Halia: Daughter of Cinderella

by Armitage, J. A

  A conversation I had overheard between the sisters almost a week ago when I was still living at the boarding house came back to me.

  “There’s no room for fun or balls,” Georgette said. “This time, everything will be different. Being an airhead won’t get you anywhere. That was cute eighteen years ago when the prince was searching for a bride, but there’s no prince anymore. To live at the palace, we won’t need to look pretty, fake niceties, or force our feet into a stupid glass shoe. It’s all about power now. Survival of the fittest.”

  Bernadette had perked up. “Yes, we’ll be powerful. Mother will see to it.”

  Madam Fontaine and her daughters were power-hungry. The question was, how far would they go? Did they want to ascend the throne? If the queen was officially declared dead, the king would feel pressure to remarry since the royal couple never had children, and he needed an heir to the throne. The king’s situation didn’t just make him vulnerable to pressure to take a new bride but also made him appear weak. If anyone had ever hoped to overthrow him, now would be a great time. What if that’s what Madam Fontaine and her daughters planned to do?

  I was getting way ahead of myself. Yes, Georgette and Bernadette were obsessed with power. Yes, their entering the competition and being desperate to win seemed suspicious. Yes, their showing up at the same time as Cinder did and the queen disappeared was odd. Yet, none of this was enough to prove that they were planning to overthrow the king. I needed more facts before I could decide what to do.

  As if by a stroke of luck, just then, Bernadette’s nasal voice carried from around the corner. “This better not hurt. If I turn green or walk out with horns, I’m going to sue her.”

  “Shush, you stupid cow,” Georgette hissed. “Do you want to announce to all of Arcadia what we’re about to do?”

  The kitchen help’s suspicions were spot on. The sisters were about to see a magic wielder. And I would find out whom they were seeing. I scurried out through the back entrance and waited in the shadowed alcove until the sisters exited the boarding house through the front.

  With the sisters completely absorbed in their conversation, I had no difficulty trailing them. They didn’t even as much as glance twice over their shoulders on their walk. However, the further we walked away from the boarding house, the less I liked where we were going. This was the path I had taken twice a week to Acacia. Certainly, she couldn’t be the magic wielder helping them!

  But it was exactly in front of her pink house that the sisters stopped. They knocked three times at the front door, and I pressed myself against the house across from Acacia’s as she said in a cool voice, “Come in.”

  I slipped down the wall until I was sitting on the ground. No, anyone but Acacia. I had known that some of her business was in the gray zone. She collected and sold emotions, which didn’t seem right, especially when somebody purchased a vial, not for themself, but to slip it to somebody else. However, as shady as some of her business was, I had never thought she would help the sisters cheat their way into winning a royal competition.

  Maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she would send them away.

  I waited and waited. With each passing minute, it became clearer that the sisters and Acacia had reached an agreement. What were they exchanging for her making their voices sound nice? I doubted Acacia would want any of their emotions. She had often complained to me that it was hard for her to siphon off emotions of those that had a muddled head or body. She insisted I didn’t drink the night before visiting her and fasted in the morning so that the emotions she took from me as payment for her changing my eye color were pure. I doubted the sisters had the willpower or interest to stick to her protocol. They didn’t seem like the type to accept any inconveniences.

  Finally, the door creaked open.

  “That wasn’t too bad,” Bernadette said.

  “No, the real question is if it will hold up,” Georgette said sharply. “It better work during our recording session on Tuesday.”

  I swallowed hard. Not only had the sisters illegally enhanced their voices, their recording was also on the same day as mine. I waited until Georgette and Bernadette turned onto another street before knocking thrice against Acacia’s door.

  She opened the door, the slight widening of her arctic eyes the only sign that she was surprised to see me.

  “How can I help you, Halia? It’s been less than a day since you were here last time.”

  “This is not about my eyes. May I come in?”

  Acacia moved aside gracefully, even though I had a feeling she would rather not talk to me. I followed her through the narrow corridor decorated with multi-colored glass paintings and into her study, which looked like a pharmacy. Cabinets lined the walls, and several tables were placed in a reversed, angular U-shape throughout the room. On top of them were countless bottles and tinctures of all sizes and shapes. A beautiful painting hung on the wall depicting a dozen fairies flying high into a starry sky. Unlike Acacia, they were tiny and had wings. Fittingly, the painting was called The Moon Faeries’ Night Sky. Did this magic place exist somewhere, or was it only in the painter’s imagination? The painting transformed as the light in the room changed from a lilac to a mint green, going through all the pastel colors. The scents in the room kept changing as well as if different perfumes were being sprayed in one-minute intervals. The citrusy scent changed into a flowery bouquet. The heavy lily note morphed into a ripe plum, which in turn transformed into a spicy scent, then back to the refreshing, lemon scent. For the first time, the ambiance didn’t seem inviting or relaxing, but rather canny and manipulative. The changing scents and lights appeared to be a tool Acacia used to prevent her clients from over-thinking the transactions they were entering.

  I turned to the fae, studying her. “Did you enhance the Fontaine sisters’ voices?”

