Roses and Black Glass: a dark Cinderella tale

by Lenore, Lani

  “What now?” he asked, kissing just below her ear.

  “We wait,” she confirmed. There was no waver in her voice now - no fear. She was resolved to do whatever had to be done for the sake of her revenge.

  Chapter Twelve

  1

  Just when the light of day was visible through the curtains, Cinderella awoke in her prince’s arms. The bed was so much warmer and softer than the one she was used to, and for a moment she stretched out through the sheets, sighing in contentment. Christian stirred slightly and nuzzled in closer against her neck. Cindy smiled. She felt happy–

  But then reality crashed down upon her.

  She was not married to this man. He was to wed another in three weeks. She was nothing more than a servant girl whose name was no longer Cindy Madison, but now Ivy Richardson – as far as anyone was concerned. A woman who she’d come to care about was about to be hanged for crimes that Cindy had urged her to commit. Also, she was here in Christian’s bed and not at home in her own.

  Fear had subsided somewhat since her stepmother’s death, but even so, she could not afford to disrupt things now – not until she and Christian made it safely past the deaths of the prophecy.

  She rose up out of his embrace, knowing that if she didn’t force herself, she never would. He raised his head to the disturbance on his mattress, seeing Cindy stoop down to retrieve the old green dress she had worn there. The cloth fell from her fingers before she'd even managed to put it on when she remembered the sheet.

  Christian rose up as well to observe. Cindy took the sheet carefully, spreading it open before her on the floor. Something inside was shining back at her, smooth and black.

  Cindy took the object in her hand and brought it closer to her face to see it.

  Resting in her grasp was a smooth shoe made of the darkest glass. Cindy could only stare at it a moment as though some force was holding her gaze there. Behind her, Christian stared down at it as well, feeling the same draw. Cindy only thought it strange that it was one shoe that didn’t have a twin. Christian couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around how exactly a bloody sheet, a ring, and some hair could have formed into this.

  The girl thought of the letter Amanda had written. Cindy, the object you will be left with is a magical item, but it will not bring powerful results just by wearing it. But, like an ordinary item, when placed within the right obsession, even the unthinkable can happen. Use what I have given you wisely, Cindy. I think you will know the best way to use it.

  “What are we supposed to do with that?” Christian asked from behind her.

  She shook her head as she examined the glass shoe. “I’m not sure. We’ll have to think about it.”

  “So this is some dark relic, then?”

  “I suppose,” she said, unsure of exactly what the thing was capable of.

  The man laughed slightly. “Using the devil’s power to please God and man? It seems someone isn’t getting their fair share.”

  Cindy smiled slightly at his joke, though she wasn’t sure if making fun was the proper thing to do.

  “I don’t know what I believe about the legacy Amanda left with me in her short time here, but I plan to use what she has given me – even if it makes me wicked. I trust it. I will avenge my father.”

  “As your sisters and step mother’s souls are condemned for their crimes,” he finished for her.

  That sounded good to her ears. Yes; those three were certainly part of the prophecy.

  "We shall rid the world of those wicked ones even if we shall die along with them, but we will do it together.”

  “Yes,” he said. “To save the lives of rich men and to avenge your father and mother.”

  Her lips curled in a sinister smile. Evil or not, Christian couldn’t help but smile back. He could feel the truth in the prophecy, even though he didn’t understand it. Their souls were bonded – and around that the deaths would come.

  “I’m going to leave it with you,” she said, putting the glass shoe into his hand. “I have to be somewhere.”

  The joy fell from her face suddenly, and Christian remembered then that not all was perfect yet. He had things to do, and even though Cindy was with him now, she’d not made any mention at all about him breaking off his engagement to… What was her name again?

  “So do I,” he replied, remembering that they had to go back into town to look at flowers and tapestries and so forth for the ceremony.

  “You will put your pants on first, I hope,” she teased, pulling on her dress and wrapping the shawl around her.

