Cinders and Fangs

by J. Conrad

  I braided my still-damp hair and tied it with a piece of fabric I tore from one of the dresses. Not wanting to put my filthy trousers back on, I put the shift on and slipped into one of the tattered gowns. I tucked the river stone in the inner pocket and put on my riding boots. None of my court shoes or slippers had been left for me, so the boots would have to do. Besides, I could run better in them anyway, when the time came. I took a deep breath and readied myself for another round of torment.

  Chapter 12

  I’m so glad you had the decency to clean yourself before coming in here,” Dafina said as I opened the sewing box.

  I sneered at the injustice of this, resisting the urge to come back at her. She spoke as though being trapped in the attic and starved half to death was a bad choice I made. I blinked, looking down at the tape measure I had pulled out of the box. In a way, I guess it was. If I hadn’t left Trystan… but I couldn’t trust him, and that wasn’t my doing. But leaving Dunkrist, yes, that was a mistake. I knew that now.

  “Have you decided upon the fabric?” I asked. Several bolts of shimmering, lush material in a variety of colors had been placed upon Dafina’s bed. Here in her extravagantly decorated quarters, I was reminded of what had been taken from me.

  “Yes, the blue one,” she said. Seated on the stool at her vanity, she drew her delicate fingers through her brunette mane. She gathered her hair into her hands and wound it into a bun, which she pinned in place. I was surprised that she was getting it out of the way, so I could take her measurements. I had expected this entire ordeal to be a fight.

  I glanced at the bolts of cloth. There were two “blue” ones. “The teal or the royal blue?” I asked.

  “The royal blue, you idiot. Teal is not blue,” she said.

  Well, it is a shade of blue, actually, but having been raised by that viper Gwyneth, I couldn’t expect Dafina to know her colors, now could I? “Very well,” I said.

  Dafina rose and came to stand barefoot in the middle of the room on the thick, white, fur rug. I was sorry that some poor beast had to die for that. I set my pencil and paper nearby, so I could note measurements as I took them, and instructed Dafina to hold out her arms. Standing behind her, I wound the tape measure around her chest.

  “When was the funeral?” I asked, trying to keep the tremor from my voice.

  “What funeral?” Dafina snapped.

  Wishing I could throttle her, I instead let go of the tape measure, noting down the first measurement. “My father’s. When was it, and where was it held?”

  “Oh,” Dafina huffed. She shifted her weight to the other foot. “Why, at the chapel in Rhedyn Town, of course.”

  I noticed the hesitation, and how her voice was higher pitched than a moment ago. I asked, “There was no funeral, was there? You don’t know if he’s really dead, do you?”

  “Of course, he’s dead. Otherwise, why would my mother have sent the help away? We have no money now,” Dafina said.

  I wrapped the tape measure around her waist. “What really happened?”

  “I don’t know!” she said, turning her head to scowl at me. “Stop asking questions. You’re not here to speak to me.”

  My heart surged with hope. She didn’t know what happened, only that the money had stopped. There was zero chance of me dropping the questions, but I would change the subject. I would use every available minute with my stepsisters to find out as much as I could about anything which might be useful.

  “Do you think there will be many young men at the ball?” I asked. Having gone to a few such affairs myself back when my life had been normal—well, more normal—I knew that general attendance could vary based on who was holding the event and its purpose.

  “That’s none of your concern, urchin. You certainly won’t be going,” Dafina said.

  I gritted my teeth while I thought about what else to ask. “Will your mother be attending as well?”

  “Of course she will!” she said.

  I inhaled quietly under my breath, so she couldn’t hear. “What type of music do you suppose they’ll play?”

  Dafina sighed and twisted around roughly to gape at me. The measuring tape slipped out of my fingers and fell upon the rug. “Who cares what kind of music! It matters not to me. It’s a royal ball—that’s the whole point! Now shut up and do your job.”