  Acacia’s face was blank, not betraying the tiniest bit of emotion.

  “I saw them leave your place,” I added.

  “I keep my clients’ business private. Discretion is important in my line of work.”

  “Are you aware of what they’re doing? They entered the royal competition. They’ll try to cheat their way into winning.”

  Acacia’s face remained blank, and I had the sudden urge to shake her. The violent impulse passed in the next beat to be replaced by sadness. “Don’t you care? I think they want to get close to the king and his court. They’re thirsting for power; maybe they even wish to get onto the throne.”

  “And you’re concerned about this because?”

  My anger returned in full force. “Because I’m a citizen of Arcadia. As are you. The sisters and their mother are greedy, horrible bullies who exploit others. Do you really want them to rule Arcadia?”

  Acacia examined her immaculate, silver nails. “I don’t concern myself with politics.”

  “Maybe you should. Unless you want Arcadia to go to hell.”

  Acacia tilted her head, a thoughtful look on her face. “Sometimes, I forget how short human lives are. You are so young. When you’ve been alive for several centuries, you know that change is inevitable. In fact, change is the only constant. Nothing can stay good forever. Good and evil are always battling it out. The ups and downs are natural. A word of advice—learn to accept the hills and the valleys.”

  I shook my head. “Perhaps when you’re an immortal, you have time to wait for fifty years for the regime to change. But I don’t have that time. Most citizens of Arcadia don’t have that time. Even if the Fontaines’ reign lasted for only a few months, it would be too long. I’m done standing by and enduring what life throws at me. I want to help shape the world. I will be part of the change.”

  “That is your right. But it is also my right not to get involved.”

  I pressed my hands onto the glass table, welcoming the cooling sensation. How could she not see? How did she not care? “But you are participating. By helping the sisters win the contest.”

  “I’m running a business here.”

  I shook my hea
d. “You would barely lose any of your earnings if you didn’t help them. Why risk it?”

  Acacia lifted her chin. “If I allowed human morals to rule my decisions, I would soon be out of business. You might be good in here,”—She pointed at her heart—“but most people aren’t.”

  “You enable them to go from bad to worse. Don’t you understand how much power you hold by being fae?”

  “If I didn’t help them, they would find some other fae or magic-wielder to do it.”

  “Is money all you care about?”

  Acacia flashed her sharp teeth. “Careful, girl. I have shown you nothing but kindness, but you will find a very different side of me if you push me.”

  I backed away, realizing the extent of her threat. Acacia didn’t even have to lift a finger to hurt me or use any of her magic. Besides Tia, Lorenzo, and Mrs. Woods, she was the only one who knew about the golden rings around my eyes.

  With horror, I realized that if somebody came to her, asking if she had seen a girl with golden rings in her eyes, Acacia would betray me gladly for the right price.

  I continued to back away until I reached the door. “Thank you for your time. I apologize for disturbing you.”

  Acacia’s starred at me coolly. We both knew I wouldn’t be back.

  “I never hid what I was,” she said in parting as I reached for the door handle.

  She was right. I had forgotten that fae had different morals and rules. They could be cruel, their long lifespan making it hard for them to care about an individual or even a country. If I couldn’t trust Acacia, I couldn’t trust other fae either. In the future, I had to find a different way to conceal my eye color.

  5

  26th July

  With Sunday being my day off at the post office, I finally had the time to practice my singing. Truthfully, I felt awful about how little energy I had dedicated to my singing this week, but between moving, starting a new job, and learning how to ride a bike, there wasn’t much of me left by the end of the day. Most nights, I collapsed into my bed and slept for a solid ten hours until my alarm went off.

  Once again, Tia was missing from our room, giving me free rein to experiment and play around with different options of singing my song without having to worry about what my audience thought. Even though I was grateful for the privacy, there was also a pang in my chest. Was Tia’s and my friendship crumbling? Was she moving on with Mikka? Did the last eighteen years of living together and eleven years of being friends mean nothing to her? I bit my lip. I’d have to talk to her, ask her what was going on. But first, I finally had to practice. My recording was only two days away, and if I wanted to stand a chance at making it past the first round, my performance needed to be topnotch.

  I started with a quick warm-up, then went through all the songs I had composed recently. I sang them in the order I had performed them as the opening act for the Dark Quartet as if the correct order were my talisman. Thinking about talismans, I opened my bedside table drawer and examined the palm-sized amethyst quartz Acacia had given me. I had been so grateful for her gift, but after yesterday, I wasn’t sure I wanted it any longer. Then again, if it did protect me from energy stealers as Acacia had claimed, I’d rather hold on to it.

  Since procrastination wouldn’t get me anywhere, I repeated my repertoire: “Chains,” “Through the Darkness,” “Torn,” “My Path,” “Hope,” and “Teach Me the Way.” My chest felt much lighter after the second round. I wished Lorenzo was here to accompany me on his guitar but knew I couldn’t use him as a crutch since the recording was acapella. The performance that followed if I made it past the first round would use bands approved by the judges.