  “Oh, of what consequence is a little public nudity?”

  She smiled, leaning up to kiss his lips.

  “I’ll return tonight when I can,” she promised. “I need you to continue on like nothing has changed.”

  "Of course,” he agreed, simply glad of the fact that she planned on returning to him.

  The young woman passed around him, moving to the door and opening it a crack to peer out, assuring that no one was about in the house before she crept down and out to the courtyard.

  “Don’t forget to come back,” he said from behind her as she eased out the door.

  “Don’t forget to put your pants on,” she called back.

  2

  A light drizzle of rain cooled the air and softened the streets, but it did little for the citizens of Greenhaven who had their thoughts on shunning murder and witchcraft. Beyond town, a gallows had been built, its noose waving gently with the push of the rain. Not many had assembled, but it was enough to bear witness to the event.

  The public hanging of a witch.

  Cindy came here because she wanted to; not out of obligation. She could have – should have – gone straight back to her sisters, but she could not keep herself away. Was it truly going to happen? Was someone as powerful as Amanda – Cassandra – going to allow herself to be killed by these people? When she’d talked to the woman at the jail, Amanda certainly sounded as if she’d resigned herself to this fate. But Cindy had to see it with her own eyes. If not out of curiosity, it was out of respect.

  The woman was brought out of the town, escorted by several men. She was bound at her hands and arms, and even her feet were strung together, leaving only enough room to walk. She was pulled along by a rope that was tied around her neck, and Cindy could see that the woman was terribly bruised and a bit bloody, but it was certainly her. Her unusual black eyes did not lift to anyone around her.

  A man read off her crimes from a list, and though Cindy could not hear them – the sound being a blur in her ears – she knew what he was saying. Murder. Curses. When he was done, he stepped off the platform and another stepped forward to put a hood over Amanda’s face. She did not protest, and Cindy saw the woman vanish from her sight beneath that hood even though she was still standing before her.

  The thick noose was placed around her neck, and Cindy had stopped thinking that the woman might try to save herself. But to be honest, she’d not expected any miracles – or black magic. The woman had given up. Cindy was alone.

  Too quickly, the lever was pulled and the platform dropped from beneath the woman’s feet. Even from her place in the distance, Cindy heard the pop of Amanda’s neck, like the snap of a crisp branch. No one cringed at the sound. The woman’s body twisted and jerked, trying to keep itself alive but failing miserably. Cindy knew that it was already dead. Others lingered silently, but she did not have to see any more. She went back to the house on the hill.

  3

  Christian tugged at his collar, adjusting it as he looked at himself in the mirror. Had he ever thought he was perfect when he looked inside there? Or had he always hated himself when he’d seen his well-groomed image? The answer to that likely varied with his mood, but today was different. What was this feeling? Satisfaction? Things were finally going to be right for a change? He buttoned his cuffs, then he smoothed his jacket and looked at himself. His lips did not smile back, but he didn’t expect them too. It was not time for that yet.

/>   Before him today was more preparation for a wedding that he was now convinced would never happen. Though he wasn’t completely sure of how things would turn out in the end, that thought gave him a bit of solace. And he still had the glass shoe.

  He didn’t know what Cindy would decide to do with it, but he could at least feel confident that she would return to him. While she was away, he’d wrapped it back in the sheet and hidden them both in a drawer beneath a few shirts. He’d thought about the issue while he dressed, but not much had come to him. What could possibly be done with a glass shoe? Especially one without a twin? No matter. Surely there was something. There was a reason Cindy had been instructed to create it.

  Christian turned from the mirror and aimed to leave the room, but he found himself stopping short. The door was open, and he was surprised to see his mother standing there.

  Samantha Charming was dressed, but not completely assembled. Her powder was scarce and her hair was untamed. She twisted a small section of her dress with one hand, but her mouth was as stern as ever. She stared at him, and for the first time as far as he could remember, her gaze made him shiver.

