Damnation: A Cinderella Retelling (Tales of Cinder Book 3) Page 3

  “I sense no one of strength,” Maeve said. “But if she’s as strong as I believe, perhaps she’s masking her presence as I’ve been masking mine.” Maeve reached into her bodice and withdrew a vial which she handed to Cecilia.

  “Go inside and speak with the others. Find out who has been casting and why. See if any recall Eloise’s visit. And ask if there are any who are not ill.”

  Cecilia nodded, drank the vial, and left the carriage as a brunette marked with pox.

  “Do you think anyone remembers dresses?” I asked, idly.

  Maeve considered me for a moment.

  “A very valid observation. I will tell Cecilia not to wear that dress in public again.”

  I cursed myself for saying anything.

  We waited in the carriage for a long while before Cecilia returned.

  “There are no new casters at the Brazen Belle. Those there still hold true to the oath they gave, verified by their blood.”

  “Freely given?” Maeve asked.

  “Yes. All of them.”

  Maeve frowned, and her calculating gaze pinned me.

  “Your choices are making things more difficult than they need to be.”

  She rapped on the carriage, and it started forward. Relief swam through my veins, and I resisted the urge to look out the window at Rose. Was she as powerful as Maeve suggested? I hoped so. For she might be the answer to stopping Maeve. Bound as I was to the estate, how would I ever get to her alone again, though?

  Maeve interrupted my thoughts with thoughts of her own.

  “We need to ensure this other caster will not interfere. We’re too close now. There’s no choice but to cast a location spell.”

  Cecilia and Porcia nodded, but I noticed the sudden sickly pallor in Porcia’s face. Any relief I felt died. What did Maeve plan to do that had Porcia reacting so?

  Maeve waited until the carriage was on the outskirts to knock on the top. As it slowed to a stop, she handed Porcia a purse heavy with coin.

  “Be quick about it.”

  Cecilia nodded and grabbed her sister’s hand. I watched out the window as they knocked on the door of a cottage. A thin woman answered. It was apparent she’d been ill long before Maeve’s spell.

  Maeve rapped on the roof again, and with a cluck from Seth, the carriage lurched forward.

  “We aren’t waiting for them?”

  “No. People will note a carriage that lingers.”

  We drove a fair distance before Maeve stopped our progress once again. There, we waited. When Cecilia opened the door, her smile was wide.

  “Fate was with us, Mama,” she handed the coin purse back to Maeve. “The woman was amiable, and the child barely two.”

  “Well done.”

  Confused, I looked at Porcia. The girl’s face was completely washed of any color.

  “Are you well, Porcia?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said woodenly. “Quite well, sister.”

  Maeve smiled.

  “I know it wasn’t easy on you, dear one. But remember, the younger the child…”

  “The more powerful the magic,” Porcia said, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. It was then I noticed the blood on them.

  Maeve tapped on the roof to start the carriage moving.

  “Let’s hurry home before the heart cools. The magic is stronger when fresh,” she said, examining the dark coin purse that glistened wetly.

  Horror consumed me, and Cecilia chuckled softly, witnessing it.

  “You said no one would die.” My words grew rough with anger and sorrow.

  “I said no maids would die,” Maeve replied. “Did you honestly believe I would let your act of defiance go without consequence? I will find the person helping you and destroy her. No one will stand in my way.”

  Chapter Three

  I sat on Judith’s old bed and ran my hands over the sheets. The image of a small heart in a bowl filled with bloody water kept swimming before my eyes, no matter how hard I tried not to see it. The detachment I’d thought I’d gained was a lie. Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself and let the tears fall.

  Thoughts of the child whose life had been stolen consumed me and filled me with impotent rage. I wanted to scream and hurt everyone around me. I wanted to make them feel the pain I felt. Feel the pain of their victims.

  These feelings had consumed me the moment I’d understood what was in the bag. So much so that I’d almost struck out at Maeve during the spell. The very knife she’d used to drain the tiny heart of its remaining blood had been right there on the butcher block.

