Disdain: A Cinderella Retelling (Tales of Cinder Book 2)

by M. J. Haag

  A log fell in the fire, sending sparks drifting up the chimney. It reminded me of the stars, a sight I hadn’t seen for far too long.

  Standing shakily, I made my way to the door and walked out barefoot into the night. The cool air felt good on my bruised skin as I walked down the dirt lane to the path that led to the overlook. I sat near the edge, tucking my skirts around me since I wore nothing but the maid’s dress.

  The stars shone brightly over the castle. It was a beautiful sight, but it didn’t touch me. Nothing could. The raw hate I felt for Maeve wrapped around me like a protective cloak. I clung to it desperately, for I knew what waited in the shadows of my mind. Utter despair and resignation. It whispered that jumping from the cliff would be a fine end to a pathetic life. That there was nothing in my power I could do to change the course of events except to choose the time and place of my own death.

  A branch snapped behind me.

  “What gave me away?” I asked softly.

  “The owl. Did you not hear it?” Kaven asked.

  I focused on the night sounds and did, indeed, hear the treacherous creature.

  “It seems I’m offensive to man and beast alike,” I said.

  I could feel him coming closer.

  “It was me in the house that day,” I said. “I saw a picture of a beautiful woman with a green necklace. Was she the Princess?”

  “She was.”

  “How did she die?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “She fell ill shortly after marrying. At first, those closest to her thought it was nothing more than sickness from traveling. Then she grew worse. Healers were called. No one could determine the cause.”

  “But you know, don’t you? That’s why you asked if something or someone new appeared before my mother’s death.”

  “Yes. I believe it was the necklace, which was given as a wedding gift to protect her and lost after her death.”

  A necklace that had been sent to my mother by Maeve. Why? And why kill the Princess with it?

  “Why would someone want to hurt the Princess?”

  Kaven sat beside me, looking out at the castle with me.

  “It’s rumored that years ago, long before the King married his late wife, Queen Sevil, there was another woman. She tried ensuring the King’s love with spells and potions. She wanted to be queen. To become a power of reckoning. But she failed and fled. Not for long, though. Strange things started occurring several years after Aftan wed Sevil. Shortly after that, Queen Sevil died and King Afton decreed that, if he should ever marry again, the people should rise up against their new queen. Peace has held Drisdall since that day.”

  I let the story settle in my mind, trying to understand his point.

  “I’m too tired to be clever,” I said.

  He chuckled.

  “Then why are you out here?”

  A hand brushed my cheek, and I winced.

  “Look at me,” he demanded.

  I turned my head and stared at him in the moonlight. Enough days had passed so that the swelling was gone. But even the dark could not hide the discoloration below my eye.

  “What good is looking at me? You cannot undo what’s been done. Only time can do that.”

  “Eloise, I’m so sorry.”

  “Why? You didn’t hit me.”

  “When I saw you that night, I didn’t realize how bad it was. I should have never let you walk home unescorted.”

  Bitterly, I turned away once more and looked at the stars. Why could no one see what was happening within my home? For a brief moment, I considered pressing the issue. However, the memory of Anne and Judith’s bodies dissuaded me. No, it was better that he thought the guard had done this to me. I would not give him any hint of my circumstance that might endanger him, too.

  “Make it up to me by finishing your story,” I said.

  “It’s not a story but history. And the Royal family believes it is repeating itself.”

  “They believe an evil caster is going to try to marry the King? Wouldn’t the people still rise up against her?”

  “Not the King, but Prince Greydon, heir to the Crown and currently unwed.”

  “Oh,” I said as my mind raced.

  While younger women frequently married older men, I didn’t often hear of the opposite. Could Maeve’s intention truly be to marry Prince Greydon? It made sense of her single-minded focus regarding Prince Greydon’s arrival. But surely she couldn’t think it would work when she was already known to the King and the King was protected from her influence by an amulet of his own. How did she think she would get the King to agree? The potions to change her appearance didn’t last that long, and by her own mouth, a spell to change her appearance would be too costly.

