Halia: Daughter of Cinderella

by Armitage, J. A

  Should I knock and ask him about Tia? No, he had probably gone to bed late. I didn’t want to pay him back for his generosity by waking him up. Plus, it was unlikely he knew where Tia was.

  There was another door on this level, but I didn’t try to open it. Lorenzo hadn’t told me who or what was behind it, and I wasn’t about to put my nose where it didn’t belong. Lorenzo, being a demon, the likelihood that this was a guest room where another demon stayed was high, and I was not stupid enough to disturb a resting demon.

  I descended the spiraling, wooden staircase and unlocked the door at the bottom with the smaller key Lorenzo had given me. I stepped through into a corridor that had a door that led to his office, which was accessible from here and the bar, and a door that led to the bar. With the bigger key, I opened the second door and stepped into the bar.

  Even though it was unlikely, I checked every booth and underneath every table to see if Tia had passed out. She hadn’t.

  I tried to calm the rising worry within me by telling myself that Tia had returned much later in the past. She was an adult. She would be fine.

  I arrived at the post office fifteen minutes early, and the woman who had hired me, Mrs. Flanagan, seemed to appreciate my punctuality because she greeted me with a warm smile. “Glad to see you’re wearing your sensible clothes. The last girl showed up in a skirt. How she expected to ride a bike wearing that is beyond me.”

  I blinked rapidly. This was the first time I was hearing about a bicycle. “Do I need to ride a bike?”

  “Of course. How else do you expect to deliver all the mail on time?”

  “I don’t know how to ride one. I’ve never been on one.” I had seen a few in the city, but that was the extent of my familiarity with the devices. Bicycles tended to be something that rich merchants’ sons rode, and sometimes merchants’ daughters if they had progressive parents. It was, most definitely, not something that a girl like me from the orphanage had access to.

  Mrs. Flanagan tsked. “I hope you’re a fast learner. You’ll never get all the work done on foot.”

  She must have noticed the look of terror on my face because she added in a softer voice. “You can go on foot today and even tomorrow if you must, but you need to find somebody who can teach you.”

  “Could you?”

  She busied herself with putting away a pair of scissors. “I don’t ride a bicycle.”

  So it was normal for her not to know how to ride a bike, but I was somehow expected to learn how to ride one?

  Mrs. Flanagan walked around the counter and pushed a red trolley toward me, filled to the brim with letters.

  Wow, I had never quite understood how much mail the citizens of Arcadia got. “Is this for the whole city?”

  She let out a belly laugh. “Good one. That’s just for our market quarter.”

  What did all those letters contain? Were those letters from family and friends? Letters between lovers? Business-related information? What a life it must be when you received correspondence weekly, or maybe even daily. Even though you hadn’t seen your loved ones for months or years and were separated by hundreds or thousands of miles, you knew they cared about you. It sounded like a wonderful life, one that was unattainable to an orphan like me.

  “There will be more coming in later today. Come back once you’re done for your second run.”

  I tried to hide the panic her declaration elicited, but clearly, it showed on my face because Mrs. Flanagan patted me on the shoulder. “The first few weeks will be hard, especially if you don’t learn how to ride a bike, but you’ll get used to it. You do still want the job, don’t you?”

  I nodded quickly. “Of course. I’m just surprised at how much mail Arcadia gets.”

  “Well, the mail won’t deliver itself. Better get on your way.” Mrs. Flanagan was back to being all business. Was it her natural tendency to go between sweet and kind to business-like, or was she that way with me because I was her employee?

  As I pushed the red trolley outside, I noticed our kingdom’s insignia. A golden crown and underneath it, a glass slipper.

  I swallowed hard. Without Queen Ella, there was no Arcadia. I had to find the missing queen. I needed to get Doris to talk.

  An hour into my new job, I was ready to cry. I had thought I knew the city well, but it turned out that I only was aware of about 10 percent of the streets. Even though Mrs. Flanagan had kindly highlighted the path I needed to take on a very detailed map, it took me forever to find the right houses. Then I had to check my list, ensuring that I delivered all the regular letters, telegrams, and any newspapers they had subscribed to.