  It was only the thought of the consequences if I failed that had stayed my hand. I might hurt Maeve with a knife, but would I kill her? It wasn’t a question of conviction—for I was more than willing to end her life—but a matter of strength and power. I overcame Hugh because he had wanted his end. But what of someone who didn’t? In addition to her determination, Maeve had untold power. What if she had a spell protecting her as I had protecting me?

  No, I couldn’t let my temper rule me. I needed to think. To be detached. Yet, how could I after what I’d witnessed?

  A scuff of noise came from the kitchen. I wiped away my tears, the only evidence of my momentary frailty, and stood just as Porcia appeared in the doorway.

  Her face had regained a bit of her color since returning home.

  “Mama is indisposed. There’s no need to prepare a meal tonight.”

  I nodded, but she didn’t leave. She stared at me for a moment then looked behind her before stepping into the room and closing the door.

  “Things have been bad for you. But they can become much worse. Consider every consequence before you act. Please.” She turned, reaching for the door. “For all our sakes.”

  She left, and I sat, thinking again of the heart in the bowl.

  Much to Maeve’s extreme displeasure, the spell hadn’t worked. The child had died in vain, for the spell had shown nothing but mist when asked for the location of my co-conspirator. I doubted such a small victory could have felt emptier.

  The cock’s crow woke me, and for a moment, my mind clung to the past. I rose from bed, thinking I would quietly sneak from the room so as to not wake Kellen on my way to feed the animals. But, the room wasn’t my own. I looked down at Judith’s bed and felt that tiny spark of joy I’d once felt rising at dawn fade into nothing.

  Kellen was gone, hidden in the Dark Forest, afflicted by some unknown spell hidden in an apple. Father was missing, and Mother dead along with Anne and Judith and so many others. My will to carry on vanished. Why did one kingdom’s fate matter so much? I thought of my playful talks with Kellen about leaving and traveling to see new lands. Why couldn’t I do that? My chest squeezed as I recalled the spell trapping me here. There was no choice but to carry on.

  Leaving the house, I fed the animals, promising the pig a walk soon before returning to the kitchen to start breakfast. I kept it to a simple meal of hot oats, toasted like Heather and Catherine had taught me.

  When Maeve came down, I had the three bowls set on the table.

  “You are missing a setting,” she said. “Fetch your bowl.”

  I went back to the kitchen to serve myself a second portion, since I had already eaten. When I returned, Cecilia and Porcia were at the table. I sat to Maeve’s right and waited for her to take the first bite.

  “Very good,” she said. “If only you were as useful a daughter as you are a maid.”

  I remained quiet and endured Cecilia’s smirk as I ate.

  From outside, a faint clanging reached my ears, and I paused with the spoon partway to my mouth. Maeve tilted her head, listening as well. A slow smile parted Maeve’s lips at the distant sound of bells.

  “Our divine prince has finally returned,” she said. “I knew he wouldn’t disappoint. Eloise, please tell Seth we will need him to go to market for us today. We’re low on supplies.” She looked at Porcia. “You can accompany him.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Porcia and I said at almost the s
ame time.

  I ate quickly and went to the kitchen with my bowl. There, I hesitated. Maeve’s command not to prepare a dinner the night before had meant the household went hungry. Unwilling to act heartlessly toward the man when he’d done nothing to deserve such treatment, I refilled my bowl for him and carried it outside.

  I hadn’t seen Seth since we’d returned from town but knew he’d made himself at home in Hugh’s old room. I approached with a healthy amount of trepidation that had nothing to do with Seth and everything to do with the memories of the friend I’d lost.

  Knocking on his door, I waited.

  “Enter,” Seth called.

  I walked in and almost dropped the bowl. Completely naked and uncovered, Seth lay on his bed. He smiled at my shocked expression and reached down to grab himself.

  “I’d rather hoped it would be you she sent to me.”

  “Mama said you will need to go to the market today for supplies.” I set the bowl on his stove, not caring if it was hot or if it would ruin the dish. “Porcia will be going with you.”

