Halia: Daughter of Cinderella

by Armitage, J. A

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was only looking over you until you turned into an adult. My work is done. You must find a faerie that can hide the gold in your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  I balled my fists. “If the gold in my eyes is killing me, then why are they always turning that way?”

  “It won’t be that way forever. You’ll know when it’s safe to show yourself.”

  “How will I know?”

  She pressed her hand to her chest. “You’ll know in here. When there’s no fear inside of you any longer.”

  No fear. Was that even possible? Everyone in the orphanage lived in constant fear of the heat being turned off, or there not being enough food for everyone, or the teachers getting upset and smacking us.

  “You’ll figure it out. I believe in you.” Then Mrs. Woods disappeared on me for the last time. She never turned up again, no matter how desperately I called her, no matter how many hours I spent in prayer, begging her to return. Since I had turned eighteen, I was on my own. Mrs. Woods and the orphanage no longer supported me, so I did what I had to survive—scrubbed Madam’s Boarding House and met with Acacia twice a week.

  And I was fine. I had survived. Many other girls who had once lived in the orphanage were now working the streets or with men that gave them new bruises daily. Others were drinking as soon as they got up or spending their earnings and going into debt for half an hour dream escape they bought from a fae, imagining, for a while, they were somebody else, somewhere else.

  I had avoided all these pitfalls for several months. My life wasn’t too bad.

  “All done,” Acacia said, and I realized that my sudden shift of mood wasn’t due to myself but due to her siphoning off some of my anxiety.

  That was the problem with feelings, wasn’t it? Countless times I had wished to wipe away the sadness, and uneasiness. They were nasty parasites that led me to avoid others, gave me stomachaches, and sometimes paralyzed me to the point that all I could do was stare blankly into empty space. Yet, as hard as those emotions hit me when they came to me, they also had a purpose. Fear and anxiety protected me from danger, and anger helped me to stand up for myself. Perhaps the emotions I wanted to get rid of so desperately were blessings in disguise.

  “Look at me.”

  I did, meeting Acacia’s arctic-blue gaze. Her lips moved quickly, but silently for a few seconds, and then it was done. She handed me a mirror. The golden specks in my eyes were gone. “Thank you.”

  Acacia rose. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

  “Yes.” I had never dared to ask Acacia how long she thought I would need to come to her. She had been fair with me as far as I could tell, but she was still a fae. What if she wanted to continue tapping into my emotions and would tell me that I would need to always hide the natural pattern of my eyes? Or what if she didn’t care about my well-being and told me I could stop coming to her at any time, and then I would die.

  Somehow, I didn’t think that my eye color would directly kill me. Mrs. Woods certainly hadn’t made it sound that way. It appeared more as if I had to hide the golden rings in my eyes until it was safe to reveal them. But why? What did the gold in my eyes tell others?

  Was my abnormality a sign that I perhaps had magic within me? A laugh escaped me at that preposterous idea, earning me a raised eyebrow from Acacia.

  “Am I amusing you, child?”

  I quickly shook my head. “Forgive me, it’s just that my eyes are so strange, I wonder if I perhaps have some magic within me.”

  “Everybody has a drop of magic in them,” Acacia replied solemnly.

  I was so surprised by this response, I didn’t respond. I exited her house, wondering if she really meant what she had said or if it was some fae philosophy. Perhaps it was even deception. The legend had it that because fae were unable to lie, they had become masters at manipulation.

  How I wished Mrs. Woods would come to me one final time and answer my questions. Everything would be so much easier if only I could make sense of it. Confused and desperate, I stopped in an empty alley, closed my eyes, and focused hard. Mrs. Woods, Mrs. Woods, Mrs. Woods, please come to me. I need your wisdom.

  I kept my eyes closed for at least a minute, but nothing happened. I waited for at least five minutes, turning at every bit of sound. Mrs. Woods didn’t appear. She had forsaken me. She wasn’t coming back. Just like my parents and the orphanage, she had abandoned me. Was I really that unlovable? What if the pattern of my eyes was my smallest problem? What if I was somehow rotten, wrong on the inside, and others could sense it, and that’s why they went running for the hills?