  At most homes, I simply pushed the letters and magazines through the post box hole. At restaurants and inns, which didn’t include the boarding house today, I went to the reception desk and handed the mail to the concierge.

  The few houses that didn’t have post boxes left me no choice but to shove the letters underneath the front door, hoping it was all right.

  At one home, a humongous brown dog kept barking and snarling at me, making it impossible for me to get closer. The neighbors started coming out to complain about all the noise, and I finally saw no other option but to throw the letters toward the house. They landed with a thump two feet from the doorstep, but the dog snatched them up and ran into his yard. I hoped he would bring them to his owners, not shred them apart.

  I was finally done by noon and absolutely starving. Unable to take another step, I stopped in the middle of the market and purchased a flaky croissant with ham and cheese. I sat on the sidewalk and chewed the fluffy goodness slowly as the sun warmed my face. Too soon, the pastry was gone, while I remained hungry. Unable to afford another one, I headed back toward the post office.

  “There you are,” Mrs. Flanagan said as I entered, or more correctly hobbled in. “I thought you decided to run off with the mail.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Normally, the newsboys and girls are done way before noon.”

  I sighed. “I ran into a few difficulties,” I confessed, telling her about my lack of direction and the black dog who wouldn’t let me get close to the house.

  “You did well. If the owners wanted their post in their post box, they should have chained up the dog.”

  My shoulders slumped a few inches at not being reprimanded.

  “Seems like you did well for your first day, but you can’t keep up all that walking.” She thought for a second, then walked to the other side of the room, pushed back the kickstand of the bicycle, and wheeled it over to me. “Take this home and practice.”

  “What about the second batch of deliveries for today?”

  She shook her head once more. “Girl, you’re in no condition to do any more work today. I’ll give it to someone else.”

  I bit my lip. “Won’t they be angry at having to take on my load?”

  She shrugged. “The post office is an organization where everyone supports one another. There’s no I or ego in team.”

  I smiled. How different she was from Madam, who was quick to accuse me of being a selfish, freeloading brat. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  “I’ll see to it that someone takes your second load for tomorrow as well, but I won’t be able to do that the day after. You have today and tomorrow to learn how to ride the bike.” She shoved it toward me, and I took it by the smooth handlebars.

  I left the post office with mixed emotions. On the one hand, I was extremely grateful to Mrs. Flanagan for her support. On the other hand, I doubted I could learn how to ride a bike, let alone in such a short period of time. I was not athletic. Running myself ragged across the city might not be the best idea, but it seemed much safer than falling off the bike and breaking my neck.

  Deciding that I was too exhausted to do anything right now, I wheeled the bike into Daydream’s corridor. Then I dragged my body up the spiral staircase, nearly tripping several times, yet somehow managing to make it into my new bedroom and collapsing onto my heavenly mattress.


  My last thought before I fell asleep was that I needed to check Tia’s bed to see if it looked slept in. However, my head was too heavy to turn, and my lids glued together. I was out like a light.

  I woke up with my mouth cotton-dry and my body covered in sweat. The brightness greeting me as I opened my eyes made me realize why I had gotten so hot. In my exhaustion, I had fallen asleep without closing the curtains, and now, the skin on my arms and legs that had been exposed to the afternoon sun had a pinkish hue. Grateful that I didn’t get a proper burn, I rose and stretched, bringing my arms overhead. I rolled my neck and glanced around, noticing that Tia’s bed still was untouched. Worry spiked within me, and I rushed downstairs.

  It was five in the afternoon, and the bar would open soon. Right now, however, it was completely empty, no Tia or Mikka in sight.

  With my throat parched, I poured myself a glass of water and gulped it down in one go, then poured myself another, emptied half of it, and hurried toward Lorenzo’s office. I knocked but didn’t have the patience to wait for him to call me inside.

