Cinderella's Inferno

by F. M. Boughan

  “Excuse me, and I apologize if my question seems unusual, but what might be your business at the palace today?”

  His smile did not waver as he bowed, and I wondered if he did not recognize me because he had traveled from afar. I didn’t recognize his face either, and though I couldn’t have been expected to have memorized the appearance of every young man in our area, his skin reminded me of shimmering sand. My father, on the other hand, might have immediately known his place of origin, but that is the job of a merchant.

  “I travel with a caravan of players, good lady,” he said, and now I recognized the slight lilt to his voice, the intriguing, round way he spoke his vowels that revealed he must have traveled a long distance. “The others follow behind me. We’ve come to audition for the position of entertainers at the royal wedding.”

  Wedding! Now, that was a surprise. “Did you answer a summons? How far have you come?”

  “Far enough, far enough. Did your king not make a royal pronouncement of the impending nuptials of the young prince and his bride? I understood there was to be a ceremony in late autumn. Though I also understood it was to be in late spring, prior to that, and mid-winter prior to that, but then I wondered … perhaps the delay was due to a lack of suitable entertainment!”

  He winked, and my stomach clenched like fingers around a coin. We did not lack for entertainment here, and truth be told, I’d already wondered if the king might prefer William and I to be wed without any fanfare at all, whenever that might be. If ever.

  He must have seen the stricken look on my face, for he frowned and straightened his spine. “Have I said something wrong?”

  Yes, indeed he had, but not by any fault of his own. An urge to flee rose in my chest, compounding my anxious frustration at the events of the evening. The twilight hour was nearly at an end, and though the depths of night were no longer filled with dangers from dark spirits, not all dangers were of the infernal sort. I remained a young woman, still vulnerable to the threats of the physical realm.

  I offered yet another shallow curtsy and made to depart, uncertain where my feet might take me, but still possessed of the impatient urge to speak with William immediately.

  And then I found myself on the garden path to the rear of the castle grounds, the kind young player calling out to me in alarm.

  “Good lady, I don’t even know your name or who to ask for, should I wish to speak with you again!”

  Oh, how improper to indulge that moment, but indulge it I did, for I turned on my heel to regard him with sternness. “Nor I, yours,” I called back. And then I resumed my journey, his pleasant laughter spurring me onward. I know I shouldn’t have reveled in the attention, but I had not seen or heard from William for several days, and my heart was heavy with the weight of discouraged love.

  But I knew where I would receive love and acceptance freely, and so upon reaching the door to the kitchens—tucked away and easily unnoticed by typical passersby—I rapped twice, then once, then once again.

  Moments later, there came the sound of shuffling feet and the heavy thunk of a lock being shifted from its resting place. The door swung open and I grinned.

  “Princess!” Hette embraced me with the fervor an aunt shows a long-missed niece, and then some. Her firm grip gave me comfort as she held me at arm’s length to look me over. “Your presence around here has been sorely missed.”

  “And your hands!” Katherine shouted from across the kitchen, holding up a potato and a knife. I laughed, but Hette pointed a scolding finger at the girl—though I didn’t miss the smile in her eyes.

  “I’m not a princess yet,” I reminded them. “And that’s why I’ve not been around much, truth be told. Visits are … difficult at best.”

  “Oh, girl.” Hette patted my cheek and pulled a loose cloth from her shoulder, continuing to work as we spoke. “You’re not the only one to notice His Majesty’s tension and lack of good humor these days. Not to spread undue rumors, but the queen’s visit to England has lasted a mite longer than anticipated, and one might wonder why, what with the civil unrest surrounding the British royals.”

  “You’re rather well informed,” I told Hette, and indeed I was impressed by the breadth of her knowledge on current affairs. Even I hadn’t known of the queen’s extended absence—William hadn’t spoken to me about it at all. Not that he had spoken to me about anything, lately.

  Hette frowned as I picked up a cloth to help with the dishes. No hands in the palace kitchens remained idle for long. “Has that boy been good to you, girl?” she asked. I took too long, I think, to reply, for she made a noise like an annoyed mare and rapped my knuckles with the wooden spoon she’d begun to dry. “He does you wrong and we’ll all revolt. And he might find his breakfast grittier than usual.” She lifted a foot off the floor to illustrate the point, and though I couldn’t help but smile, I did not want her thinking ill of William when unwarranted. I had to choose my words carefully.

  “William isn’t entirely my concern. But you touched upon it moments ago, and that is one reason I’m here.”

  “You weren’t invited,” Hette said. “I’d heard as much.”

  Gossiping market ladies are mere amateurs compared to palace kitchen workers. “I have need of William and know where he is. Finding moments together as of late has been a challenge.” I didn’t hold back the sigh that welled up from within. “Sometimes, I wonder … ”

  “He loves you, right and truly he does,” said Katherine, slamming down a pile of soiled plates next to the wash basin. “An’ don’t you doubt it, you hear? Nauseating it is, hearing him speak of you. I don’t go in for all that, but many only dream of what that boy feels for you, so shove it.”

