Cinders: Necessary Evil (Magic Mirrors Saga Book 1)

by Sky Sommers

‘The boy knew something had happened when he noticed his bedsheets were stained… My son’s memories of her are very vague. Are you sure she needs to have a make-over?’ Tom asks.

  The soot darkening her eyes, the too low cleavage, the dress shortened so that anyone can look up it and lipstick so red she could be mistaken for a working gal?

  ‘Yep, she will need a make-over. If not, she could trigger a memory and we don’t want him to run away, screaming, do we?’

  Tom nods. ‘And don’t tell Belle,’ he says as I notice a blue skirt disappearing behind the hedge.

  Something tells me, she already knows. I would keep an eye on my husband, too, when a married woman comes calling again and again in the middle of the night for private meetings in the garden.

  Out loud I say, ‘My lips are sealed. About the plan as well as about your smoking.’

  Tom looks sheepish as he waves and heads back to the palace. ‘You’ll see yourself out, won’t you, Grace? And say hello to Peter for me?’

  I nod, intending to ignore his last request.

  I adjust my hood and head back to my horse.

  Let the fun and games begin!

  Chapter 25. The Deal

  Grace

  With the points of our accord negotiated, I arrive back at the house to find Ella pacing the road up front. It’s 4 AM.

  ‘So?’ she asks.

  ‘Hello to you, too,’ I say. ‘Is Henry asleep?’ I ask, leading the horse to the stables.

  ‘Soundly. How did it go?’ she asks again, following me to the stalls.

  ‘Well, I’d say it went well.’ I say, lifting the reins over the horse’s head and unfastening the saddle.

  She beams. ‘Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! When I’m Queen you can ask for anything and I’ll give it to you…’

  I put up a hand, ‘Don’t thank me yet. You don’t know what you’re getting into. And Ella, the only three things I ask from you in return are: firstly, we don’t ever tell you father about any of it. Second, you leave me and your father be, no titles, no promotions, no land deals, no gifts. And third, when you have the kid and other kids,’ Ella colours to her roots, ‘once a month you’ll bring your kids and maybe even husband to dine with us. We don’t come to you, you come to us.’

  ‘Why?’ Ella looks puzzled.

  ‘So they’ll see and appreciate their mother’s and grandfather’s humble background and perhaps that will be a better influence than if they only lived in the palace. Maybe that will help to raise your children better than…your future husband was raised?’ I suggest.

  Or better than you were, for that matter.

  Ella bites her lip and nods, ‘Deal! But only if there is a marriage and a coronation.’

  I sigh, ‘Of course.’ If there won’t be, the girl will be in so much trouble with her father and she’ll be glad to be in one piece and under a roof.

  ‘I have arranged everything and you will do exactly as I say even if it pains you to do so, agreed?’ I tell rather than ask.

  She offers me a curt nod, ‘If I get to be Queen, I’ll do it.’

  ‘You will do everything I say.’

  She nods again.

  ‘I need you to say it out loud.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Do you want to be Queen or not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then don’t argue. Say it!’

  ‘Fine! I’ll do everything you say, IF I get to be Queen.’

  Ella looks mulish.

  ‘For this to work, you’ll have to forget you hate me for a few days and believe I have your best interests at heart.’

  ‘Why?’

  Because you’re our daughter.

  She won’t believe the sentiment, so I’ll just put it to her in a way she will understand.

  ‘I have a vested interest. I want to have a presence at court. Being related to the future queen gives me what I want.’

  Ella nods and starts grooming the horse as I tell her of our plan.

  Chapter 26. The Plan

  Grace

  ‘I have to do what now?’ Ella looks affronted. ‘Go to another ball next week and incognito seduce the prince? Again?’

  ‘Again? I thought you said he seduced you?’

  Ella rolls her eyes, ‘Does it matter?’

  I guess not.

  ‘Why do I have to be there incognito?’

  ‘So he’ll fall for you and you’ll have a happy marriage instead of one where the groom is forced into it, silly,’ I sigh.