  A royal ball. Well then. I needed to find out more, but this was getting me nowhere fast. Maybe, if I really wanted to gather information, I needed to flatter her and somehow get her to like me. Was it even possible? It might be, if I was convincing enough. I’d never been good at acting.

  As I retrieved the measuring tape from the rug, I frowned as I thought of how I was scheming to play a deceptive role. Just as those I trusted had been treacherous to me, I was contemplating the same subterfuge. I bit my bottom lip, hoping to have a sudden change of heart, but I didn’t. I guess people reaped what they sowed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, shocked at how sincere my voice sounded. “I was just thinking how beautiful you’ll look in the dress you shall have, dancing to a waltz.”

  “Humph,” Dafina said, turning her back to me again. “Yes, I suppose I will look beautiful. Not that you would know anything about that.”

  Especially since the only curves I have left are the protrusions of my rib cage, I thought, but I smiled as I noticed how the flattery seemed to work a bit—at least it got her attention.

  “Of course not. My job isn’t to be beautiful, but to help you prepare for the ball,” I said. “It might be wise that you order me to make you some matching hair ribbons as well.”

  “Oh, yes,” Dafina said, “That—” She stopped herself, because she was almost on the verge of having a normal conversation there for a minute. “That will be fine.”

  “And if you’ll allow me to style your hair that day, I know of a coif that will turn heads. If you want to catch the eye of a nobleman, you’ll need to stand out with the loveliest, most delicate curls possible,” I said.

  “I don’t care about a nobleman. I want to catch the eye of the prince!” Dafina squealed. “Do you really think you can style my hair so that I’ll attract his attention? There will be so many eligible maidens there.”

  The prince? Now this was news. Everyone knew that King Odswin had no heir. Who was this “prince” and where did he come from? Or was Dafina mistaken, just as she didn’t know that teal was a shade of blue?

  “Oh Dafina,” I said, adding an excited lilt to my voice. “I will make you so ravishing not even the king himself could refuse you.”

  Dafina exhaled and I got the idea she was smiling, but all she said was, “Good.”

  I learned what I could, when I could. The three women worked me like a slave in olden times, putting me to scrubbing, cooking, cleaning, washing dishes and laundry, and feeding the livestock. But the gowns were a priority and sewing fine court dresses was time consuming. This, therefore, took up much of my time and attention, and that worked out well since this was when I tried to gather information. One day, I bluntly asked Dafina if she and Annest also had magic powers like their mother.

  “Of course we have magic powers,” she said, almost before I finished the question. “Yet another reason why you should do as you’re told.”

  “But why have I never seen you use them?” I asked.

  This brought on another round of “stop asking questions, keep to your place,” so I tried Annest. Annest wouldn’t answer at all, so I tried her sister again.

  “I told you to stop asking questions, you annoying drudge,” Dafina told me as I took up the hem of her gown.

  I looked up at her, frowning and feigning concern. “Oh. Is it truly that you don’t have your mother’s gifts? I’m sorry, I—”

  Dafina jerked her skirt out of my hand and stepped away from me. “Of course I do!” she said with a scowl that could have curdled milk. She held out the palm of her hand in the direction of her dressing stool. After a few seconds, she hurled it against the wall with an invisible beam
. Taking a deep breath, Dafina gave me a subtle smile. “Mother doesn’t like us to use our powers, especially indoors.”

  I stood up, coming face to face with her. “I see. Does she wish for you and Annest to be human also, as she herself desires?”

  Dafina slapped me across the cheek so swiftly I hadn’t time to react. I opened my mouth in shock, although her strike didn’t really hurt—not like the time Gwyneth did it.

  “Forgive me,” I said. “You’re right. I shouldn’t ask such personal questions.” I never broached the subject again, but her reaction told me all I needed to know. The way my stepmother flaunted her powers was a great cover-up for the fact that deep down, she was ashamed of what she was—a Calek, a natural born witch with an inclination toward evil. Perhaps she didn’t want her daughters to share in the same disgraceful legacy.

