“Silence! Time for vicious practical jokes? Perhaps we can put it to better use.” She poured cream into her coffee and continued.
“Now…let me see. There’s the large carpet in the main hall. Clean it! And the windows, upstairs and down. Wash them! Oh, yes…and the tapestries, and the draperies…” Lady Tremaine felt a sense of power in making Cinderella pay for everything she had done to make her life miserable—the mice, of course, and the unforgivable betrayal. But she also enjoyed it because she and her daughters had spent years cleaning up after Cinderella and doing her father’s bidding, all under the watchful eye of her poor, sweet, perfect, deceased mother. The mother Lady Tremaine had never had a hope of replacing. She was delighted to turn the tables now on this deceitful and traitorous little brat. That is how Lady Tremaine saw her. And who could blame her really?
And because she had grown to hate the girl so much, she took delight in not letting her speak.
“But I just fin—”
The fact was, Lady Tremaine hated the sound of Cinderella’s simperingly sweet voice. She was sick of it, and she was sick of her. She hated the sight of the girl.
“Do them again!” Lady Tremaine snapped. “And don’t forget the garden. Then scrub the terrace…sweep the halls…and the stairs…clean the chimneys. And of course, there’s the mending, and the sewing, and the laundry.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Oh, yes, and one more thing. See that Lucifer gets his bath,” she added, knowing how much Cinderella hated giving Lucifer his bath.
It was mornings like this that gave Lady Tremaine life. They made her feel like the strong, capable woman she was and not the coward she had become under the dominion of Cinderella’s father.
However, no amount of tormenting the girl would change their circumstances. She needed a plan. But then a solution to all their problems magically presented itself to her.
An invitation from the castle.
It came that afternoon while she was with her girls, who had been bickering, no doubt because they were feeling high-strung from Cinderella’s constant antics.
Lady Tremaine had been under tremendous stress and agitation but rarely let herself lose control, not since she had started wearing her brooch every day. She held her composure like a statue. Cold, resolute, and in complete control. She did her best to impart this way of thinking to her girls, to no avail. Anastasia and Drizella always had been difficult to control, now that she reflected on it.
The girls became wild as ever when Cinderella brought in the invitation, snatching it back and forth from each other until Lady Tremaine took the letter and read it herself.
“Well, there is to be a ball,” she said, realizing this was the perfect opportunity for her girls. If one of them could marry the prince, their prayers would be answered! But then she heard Sir Richard in her mind, laughing at her when she had called her girls beautiful and saying they were not presentable. Of course he thought his own daughter would make a better match for the prince. As much as she believed her daughters were lovely, she couldn’t shake the fear that if Cinderella attended the ball with them, Anastasia and Drizella would be overlooked.
Lady Tremaine decided she would do what she could to keep the girl from attending, to give her girls a better chance. The girl had done everything in her power to make Lady Tremaine’s life unbearable, and she wasn’t going to let the little twit ruin this for her daughters, not after everything she had already done to them. This time her daughters would shine, and they would finally have a happier life, the one she had hoped for when they first moved to this miserable place.
But Cinderella had read the letter herself and pointed out in that too-sweet, simpering voice of hers that the letter said that, by royal decree, every eligible maiden should attend the ball.
“Yes…So it does,” said Lady Tremaine. “Well, I see no reason why you can’t go…if you get all your work done.”
“Oh, I will! I promise,” said Cinderella.
“And if you can find something suitable to wear,” she added, knowing full well Cinderella had no ball gowns of her own.
“I’m sure I can! Oh, thank you, Stepmother.” Cinderella left the room smiling, no doubt with visions of marrying the prince dancing in her otherwise feather-filled head.
Lady Tremaine was satisfied. There was no way Cinderella would be able to finish all her housework, make a dress, and still have enough time to get ready for the ball. She touched her brooch happily, thinking about how it would break Cinderella’s heart to see them go to the ball without her. But her girls didn’t seem to catch on to their mother’s plan.
“Mother! Do you realize what you just said?” Drizella asked.