  Ella considers it for a moment and then nods. ‘Ok. Except how? He’ll recognise me. I mean, I never took off my mask, but…’

  Kinky.

  Ella blushes. ‘…If I put on another one, he’ll have a point of comparison.’

  ‘So, you’ll go without a mask. And we change your appearance somewhat…’

  A lot.

  ‘Go incognito, but without a mask.’ She looks deep in thought. ‘If I used a different shade of lipstick and made my lips arch different and maybe planted a beauty mark somewhere… Change the part that he did see… That could work…’ she muses.

  ‘And if he sees through it, then it’s plan B, the arranged marriage. The king agreed, the prince should do the honourable thing.’

  For once in his life.

  ‘He’s done this sort of thing before?’ Ella asks.

  I considered whether to tell her or not, ‘Remember Madame Pompadour?’ I ask.

  ‘The one who had a tawdry affair, was wed to an elderly gentleman and has just had twins?’ Ella pales. ‘Are they Nick’s?’

  ‘I’m quite sure they aren’t, given the timeline, but there were insinuations about a liaison and she was married off to her second husband rather quick after last year’s Spring ball and ostracised from court, retiring to their summer residence to look after the failing health of her new husband… whose failing health did not preclude the twins being born a month ago.’ I say.

  Ella bites her lip. ‘I get it, there were rumours, dalliances. He’s been having relations since he’s fifteen. So, he’s a dog,’ she says.

  ‘After the royals dined with us, and you saw the way he scanned the restaurant for everything that moved, you already knew he was a dog. Or else you wouldn’t have thrown away the drawings you made of him.’

  Ella shakes her head, ‘John tore those down. Nicholas is every girl’s dream. John hated the reminders staring at him while he was….visiting…so he ruined them.’ she shrugs.

  ‘Well, I guess some dreams do come true then. But you do realise that if it’s an arranged marriage, you might not be able to cure him being a dog and you will always be keeping an eye on his dalliances and suffering for it,’ I say. ‘Can you live with that?’

  ‘If he’ll be cheating, I could also take a lover,’ Ella says, lifting her chin in defiance.

  ‘No, you can’t. The royal line has to stay pure and you are under an obligation to produce at least two children - an heir and a spare, remember?’ I say, remembering a film I once saw about Princess Diana.

  ‘Yes, but once that is done, I can take a lover, if he shuns me and if he has them all the time,’ she insists.

  ‘If you’re in a loveless marriage and nobody knows…’ I muse.

  ‘If this happens, I’ll make sure to befriend the handmaidens of his paramours,’ Ella says, deep in thought. ‘To help me make sure that no bastards ensue. I bet the witch could make concoctions against unwanted pregnancies. Maybe even permanent ones. All I’d have to do is get their handmaidens to put something in their food…’ she mused.

  ‘Oh, good, at least you’re thinking ahead,’ I say. ‘You know, if you would put as much effort into this make-over as you do into overthinking things, you’d have Nick falling for you in no time and his dog days are over?’ I sigh.

  ‘But I’
ll be tricking him!’

  ‘So? If he liked you at first glance, maybe he’ll love you at second?’ I say.

  ‘You think manipulating a prince into falling in love is better…’

  ‘Better than being married off to some old lech. Not better than raising a kid on your own, which you can still do, if you wanted to. Peter and I will help. You can live here, no worries. If you want. Being a single parent would be better than suffering through your husband’s infidelities even if you live in a gilded cage and want for nothing. Unless it’s the gilded cage that you want. What do you want, Ella?’ I ask.

  She smiles, ‘I want the dream.’

  I smile back. ‘Best choice of all. For the soul. Yours and his.’

  ‘You’re evil,’ she smiles at me.

  ‘Evil? How so? I just got you the deal of a lifetime and you know what you’re getting into. Moreover, you’re the one who got into this situation in the first place, I’m just helping you save face and now I’m evil? Thanks…’ I turn my back and go to make a pot of tea. Everyone will be up soon. I should start on breakfast.