  Hot tears threatened to run down my cheeks, but I had no time to wallow in self-pity, unless I wanted to lose the roof over my head. I hurried back to the boarding house where I forced myself to swallow a couple of pieces of cheese, washing them down with a cup of coffee.

  Five minutes prior to my morning shift, the door flung open, and Tia walked in, or more correctly, she careened into the kitchen, her eyes at half-mast. I grabbed her a mug and filled it to the brim with black coffee, the way she liked it.

  “You’re a lifesaver.” She downed half of the cup in one go.

  “You enjoyed the club then?” I asked.

  She smiled widely, and her head lolled. Clearly, she was still drunk. “It was great. You really missed out.”

  I stared at my short nails. “I had some business to take care of this morning.”

  She nodded but didn’t ask any questions. The only time we ever discussed Acacia was when we were 100 percent sure no one could overhear us. I had no doubt that if Madam Fontaine found out about my strangeness, she would fire me on the spot. Tia would probably lose her job through association.

  I rose. “We better get going. Don’t want to be late.”

  Tia stuffed a piece of bread into her mouth and chewed rapidly as we walked up the stairs to the cleaning supply cupboard.

  With Tia’s hangover, I offered to clean the bathrooms while she dusted. An hour later, my back was on fire from all the bending. Was that all my life would ever amount to? Scrubbing and cleaning? Would I always be an outsider and never belong anywhere?

  Unable to keep the desperation locked within me any longer, I opened my mouth and sang quietly so that Tia couldn’t hear the words.

  They come and go as the wind. Come and go as the breeze. Only I remain; only I, alone, alone.

  “A new song?” Tia asked.

  “It’s nothing special.” Tia was still happy from the previous night. The last thing I wanted was to bring my friend down with me.

  By the third room, Tia had worked off the alcohol. Her movements were sharper and more energetic, and her pupils were back to normal. “Halia, why don’t you sing something for us? It always makes the time goes by faster.”

  “Sure.” Even though I wasn’t in a cheerful mood, I began to sing an upbeat song I had come up with last week, knowing she would love it.

  You put your chains on me, but I broke free of them. You can’t hold me down. Never, ever will you hold me down.

  I teased out the last word, making my voice vibrate. All right, so maybe the song wasn’t exactly upbeat, but rather defiant, but the tempo was fast, and Tia bobbed her head in rhythm, clearly approving of my choice.

  We worked our way through all the rooms on our list before we mopped the corridor. Several guests opened their doors at the hubbub we made. My worries that anyone would complain about my singing were unfounded. Instead of glares and reprimands, I received smiles.

  Tia jabbed me in the ribs. “Everybody loves it when you sing. You should do it professionally.”

  I sighed. “Not again.”

  Tia slapped herself on the forehead. “I almost forgot to tell you! The bar I went to yesterday, Daydream, is so cool. The owner is so nice and open-minded—”

  “What kind of demon is he?” I interrupted.

  Tia grinned. “How did you know he was a demon? Did
you run into him?”

  I tore off the dirty sheets from the bed. “Victor told me.”

  Tia tsked. “Did he? Did he make up a story about how Lorenzo eats little children for breakfast to keep you away from Daydream?”

  “No, he simply doesn’t appreciate demons owning businesses in Arcadia.”

  “Victor wouldn’t be thrilled about anyone’s success but his own.”

  I grabbed fresh sheets from our cart, nearly knocking it over. “Why do you have to say that?” On a rational level, I knew there was some truth to Tia’s statement, but on an emotional level, I had to wonder why she had to badmouth the only man who had ever shown interest in me.

  “You could do so much better.”

  Normally, I wouldn’t have responded, but seeing Acacia always made me vulnerable, and Mrs. Woods refusing to show up when I called her didn’t help my mood either. “Is that so? Then why did my parents give me up? Why did the orphanage throw me out? Why did Mrs. Woods stop helping me? Victor is the only one I have! He’s the only one who hasn’t given up on me. Maybe you don’t need anyone, but I want to be loved.”