  “Are you alright?” he asked her. It was not out of sympathy or concern, but curiosity. Was she going to scold him? If so, he would have it done.

  “It’s Morgana,” Samantha said quietly, confusion in her eyes as if her own words baffled her. “She is very sick.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  1

  Isabella’s morning had begun with a loud pounding on the door downstairs. It had gotten worse when she’d discovered that her servant was not there to accept the food and supplies from Lionel Carpenter, who delivered the goods to the manor weekly. Isabella had to take it upon herself to supervise the unloading without Cindy, boiling with anger with each passing moment for the girl’s negligence. Charlotte stood behind her in the doorway with a shawl around her shoulders, looking incredibly ill. Isabella wondered only briefly about her sister’s state before she dismissed it as simple weakness. As much as Charlotte wanted to be, she was not like their mother.

  “I believe that’s the last of it, ma’am,” said Lionel, wiping the sweat from his brow despite the chill of the messy morning.

  “Thank you, Lionel,” said Isabella as politely as possible since her thoughts had been interrupted. “I’ll have your payment sent in a couple of days.”

  She did not look at him when she spoke. She’d spotted a figure emerging from over the top of the hill.

  On the other side of things, Lionel had suspected that the van Burrens were completely drained of money. They’d never been late with a payment, but he’d always suspected they struggled for it. Then again, their mother had just passed and the girls were left alone now. He might have been more accepting of the matter – if he hadn’t needed money himself.

  “But…ma’am,” he sputtered, attempting to reason.

  “You’ll just have to wait,” she said insistently.

  Lionel was about to protest once again when a figure moved past him and up onto the porch of the house, wet and dirty. Her dress was soaked around the hem with mud and her short hair was plastered to her pale face. She was like a ghost or a past memory. The man lost all words at her sight.

  Cindy did not look at Isabella, but Isabella looked at her, ready to yell and scream until she realized that Cindy was not going to stop. She trudged on toward the open door of the house.

  “And just where have you been?” Isabella demanded hatefully.

  “I went to the hanging,” was Cindy’s curt reply.

  Charlotte moved out of the girl’s path without words, and Isabella might have been angry with this if not for the pure satisfaction that the hanging had been all her own doing. Anything that caused Cindy grief increased her own pleasure. She turned back to Lionel, this time wearing an evil smile on her pretty lips.

  “I promise that it won’t be long before you receive payment. Our affairs are a bit out of order at this time. Since mother’s death, you understand. Besides, I’m sure you’ll be making deliveries to the Charming house soon. The wedding will be a grand event when it occurs in three weeks.”

  She spoke those words slyly, for she knew in her heart that it wasn’t over yet. There would be a wedding in three weeks, but it would be her own.

  Lionel looked up solemnly from under his hat at Isabella. She stared back at him in curiosity, wondering what she could have said that would send him into this state of shock at her words. She made the smile fall from her face, though all the while knowing what he was about to bring to her attention.

  “You obviously haven’t heard, ma’am,” he began.

  “Heard what?” asked Charlotte with a sniffle and a shiver from the cold. It was the first she’d spoken all morning.

  “The lady, Morgana Thompson, who is to marry young master Charming has fallen seriously ill.”

  There was silence for a few moments, and even inside the house, Cindy stopped to listen.

  “Sick?” asked Isabella, feigning concern. “The flu?”

  “Worse than that, miss,” he said. “It seems that they don’t know what is wrong with her. At midnight last night she awoke feeling awful. I had to make a special run to take some new linens and tonic to the house.”

  “Strange how she should just come up sick like that,” said Isabella thoughtfully. “Why, it’s just like what happened to mother.”

  “True. The doctor compared it to that very thing, but the witch was hanged a short time ago. Perhaps it was the last lingering bit of her magic. That’s what some are saying.” The man laughed. “I’ve heard all the gossip at my stops this morning.”