  I turned and rushed out the door. He swore behind me, and I knew he would give chase. I picked up my skirts and ran with everything I had back to the house. When I flew into the kitchen, Porcia was there with the bowls from the dining room and looked up at me in astonishment.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Seth,” I gasped.

  She glanced behind me and frowned. I looked and saw an empty yard. Closing the door with shaky hands, I faced her.

  “I believe he thought I was there to…”

  “Fuck?”

  I cringed at the use of the word but nodded.

  “We must tell Mama. She was very clear to him.”

  She saw the apprehension in my eyes.

  “It is better to tell her now than to be caught in a position where it might look like you’re trying to steal her favorite toy.”

  She took my hand and led me to the dining room where Maeve still sat sipping tea.

  “Mama,” Porcia said. “Eloise had some trouble with Seth.”

  Her cool gaze shifted to me.

  “Oh?”

  “He was lying on the bed. Naked. Touching himself,” I said.

  She smiled slightly.

  “I would have thought after your time in the Brazen Belle, something like that wouldn’t be so shocking.”

  “He said he had hoped it was me you would send.”

  Her humor faded.

  “I see. And did you hope I would send you to him?”

  I shook my head vehemently.

  “Good. I will not have you soiling yourself on someone such as him. You and your sister have more value if you are pure.”

  My gaze shifted to Porcia before I could stop myself.

  “Speak,” Maeve said.

  “But didn’t you tell Cecilia to measure Seth’s worth before bringing him home?” I asked, using her own words.

  Maeve waved away my concern.

  “Cecilia lost her virginity long ago. You and Porcia are my pure ones.” She rose and smiled at me. “That purity will be put to good use, have no doubt.”

  I waited until she left the room to look at Porcia.

  “What does she mean?”

  “After Cecilia passes the tests and weds the Prince, one of us will need to take her place to consummate the marriage. I’m glad you look more like Cecilia.”

  Sweat and dust coated my skin as I dragged the heavy piece of furniture across the floor. Before Cecilia’s destructive rage, I hadn’t realized how much the dust covers were hiding. The amount of furniture in the attic was maddening. Unwilling to stack it again—any walls I made would likely fall based on Cecilia’s whims—I tried to sensibly place what was there.

  I had several sitting areas, four sleeping areas, and a line of washbasins in addition to trunks and armoires tucked into every corner possible. The space was cluttered but still passable.

  “Eloise,” Porcia called. “The seamstress is here. You’re needed.”

  After telling me yesterday that I would be the virgin sacrifice on the Prince’s wedding night, everyone had left me alone. Oh, I’d ensured the meals were made and waited table, but instead of joining them, I worked in my attic space, desperate for solitude so I could think. Unfortunately, nothing had sparked any inspiring ideas to free me and end Maeve’s madness.

  Wiping back the hair stuck to my forehead, I descended from my space. In the sitting room, I found the seamstress already unpacking a large trunk. Gone was her pallor and cough. Yesterday’s bells had indeed broken the curse.

  The seamstress saw me and waved me forward.

  “Finish unpacking the second dress. Lay it out, and smooth away what wrinkles you can. After I finish with them, they’ll need to be hung until tonight. I’ll show you how to lace them up.”

  Cecilia, already standing on the hemming stool in the center of the open space, snickered. I glanced at Maeve, and she nodded.

  Doing as Madame Blye dictated, I started pulling the dress from the trunk.

  “Be careful,” she said harshly. “The lace is delicate and will rip.”

  Taking more care, I worked in silence and wondered what new twist this was in Maeve’s game. She said I was a daughter and that I should eat at the table. She valued appearances above all else. A thought struck me, and I frowned as I smoothed out any wrinkles I spotted in the overabundance of lace on Porcia’s gown. If Maeve was allowing this lesser known seamstress to treat me like a servant, it meant my appearance as a respectable young woman no longer mattered. Once I performed my task as a sacrifice, I wouldn’t be needed.