  Deciding that none of the six songs I had practiced was right for my audition, I moved on to the song I had composed right before opening night for the Dark Quartet, “Queen of Song.”

  Once upon a time, there was a girl who liked to sing. She didn’t have a home; she didn’t have kin, but she had a voice. Her blessing terrified her for it gave her hopes and dreams she was told were impossible.

  Years passed, and the girl only shared her voice with her closest friends, only shared her voice when it was lost in a choir. Then you came along, and you challenged the girl, you told her it wasn’t right not to share her blessing, you gave her strength, you gave her confidence. You allowed her to lean on you, and she became the queen of song, she became the queen of song.

  I sang “Queen of Song” two more times, each time becoming more certain that this was the song I wanted to perform at the audition. Since it was a ballad, it allowed me to get away without having a dramatic show. However, simply standing on stage wouldn’t be enough. The song had a beautiful fluidity to it that I wished I could mimic with my show. But how? An idea popped into my mind. It didn’t entail the use of any elements or anything else created by a demon. Thus, it wouldn’t be violating the rules outlined in the competition contract. It also should be easy enough to put up and take down without doing any damage to the theater if arranged properly. But where would I get what I needed?

  Lorenzo had already done so much for me, and yet, I didn’t know who else to turn to. Thus, I found myself knocking on his door.

  “Come in,” he called in his baritone voice that was as smooth as honey and as rich as caramel.

  I entered and proceeded to gawk at his room. I knew it was rude, but I simply couldn’t help myself. The floor was a light-colored oak as were half of the walls, and the bottom half was constructed from exposed, brown brick. A fireplace was built within one of them. The bed’s frame was also carved from the light-colored oak, and above it was a slanted skylight. Lorenzo was lying on top of his terracotta duvet, his arms crossed behind his head, a book next to him.

  “Do you like it?” An amused smile played on his lips.

  “Yes, it’s very rustic.” And inviting. His bedroom was a surprise just as his bar had been. Both times, I had expected something modern, minimal, and traditionally masculine. Instead, Lorenzo had incorporated nature into his home and business. His bedroom made me feel as if I was in a cottage in the middle of the woods, while the bar with its different hues of blue light and ice sculptures made me feel as if I were in the middle of a lake.

  “You really like the outdoors, don’t you?” I asked.

  Lorenzo nodded. “For the first one hundred years, I lived in a forest. Those were some of the happiest decades of my life.”

  A reminder that even though he looked only a few years older than I, he wasn’t. “How old are you?”

  “Two hundred and seventy-two.”

  I gulped. “Is that a lot for a demon?”

  “We don’t age unless we’re cursed or have been severely injured with magic. Two hundred and seventy two means that I have control over all my powers. They can develop with practice, but everything has already formed. It’s not considered old. I suppose it’s like mid-twenties for you humans.”

  Trying to process this, I asked, “Why did you leave the forest?”

  Lorenzo’s violet-green eyes darkened. “An enemy demon clan slaughtered my family. I was the only one who survived. I had to leave.”

  I couldn’t stop the gasp coming from my mouth. “I’m so sorry.” I stepped closer to the bed and sat down on it tentatively. “I wouldn’t have asked had I known.”

  “It’s all right.” Lorenzo massaged the space between his brows. “I beat myself up over it for the next hundred years, but after I entered my third century, I realized my guilt wasn’t doing anyone any good. I had to let go of the past. There wasn’t anything I could have done all those decades ago.”

  “You were only a demon child back then.”

  He nodded. “Yes. It depends on the type of demon how quickly we mature, but we are all born as babies and go through childhood like humans, just much slower.”

  “I reached adolescence around the age of 120. I wasn’t an adult until I was at least 160 or 180 years old.”

  “How old is Mikka?” I wanted to distract him from his painf
ul memories, but I was also curious how old the half-ice demon was who had taken my place in Tia’s life.

  Lorenzo chuckled. “She’s a spring chicken. She’s only in her fifties.”

  “But she doesn’t look like a child.”

  He shrugged. “It’s because she’s only half-demon. Half-demons are mortal. They age, but much slower than humans.”

  “I see.” There was so much out there I didn’t know. My gaze fell on the book next to him, and I picked it up to discover it was a travel guide titled My Journey Around the World.

  “You read human travel guides?”

  Lorenzo smiled. “My teleportation allows me to go anywhere, but I like to prepare myself before I go. Human accounts prepare me for what to expect, and it’s amusing to hear a different point of view.”

  I crossed my arms and pretended to be mad. “Do we poor, little humans entertain you?”

  He didn’t reply, just looked at me, and I realized he didn’t consider me human. I swallowed. Would I one day agree with him?

  “There’s a kingdom called Draconis,” he said slowly. “It’s filled with mountains, volcanoes, and dragons.”

  “Sounds dangerous,” I replied.

  “Yes, you would think the humans would stay away from the dragons, but it is rumored that some of its citizens are able to communicate with the dragons.”

  What an amazing skill to have.

  “Then there’s Atlantice,” he continued, “where dolphins do your current job, delivering the mail to the merfolk.”