“Of course. I said if…” said Lady Tremaine, smirking.
The castle was everything Lady Tremaine had imagined. She felt at home there. It was the first time since she had left England that she felt like she was in familiar surroundings. She was even happy to see the gangly Grand Duke rushing about, though their first uncomfortable meeting years ago had made it impossible to become true friends, which would probably account for his not stopping to say hello to her and her daughters as they made their entrance. Well, this time if she had the opportunity she was going to make the grandest of impressions on him. They did know each other, after all, and her husband had been part of the court. Things were so odd in this kingdom; it never made sense to her that she hadn’t been invited to court before now, or that no one had sent their regrets at Sir Richard’s passing, or simply checked in to see if she and her girls were all right.
As she and her daughters stood in line waiting to be announced to the royal family, Lady Tremaine fussed over Drizella’s and Anastasia’s feathers and ruffles, making sure they looked perfect.
“Mother, please stop! You’re making me nervous,” said Anastasia, stamping her foot.
“I’m sorry, my darling. I just want you to look beautiful for the prince. I know he’s going to want to marry one of you. You’re the most beautiful girls here,” she said, looking around the room at all the other courtly ladies and gentlemen hoping their daughters would catch the eye of the prince.
“Oh, Mother, please! You know that’s not true,” said Drizella. “Look at all these beautiful girls, they’re all like Cinderella. We don’t stand a chance.” She sighed deeply.
The castle was simply bursting with eligible young ladies, all dressed in their finest ball gowns, which glittered under the light of chandeliers. They were all breathtaking, but even Lady Tremaine had to admit to herself that none were quite as lovely as her vermin-loving stepdaughter, whom she had thankfully left back at the château.
Lady Tremaine noticed that Anastasia, too, looked self-conscious as she hid her hands, which were still cracked and dry from years of washing dishes in the kitchen.
It hurt Lady Tremaine’s heart that her daughters didn’t think themselves beautiful, but Sir Richard’s words kept echoing in her mind again and again, making her doubt the prince would see the beauty in her daughters that she did. She wanted to protect them, and almost took them both by the hand to lead them away before they even met the prince. She wouldn’t be able to bear it if the prince did anything to make her daughters feel unworthy of being there among the legion of beauties all gathered that evening. And just as she was about to take her daughters and depart, she heard a familiar voice.
“Don’t leave, Lady Tremaine, not now when you finally have your chance to make a better life for yourself and your girls.”
Lady Tremaine knew Rebecca’s voice immediately. She wanted to rail and scream and strangle the woman for betraying her and working with those wretched witches behind her back. “Rebecca,” she said calmly as Anastasia and Drizella squealed with happiness to see her.
“Hello, girls. Don’t you look exquisite this evening? It’s going to be some time before you and your mama will be announced and presented to court. Why don’t you go get us some refreshments? You don’t want to sound like croaking toads when you say hello to the prince, do
you?” she said, smiling at Anastasia and Drizella.
“Oh dear! My throat is a little dry! Zella, let’s go get some punch,” said Anastasia. “We’ll be right back!” Both girls ran off, leaving Rebecca and Lady Tremaine alone.
Lady Tremaine quickly snapped her gaze from her daughters to Rebecca. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her hands around her neck and squeeze until there was no life in her. “What are you doing here, you witch?” she asked, reaching for her brooch and speaking through clenched teeth so the other guests didn’t hear them.
“So you’ve guessed who I am.” Rebecca laughed, sounding eerily like those strange sister witches.
“Nanny told me who you are. She said you were working with the Odd Sisters. It wasn’t hard to deduce you are also a witch.”
Rebecca started laughing again, but this time it was joined by the laughter of others in the ballroom, and as the laughter grew, something disturbing started to happen. Everyone in the room slowed down as if they were moving through water. It was the strangest thing Lady Tremaine had ever seen. They seemed completely unaware this was happening to them. Lady Tremaine stood there watching all the guests in awe as their movements became slower and slower until finally they were all frozen in place like statues. Everyone except Lady Tremaine, Rebecca, and the Odd Sisters, who were slowly making their way toward them through the sea of statuesque party guests. Their eyes were fixed on Lady Tremaine, and she couldn’t help but remember when Sir Richard had looked at her that way when they first saw each other at Lady Hackle’s party. She remembered feeling like she was his prey, and that was exactly how she felt in this moment.