  “Is that what you think Victor gives you, love?”

  I busied myself making the bed. “I don’t know. How can I know what love is when I have never experienced it?”

  Matching my quiet tone, Tia said, “You have me, but I guess that doesn’t count because I’m not a man.”

  I dropped the pillowcase and stepped toward her. “You are the best friend anyone could ask for, but it can’t be just you and I. I need other people in my life.”

  Tia gave me a sad smile. “I know. And I want you to have others in your life. Just because I don’t want a man, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have one. I just wish it would be anyone but Victor.”

  “He’s not that bad.” At her I’m-not-buying-it look, I added, “Really.”

  “How do you know? He’s the first guy you ever dated.”

  I bit my lip. “He always tells me how much he cares about me. And he always makes an effort to see me.”

  Tia rolled her eyes. “He monopolizes your time, stopping you from meeting anyone else. We’re going to change that. You’re coming to Daydream with me tomorrow night, no excuses. If you have plans with Victor, cancel them.”

  “How expensive is it?”

  “We’ll go on a budget. Dancing is free. You deserve to have some fun, and we need some girl time.”

  “I don’t know.”

  She grabbed my hands. “Come on! It’s going to be fun!”

  Her smile was so infectious, I couldn’t stay neutral. “All right.” Little did I know I would come to regret my response the following day.

  3

  17th July

  Tia and I had cleaned all but the last two rooms on our list the following night when she dropped a bombshell on me wrapped in an innocent question. “Are you excited to go to Daydream tonight?”

  “Yes, it will be fun.” I wasn’t as much of a dancer as Tia was, but it would be good to check out a new place.

  “Great. I forgot to mention yesterday, it’s open mic night, and I signed you up.”

  My chin dropped. “You what?”

  Tia pushed the cart to the next room, acting as if she hadn’t heard me.

  I ran after her. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you’re a great singer, and it’s time you shared your wonderful voice with the world.”

  “No.” I crossed my arms. “I’m not going to Daydream to make a fool out of myself.”

  “You wouldn’t be making a fool out of yourself.” Tia motioned around herself. “Wake up, Halia! Every time any of our guests hear your voice, they come out of their rooms to listen.”

  “They’re just curious.”

  “Is that why they stand outside their rooms, their eyes full of awe?”

  I collected the dirty dishes strewn across the table and loaded them onto the cart. “It doesn’t happen all the time. Only sometimes.”

  Tia gave me a look that said cut-the-crap.

  I grabbed a cloth and wiped down the table, which was a mess of crumbs, sauce, and stains of wine. Had the last occupant never heard of how to use dinnerware?

  “How about a bet?”

  I turned around, intrigued by what Tia might propose. “You sing in the hallway a chorus of one of your songs, and if less than three guests come out of their rooms to listen, I’ll delete your name on the open mic sheet.”

  I bit my lip. “And if more than three come out?”

  “Then you’ll go to Daydream with me. You don’t need to sing, but I want you to at least go with me and listen to the other performers so that you can see how much better you are.”

  I wrung my hands. “There’s no way I’m better than them.”

  Ignoring my statement, Tia held out her hand. “Deal?”

  Knowing she wouldn’t leave it alone until I proved her wrong, I shook her hand. “Deal.”

  Beads of sweat formed on my forehead as I considered what song to sing. Part of me wanted to sing something awful, something that would discourage anyone from coming out of their room. But the other part of me wanted to sing one of my better songs. This part wanted to believe Tia and longed for a confirmation that I had talent.

  The trepidation within me made it impossible to think of anything joyful and easy-going. Instead, I settled on a song I had named “Torn.”

  I started with a low note, excited about belting out the higher ones.

  I don’t know if you ever felt this way. I don’t know if you’ll understand. But for me, it’s a constant battle raging on the inside. See, I’m torn. Torn. Unsure what to do. My head is saying no. My heart is saying yes. Should I take the risk, or should I stay? Should I leap, or should I stay down?