  I blinked at Katherine’s forthrightness, but she merely raised both eyebrows and took off elsewhere in the kitchen. Indeed, the entire room bustled with urgency, which shouldn’t have surprised me. The palace was, after all, hosting a banquet with the French envoy at this very moment. It would be inconsiderate of me to take up any more of the staff’s time and attention.

  I stacked the plate I’d been drying and draped the wet cloth across a stool. “I assume by the commotion that the king and William still dine in the Great Hall with their guests?”

  Hette nodded and pointed to the room’s exit. “They’ve two courses left to be served, so if you intend to make a scene, best do it now while all are still present.”

  I did laugh then, for she knew me all too well. I kissed her rosy cheek and took off for the Great Hall, waggling my fingers against my nose at Katherine as I left the room. She returned the gesture in good humor. She had matured in many ways since our first meeting—when she’d thrown onion skins at my dress—but had never lost her delightfully cynical view of all things.

  As I entered the hall beyond the kitchens, I was quickly approached by a young page with a feathered cap and nervous eyebrows.

  “Miss? May I assist you in your visit?”

  I supposed it would do no harm to try announcing myself. Perhaps standing on a bit of ceremony might endear me to those who dined in the palace. “Please let Prince William know that Ellison is here to speak with him. Can you do that?”

  Wide-eyed and hesitant, the page nodded and hurried away, but I detected a distinct air of uncertainty at hearing my name.

  I would wait for him to return with an invitation into the Great Hall, or at least, would do so until overtaken by impatience.

  I admit, the latter did not take long.

  6

  The Request

  Patience is not among my strengths. Let the page raise the alarm when he discovered my absence, for if I would not be called, I would invite myself inside. I marched with a soldier’s purpose through the halls of the palace I should have called home many months ago. I cared not how my hair unraveled from its pins, nor how those loose strands and the dirt on my face might give me a more fearsome demeanor than was perhaps prudent when presenting one’s self to a king.

  I
entered the passageway that led to the Great Hall, a massive, vaulted lane, its walls impressively lined with suits of armor, banners of victory, and tapestries that told tales of our kingdom’s history. One day I would pause to marvel at them, but today I paid little mind and focused only on my destination.

  The two soldiers guarding the doors to the Great Hall shifted uneasily at my approach. I intended to pay them little mind too, but it is much more difficult not to see two sharpened halberds sliding to form a crossed barrier above one’s intended pathway.

  “Stand aside,” I commanded, though as soon as the words left my lips, I realized that I would look no more recognizable to these men than to those stationed outside. To my advantage, at least, was the mere fact that I had received entrance to the palace at all.

  “Begging your pardon, miss,” said one, “but the king is dining and wishes not to be disturbed.”

  Did he? Poor monarch. I wished for my wedding and the promised marriage to the man I loved to not be disturbed either, but not all wishes are granted.

  “Stand aside,” I repeated, readying my introduction once again. “I am Ellison, defender of the kingdom and betrothed of Prince William, and I must speak with him immediately.”

  I knew I’d chosen the wrong words when the guards exchanged a look that spoke silent volumes—namely, regarding my welcomeness in the Great Hall.

  “You’ve been told not to let me in.” I did not speak it as a question, for it was not. I saw the guilt plain on their faces.

  “Apologies, L-Lady Ellison,” stammered one, but I’d had enough of being barred from what was rightfully mine.

  One might have thought that attempting to keep a woman from her beloved was cruel enough. But when piled upon the memories of the calamitous days I had lived through two years prior—only surviving by virtue of my own actions and learned powers from The Book of Conjuring—the very notion of hindering William and I from each other seemed foolish. I wondered if William knew about these orders, and what he might say to his father when he found out. And he would find out, for I had no intention of remaining silent.

  And because William—my true love, who’d willingly offered his life’s essence to fuel my powers since the day we sent Celia’s monstrous form back into the deepest Abyss—sat on the other side of those doors, I did not consider restraint when the urge to act pressed upon my ribs and billowed up inside my lungs.

  I raised my hand, no longer needing to perform the rituals otherwise required for such a small feat, nor to speak my conjurings aloud. Instead, I simply reached forth with my will and a shimmering, dark vapor slipped through the veil that separates the physical realm from the spiritual. Its violet-black form didn’t coalesce but awaited my command.

  “Make way,” I said.

  The vapor, with the eagerness of a gusting wind, vanished and reappeared, then wrapped around the heads of the halberds and tossed them aside. The guards, still gripping their weapons, cried out in alarm and lurched back from their posts. They tumbled to the floor, as did their useless implements. I thought the clatter might bring more guards, so I called the formless spirit back to me without delay.

  Guilt panged in my chest as the shimmering vapor swirled around my wrists, lending me strength. I knew I shouldn’t use my powers in such a way—for myself, to remove obstacles that weren’t a direct threat to my well-being—but I played with dangerous things that even now I cannot fully understand. And on that day, I thought I risked selfishness for a greater cause.

  Too easily, I recalled my mother’s terrified face, swallowed up by serpent-like flame. Not surrounded by the peaceful joys of heaven but trapped amidst the horrors of the Adversary’s abode.

  No, I did not do this for myself. I had a plan to set right what I had seen in the graveyard.

