Cinder & the Prince of Midnight

by Susan Ee

  Cinder turned and walked in the direction that the woman had pointed. She worried a little that it might be a trick. But she was so lost that one direction was as good as another. So she kept going.

  Eventually, the woods thinned and she walked out into the broader world.

  In the distance, the town looked small and vulnerable. She thought about walking away from all of it. She liked the idea of a fresh life somewhere else—somewhere without evil stepmothers and hunters. But in the end, she had nowhere else to go and no idea how to get there. Even if she managed to trek through the forest and find another kingdom, she had no reason to think that the rest of the world was any better than what she had here. Silver’s stories of a mythical place that basked in the sun were just that—mythical.

  Chapter 18

  In the morning, rescuers had to be sent into the woods. All day long, body after body was dragged out. Most of the dead were hunters, but there were also villagers and children old enough to have been considered decent sport. Every group had casualties.

  Some of the bodies were whole and seemingly asleep, with hardly a scratch on them. The only sign of their trauma was their expressions. Their faces were frozen in screams of horror.

  Some of the bodies were mangled, with bits torn out of them. Their expressions were peaceful and calm, as if their last moments were full of satisfaction and contentment.

  Some were locked in battles, entangled in their web of swords and knives.

  The survivors all had different stories. Of how the hunters went crazy and turned beastly. Of how the children suddenly turned from helpless prey to roaring monsters. Of how the mist came and strangled many of them.

  There were even a few stories of a beautiful woman who incited the hunters into fighting among themselves for the right to pursue her. When the winners chased after her, she turned into a beast and ripped them to shreds. Those were the ones with the peaceful expressions, or so the story went.

  Cinder walked slowly through town, catching bits and pieces of the gossip. She got shivers down her back as the stories got stranger and stranger. Were they talking about the woman she’d met in the woods?

  Cinder went back to Silver’s cottage with her feet dragging. She dreaded finding the cottage empty. And even if Silver was there, she dreaded having to tell her what happened to her granddaughter.

  When she got there, Silver was sitting on the porch step waiting. Her dress was colorless and her hair was tied back in a careless knot.

  Relief flooded Cinder when she saw that her friend had survived the night. She ran and hugged her. Silver did not hug her back.

  “I’m glad you’re all right.” Cinder sat beside her on the step.

  “I am far from all right. But that is the way of war, and I’d let myself forget that.”

  “How did you survive?”

  “By killing as many hunters as I could. That kept me alive. And you?”

  Cinder swallowed. Even though her throat was dry, she told Silver what happened last night.

  Silver listened without comment. The longer Silver’s silence went, the more worried Cinder became.

  When she was done, Silver said, “That woman was a fairy. You were very lucky she found better entertainment than you.”

  “A wild fairy? I thought they were wild animals who couldn’t help but attack whenever they saw a person.”

  “Not at all. The nobles just want you to believe that. War propaganda to keep people fearful.”

  “Aren’t they under control? I mean, some nobles use them as slaves.”

  “The king did capture several of the strong ones and bound them to his wraith horses. But the ones that are simply enslaved probably decided to let men capture them so that they could lead an easier life in captivity.”

  “Being a slave to the Dark King is easier than life as a wild fairy?”

  They were both avoiding the big topic. Ruby's absence was like a missing tooth that Cinder’s mind kept reaching for.

  “The life of a wild fairy is no joke. The strong bend the weak to their will. There are no limits to what they can make someone do when he’s under their control. There are stories of what fairies do to humans. Well, it’s nothing compared to what they’ll do to each other. So yes, for the weak ones, life as a Dark King slave is better than life in the wild to be victimized by the stronger fairies.”

  “So the lady I saw in the forest—she’s a strong fairy?”

  “Stronger than most, I’ll wager. Did you see the damage she caused?”

  “Some of it. So she killed the hunters?”

  “She toyed with the hunters. It was their problem that they couldn’t handle it.” She looked at Cinder. “That’s the way the fairies think of it, I think. They often don’t bother to kill. That’s too easy for them and not much fun at all. For them, it seems to be all about the game, whatever game they’re playing. But so often, we fragile humans just can’t take it.”

  They sat in silence for a while, listening to the bugs chatter and the bees buzz.

  “Was Ruby alive when you last saw her?” Silver’s voice was quiet.

  “She was.”

  “Could she still be alive?”

  “I don’t know, Silver. I tried to save her, but they threw a net over her, and there were just too many of them. I’m sorry.”

  Silver stared at the ground. “We’ll know soon enough. They’ll lay out all the bodies in front of the forest. And those who survived will be returned to their families.”

  But Ruby was not laid out with the row of bodies in front of the forest, nor did she limp back home. She was simply not seen again. Silver trekked through the woods during the days of summer, looking for her granddaughter, but she always came back home alone.

  THE PRINCE OF MIDNIGHT

  * * *

  ~ Two Years Later ~

  Chapter 19

  The king’s herald stood by the town’s square by the well as he unrolled a scroll.

