Clearly, the surprise factor had worn off, but I still had one weapon left. I felt rotten using my voice to force her to reveal her secrets, but then I thought about all the unrest Arcadia was experiencing. Our kingdom needed its queen back. And certainly, Queen Ella couldn’t be happy scrubbing dishes for Madam Fontaine. Whatever our queen was running away from, it was time to face it. Picking a sweet melody, I sang, “Why are you working for Madam Fontaine? Why do you allow her to call you Cinder?”
Ella didn’t reply, only pressed her lips together harder. But even without her saying anything, the wheels were spinning in my mind. Madam Fontaine was in her fifties and old enough to be Cinder’s mother. As for her awful daughters, they seemed to be as corrupt as the stepsisters Queen Ella had grown up with.
Everyone in Arcadia knew the story of our queen. Before she met the prince, she had been a personal maid to her stepmother and stepsisters after her father’s death. Her new family had abused her and would have continued to do so if Ella hadn’t found the courage to go to the ball with the help of her fairy godmother.
“Madam Fontaine is your stepmother,” I said slowly, the puzzle pieces falling into place.
Queen Ella was shaking uncontrollably now.
“Georgette and Bernadette are you stepsisters.”
Queen Ella leaned against the sink, her face going ghostly white.
“But you escaped them. You married the king. Why did you leave him?”
Ella dashed past me and through the door. I wanted to go after her, but I knew I couldn’t risk drawing any attention to myself or her.
I needed to return with backup. Hopefully, Lorenzo had returned from his travels. He would know what to do. What I didn’t understand was that if the stepmother and stepsisters were here, shouldn’t Queen Ella’s fairy godmother be nearby as well? If Madam Fontaine and her daughters had something on Queen Ella, certainly, her fairy godmother could help.
About to leave, I turned around only to find a patrolman in the door.
“What are you doing here, Halia?” Thomas’s mouth was set into a grim line, yet all I felt was relief that it was he and not his partner. I had told Victor to stay away, and I thought he would, but that didn’t mean that if we ran into each other, his hate for me wouldn’t return. Plus, seeing me might make him remember what I had done with my voice. He would be furious if he realized I could compel him. My best chance of him leaving me alone was hoping he had been too drunk last time to remember things properly or make sense of them.
Thomas raised an eyebrow, and I realized I hadn’t answered his question.
“I came here to see a friend,” I said.
“This is a crime scene. Didn’t you notice the red rope outside the boarding house?”
If Thomas decided to lock me up for trespassing or interfering with an investigation, I would lose my recording spot and fail to tell Lorenzo about Queen Ella. I had to proceed carefully. “I also came to drop this off.” I held out the letters, putting the sweetest smile on my face. “I work at the post office now.”
He sighed and extended his hand. “I’ll deliver them to the front desk. In the future, don’t step into a crime scene.”
I nodded, but instead of leaving, I pressed. “What happened? Did someone die?” My questions had a melody to them and sounded almost like a song.
Thomas nodded, but then shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”
“I need to know. I need to know. Tell me what happened,” I sang, aware I was walking a fine line. Lorenzo had said my power was white magic and could only be used for good. I intended to use Thomas’ information for good, but what if my magic decided that pushing him was wrong? Worse, what if my voice only worked on those that were already riled up? Every time I had used it before, the person in question was emotional, Thomas, however, was calm and collected.
Now his eyelids twitched, and he slowly said, “The guest in room two. His heart gave out. The maid found him. Madam Fontaine seemed very angry with her. Very suspicious. Worse, this wasn’t the first time a tenant...” A pause. “Two guests disappeared this week without a trace. Madam Fontaine says they checked out, but their suitcases were found in the trash a few blocks away from here. It doesn’t add up.”
“Was it a couple?”
He shook his head. “Two middle-aged women.”
I swallowed hard. So he didn’t even know about the couple that “checked out” abruptly last week, also not bothering to take their luggage. Five guests had run into trouble after staying at the boarding house.