  I took a fortifying breath and laid the gown over Mother’s settee. Being aware of my definitive end wasn’t a bad thing. I now knew how much time I had to stop Maeve. Right up until the wedding night…if I couldn’t stop the wedding from happening in the first place.

  “Girl,” Madame Blye called. “Come here and hold this.”

  Accepting the pin cushion, I silently stood beside Cecilia as the seamstress knelt at her feet and praised my stepsister from her shiny hair to her beautifully long and narrow feet.

  “You will adore the slippers the cobbler prepared for you. I managed to procure glass beads that will perfectly match the dress. When the toe of your slipper peeks from the hem, the glass will catch the light and sparkle beautifully.”

  The seamstress glanced at me.

  “Get the shoes.”

  I didn’t care for the woman. The way she fawned over Maeve, Cecilia, and Porcia then turned to me with a glint of disdain showed her true nature. Kindness was something that should be offered to all, not only those of wealth.

  Turning to retrieve the shoes, I noted with a critical eye that the small band of beads sewn across the toe would hardly catch enough light to make them stand out. However, I kept the thought to myself as I offered the shoes to the woman.

  “Help her put them on,” she said, standing. She looked at Porcia. “Let’s get you in your dress while they work.”

  I knelt at Cecilia’s feet and held out one slipper.

  “What do you think of my dress, Eloise?” Cecilia asked, lifting her foot.

  I glanced up, taking measure of the seamstress’s work. While the style was current and the color complementary, the embellishments were too numerous to let the color and design shine.

  “You will stand out among the crowd and certainly draw the attention of the Royal family.” I glanced at Porcia’s gown, the skirt wider with its cascade of laced ruffles. “You both will.”

  Porcia smiled and looked to Maeve for approval.

  “You’re both lovely, my darlings.”

  Cecilia nudged me with the toe of her other foot, and I slid the second slipper on for her. When she stepped off of the stool, the skirt’s back barely brushed the ground as she walked.

  The seamstress made sounds of appreciation and helped Porcia onto the stool. We repeated the process for her, including the beaded slippers, then Madame Blye showed me how
to lace and unlace the gowns as if I’d never worn such apparel myself. While mine hadn’t ever been as grossly ornate, I had certainly worked lacings before.

  I endured it all in silence and stood by as she packed up her stool into the small trunk.

  “I hope you’re pleased with the gowns,” she said to Maeve.

  “Indeed, I am.”

  “Would you like me to create two more for the next ball? I heard it is to occur this same day next week.”

  “Please. I would like final approval on color, however.”

  “Splendid. I will set aside some swatches for you.” The seamstress turned to me. “Take the trunk to my wagon.”

  When I glanced at Maeve, she arched a brow at me. Not bothering to try to understand her purpose, I carried the trunk out. Once I was done loading it, I went to gather the pig for a walk. He squealed excitedly when he saw me.

  After a jaunt in the trees between the cliff and Mother’s clearing, I returned to the house and found the wagon gone.

  “Eloise,” Maeve called from the kitchen door. “Stop worrying about that pig. You need to heat bath water.”

  The pig squealed softly and ran for his enclosure as I quickly closed the gate.

  “Hurry,” she said as I crossed the yard. “We have much to do before dusk.”

  For the next several hours, I was in every sense of the word a lady’s maid. I hauled water, helped my stepsisters wash their hair, brushed their hair until it shone beautifully, then helped them dress.

  “Are you sure we should leave their hair down?” Maeve asked, studying her daughters with a critical eye.

  “I only know how to braid hair,” I said with an insincere apologetic shrug.

  Maeve waved Cecilia forward and twisted her hair into a coil. Pinning that to Cecilia’s head, Maeve let the end cascade down over Cecilia’s shoulder.

  “Porcia, yours will have to do. We’re out of time.”

  I looked at the window and saw she was right. Dusk had fallen.

  “Cecilia. Porcia. I will meet you in the carriage.”