  Just when I think I have the answer, everything flips. My heart is saying no while my head is saying yes. What part should I listen to? How do I decide? I am torn, so torn. I don’t know if you ever felt this way, but I do, I do a lot. I am torn, oh, so, so torn.

  At some point during the song, I had closed my eyes and lost myself completely to the melody and the words. Done with the chorus, I stopped, not wanting to open my eyes, afraid of what I would see. I wasn’t quite ready to go to Daydream, but I also wasn’t ready for an empty hallway.

  Applause sounded, and I could no longer remain blind to the outcome. I peeked through my eyelashes and counted not one, not two, but eight guests. All of them were clapping, big smiles on their faces.

  Tia jabbed me in the ribs. “I won this bet fair and square.”

  I nodded. “I’ll go with you to Daydream, but no singing. I’ll just watch.”

  “At least, consider singing.”

  I wrung my hands.

  “Please?”

  “All right, but I’m not promising anything.”

  Tia jumped up and down, sending her blue hair swinging.

  “What’s going on here?” The shrill voice belonged to Madam Fontaine. She glared at the guests, who disappeared behind their doors, then headed toward us.

  I quickly grabbed a stack of fresh towels. “Nothing. We were just cleaning.”

  Madam’s thin lips curled into a sneer. “I don’t pay you to cluck. You better be done with all the rooms in an hour. I’ll deduct a Mark if I see a spot of dust because of your inattentiveness.”

  “You won’t,” I said and dropped my head in deference.

  Sensing that Tia was about to speak up, I pinched her hand. Nothing good could come out of arguing with Madam. On the contrary, it could cost us our jobs.

  “Go back to work,” Madam said even though we were already opening the door to the next room that needed to be cleaned.

  “She’s such a bitch,” Tia said once we were inside the room. I shushed her, afraid Madam was still nearby to overhear, but Tia didn’t stop. “Do this, do that,” she imitated in a stern voice. “Perhaps she should stop stuffing her face with cakes and do some work herself.”

  “Don’t say that! She’s just
big-boned.”

  Tia rolled her eyes. “Those four cupcakes she gobbled down yesterday made her big-boned?”

  I dusted the counters and emptied the trash, ignoring my friend’s rant. We weren’t in a position to challenge Madam or ask her to treat us differently, so there wasn’t any point in getting upset in the first place.

  “Does she even do anything around the boarding house besides bossing us around?”

  I sighed. “It’s none of our business.”

  “So because she pays us, she can say whatever she wants, and we need to remain silent?” Tia put her fists on her hips in a defiant pose.

  “I’m not saying it’s right. Being her employees doesn’t give her the right to treat us with disrespect. But even though her treatment is unfounded and unfair, we have no choice but to bite our tongues. Please promise me you won’t say anything. We need these jobs.”

  Tia exhaled loudly. “You wouldn’t if you were a singer. Perhaps I could work at the bar.” A big grin spread across her face. “We’re going to have so much fun at Daydream.” She took my hands and twirled us in a circle until I couldn’t help but smile as well.

  “I feel overdressed.” I pulled on the straps of my silk dress as I walked next to Tia toward Daydream.

  “It’s perfect. The color looks amazing on you. Plus, I picked it out, and I have great taste.” She chuckled.

  I nodded. The turquoise, floor-length silk dress did compliment my blue eyes and pale skin. I liked how it flowed along my skinny frame, making me look almost like a fae. However, was it appropriate bar attire? I was certain the other girls would wear provocative dresses in black and red colors or something like Tia, who was clad out in a pair of jeans with studs and a black top that read, “Rock on.” Neither the femme fatale nor the rock chick was my style, but I was afraid that I would stand out like a sore thumb in my choice. The dress was brand new. Tia had somehow saved up to give it to me as a birthday present. I loved it, but I hadn’t had an opportunity to wear it until today. As nervous as I was to fit in, I was worried about sticking out like a sore thumb. Still, I was excited to wear it and see how people reacted to me when I wasn’t in my daily clothes.