  ‘What I meant was…the…arrangement,’ she squeezes out, ‘is ingenious. I don’t think even my Godmother would have been able to come up with it,’ she says.

  Probably not. Your GODmother is not on first name basis with the king, so she would have had zilch pull.

  I shrug, ‘Apology accepted.’ Knowing Ella, that is as close to an apology that I am going to get. ‘But you’ll do exactly as I say before, during and after the ball,’ I admonish. ‘No improvising. Got it?’

  She nods. ‘Got it.’

  Phew. Finally. She’ll try to improvise, seeing how she thinks she knows best, but she doesn’t know the half of it.

  Ella smiles.

  ‘As for making you different… we will need to make you…more appealing to the prince…to fit a type, you understand?’

  She looks puzzled.

  ‘You’re going to have to have a make-over.’ I gestured to all of her. ‘The hair, the make-up, the clothes, the whole lot. And you will NOT be modifying the next dress I give you. You will also need elocution lessons, proper instruction on how to present yourself, speak differently, what to do, what not to do, and lots more. Between now and the ball next week you’ll hardly sleep.’ I say.

  I’m unlikely to get a wink of sleep either, but that’s another matter. Things you do to save your…

  ‘Great! I love make-overs! When do we start?’ Ella beams.

  I doubt she’ll be overjoyed about the make-over I have in mind. But enthusiasm is always a good start.

  ‘We start with the princess lessons tomorrow.’

  Ella looks smug.

  She thinks she’s getting pampered at the spa before we peddle her off at the ball.

  ‘I’m coming with you and you will have no say in what we do to you. Your hair, your nails, shoes, clothes, face and the rest of you.’

  She looks a bit worried.

  ‘Now go to bed.’

  Ella rolls her eyes and trudges up the stairs, yawning loudly enough for everybody to hear.

  She doesn’t know the half of it.

  What she will be getting is a downscale.

  Downscale everything.

  Gone will be the slutty make-up aka ash from the fireplace as kohl and red lipstick.

  Gone will be her long bottle-blond hair.

  Hopefully, also her uppity manners and mannerisms, but hope always dies last and rather painfully.

  After all, we only have one week.

  ‘I’m calling in the cavalry,’ I sigh. ‘Tomorrow.’

  It will take a miracle for us to be ready on time.

  As luck would have it, I do know some miracle workers.

  Who knew the prince who sleeps with any skirt that moved was into meek au naturel brunettes?

  Emulating the ideal of his mother. Of course.

  Pretty brunettes with wavy hair, long dresses and demure manners.

  Well, you ask and ye shall receive.

  At least until the wedding.

  Ella would be smart to change for real to keep her prince after the wedding as well, but I suppose we’ll live to see if she’s smart or her true nature will crawl out and squash the dream handed to her on a silver platter.

  If only I had a magic wand…

  I would have much preferred to tap the pumpkin and turn it into a coach, the rats into lackeys and the mice into horses. Any good seamstress could conjure up a dress in 72 hours. Except we can’t hire one. Ella needs to be incognito. I’ll think of something. I’ll ask Loretta.

  All this, so we can bamboozle the prince into falling for the girl he has already dishonoured.

  Part of me feels for the prince for getting Ella for his wife.

  Part of me feels he should be accountable for his actions.

  Plus, who’s to say that they are NOT a good match personality-wise?

  I yawn and trudge up to bed. Half an hour of sleep is better than none. Then I’ll start breakfast.

  Ella

  Wednesday, June 12th

  I have to go to another ball in a week and seduce the prince as…ME, but…in disguise.

  At the first ball I was incognito. As in wearing a mask. At the second one, I’ll have to be the me he remembers and likes on the inside, but not on the outside.

  Grace’s plan is to change the way I look and make Nick fall in love with the new me. Who looks like the old me. Whom he has never seen.

  You’re confused? I’m even more confused.