  No, she was far too clever to repeat her mistakes. If she failed once, she was going to try something else. But what?

  “Why all these questions?” Kaven asked softly.

  “So I understand why I’m suffering. So I can decide if protecting a prince is worth this price.”

  He gently wrapped an arm around me, likely intending to give me comfort; however, he only caused pain. I hissed out a breath and eased away from him.

  “I’m deeply sorry for what they did to you. I’ll speak to the Prince about the treatment of those they bring in for questioning.”

  “He’s doing what he must. I should go,” I said, getting to my feet.

  He quickly stood and helped me up. His hand lingered on mine, warm and strong as he held my gaze. I wanted to lean into him. I wanted to beg him to help me. But most of all, I wanted to spare him from enduring Maeve’s tormenting attention.

  “How many have died now?” I asked.

  His gaze darkened, and he glanced at the castle once more.

  “Twenty-four.”

  “The deaths have slowed then.”

  “But not stopped.”

  “Stay safe, Kaven. Your life is worth as much as the Prince’s in my eyes.” I leaned up and gently brushed my lips to his cheek before slipping from his hold and walking the path home.

  When I opened the door, Maeve was there. I said nothing to her as I poured myself a cup of water, which I drank before sitting by the fire.

  “Where were you?” she asked.

  “Looking at the stars, trying to remember why I cling so desperately to this life.”

  She stepped close and ran her hand over my hair.

  “To protect your family,” she said softly.

  “Is that what I’m doing?”

  Her hand stilled on my head. I didn’t regret my words. To my very soul, I was tired of the games we played.

  “If you’ve forgotten, perhaps I need to remind you.”

  “If that is what you wish.” I stood and resumed my spot on the floor. “I’m ready.”

  She stood over me in silence for several long moments.

  “Rest, my sweet Eloise. Tomorrow will be better for you.”

  She left the room, and I closed my eyes, tears finding their way down my cheeks. If Maeve said tomorrow would be better, I would surely suffer some new form of torture.

  I smoothed my hand over the soft skirt of the dress as the seamstress made small sounds of satisfaction. Behind me in the mirror, Maeve watched me closely.

  “Does the dress suit you, Eloise?” she asked.

  “Yes, Mama.” The words fell flat. Not ungrateful or disrespectful, only wooden. I didn’t trust the new dress or Maeve’s benevolence.

  “Poor darling. I can’t imagine the terror you felt when the horse reared.”

  I nodded politely to the seamstress, keeping the pretense of the story Maeve had given to explain the fading bruises covering my body and my need for an immediate dress. It was a new seamstress, one who had no knowledge of my previous need for mourning gowns. One who was discreet and wouldn’t spread the tale of my injuries.

  “Can you have another one like this ready soon?” Maeve asked.

  “Of course, My Lady.”

  “Very good. I’ll have so
meone fetch it once it’s complete. Come, Eloise.”

  I stepped down from the hemming stool and followed Maeve from the shop. Hugh waited nearby with the carriage.

  “Take us home,” Maeve said.

  The idea of returning to that hell so soon fed the despair eating at me. Maeve noticed as I took my seat.

  “Perhaps when we return, you would like to take the pig for a walk,” she said.

  “Yes, Mama.” I turned to look out the window, pretending not to notice her frown.

  “You’re too spirited to be broken, Eloise. Kellen, yes. But not you. Dispel whatever plagues you, and act like a proper young lady should.”

  “I’m not sure I know that role anymore,” I said softly. “Is it laying bloody and broken before a fire? Listening to the maids suck the cocks of our male dinner guests? Cleaning away soot and ash?” I turned my head and looked at her. “I haven’t been a proper young lady in a very long time, and I truly don’t believe that’s what you want from me. It’s only presentation and appearance that matter, after all.”

  She smiled slightly.

