Cinderella's Not-So-Ugly Stepsister (Grimmer Fairy Tales Book 2)

by Lee Hayton

  “The prince would like to see you.”

  My mouth dropped open. The blood ran ice-cold in my veins. My stomach roiled and bubbled, acid burning up the back of my throat.

  “Anastasia, sit down,” I whispered through a rapidly constricting throat. I reached for her hand to pull her back but missed, just lightly brushing her skin before she jerked away. Fear flooded my system with adrenaline and I scrambled to my feet, but by then she was halfway to the door.

  “Not you, dear,” Gerald said gently as I tried to follow my sister. “Not this time.”

  Chapter Five

  Not this time.

  The echo of the words swirled in my head long after Gerald had taken his leave. Not this time.

  My hand crept up to worry the delicate skin of my throat as I pictured the room into which my sister would now be escorted. My heart clutched as other images tried to crowd into my mind as well. Flashbacks that knew damn well they weren’t allowed in there, not anymore. Flashbacks that had no respect for my authority.

  I fled the castle.

  A tangle of emotions overwhelmed me, and I ran, sprinting as fast as my swollen ankles could bear. The track through the woods never seemed as long but had never taken as little time to complete. Boughs swept deep scratches along my arms when I stepped too far to one side. Low hanging branches caught at my head, tangling and pulling my hairs out by the root. My breath was shallow panting, burning with the flames of hell before I reached home. My thigh muscles were a twitching mass of pain.

  I slowed as I walked toward the front door of our cottage. I paused with my fingers clasped around the handle for long minutes as I waited for my breathing to calm, my heart to slow into its normal steady rhythm. I held my eyes closed, lids squeezed together hard to keep the bad memories at bay.

  If my stepfather were at home, I would walk into a world full of trouble.

  Finally, I turned the handle and entered, tip-toeing across the floor, avoiding the floorboards I knew would creak. When I reached the box in the corner where the horrible man made his daughter sleep like a dog, I saw the gleaming finery of her gown hanging from a hook on the wall.

  Money for ballgowns still hadn’t equated to an upgrade in her bed.

  I took the dress down. My heart rate sped up as though I recommenced running. My hands shook as I felt the delicate stitch work, the intricate pattern of hand-sewn beads. Such a beautiful thing. It was worth so much money. A gift to wrap Cinderella up in like a present and hand her to a future king.

  Well, not on my watch, sister.

  I tucked it underneath my arm and fetched the gorgeous dress that my mother had pulled together from her memories of better occasions. It went beneath my other armpit, and I headed for the well.

  If I’d had time, I would have set fire to the garments, standing until they charred into piles of ash. But my stepfather could arrive back from wherever he’d sloped off to, at a moment’s notice. The punishment he dealt out would dwindle below the knowledge that he’d seize the dresses from me and save them for his beautiful girls to wear to the fancy ball.

  The disused old well was quick. One motion and the expensive finery was drenched in the sodden mud, writhing with ungodly creatures at the bottom. Running back to the house I collected the chamber pots and emptied their contents down on top of them for good measure.

  I stood back, seeing the tiny twinkle from a sequin reflecting a ray of sun that crept wearily into the bottom of the well. A last cry for rescue. Look at me! I’m still so beautiful. Why would you treat me so?

  The entire household coffers had been spent on Cinderella’s ballgown. All the working hours my mother could set aside had been spent on Anastasia’s.

  I knew my parents would look at me and ascribe the behavior to base motives growing straight out of jealousy. Let them think that. Better to consider me jealous than to comfort the wreckage left from what used to be their daughters.

  I hoped that Anastasia would be safe enough today. And tomorrow, too. The action seemed more of a slap in the face directed at me, than a thought-out plan.

  Yes, I thought she was safe until the party. And now I’d destroyed the only invitation that would get the two of them through the door. Yes, it was mandatory to attend. But the castle staff weren’t stupid. If we looked as destitute as I felt, they wouldn’t let us through the doors.