“Let us introduce our sister Circe,” said Lucinda, or at least the one Lady Tremaine thought must be Lucinda, for she stood in the middle and spoke first.
Lucinda waved her hand, and Rebecca transformed before their eyes into a lovely golden-haired beauty with the most delicate features Lady Tremaine had ever seen. She was all silver and gold, almost luminescent, as if a light were shining from within her. As the four witch sisters stood there, Lady Tremaine couldn’t help but feel bewitched by this strange group of women. It was difficult to believe the fair-haired Circe was related to the Odd Sisters. Lady Tremaine touched her brooch, wishing to slow her beating heart, willing it to stop fluttering at such a rapid rate. She needed to be calm. She needed to be confident.
“We are, all four of us, the Odd Sisters,” said Circe, smiling at Lady Tremaine.
“What is the meaning of this? What have you done to everyone, and where are my daughters?”
Circe laughed. “Your daughters are quite well, Lady Tremaine. My sisters were disappointed you never summoned them for help, and now that we see you walking down the path of your own demise, we thought we would ask you one final time if we can help you.”
This time it was Lady Tremaine who laughed. “Help me? Help me? You are the reason I am in this horrible place! You plotted against me and brought me here, setting all these events in motion. Your book of fairy tales marked me as a villain, your book, and now I am trapped within a story I can’t escape.” Lady Tremaine was not a violent person, but she wanted to strike this Circe. “I trusted you, and I thought you were my friend, and you betrayed me.”
Circe sighed. “I am your friend, Lady Tremaine. I have been protecting you all along. I am the one who made sure your husband found the brooch in that little shop, and I stayed by your side doing what I could to keep you safe. Didn’t I have my sisters bring the tonic of your salvation, and am I not here now offering my help once again?” She tried to reach out for Lady Tremaine’s hand, but Lady Tremaine recoiled from her in anger.
“Keep your hands off me, witch! I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you and your bloody book! You are the authors of my demise! You did this!”
The four Odd Sisters laughed so hard the chandeliers swayed overhead.
“We only write what prophecy tells us, Lady Tremaine,” said Circe. “We can’t change what’s written, but we have made it our business to try to help those who get caught in the book’s tangled web. That’s all we’ve ever wanted to do, is to help. Won’t you let us now? Maybe with our magic, we can rewrite your story, but we can’t do it without your permission.”
It was strange for Lady Tremaine to be talking to this woman she thought was Rebecca who now looked completely different, but there was still something about Circe that felt like her old friend. For some reason she felt she could trust her even if she was just as odd as her dark-haired sisters.
“You can trust me, Lady Tremaine, I promise you,” Circe said. Her sisters, Lucinda, Ruby, and Martha, smiled behind her.
“I don’t know who to trust. Nanny said you cursed my brooch, is that true?”
Lucinda shook her head. “Witch and fairy magic are very different from each other. Fairies have long mistrusted witches’ magic. Like you, Nanny has her own story in the book of fairy tales, and it tells us that soon she will grow to distrust the fairy magic and embrace the way of witches. But that is another story for another time.”
“All of you speak in riddles! It’s so confounding. Nanny said she thought you were trying to help me, but I don’t understand why you would bring me here, setting all this in motion, and then offer to help me! None of it makes sense.” Circe reached out for Lady Tremaine’s hand once again, and this time she let the witch take it.
“Because it was written, Lady Tremaine. You were destined to come to the Many Kingdoms and marry Cinderella’s father, and his abuse would turn you into a monster, causing you to abuse his daughter in turn. We thought if we could rewrite this story and make sure the brooch got into your possession, it would give you the courage to stand up to him. Don’t you feel more in control when you wear it? I saw you touching it just now. That is what gave you the strength to confront me.” Circe looked into Lady Tremaine’s eyes.