  I pushed the door open, to see his violet-green eyes widen, surprise on his face.

  Realizing I probably looked like a mess, I tried to straighten my clothes as much as I could with one hand while still holding my glass. “Sorry to interrupt. Have you seen Tia? I don’t think she slept in her bed last night.”

  He put a stack of papers aside. “I really don’t think it’s for me to tell you. You should ask her.”

  My eyebrows drew together. “Why?”

  When he didn’t reply, I stepped closer, put the glass down, and leaned forward on his desk. “Lorenzo, if you know something, please tell me. I’m worried out of my mind. I haven’t seen her since yesterday evening.”

  Lorenzo shook his head. “I didn’t mean to worry you. She’s fine. I believe she’s off somewhere with Mikka.”

  I released a breath and plopped down into the chair opposite his, then finished my glass of water. “Why didn’t you tell me so from the start?”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “No.” Did he think I was the jealous type?

  His silver eyebrows rose so high, they almost disappeared behind his hairline.

  Given his surprise at my answer, I must’ve really come across as the possessive type. “Of course, I don’t mind. Tia can have as many friends as she wants,” I clarified.

  Lorenzo glanced away, a tiny smile spreading on his face.

  Feeling like the joke was on me, I leaned forward and placed my hand on his. A pleasant wave of electricity darted through me, and I immediately regretted what I had done. Why had I touched him? Not a good idea to do anything to jeopardize our friendship and business relationship, especially if he became my manager, and I was to continue living at his place. I pulled my hand away and said, “I feel like something’s going on, and I’m the only one who doesn’t know what it is.”

  He was quiet for a second, his eyes hungry with…No, I didn’t want to think what was swirling in his eyes. Then he blinked, and the emotion was gone. “Ask Tia.”

  I sighed. “Fine. I doubt she can get into more trouble with Mikka than she normally gets into on her own.”

  Lorenzo chuckled. He was really beginning to annoy me. I crossed my arms. “Spit it out.”

  “You do realize that Mikka isn’t human?”

  I was glad I was already sitting. “She’s not? But she looks so...” I searched for the right word. “Normal.”

  “That’s because she’s a half-demon. She has half of the power from her demonic line and none of the looks.”

  Well, besides the white hair and black eyes, but I had always assumed she had simply bleached her hair as a fashion statement.

  “Are all demons able to make themselves look human?”

  He shook his head. “It requires a lot of concentration and decades or centuries to master.”

  How old was he exactly? Despite his silver hair, he looked to be in his mid-twenties. Even though I had always guessed him to be much older, hearing him confirm it felt strange. As tempted as I was to find out more about him, this wasn’t about getting to know him better; it was about making sure Tia was safe. “What kind of demon is Mikka?”

  Lorenzo must’ve heard the worry in my voice because he said, “Don’t worry, she won’t harm Tia.”

  “What kind of demon?” I repeated.

  He clucked his tongue. “So impatient today.” At my hard glare, he continued. “Ever wonder how the ice sculptures are able not to melt, even though the bar is at regular room temperature?”

  I threw my hands up. “I always assumed it was some demon magic you use.”

  “Really, you thought temperature regulation was related to teleportation?”

  I shrugged. “You’re the first demon I ever talked to for longer than a few minutes. How am I supposed to know the extent of your magic?”

  Lorenzo nodded thoughtfully. “There’s a lot humans don’t know about demons and vice versa. For your information, teleportation has absolutely nothing to do with changing temperatures. Mikka is a half ice demon.”

  “She can freeze Tia into an ice sculpture?” I jumped up from my chair, knocking it back in the process.

  Lorenzo rolled his eyes. “First, Mikka likes Tia. Second, do you really think I would employ a demon who hurts humans?”

  I put my chair upright and slowly sat back down. Shame burned my nape. “No. I overreacted.” I pressed my hands together. “I know this isn’t a justification, but, once again, it’s just that I haven’t truly interacted with any demons besides you. It’s hard not to be afraid of someone so powerful, someone who might operate by other rules.”

