress. She wiggled her fingers, and the fabric bunched into straps over my back and shoulders, sucking in to hug my too-thin torso. This dress was practically indecent. Just where was the Wasp sending me tonight?
Helis flourished both hands near my head, and my mussed braid unravel
ed in the air as if she’d given it a life of its own. I fought to keep my shoulders relaxed as my hair lifted into the air, the tangled tendrils smoothing down on their own and then twisting into a high knot at the top of my head.
Once my hair was complete, the mage leaned closer, holding her breath as though afraid to inhale the same air as a killer like me. She waved one thin hand across my face and then leapt several steps back.
A warm wave of magic covered my skin, washing my face in smooth, golden light and highlighting my cheekbones with a rosy color that made me look more alive than dead for the first time in weeks. A nice illusion. My eyes were lined with dark kohl, and my lips were coated with a stark gold paint that matched the dress exactly.
I blinked. So much for a quiet night at home, and so much for being forgotten.
The Wasp strode to the mirror and paused, looking me up and down with a critical eye. “You’ll do.” And then she went to the window. “Rapunzel, come with me. And Rapunzel, speak to no one.”
My throat dried up at her command. The Wasp disappeared over the windowsill, and I followed woodenly on the high-heeled sandals Helis tossed at me before she huddled against the far wall. Her job was done. Now it was my turn to get to work.
I climbed down the ladder in the ridiculous gold dress, nearly losing a sandal with each precarious step. Even when I missed a rung and terror flooded my veins, I didn’t make a peep. Thanks to the Wasp’s command, my throat was as dry and silent as a pile of bones.
Thick trees surrounded my tower. The narrow, uneven path was difficult to navigate in the moonless night, but my feet propelled me forward under her command anyway. I had no choice but to stay close and follow her.
We broke through the trees and exited through an iron gate at the edge of the Wasp compound. A sleek, black fomecoach waited on the cobblestone street, lurking like a hungry wolf from the desolate Badlands outside the city.