“That’s true, but why keep the book of fairy tales from me? Why stop my letters from reaching Lady Prudence?” she asked, searching Circe’s face and hoping she could trust her.
“Maybe it was a mistake to keep the book from you,” Circe said. “We thought it would frighten you, or perhaps lead you further down the path we were trying to help you to avoid.” Lady Tremaine felt Circe was telling the truth. But before she could speak, Circe continued, “As for the letters, I’m sorry to say that was hubris. We wanted to be the ones to help you. We had countless arguments about Lady Prudence’s letters, but ultimately, my sisters and I decided we wanted to be the ones who saved you, not her. Can you ever forgive me, Lady Tremaine? You must believe all we have ever wanted to do is help you and your daughters.”
Lady Tremaine didn’t know what to think. She desperately wanted to get her and her daughters out of the Many Kingdoms, and if trusting these treacherous witches helped them to do that, then what could possibly be the harm?
“We can help you escape, Lady Tremaine,” Circe coaxed. “You don’t have to marry off one of your daughters to a priggish prince. Besides, that fate lies with Cinderella.”
Lady Tremaine’s eyes bulged. “Cinderella? She’s not even here!” she said, looking around the ballroom. “She’s at home—she—er—she has nothing to wear.”
“Oh, she will be here, and the prince will want to marry her. It’s all written,” said Lucinda.
Lady Tremaine threw her hands up. She was sick to death of the book of fairy tales and this supposed prophecy. “If it’s already written, then how do you propose we change my fate?” she asked, clutching her brooch. She felt herself growing angry. None of these women made sense. Not these witches and not Nanny.
“By magic,” said the four witches at the same time, laughing again.
“But Nanny said she couldn’t help me, because I am the villain in this story. How are you going to help me?” Lady Tremaine asked.
“Her magic can’t, but ours can. The princesses are the fairies’ domain,” said Circe. “The villains are ours. We are the villains’ fairy godmothers, if you will. Now, do you wa
nt to stand here all night while we explain how magic in the Many Kingdoms works, or do you want us to get you and your daughters back to England where you belong?”
Before Lady Tremaine could answer, a blue blur flew into the ballroom, cascading sparks. Lady Tremaine realized it was a gray-haired woman—from the looks of it, a fairy. She wore a hooded blue robe and carried a wand, the source of the sparks. The fairy looked quite a bit like Nanny, and for a brief moment, Lady Tremaine thought it might be.
“I warned you to stay away from this ballroom, Odd Sisters! I won’t let you meddle with my Cinderella!” the fairy said, casting her wand at the Odd Sisters, who scattered and hid behind the frozen party guests to avoid getting spelled.
“Nanny, what are you doing?” screamed Lady Tremaine. The fairy stopped in midair and looked down at Lady Tremaine, hovering above her with an indignant look on her face.
“Oh, you must be mistaking me for my sister. She told us all about you,” said the fairy. “I’m the Fairy Godmother.” Her expression suddenly transformed into a brilliant smile, as if saying her own name caused her great pride.
“Are you here to help me?” Lady Tremaine asked, hoping with all her heart that she was. The Odd Sisters said they wanted to help her, but something about them scared her instead. She would far prefer the help of this kindly-looking fairy in the blue robe. “Nanny said she would ask the fairies for help, but I had given up hope.”
The Odd Sisters laughed mockingly, their voices screeching in the distance. “The Fairy Godmother will never help you!” they cackled.
The Fairy Godmother scanned the room, trying to figure out where their voices were coming from amid the statue-like partygoers.
“Help you?” said the Fairy Godmother in shock. “Help a villain? Don’t be ridiculous. My sister, Nanny, might have been tricked into thinking you were the innocent in all this, but I’m not. I’m here to make sure nothing stands in the way of Cinderella marrying that prince, and that you and your daughters get exactly what you deserve.” The fairy’s shimmering wings twitched in anger.
Cold Hearted Page 13