  “There’s my clever girl. When we return home, take the pig for a walk. Spend some time outdoors. I will require you at dinner again tonight.”

  I nodded and resumed my study of the passing homes, dreading what would happen once she stopped her act of loving stepmother.

  When we pulled into the yard, I went straight to the pig’s pen and let him out. I didn’t bother with a tether.

  “It’s time for a walk, Mr. Pig.”

  He ambled along beside me as I made my way around the house to the trail that led to my mother’s grave.

  “Don’t eat any of the flowers in the clearing,” I said just before we reached it. “I don’t think they’re natural and don’t want you to fall ill.”

  The pig grunted and veered slightly to root around between the trees. I stared after him, frowning. The old woman’s words about casting a spell on a beast came back to me.

  “Are you truly a pig?”

  The pig’s head jerked up and swiveled to look at me. He started squealing and grunting in earnest, and my stomach dipped.

  “Were you once a man?”

  His head bobbed, and I felt sick. Like me, he too had been cursed. Again, the conversation with Rose came to mind, and I thought of her promise that she’d only cursed those who deserved it. Is that how Maeve viewed my curse? That I’d deserved to be struck mute?

  It was only then that I thought of Maeve and the mirror. I hoped she wasn’t watching. For if she were, the poor man would surely soon be dead.

  “Hush,” I said softly. “We will both suffer if you make too much noise.”

  The pig fell silent and followed me to the bench. I sat on the wooden surface, and the pig lay down nearby. We were both quite stuck in our current circumstances.

  Sitting in the sun, I felt the spring breeze caress my skin while the birds sang. The peace of the glade soothed the ragged edges of my frayed hope. However, when I left several hours later, I didn’t feel more renewed but rather more bitter at the invisible shackles that prevented me from righting the wrongs that had been done to so many.

  The pig followed me meekly back to his pen.

  “I will try to find a way to speak to her,” I said softly, thinking of Rose.

  The pig squealed and ran to his shelter. I wondered if he feared Rose as much as I feared Maeve.

  Leaving him, I let myself into the kitchen and found Heather and Catherine hard at work preparing another dinner feast.

  “Can I help?” I asked.

  “No, miss. Your mother gave strict orders that you’re to do nothing to help prepare this meal.”

  I sighed and looked around the kitchen. It was on the tip of my tongue to apologize again, but I knew doing so would change nothing.

  “Thank you for all the work that you do,” I said instead then left the room.

  Upstairs, I again started reading the book Mr. Bentwell had held for me per Kellen’s request, wasting time until Maeve called me down for dinner.

  I sat through the meal, detached from the conversation while still appearing every bit Maeve’s attentive daughter. If Maeve noticed something amiss, she didn’t comment. Once Catherine and Heather appeared for their true part of the feast, Maeve dismissed me.

  Seeking the haven of my attic sanctuary felt wrong while Catherine and Heather endured so much to feed Maeve’s ever increasing need for power. Yet, I retreated without protest. There was nothing I could do for them.

  While I passed through the hall, my gaze landed on the mirror. It was the key to setting Kellen and me free. How did one break an unbreakable mirror, though? And even if I found a way, how would I survive Maeve’s wrath because I knew I wouldn’t leave Heather and Catherine to suffer in my place.

  Once more in my room, I stared out at the stars through my tiny window, pondering the answers to those very questions.

  The following days mimicked the first. The pig and I would go to the clearing and sit there in silence for hours. Near dinner, I would return to wash and prepare myself. I would eat, speak when spoken to, then retreat to the safety of my room and Kellen’s book of tales.

  Another dress appeared at some point, laid out on Kellen’s bed. I changed when needed. Bathed when needed. Ate when needed. I became a hollow replica of my former self as the bruising faded completely.

  “Eloise,” Maeve said, setting her spoon aside at breakfast one morning. “You haven’t been yourself for the last week. What is the matter with you, child? Are you ill?”