  Charlotte seemed to have grown paler at the news, and while Isabella seemed surprised, she didn’t seem to think it was very terrible. But why would she? Why would any young woman in this town? Christian Charming was like a prince here. The death of his fiancé would only mean that he would have to choose to marry another.

  “Still, that’s not all,” Lionel continued despite himself. “Her cousin, Beatrice, who came here with her has also fallen ill. Both are bedridden and Doctor Jameson is quite confused. No one knows if there is hope for either of them.”

  “How awful,” said Isabella.

  Charlotte said nothing in the door, but simply looked down at the ground. Isabella lifted her eyes to the sky. The man wondered what she was thinking. Was that a smile on her lips? It didn’t matter. He couldn’t be paid if there was no money to be paid with, and there was no sense in standing around wasting time while there were more deliveries to be made. Lionel pulled on his hat.

  “Well, if that is all, I’ll be off then, miss,” he said.

  “We will see you back next week. I’ll send your pay in a couple of days,” reminded Isabella, brushing past her sister and walking into the house.

  2

  Cindy took care to hide her stitches beneath her hair while she worked to put away the things that Lionel had delivered. When she’d come home, she’d gone straight upstairs to change and then gone to work. She’d said nothing to Isabella. Isabella said nothing to her. All the while, she thought about the shoe.

  How would she know what to do with it? Amanda was gone, and all she had to go by was the letter she had been left. She’d let it stay with Christian as well. One line from it kept coming back to her mind, but she still wasn’t sure how to use it. …when placed within the right obsession… What did it mean?

  And what of Morgana and Beatrice? Were they part of the prophecy? Was their sickness supernatural and urged on by Amanda as Anna’s had been, or was it something else? It seemed a bit wrong to involve innocent people just because someone had to die, but it also crossed her mind that Christian might have been responsible. He knew about the prophecy and he knew that there were to be eight deaths. He had access to both women, for they were staying in his house. But would he do such a thing? And could she feel the same way about him if he had?

  Lost in her thoughts, Cindy had not realized she wasn’t alone in th
e room any longer. She turned from the cupboard to find Charlotte’s troubled gaze staring back at her. Charlotte looked as much of a wreck as she, herself, did. For a moment, Cindy almost felt sorry for the girl – almost – but that still did not stop her from hating Charlotte. She was such a string-puppet, controlled by her mother first and now by Isabella. Perhaps, though, it was not worth any sympathy. Perhaps it was just pathetic.

  “Did you make Christian hate us?”

  The sound of Charlotte’s voice was foreign to her ears. In all of her years with them, Cindy didn’t think she’d ever seen either of them cry, and it looked now that Charlotte had cried out several years of her life. Cindy did not feel broken, however. She stared back at the red-head boldly.

  “I haven’t seen Christian in three years,” she said with firmness that promised truth when there was only a lie.

  Charlotte said nothing else, only lowered her eyes to the ground and then stepped past Cindy and went out of the kitchen. Cindy watched a moment before deciding not to concern herself with the behavior of her sisters. She wanted them to hurt. She wanted them to experience the same torture that she’d been living these three years. Soon, they would. She was sure of that.

  Turning her thoughts back to the shoe and the letter, Cindy returned to her work.

  3

  Isabella gazed at herself in the mirror, fluffing her golden curls and admiring the look of her eyes and the curves of her lips. She would not go to Christian in the midst of this tragedy, but it would all be over soon. After that, he would come to her. He would have no choice.

  If there was one thing still bearing on Isabella’s mind, it was the woman who she had seen Christian with at the dance several nights ago. He had certainly seemed cozy with her, but then suddenly she was gone. No one knew who she was, where she had come from, or where she had gone. And then suddenly Christian had announced his engagement to a woman from out of the state. But Isabella was certain that Morgana had not been the one at the ball. She was far too fat. The woman in the red dress had been so perfect-looking…