  Like Nick wouldn’t recognise me when I open my mouth, even if I do look different somehow.

  Grace’s plan didn’t sound logical. Nick already likes the old me.

  Or so I thought at first.

  The king told Grace Nick doesn’t remember me or half the evening, for that matter. He does remember bringing a girl to see his sword collection and then nothing. He thinks I drugged him! He also thinks I was a virgin… The gash on my thigh must have bled more than I realised.

  Grace swore she told the king that the drug had probably been in the wine and that this had to have been done in advance and that I didn’t possess such guile.

  The fact remains - Nick thinks I drugged him.

  I’m not even certain that he wasn’t drugged before we got to his room. I mean, he did act not quite how I assumed a prince would from the moment we met. If he was already drugged already then and acted out of character, maybe he won’t even remember he liked me?

  Stepmother said that if he DOES recognise me, but is not instantly enamoured, the king promised there would be an arranged marriage.

  I have difficulties foreseeing how this could end well.

  A. Nick recognises me and since he thinks I drugged him, he’ll hate me on the spot. Conversation over.

  B. Nick does not recognise me immediately. Ok, suppose he woos me. Suppose we marry. But on the wedding night, he will still discover it’s me, wouldn’t he?!? How could he not? How would he feel? Betrayed? Duped? If I were him, I would hate me. I would be exiled to some summer residence with the child, out of sight, out of mind. Ok, my child would inherit the crown some day, but I can’t be sure whether Nick would even believe the baby is his. I cannot even be sure the royals wouldn’t take the baby away from me when he or she is born! I want to raise my child myself, thank you very much!

  Grace said if Nick does recognise me, there are still a few plans I could follow.

  Plan A is have the make-over, pretend I’m a stranger, let the prince woo and marry me, try to explain what happened, hope he realises I couldn’t have drugged him, have our baby and live happily ever after.

  Plan B - if plan A doesn’t work - is to have an arranged marriage, have an heir and live unhappily ever after. Maybe even be queen someday, if Nick is the forgiving kind or Belle is v
ery persuasive. Or if not, then retire to the countryside estate.

  Plan C - if the arranged marriage does not happen - but I am keen to marry to avoid gossip - is to keep the baby and to avoid gossip - the place is to land an old aristo like Madame Pompadour did and live comfortably ever after. Well, more so after the elderly gentleman’s passing. Ugh. I can’t imagine the old gentleman will fail to insist on having relations, especially if he has to raise a royal bastard as his own. Ugh.

  Plan D is to have it…extracted, not tell Belle or anyone…and marry for love. If someone love-worthy will comes along someday.

  I also want to add Plan E - keep the baby and live happily ever after, but I would need to switch worlds to accomplish that!

  One way or another, stepmother assures me that I’m getting married.

  Except…except…I’d rather have the fairy-tale. I would rather have a happy marriage with a devoted loving husband than an arranged one where he would hates my guts.

  I tried to point out what could happen, if Nick falls in love with the ‘new girl’ only to realise it has been me all along - the me whom he suspects of drugging him. He would just send me packing!

  Grace said I could always explain that if he was drugged before, it couldn’t have been me who had done the drugging and then give him time to process things and…

  I hate to say it, but Grace is right about one thing. If I don’t at least try, then I will never know.

  Besides, a part of me wants to see him again.

  Which leaves me with exactly one option at the moment - to change the way I look. So I can go to that damned ball.

  Grace said she’ll help. Well, not her, but someone she knows. She mentioned ‘miracle workers’. Where she knows them from, is beyond me. She never wears make-up. And her clothes veer on the side of comfortable, not courtly. If she’s bringing help, I so hope they know what they are doing. IF this charade is ever going to succeed…

  I need a miracle.

  Apparently, I will have to be remade to fit a type. At least, the Beast thinks Nick has a type.

  I guess they would know from his last three years of ‘relations’… Ugh.

  Grace said we will have to change quite a few things. The hair, the make-up, the clothes, the whole lot.