“Who do you think is responsible?” I sang.
Thomas clenched his jaw. “I don’t know. Something is fishy for sure.”
He blinked several times, his eyes clearing. I was losing my hold over him, best to wrap this up.
“Thank you. Now that I’ve given you the letters I came to deliver, I must go.”
He nodded. “You have a beautiful voice.”
I didn’t comment but slipped past him and out of the boarding house, ready to share what I had discovered with Lorenzo.
Lorenzo wasn’t at Daydream. He was neither in the bar, nor in his office, nor in his room. It was one. Only three hours remained until my recording slot. Where was he? How long could I wait for him here? It would take me a good half an hour to get to the opera house, and I didn’t want to arrive last minute. I wanted to hear a few performances before mine and warm up my vocal cords.
Even though I didn’t want to leave without Lorenzo, I knew I had to get ready. Tears welled in my eyes. Why did everything always have to go wrong? Why wasn’t I able to do anything by myself? Why did I have to rely on others? Why was my chest constricting?
“Ready to rock?” Tia said as she entered our bedroom. I didn’t glance up at her, simply continued staring at my bed and my clothes I had strewn over it.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” I said, too overwhelmed to focus on anything else. I had originally planned to wear the silky dress Tia had given me for my birthday, but now, I wasn’t so sure.
“You can try on some of Mikka’s clothes.”
I let out a chuckle. “I doubt anything will fit me. She’s tiny.”
Ignoring my protest, Tia pulled me toward Mikka’s room. “She’s only a few inches smaller than you.”
Mikka was lounging on her bed, and when Tia asked if I could borrow something from her wardrobe for the recording, Mikka jumped up, her black eyes sparkling like onyx. “I thought you’d never ask. I have just the perfect dress.”
She pulled out a pale coral creation that was strapless and almost reached the ground but not quite. The light chiffon number was a stunner.
“I couldn’t,” I said, but Tia was already unzipping it.
“It was a present, and I never liked it, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away,” Mikka said casually as I twirled and admired how the dress clung to and flared around my petite body at all the right places.
Since my hands were too unsteady and my thoughts were a mess, I let Tia apply my makeup while Mikka did my hair.
“All done!” Tia said a while later and handed me a mirror.
My hair was in a half-up, half-down style that framed my heart-shaped face. My makeup was light, shimmering eye shadow and glossy lips that reminded me of dew on rose petals in the morning.
“Thank you,” I said, tears of gratefulness entering my eyes. This whole week I had been afraid I had lost my best friend, but it seemed that, instead, I had gained a new friend in Mikka.
“You’re welcome.” Tia beamed. “Now, let’s get you to the opera house. We don’t want you to be late.”
“You guys are coming with me?”
Tia led the way. “Of course. Did you really think we would let you go alone?”
The three of us took the gondola, Tia and Mikka holding hands while I stared out, focusing on the rocking of our boat as it made its way across the river, which was choppier than usual. In less than an hour, I would have my recording, and Lorenzo still wasn’t here.
<
br /> I was grateful for Tia and Mikka’s help, but I seriously doubted that my voice plus hair and make-up would be enough to get me into the next round when the competition was going all out.
Inside the theater, the stage assistant asked for my name and checked me off the list. “And who is this?” He indicated his head toward Mikka and Tia.
“My friends.”
“I’m sorry. Only managers are allowed backstage. Your friends will have to wait in the auditorium.”
Tia was about to open her mouth, but I didn’t want to appear difficult, so I quickly said, “I’ll be fine.”
She enveloped me into a hug. “You’ll be amazing.”
“Break a leg,” Mikka said. Then I was shepherded into the vast backstage room, which was filled with a long row of tables with mirrors, all seats occupied as singers put on the final touches of their hair and make-up. The rest of the room was crowded too, performers everywhere, warming up their vocal cords and stretching.