  Cinderella and Anastasia may be attractive but who would ever think to turn their heads and look to the outside of the castle? Who would turn to see their beautiful faces pressed against the windows, peering in at all they missed?

  Chapter Six

  I wandered away from the cottage for the remainder of the afternoon. I had no desire to see my stepfather’s rage. After trudging through the rest of the village, I walked deep into the woods on the other side.

  At one point, I heard the noise of movement, twigs breaking, leaves rustling, and turned to see glowing yellow eyes staring at me from the deepest darkest heart of the forest. Instead of jumping with terror as I once may have done, I stepped toward the anonymous stranger lurking beside the path. The eyes blinked, once, twice, then another rustle sounded as they disappeared back to whence they had come.

  I barked a hollow laugh, empty of any mirth. Even a creature in the forest didn’t care to keep my company. I wasn’t good enough to bother tearing limb from limb.

  When my thighs refused to carry me one step farther, I sank onto a rotting log from a fallen tree and groaned as it bore my weight.

  Too much had happened in too short a time to be able to draw a breath and examine the events. In the dark, scared and alone, I broke down and wept.

  It wasn’t until the full moon inserted a silver ray of light through the tree canopy that I roused myself to make the long trek home. My sisters and my mother would be waiting, no doubt worried. My stepfather would be waiting, fury knotting his soul.

  But my stepfather wasn’t there. Maybe banished by my mother to take his rage out someplace else. More likely taking himself away to fuel his anger further with a couple of shots of high-octane spirits.

  “Zelda, thank God,” my mother cried, pulling me into a tight hug. She squeezed my shoulders and pushed my fringe gently back from my eyes. Her laser-sharp gaze swept my face up and down, registering everything and typing out a report in triplicate. She pulled me closer against her and then as her soft belly touched against my rock-hard abdomen, her face stilled. Each feature turning into an empty plaster cast.

  Before my mother’s hand could creep down my body to confirm her suspicions I pulled back. “I’m fine. I just went for a walk in the forest.”

  “Oh, Zelda. You know better than to go in there alone,” my mother chided. She looked over her shoulder and dropped her voice down a register, “You know there was another attack there last week. A small girl and her grandmother. You take care and keep well clear of that place.”

  “Do you know what happened?” Anastasia asked. Her voice was loud with indignation and suspicion. “Our dresses have been destroyed!”

  I tried to paste an expression of disbelief on my face, then looked down at the ground as it failed to take hold. “Really? How awful.”

  Cinderella stood back from my sister and mother, wringing her hands in dismay. “It was the only beautiful thing I ever owned,” she whispered. At her distress, my heart cracked open a little more. If it sustained any more damage, surely it would break beyond repair.

  I walked over to her and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry, I really am. But maybe,” I pulled back from her and gave a quick glance down at my stomach. When I looked back up, she’d caught the gesture, and her eyes had widened. “Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe winning a prince isn’t a prize that any of us should be seeking.”

  Cinderella’s eyes filled with tears and she nodded her head in understanding. “You’re right,” she said firmly. “Besides, it’ll still be a nice night out. Even if we don’t get to see the inside of the castle.”

  I was startled for a second as I reali
zed how different her life was from mine. Both tormented by males, both ill-treated. But the access I had every day to a beautiful residence with gorgeous furnishings was something poor Cindy had never witnessed.

  Even though those objects may not be mine, just being surrounded by beauty was often enough to lift my spirits. I’m not so mean that whether something belongs to another or not is a causal factor in my admiration.

  “Come here,” Anastasia demanded, pulling me by the wrist. She dragged me over to the disused well and pointed inside. “Look down there. See what someone has done to us.”

  “Ana,” Cinderella began. “Perhaps we should just look on the bright side—”

  “I didn’t ask you,” Anastasia turned and shouted. Her face was burning with fury and frustration. “You can go and look on the bright side in there.”