  With spirit-strengthened limbs, I placed both hands on the towering doors of the Great Hall and pushed. They gave way under the pressure of my palms and swung open.

  After a beat of silent shock, the men seated at the long dining table leaped to their feet nearly as one. Confusion reflected on every face but that of my beloved. His shone with a secret smile, though restrained in the presence of his father. My heart skipped as a stone across still waters. Had he expected I might find a way to invite myself to dinner?

  “What is the meaning of this intrusion?” The king’s voice boomed throughout the room as his gaze bore into mine. “Who allowed her in here? Guards!”

  “You’ll find that the men who were stationed outside those doors are indisposed.” I turned my address from His Majesty to William and stepped toward him, though he remained in place at the table. How handsome he looked, arrayed in his formal suit of white and gold, his bright gold medallion gleaming around his neck, his shoulders broad and strong from our days of labor. He cut an imposing figure, but his paladin raiment reminded me of the difficulty of my forthcoming request.

  I knew what the king would say even before I spoke, but it was not our monarch’s assistance I had come to beg.

  “William,” I said, an urgency creeping into my voice, “I have need of you.”

  He nodded, and this time did step away from the table, ignoring the sputters of fury from his father. But then I saw a flicker of fear cross his face as my hands came into view. They were still ringed with the violet-black vapor of my conjured spirit helper.

  “Name it, beloved,” he said, his voice steady and sure, “and it will be done.”

  Satisfaction blossomed in my breast. I hadn’t expected a promise, let alone one given in the presence of witnesses, but I would gratefully accept.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I replied, “for a terrible wrong has befallen my family, and I must make it right.”

  With a gasp, William sprung to my side and gripped the sides of my face with both hands, wincing as he did so. He knew better than to touch me while I remained in direct contact with a spirit that fed on his life’s essence, but he didn’t waver as he searched my eyes for answers. “Is it Edward? Your father?”

  “No,” I said. “It’s my mother.”

  Confusion furrowed his brow. “Your mother? But Ellison, she’s gone. She rests in paradise.”

  “In highest heaven? No, William. I fear there has been a terrible mistake. My mother no longer gazes on the face of the Almighty, but has fallen into the hands of the … I fear to even speak it aloud.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “My mother has fallen into the Abyss, William, and I may have sent her there with my carelessness. I need your help to set it right—I need you to come with me. I intend to descend into hell to save my mother.”

  7

  The Arrest

  The Great Hall erupted in chaos. The king shouted for his attendants to remove me from the premises and ordered his son to step away from the abomination. It was only after three soldiers rushed into the room and faltered when I looked at them that I realized I was the abomination.

  After everything I had done for this kingdom. After everything I had done for him.

  But I wasn’t alone in my fury, for I hadn’t acted alone in these things.

  “Father, no!” William’s shout carried the force of a command. The French envoy spoke rapidly in bewildered and hushed tones, clearly startled by the king’s outburst and the direct challenge from his son.

  It was only when the room lapsed into silence that I understood the severity of William’s actions.

  The king refused to look at me as the soldiers surged forth to clap me in irons, taking care not to brush against my skin, as though I might light them afire. While I might not have willingly done so, I couldn’t say the same for the spirit that still wound around my wrists. The soldiers shrank back, but the king pointed a level finger at me and they obeyed. They didn’t even try to hide their fear, their faces pleading with me not to harm them as they approached with shackles laid across their palms.

  “Father, no.” William spoke softly this time,
a plea and not a challenge. “You can’t do this. Please.”

  The king refused to listen, staring straight ahead as though his son hadn’t spoken. What had happened to turn him so against me? What had the French envoy said? Why wouldn’t he acknowledge the pleas of his own son?

  William’s panic was plainly engraved across his features. “I won’t let them do this to you. You’re my betrothed. You belong here in the palace, by my side, not shackled in the dungeon.”

  He should have known as well as I did that a prison couldn’t hold me, but seeing the disgust on his father’s face … well, there was a greater plot at play than I understood, and I didn’t want William to suffer even more for my sake than I already asked of him.

  “It’s all right.” I released my conjured spirit, permitting its return beyond the veil. It slipped through a seam in the air and the soldiers didn’t waste a moment before placing the restraints around my wrists.

  “I’ll have you out as fast as I can,” William said, placing a chaste and yet defiant kiss on my forehead. He lingered, and so in my own surge of defiance—oh, my damnable soul, I cannot explain why I do these things—I lifted my head to slide my mouth upon his. His lips were soft and tasted of sweet wine, and I felt him press against me without hesitation.

  It had been so long. I wished to sink into the earth with him then and there and remain that way for all time, but gasps arose from the assembled guests and a tug at my sleeve pulled us apart. The soldiers had grasped my shoulders and arms to drag me from William, who watched, still stricken and unable to calm his emotions, as I was pulled from the Great Hall.

  As the doors swung closed behind me, my mother’s face came once again to mind. Without William, I wouldn’t be able to help her. I would never see her again, and she might spend all eternity enduring new tortures—horrors unimaginable, paying for sins she did not commit—alongside the most abhorrent dregs of humanity.