I slipped past them and into the wings to watch the current performance from behind the curtains. As I did so, a girl brushed past me, heading the other way. “Who do you think you are?” she hissed, even though it had been she that had run into me.
I stepped aside, not saying anything, deciding it wasn’t worth it. Putting the rude girl out of my mind, I focused on the performance on stage. A curvy girl in a red dress was belting out a classical aria.
“Does she really think the king wants to hear something from the last century?” A guy joined me in the wings.
“She has a pretty voice,” I tried.
He glared at me. “Yes, for the last century. She’ll never make it to the next round.” He stalked away. Before I could process why he was so aggressive, the girl walked off stage.
“Awful, simply awful,” she muttered underneath her breath. “Why do I have to be such a stupid, fat cow? Mother was right all along.”
I smiled at her. “Don’t beat yourself up. I think your performance was great.”
She put her fists onto her hips. “Who sent you to butter me up? What do you want?”
I took a step back. “No one and nothing, I was just trying to h—”
“Save it,” she cut me off and stomped past me.
Annoyance bubbled up inside of me at being treated so unfairly by not one, not two, but three people. Then it hit me. This couldn’t be a coincidence. I inhaled deeply, breathing out my annoyance and trying to stay rational. Then I stepped into the backstage room and observed the singers. The ones that were focused on themselves were pushing their bodies, contorting them unnaturally, and cursing quietly. The ones that came in contact with others were rolling their eyes, snarling, and some were even shoving each other.
This wasn’t natural. Tia was right. Our city was boiling with unrest. And it was getting worse.
The stage assistant flew into the room, clapping his hands. “Chop, chop! Where is Eric Wells?”
The boy who had criticized the opera singer came forward.
The stage assistant grabbed his elbow. “You’re up next. Don’t keep us waiting. We’re already behind.”
The boy rushed onto the stage while the stage assistant barked, “Keep your eyes on the list.” He pointed at a paper hanging on the wall. “Know when it’s your turn. After Eric Wells, we have Georgette and Bernadette Fontaine, followed by Halia...”He paused. “Halia Bright.”
I cringed. The signup sheet had insisted that I fill out every field, including my last name. Since I had been dropped off anonymously at the orphanage when I had been no older than a month, I didn’t have a last name. The sisters at the orphanage decided to give me the last name Bright, saying that I was always a ray of sunshine. However, as sweet as the gesture was, I never used my last name. It was a constant reminder of how my parents hadn’t wanted me.
If I passed this round, the reporters would know me as Halia Bright. They would look up my last name and spin my story around me being an orphan. I didn’t want that. Being in an orphanage was something I had experienced and lived through, but it didn’t define me.
On stage, Eric began to sing an upbeat tune. I glanced at the clock. Lorenzo didn’t have long. It was likely he wouldn’t make it. I would have to do this by myself. Finding a quiet corner, I closed my eyes and imagined having the best performance ever without any props and without Lorenzo. At least Tia and Mikka were here to watch me.
Much too soon, the stage assistant was back. “Georgette, Bernadette Fontaine.”
The sisters pranced toward the stage in their matching, baby-blue ball gowns. What a strange outfit choice.
I glanced at the clock. Lorenzo had half an hour.
Unable to sit still any longer and needing to know what Acacia had done to the sisters’ voices, I returned to the wings.
Apparently, the sisters had decided they didn’t need more than one try to get their courting right because the next fifteen minutes were spent on setting up the stage, putting down a rug that looked like a parquet floor and rolling in mirrors. They were transforming the stage into the royal ballroom. I knew that’s what it was supposed to be since I had seen photos in newspapers. The sister’s team even recreated the royal gardens visible from the ballroom, putting several rose bushes upstage. It was only when they began to sing that I understood their strategy:
“Your hand on my waist. Your whisper in my ear. I’m falling. I’m falling hard for you.
Through a touch of faith, we ran into each other. Meeting you transformed me.
Your love, our love, it’s unbreakable, unbreakable.”