  Lorenzo’s gaze bore into mine. “I know what you mean. It’s also really hard to trust someone who is concealing crucial information from you.” He continued staring straight into my eyes, and that’s when I remembered that I had plans to see Acacia this evening. To guarantee that no one saw the golden circles in my eyes, I needed to visit her every three days. Today was the fourth day. In the morning time, the gold in my eyes had been just specks. But now…

  “Do you mind if I help myself to a drink?”

  Lorenzo motioned to the cabinet where he kept glasses, water, and liquor. I opened it and pulled out a golden-brown, roundish decanter. “What is this?”

  “One of the best brandies you’ll ever taste.”

  “Can I get you one as well?” He nodded. I poured two fingers each into the beautiful crystalline tumblers, trying not to wonder how many months I’d have to work at the post office to be able to afford such an elegant set. I put the brandy back on the silver tray, catching my reflection and confirming there were golden rings around my irises just as I had suspected.

  Carefully, I put the drinks down on Lorenzo’s desk and took a sip of mine. It was strong but smooth and had notes of dried figs and plums.

  Finally, I glanced up at Lorenzo and opened my mouth, but he shook his head slowly. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s your secret. All I need to know is that I can trust you.”

  “You can. But I want to tell you. I’m terrified, but I know my secrets will be safe with you. You’ve revealed so much about your life. You told me what kind of demon you are, you showed me what you can do, and you told me about Mikka. You allowed Tia and me to stay at your home and work for you. It’s only fair I explain my visits to Acacia, especially since there isn’t much to tell.”

  The space between his silver brows pinched together.

  I pointed at my eyes. “I don’t know what they make me. When I was seven, older girls in the orphanage began making fun of me because of the golden rings in my eyes. Tia found me crying in an alley and reminded me that a woman had stopped by at Christmas, telling me to call on her when I needed her. I remembered that her name was Mrs. Woods. Thinking of her made her appear, which makes her a…”

  “A godmother.”

  “There’s another one besides the one who helped Queen Ella before she married our king?”


  “Yes, there is more than one fairy godmother. However, the one that came to you might be the same one that appeared to Queen Ella.”

  I blinked. “But why would a godmother help me and then disappear without telling me what she was or why she was helping me? Don’t they normally—?”

  “Yes. My guess is that this godmother wasn’t assigned and that she was helping you secretly and didn’t want anyone to find out about it.”

  “Why would she choose to help me?”

  “That, I don’t know.”

  I sighed and continued my story. “Mrs. Wood told me that I would have to hide my true eye color unless I wanted to die. She kept changing it for me. The older I got, the shorter the intervals between her visits became. When I turned eighteen, she told me she could no longer help me and urged me to find a faerie who could hide the golden rings. She refused to tell me what they meant or why I had to hide them. Acacia doesn’t know either.” I paused, then added. “I don’t think the rings in my eyes would kill me.”

  “But others, who know what those rings mean, might,” Lorenzo finished.

  Nobody had quite put it like that, but in my heart, I had known this to be the case for some time. Gathering all the courage I had, I asked the question that might change everything, “Do you know what the golden rings make me?”

  Lorenzo’s face was pain-stricken. “I’m afraid I don’t. I could go to the higher demons and ask one of them, but I don’t think we want them finding out about you.”

  “You still think that my voice is magic.”

  He nodded.

  “Even if it is, why does it matter? It’s not a very powerful ability. It’s nothing compared to teleporting or freezing objects and people.”

  “Being able to control someone’s mind can be much more powerful than any physical ability.”

  I took another sip of the brandy, the tension within me easing a little. “I still don’t understand why that makes me a target. Aren’t there plenty of fae and demons who are able to manipulate minds?”

  Lorenzo rubbed his sharp chin. “There are, but they have to be full-blooded demons or fae. Even if those demons have mastered glamor, other magical creatures would be able to smell the magic they wield on them. As for fae, they can’t hide what they are. Their sharp ears give them away.”