  She pointed to the cottage with one long manicured forefinger. “And my name is Anastasia, not Ana.”

  “You get right back here and apologize at once,” my mother shouted, her hands bunching into fists of righteousness. “How dare you talk to your sister like that. And I’m the one who decides what your name is, girl. Don’t you forget it.”

  “I’m not coming over there until Zelda looks into the well and sees what someone has done to our beautiful gowns.”

  “I really don’t mind,” Cinderella interjected, even at the potential cost of being forever on Anastasia’s shit list. “I’m just happy to be going out one night.”

  Anastasia ignored her as though her voice was a distant breeze rustling harmlessly through the treetops. “Look,” she said.

  Her hand grabbed the back of my neck and forced my head forward. She leaned in close to me. Her hot breath began to steam up my skin. It made my inner ear tickle like an insect was crawling about in there.

  “Look and see what you’ve done.”

  I pushed her away then, my mind spinning. Whoever I had believed Anastasia to be, it didn’t match to the truth of who she was. What had happened to corrode my gentle, caring sister into this egotistical maniac? It wasn’t the loss of a dress that turned her. I hoped it wasn’t due to an afternoon with the prince.

  Sadly, my memories crumbled into ashes as I realized they may be nothing more than lies that I told myself to get through the long, hard days. As Anastasia’s eyes glinted cruel daggers of blue steel at me, I wondered if I knew my sister at all.

  “Yes, Anastasia, I ruined your dress,” I said slowly, carefully keeping watch on where she placed her hands. To be sure I was out of danger, I withdrew a step. “I threw them both into the well to save you and Cinderella from going to the dance.”

  “Why would you do such a thing?” my mother sobbed. Her face flicked between her daughters, shocked at the anger and sadness that rippled out from us. “Those dresses cost a lot of money. We can’t possibly replace them by tomorrow night.”

  “You shouldn’t want to replace them,” I yelled, desperation cracking my voice. “The prince is…He’s…” I tried to force the words out, but they refused to come. He’s abusive. He’s monstrous. He’s evil. My throat choked on the phrases just it had once been choked with something else.

  “What is it? What’s happening?” My mother’s voice was so distraught it felt like it was drawing blood to hear the words. “Zelda, please tell me what’s been going on.”

  “She’s pregnant,” whispered Cinderella. In the middle of all the racket we’d been making, her pronouncement should have been drowned out by the echo of our shouting. But it wasn’t. The truth cut through with its simplicity. My mother’s hand ran down to rub at her stomach. It traced the hard outline of a baby that hadn’t resided there for over fifteen years.

  “The prince?” My mother connected the threads of conversation together to form a tapestry of understanding. “The prince did this to you?”

  Did this to me. Mom’s immediate grasp that there was nothing consensual in the mix made me love her even more. And pity her for knowing, because that knowledge only comes through experience.

  “He took Anastasia out of work today, as well,” I stated firmly. “If it continues she’ll end up in the same boat.”

  My sister’s face twisted with fury. Her teeth seemed to lengthen and her fingernails twisted into claws. If she swiped her hand at me, it might cut like cat-o-nine tails. I withdrew another step, then turned and ran to the warm safety of my mother’s arms.

  “The prince is in love with me,” Anastasia stated. She spun around in the basking rays of moonlight cast by the deepening night and fixed her stare on each of us, one by one. “At the ball tomorrow night, he’s going to announce our engagement.”

  I laughed. Overwhelmed with a violent churn of emotions, the sound emerged as raucous. Harsh. “But sister, he’s engaged to me.”

  The ridiculousness of me ever thinking that—ever believing it—washed over me and dragged me into a land of hysteria. My laugh grew more desperate, tinged with sorrow for my situation, edged with fear for Anastasia. And with an undercurrent of regret that any of us should be placed here.

  Although Anastasia was still resistant, after I had calmed back down into the land of normality, we put our heads together to sort out a plan before my stepfather came home.