  The upcoming ball was an easier subject, but my stepsisters didn’t know how King Odswin came by an heir. However, in a moment of excitement, Dafina showed me the royal proclamation declaring that “every eligible maiden” was to attend the ball by order of the King, in honor of his son, Prince Tarian. Perhaps I should have been jealous that I wouldn’t be going, but I wasn’t. Thinking of an unmarried prince only made me think of Trystan.

  I avoided Gwyneth as much as possible. When I did see her, I acquiesced begrudgingly, so she wouldn’t know I had changed tactics, but I never spoke back to the point that I was beaten again.

  * * * * *

  Since my release from the drafty prison, I also sought out our beloved hound, Jack. He was faithfully watching over the livestock just as I’d asked the night I ran away. His ribs were sharper, the fur on his muzzle greyer. He stood up from the paddock fence stiffly, raising his head and barking as he bounded toward me.

  Elin! Elin! He thought as he put his muddy paws on my apron. I’m so glad to see you! I worried that you would never come back.

  Jack, oh have they mistreated you? I asked with thought-speak, kneeling and wrapping my arms around him.

  Since the stable hands left, no one has fed me. But I hunted in the woods and got a rabbit yesterday, Jack said. He licked my face and a sharp, poignant ache swelled inside my heart. I thought of Trystan long ago as a puppy, the day the wolves howled outside in the battle with the Calek. I thought of the den I left behind, when I ran through the woods, tears streaming down my face when it seemed that Trystan betrayed me. Yet I still missed him.

  All those hunting trips with Father paid off, then, I thought, smiling. From now on, I’ll make sure you have food every day.

  Elin, what’s happened to you? You’re so thin. And you can talk with your mind, Jack thought.

  Too much to explain right now, but we must get a message to Father. Jack, do you know where the town of Tinsford is?

  Is that where we used to go to market in the carriage together? Jack asked.

  Not quite—that is Lyntref. If you reach Lyntref but keep going, following the road, you will eventually come to Tinsford, which is by the sea. If I tie a note to your collar, do you think you can take it to Father? I asked.

  Yes, I think I can, he replied.

  I sighed, putting my face to Jack’s neck and squeezing my eyes closed. Why couldn’t people be so constant? Thank you, sweet friend. I’ll send the ravens to assist you on your journey.

  May I eat them?

  I laughed out loud, releasing him from the hug. His eager brown eyes peered back at me. The ones I’ll send are not for eating. They’ll bring you food and be your guides. They know every bit of road, forest, field, and stream in Edim. But I surely can’t tell you not to eat other birds—if you can catch them.

  For several days I fed Jack more than his usual portions. As time allowed, I brought him up to speed on the state of things at Blaenwood. When he was healthy enough, I sent him off with the note, which I rolled up inside a piece of leather and tied to his collar lengthwise.

  If Father was alive, he would never believe that his darling Gwyneth was doing anything wrong—just as he wouldn’t believe about a dozen other freakish things that had been going on around here. So, I crafted something he would believe. The letter I sent to him read:

  Dear Father,

  We are experiencing dire financial hardship. Stepmother had no choice but to send the help away. I’m helping her maintain Blaenwood, but this situation has put undue strain upon all of us, and I’m worried about the future. Please return with all haste.

  Your daughter,

  Elin

  * * * * *

  Each night, I crept up to the attic, where I continued to sleep on the couch. There was still no sign of Cirros, but the ravens visited, and I gave Ren and her companions instructions on how to aid Jack as he set off to deliver the message.

  Since I oversaw the laundry now, I pilfered a thick blanket (imagine—stealing something which was mine anyway!) and sneaked it upstairs, so at least I had more protection from the cold draft which blew in.

  Steadily prying at it each day with one of the silver knives, I removed the iron frame from the small, octagonal window. While I slept, I stored the frame in one of the wooden crates, where hopefully its properties wouldn’t prevent a Fae from entering.