  “Hear ye, hear ye!” he yelled. “His highness, the magnificent and great Dark King, ruler of the Midnight Realms, defender of his people, champion of all against the onslaught of the wild fairies, has declared that he will announce his heir.”

  The crowd surrounding him murmured. The king had started with six children but had lost all but two to suspicious accidents, dark magic and suicide. The last one had died during the hunt massacre, along with dozens of others. He had been heir to the throne.

  It had been a couple of winters since the death of the crown prince, yet the king had yet to declare an heir to the throne. That had fueled all kinds of speculation about what might have truly happened to bring about the crown prince’s death. Rumors of nefarious dealings abounded.

  “To celebrate this occasion, his majesty, in all his wisdom and generosity, has released the two crescent moons to trail the blood moon in the sky.”

  A murmur of appreciation went through the crowd, for the crescent moons had been seen last night. There had been much discussion of it, as they hadn’t been seen since the height of the war.

  The older market vendors made sour faces as if they doubted that the king had anything to do with the moons.

  “In addition, a royal ball shall be held in the honor of the occasion,” continued the herald. “The royal princes shall select their brides at the ball and present them to the king. His majesty will then determine which bride is more suitable. The one with the more suitable bride will be his majesty’s heir.”

  The herald paused to let his announcement sink in before continuing.

  “All of the women of the kingdom—highborn ladies as well as commoners—are invited to the ball.”

  The crowd broke into shocked conversation. Royal balls were only for noble families. To be able to go to one was merely a dream for even the wealthiest of merchant families.

  “His majesty also hereby commands that all fairy owners must make their fairies available for rent or purchase during the time leading up to the royal ball, so that the ladies of the la
nd may use them as they wish.”

  The crowd’s excitement doubled. Only the king’s favorite subjects could own a fairy. It was a status symbol as much as a grant of power.

  Ladies tittered and gossiped. Everyone knew that fairies could make an old woman young again, at least for a night. And that was all it would take, right?

  It was said that fairies could also weave the most beautiful dresses and spin sparkly pairs of dancing shoes with only the simplest of ingredients. A lock of hair or a strip of skin from a dead girl. Of course, the corpse needed to be fresh, but every good spell needed fresh ingredients.

  Cinder followed behind her stepmother and stepsisters while they weaved through the throng in the central square. Speculation had been gaining speed for months, but now, people were finally exchanging coins for their bets on which one of the two princes of Midnight would become heir.

  The market was alive with talk of the princes. Even Cinder’s stepsister Tammy, who didn’t have the slightest interest in politics, was suddenly obsessed with which prince the king would choose as heir.

  “It’ll be Younger Prince, I’ll bet,” said Darlene with a giggle.

  “I think Elder Prince is far more attractive,” said Tammy. She’d once caught a glimpse of the elder prince, and she took every opportunity to remind everyone about it.

  The princes had true names, of course, but only the nobles were allowed to call them by those. It was said that the royal family called each other by casual, familiar names, but only those close to the royal family even knew those names. To everyone else, they were Elder Prince and Younger Prince. The titles were simpler now that there were only two left.

  “It won’t matter which it will be,” said Helene. “They are both fine matches for any of us.”

  “Any of us?” asked Tammy. “Mother, you’re twenty years older than the princes.”

  “I still have my charms. Besides, we’re buying the most powerful fairy money can buy.”

  “With what money?” whispered Tammy, for everyone whispered when talking about money.

  Thieves in Midnight didn’t listen carefully enough to distinguish between a lot of money and little money. They merely listened for the sound of coins.

  “We’ll figure something out,” said Helene. She turned and gave Cinder an assessing look.

  Cinder didn’t like that look.

  The last time she’d seen that look, her stepmother had sold her to the hunt. With the world falling faster into darkness and everyone adjusting to the new world, Cinder had managed to stay out of harm’s way for two whole years since the hunt.

  She would have to lock her door from now on.

  Cinder kept her head down and let her hair fall in front of her face. It was this subservient attitude that made her stepmother the least angry. Cinder used to stand proud and defiant, daring her stepmother to do what she would to her. But she soon learned that it was better to keep her defiance private. Better to let her anger smolder behind the scenes rather than let it show on her face.

  Cinder shifted the baskets on her arms. They were full of potatoes and vegetables. They’d come to the market for mundane things, but now, they were heading into Slavers Row.

  Chapter 20

  Two years ago, this part of the market had been small and decent people hardly ever went into it. But it had grown over the last couple of years, and as darker tastes grew, so did Slavers Row.

  Someone bumped into Cinder. It looked like all the ladies were rushing to this row.

  Cinder tried to face directly ahead, trying not to see the rows of cages. The most wretched beings were on display here. Old magicians who had lost their battles with their enemies. First, second and third wives who were no longer wanted by their overlord husbands.

  There were also more exotic creatures on display. Werechildren who turned into various things under the light of the moon. They were usually the least wanted of all the slaves, but people were bidding on them now, calling out bets on what each child might turn into once the moon turned full.