  If we were to all stay out of the ball, and keep ourselves safe, then we had to dissuade him from any tactics designed to get us there again.

  “But, we don’t have money anyway,” Anastasia grumbled. She was still reeling from my revelations. Still feeling hurt that I hadn’t confided in her, still feeling jilted though the man hadn’t done it himself.

  I don’t blame her. Most of all, I was scared that she would change her mind back. That the glimpse I’d had of a different sister than I thought might actually have been a reveal of her true nature. I worried that she would abandon our plan in a second if she thought of a better one for herself.

  Even now, I feel guilty at the thoughts swirling through my mind that night. If only I’d bothered to confide in her earlier, Anastasia’s sweet, simple approach to life may have stayed intact.

  Never did I give a thought to what she must have seen as my betrayal of our sisterly bond. Never did I wonder what thoughts ran through her head before she surrendered to sleep.

  All those long weeks of me disappearing from her side. No whispers of explanation, no attempts to make her understand. I’d kept my secret, and though at the time I might have passed that off as due to circumstance, I also know now that secrets are their own insidious pleasure. They’re like a tangible gift that you can possess, and the power comes by not giving others their fair share.

  But that night wasn’t when those considerations occurred. I was young, I was in trouble, and I needed my family to be strong for me while I gave in to my weakness. My burden was lifted from my shoulders. My loving family gave me the gift of breathing without its heaviness pulling me down.

  “If my husband even tries to get credit from anyone in this village,” my mother said. “There’s no way anyone is going to extend him that favor. Erik’s not known for his generosity or his ability to repay. They may give him the time of day to get his plea out, but no one will fulfill it.”

  She was so sure of it that we all dismissed it as a possibility. Without funds or a dress appearing out of thin air, there was no way he’d be able to force his daughter into the clutches of evil.

  And no. I do not think that you’re stupid, dear reader. Nor have I forgotten some details myself. I know my white dress is glowing in your mind like a beacon. I know that there’s many a way that it could reappear in this story.

  I should have destroyed it. The intention was there all along. But did I mention yet how the cruelties inflicted upon me exacerbated every ounce of my weakness? The wicked things that had been done to me left me incapable of destroying the few pleasures I had left.

  When I should have ruined the dress just as I’d ruined the ones belonging to my sisters, I didn’t. I left mine alone. Safely tucked up in the hen house.

  Stupid. Yes.
I’ll admit to that. Neither was it safe. I’d already worried that it would be discovered before I started wrecking other people’s plans.

  But let’s leave it alone there for the moment. Leave it sitting under a thin layer of straw with only feathered friends for its company. One of those well-polished, shining secrets that I was still desperate to keep to myself.

  Chapter Seven

  When my stepfather returned, he was empty handed. Empty pocketed to. Even though the week’s wages had been handed to him just the day before, he’d spent them. The house reeked of booze for a week just from what he imbibed that night.

  His anger was sublimated when he crawled back home. Dulled down by so much alcohol he could barely control his muscles. Indeed, he didn’t manage to exercise any control over his basic bodily functions. Poor Cinderella had to clean up that fetid mess. I’ve never pitied anyone as much as I pitied her then.

  The next morning, when only the painful parts of the booze remained in his system, every drop of pleasure wrung out, his rage was back on full display. We fled the house, grateful to escape to the safety of the castle. We even took Cinderella with us on a pretext that there may be people willing to exchange an advance on our wages for a dress they had spare.

  In the castle, no one looked twice when Cinderella accompanied Anastasia and me to our room to work. Everything was in full swing. Each hour grew more and more frantic with preparation. More people were doing more things with less effect than I’d seen gathered in one place ever before.

  Even in our polishing room, far from where any visiting dignitaries or other guests would ever wander, bunting decorated the windows. The world’s most foolish decoration. There would be no one in there to admire it while looking out. Nor would anyone outside be foolish enough to scale the walls to the second floor to peer in and see.