  “Has it truly only been a week?” I asked absently. I took a small bite of oats, playing with my food more than eating it.

  Maeve huffed.

  “Honestly, Eloise, I think I might take you to a healer if you don’t start acting yourself soon.” Her tone, so filled with motherly worry, had me looking up at her. Her face was a complete mask of true concern. I stared at her, wondering if she was starting to believe her own lie.

  “I’m fine, Mama,” I said automatically.

  She studied me, the look of worry never leaving her face.

  “Would you like to go to town with Hugh to pick up supplies?”

  “No, thank you. I upset Hugh when I’m with him.”

  Maeve frowned slightly.

  “What do you mean? Has he hurt you?”

  I almost howled with laughter at that.

  “He scolds me to stay close when all I want to do is roam the market like I used to.”

  She considered me for a moment.

  “Very well. Go to town with Hugh. Have your freedom for today. I think you’ve well learned the price of disobedience.”

  “Mama,” Cecilia began, sounding annoyed.

  “Quiet,” Maeve said sharply. “I believe Eloise’s melancholy is due to boredom and envy. The pair of you leave to visit with others daily while she’s trapped here with nothing to entertain herself. Eloise knows what is at stake if she attempts anything. The spell is firmly in place, and Grimm awaits my call should the need arise. And I will be watching.”

  She studied me while she spoke, and I unflinchingly returned her gaze. I didn’t allow myself to feel a shred of hope because I might be able to roam Towdown. There wasn’t much I could do there anyway but pretend I was free. As she said, the spell held me even if my loyalty to my sister did not.

  “Go,” she said with a nod. “Fetch Hugh so the two of you can return before dark.”

  “Yes, Mama.” I rose and left the room.

  Hugh wasn’t happy when he learned he was to take me to town and set me free while he was there. Like Cecilia, he dared to voice protest. Also like Cecilia, he was put in his place.

  “Need I remind you all that Eloise has already been on her own for a day? The day she was taken by the guard. Nothing has happened since. The spell is effective. Do not question my judgment again.”

  Duly reprimanded, Hugh drove me to town in silence. I roamed the market, looking at vendors’ goods and buying nothing. A
few people stopped me to offer their condolences. Many just nodded hello.

  As I mingled with the people in the market, I felt a connection, not just to them but to all the people in Towdown and Drisdall. They knew nothing of the danger that lurked in their midst. Naïve, they went about their days as if they had an infinite amount of them. Yet, my heart hardened when I overheard how many had died in the same unusual manner as Judith and Anne. Well over forty now.

  “Your mother wasn’t…shriveled when she died, was she?” one woman asked in a hushed voice.

  I knew it was fear and not the need for gossip that had prompted her to ask such a tactless question. Reaching out, I placed my hand over hers.

  “My mother was sick for a very long time. She did not die in the same manner as the men and women who have died since then.”

  She nodded and gave my hand a squeeze.

  “It relieves me that your house has been spared.”

  “Not entirely spared. There was a misunderstanding during one of the raids, and I was taken to the castle’s dungeon for questioning.”

  She covered her heart as she stared at me in horror.

  “Oh no. Whatever happened?” I explained about wearing a common dress and running in embarrassment.

  She tsked in sympathy.

  “Men don’t understand such things. You poor dear. I’ve heard there’ve been many women taken for questioning. They are not treated well in the dungeon.”

  Even as she said that, a contingent of guards made their way through the market sending many of the people scattering.

  “My husband is considering moving to the North,” she said. “I hope he decides soon. I heard the guards are doubling their search efforts. They’ve been to our home twice already this week. Once in the middle of the night.”

  “What are they looking for?” I asked although I already knew the answer.

  “Signs of magic. Why now, after all these years, I do not know.”

  I left her stall and returned to Hugh. The journey home was quiet, and Maeve waited by the door, a large smile on her face.

  “I must send you to town more often,” she said, descending to give me a large hug. I returned it, playing her game because I was too beaten down to fight it.