Their perfectly harmonized voices were flawless, and yet bile rose in my throat. Not only were the sisters using voices that didn’t belong to them, they were also recreating the king’s meeting with the missing queen. It was as if they were taunting him. Or perhaps they hoped that by striking an emotional chord, they could get close to him and become front-runners if he decided to remarry. Either way, it was disgusting. I needed to talk to the king. I needed to tell him that the sisters and their mother had forced Queen Ella back into the kitchen.
Somebody sidled up to me, and goosebumps exploded on my back. I turned my head to find Madam Fontaine’s beady eyes boring into me. “Halia, wasn’t embarrassing yourself at that bar enough for you?” She tsked. “I guess you have the need to make a national spectacle out of yourself.”
I stood tall, refusing to allow her words to affect me.
A cruel smile curled her mouth as she glanced toward the stage. “I would say it’s a pity that you have to perform after my talented daughters, except it isn’t. The sooner you are disqualified from the competition, the less you will embarrass yourself and the orphanage.”
Blood rushed through my ears, and it was hard to remind myself that it wasn’t like me to lash out, that I, like the rest of Arcadia, was affected by dark magic.
Knowing I needed all my energy for my performance, I pivoted and walked away from Madam Fontaine only to crash into someone.
“Don’t,” I said. I couldn’t take another fight. However, the person didn’t curse me or shove me. Instead, strong arms enveloped me, and a fresh scent of grass and lemon wrapped around me.
“Halia.”
“Lorenzo,” I choked out. “You made it.”
His fingers moved in soothing circles over my shoulders. “Of course, I did. I’m sorry it took me so long.” He took my hand and tugged me toward the backstage area, his violent-green gaze never leaving mine. I licked my lips. I hadn’t forgotten that he had rejected me earlier, and yet, the desire for him was still there.
“Your eyes,” Lorenzo said, mercifully interrupting my confusing thoughts. “We need to put in the contacts.”
He took me into a washing room and handed me a small, plastic container that was split into two compartments, a see-through lens in each.
“It will feel strange at first, but you’ll get used to it.”
I glanced into the bathroom mirror to find the golden circles in my eyes were back. Who had se
en them? Had Thomas noticed? Had Ella? Knowing I couldn’t afford to worry about that right now, I held open my upper and lower lid with my thumb and middle finger as Lorenzo instructed and put in the contact lens with my index finger. I repeated the action on the other eye and blinked rapidly. It stung and was strange to have something in my eyes, but I could handle it.
“Halia, Halia Bright, please get into your position,” the stage assistant called.
“I’m not ready,” I whispered.
“Yes, you are.” Lorenzo picked up something heavy, making me realize he had procured the giant swing I had asked him for.
“How are you going to attach it?” I asked.
He shot me a lopsided smile. “Let me worry about that.”
Lorenzo was true to his word. He teleported to the wooden beam above the stage and deftly secured the ropes of the swing. Then he teleported back down and pulled out a tiny container from his pocket. “This will be gone before the next performance starts,” he said to the competition host, then took out a pinch of glittering dust and threw it onto the stage, transforming it into a luscious forest with tall trees. Sunlight streamed through their branches, and on the ground, wildflowers in deep blue, purple, and white grew.
He winked at me. “I hope it’s all right that I took some creative liberty.”
Before I knew what I was doing, I pressed my mouth to his in a quick peck. “It’s perfect,” I said. My words broke the spell, and my brain caught up to what my lips were doing. Quickly stepping aside, I said, “I’m ready to start the recording.”
The embarrassment of the kiss was my salvation, distracting me from imagining everything that might go wrong during my performance as the technical team went behind their devices and made a few adjustments, then waved their hands for me to begin.
I sat down on the swing. Lorenzo pushed it hard, and it rose into the sky. Clearly, it, too, was enchanted. There was no time left to wonder whom the magic for the swing and forest had come from, so I launched into, “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.
Halia: Daughter of Cinderella Page 17