  When they came to the fairy section at the farthest end of Slavers Row, even Cinder couldn’t keep from staring.

  Usually, one needed the king’s permission to rent or buy a fairy. They could wield powerful magic, and only skilled slavers could control them, or so they said. But now that the king had ordered the fairy slavers to let anyone give them money to use them, the row was flooded with eager women.

  Fairies could do far more than just make a woman beautiful and young, of course, but the rental agreement would make sure they were bound to only use their magic for glamour and fashion for the ball.

  “Oh, what about that one, Mama?” asked Darlene, pointing to a buxom one with canny eyes.

  Helene sniffed as she looked the fairy over. “Too bold for my taste.”

  That translated to too expensive for her purse.

  “Can we just sell Cinder?” asked Tammy. “I mean, look at her. What good will she be to us without a fairy?”

  “She’s right, Mama,” said Darlene. “We might as well trade her in for a powerful fairy. Maybe the fairy can cook and clean as well?”

  Cinder began to tremble. They had joked with her before, cruelly taunting her sometimes, but never had they said anything that felt so threatening.

  Being traded to a slaver could be worse than death. Worse than anything she could imagine. Slavers dealt in misery as part of their trade, and she didn’t need any more of that.

  “No need, sister,” said Cinder. “You can have both me and a fairy.”

  Tammy put her hand on her hip. “Is that so? Then get us a fairy, you stupid cow. What are you waiting for?”

  So Cinder, not having any idea what to do, took a trembling step toward the stalls. She took a deep breath and put down her baskets at her stepmother’s feet.

  She ignored Helen’s highbrow look and walked down the slavers’ stalls as if she had any idea what she was doing.

  She had to try something, didn’t she? Her stepfamily may be perfectly awful to live with, but it was better than being sold to a fairy slaver. For all she knew, fairies ate girls like her for breakfast.

  The fairies stood naked and tall inside their cages. Graceful and proud even in their filth and stench.

  They wore muzzles made of hard leather. But even so, many of those muzzles had soft spots in the center where they were being burned by the fairies’ acid spittle. It was said they could spit up to three feet. It was said their screeching was even worse. They’d make your ears bleed if you didn’t run and cover your ears.

  But it was their eyes that seemed to be their most powerful weapon. They were piercing and mesmerizing with their glittery jewel color. Their eyes were supposed to be lucky, but it seemed to Cinder that they hadn’t brought much luck to the fairies who’d lost their eyes. Noblemen sometimes carried fairy eyes on a chain to bring them luck.

  Cinder had talked to a pickpocket at the market once who tried to sell her a fairy eye. It was soft and squishy like any other eye, but she could swear it saw her. The pickpocket claimed that he could sell it for quite a lot of money on the black market.

  The lady fairies were streaked in dirt and blood. Their breasts pointed proudly through their tattered dresses, and their chains left chafing marks on their wrists.

  The male fairies looked starved in a way the female fairies did not. The slavers were afraid of their strength, and so they starved the fairies to weaken them as much as possible without killing them.

  But wouldn’t it serve the slavers to have the fairies be healthy and as beautiful as legends said they were in the wild? Why didn’t the slavers take better care of them? They were worth a fortune, weren’t they?

  One of the fairies turned away from the crowd as if she’d had enough of humans gawking at her. The wounds where her wings had been chopped off were still raw and bloody. She must have been newly caught, still grieving for her freedom.

  “Do you have any clean ones?” asked a fat lady holding a generous purse ful
l of coins.

  “No.” The slaver spat on the mud. “Can’t get near them with soap and water. They think it’s cursed or something. Filthy lot. I’d exterminate them all if it wasn’t for the king.”

  Everyone knew the Dark King had a thing for enslaving fairies. It was a hobby of his, capturing wild fairies despite, or maybe because of, the dangers. He often came to royal events with scratches across his face and acid burns on his neck. Once, he showed up to a royal hunt with all his hair singed off, or so the story went.

  “Pardon me,” said Cinder.

  The slaver ignored her.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  “Move along, girl. You can’t afford one of these here. Try Stan’s stall over at the end of the row. He’s got some mangy ones you might be able to afford.”

  She wondered what he considered mangy if his were in this poor a shape. She nodded and moved back into the flow of the crowd.

  Toward the end of the row, where the shadows were deepest and the wind the coldest, stood a few stalls where low moans came from. Cinder’s feet hesitated. She didn’t want to go there in the dark. Everyone in town knew that if someone was foolish enough to go into dark places, they were on their own. No one would come looking for them if they disappeared or screamed or called for help. Certainly, her stepfamily wouldn’t come to her rescue.

  But they weren’t going to help her no matter where she was unless Cinder helped herself. So she took a deep breath and forced herself to move forward.

  Chapter 21

  The stalls were appalling. The stench was worse than it was in the main section, and the fairies here were too sickly to stand. Some leaned listlessly against their metal cages. Others sat or lay unmoving, staring blankly into the dark, as if they had willed their inner selves to go somewhere far away.

  “What can we bargain for you, my little lady?” came a raspy voice.