  When I awoke each morning, I set the frame back inside the window, so Gwyneth wouldn’t know it had been tampered with if she cared to look. I washed up in my “old room,” before starting the day in the kitchen, where I ate my fill before preparing breakfast. I ate again while preparing lunch, again during dinner, and ate bread and cheese between meals. I was back to my original, healthy weight, although the dark circles under my eyes refused to go away. The month of malnutrition, coupled with my current workload, had taken a heavy toll on me.

  Today we were having ham for breakfast, courtesy of one of our large boar pigs, whose carcass currently hung in the meat shed. I had slaughtered and cleaned it myself, thanks to Trystan’s teachings and my months of living in the wilderness. As I fried the ham in the black iron skillet, I found my thoughts drifting not to the betrayal at the end of my time with him, but to all the fond memories made with him beforehand. Setting the skillet off the fire, I went into the pantry and shut the door, taking the river stone from the inside pocket of my skirt.

  I wished I could see Trystan again, if only for a moment. The stone started to glow in my hand as usual, and as I cradled it like a needy child, its surface began to change. Almost translucent at first, colors began to form, swirling into something more solid. I saw Trystan’s face—his human face—from a profile view, with something grey in the background. It was too blurry to discern clearly. Trying harder to focus, I continued to stare. Was I imagining this out of desperation? The Trystan in the stone started to turn, until he faced me, his orange eyes under the dark brows locking onto mine. He squinted, opening his mouth as if to speak.

  “Elin,” Gwyneth said from the kitchen. I started, dropping the river stone which made a loud “pop” against the stone floor. Its light dimmed and went out, leaving me in near darkness. I swore, quickly snatching it and tucking it back under my dress. I grabbed a jar of preserves and pushed open the door.

  “Coming,” I said. “I wanted the girls to have jam for their bread.”

  She glared at me with her icy, jade green eyes. “Well hurry up and serve us. After breakfast you have a lot of work to do.”

  I nodded. It was foolish to dwell upon Trystan, and just now it had almost got me caught. Yet my thoughts were the only things which were truly mine, which was why I held onto them like precious gems, along with my plan to escape. And today was the day.

  Chapter 13

  Once I was physically strong enough to run for my life, I had determined that the right opportunity would present itself, and today it had. We were out of firewood and the place felt like a cave. The wood pile in the shed was depleted, I had gathered every stray log and stick from the property, and we were at the point where I had to cut down a tree.

  After I had cleared away the dishes from the morning meal, Gwyneth said, “D
o it in the back behind the kitchen, where I can see you. If you try to run, the penalty will be severe.”

  “Yes, Stepmother,” I nodded frigidly.

  Behind the scullery was the herb garden, and beyond this were various fruit and nut trees. As one went farther back, other trees grew where the orchard ended, and the wild forest began. To cut down one of our food bearing trees would be a mistake, so I had to walk a good way from the house to find a suitable candidate, and Gwyneth knew this. She also knew it couldn’t be avoided if we were to have fuel to burn.

  I pulled on some breeches under my raggedy dress and wriggled into a long-sleeved tunic. I had made these from scraps I found in the sewing room. Since I was there often, working late on my stepsisters’ gowns, I used some of the time to make the warm clothing I’d need on my escape day.

  Although Jack had not yet returned from his mission of carrying my message to Father, I thought it best to proceed with my runaway plan. I had realized that journeying to Tinsford myself could be dangerous. Gwyneth would probably suspect the seaside town as my destination, knowing I’d want to find out for myself if my father was still alive. Instead I would head for the deep wilderness of Dunkrist, the last place where I was happy. I would have the ravens alert Jack of my whereabouts.

  I headed to the stable, where I harnessed our chestnut, work mare and walked her back to the woodshed. The cart was right outside where I had parked it the day before, strategically loaded with a small amount of wood already. Those few logs and twigs covered my bag of provisions. I hitched up the horse and retrieved the ax from the shed, along with Father’s outdoor work coat from its peg inside. It was so large I had to roll up the sleeves, but I didn’t care. It was warm, and I’d need protection for the coming days.