Defiant: A Cinderella Retelling (Tales of Cinder Book 1) Page 3

  When Judith called me for dinner, Father and Kellen were already seated in the dining room. Candles lit the table, and a fire crackled in the fireplace.

  As soon as I took my seat, Father gestured that we should begin eating. Since Mother’s death, nothing appealed to me. But, I picked up my fork and took a bite, determined not to give Kellen any reason to suspect something was wrong.

  After several silent minutes, Father spoke.

  “We cannot undo what’s been done. Our only option is to carry on and make the best of the circumstances in which we find ourselves. That was something your mother once said to me long ago. And she was right. That is why, tomorrow, I leave for my new venture. I know this won’t be an easy time for you, and I’m sorry for that. I’ve made arrangements for someone to stay with you until I return.”

  “And how long will that be?” Kellen asked, her tone formal and indifferent. I knew better. She was angry.

  “I’m not certain,” he said.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt. I loved Father, and he had always put our needs before his own, working tirelessly to ensure we wanted for nothing. Yet, now when we most needed him to stay, he was set on leaving. His departure would surely be seen by the gossips as the abandonment it was. His disregard for Mother and us sparked my temper fiercely. Yet, if someone killed Mother, I would not ask him to stay. Without knowing who wanted Mother dead, I couldn’t be certain Father wasn’t also at risk. It was best that he was leaving.

  “Where will this venture take you?” I asked, thinking that perhaps he might take us with him this time. It could be an adventure.

  “To the kingdom of Turre.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  “Surely you jest,” I said. “That would take you through—”

  “The Dark Forest. I know.” He calmly took a bite of his roast.

  I stared at him in shock, my thoughts colliding. Nothing good lived in the aptly named Dark Forest that ran from mountain range to mountain range, separating the kingdom of Drisdall from the kingdom of Turre. Kellen and I had grown up hearing tales of travelers who entered the dark depths never to return, and we listened to the faint, mournful howls on still nights.

  “If you go, you will die,” Kellen said, setting down her fork. “Is losing one parent not enough? Must we lose both?”

  “Don’t go, Father,” I added. The possibility of a threat to his life if he remained was far better than the certainty of what he would face in the Dark Forest.

  He sighed heavily.

  “There is no need for such dramatic theatrics. You both know travelers passed through the Dark Forest at one time. I mean to establish a route again. Think of the trade possibilities. The riches. I heard rumor that the forest isn’t as inhospitable as it once was. If that’s true, it’s more important than ever that I leave immediately. He who controls the route controls the trade.”

  Kellen looked down at her food, her cheeks flushed.

  “Do not leave us, Father,” I said again.

  “My mind is set. I leave tomorrow after sunrise.”

  Chapter Three

  I held Kellen’s hand as Hugh shoveled dirt over Mother’s coffin. Father stood at the head of her grave where a wooden marker now stood. A weak orange light filtered in through the trees and painted the clear blue sky. It was a beautiful day. A beautiful, terrible, heartbreaking day.

  When Hugh finished, he nodded to us and left quietly.

  Father hadn’t said anything when he’d joined us outside and said nothing still. He stared down at the fresh earthy mound, once again closed off.

  Kellen gave my hand a light squeeze and walked away. I was grateful she’d left before Father. At some point during my restless night, I’d decided to tell him about the necklace. It was something I should have done in the first place. I’d been too shocked to think clearly the day before, though.

  “Father, there’s something you should know.”

  He looked up at me.

  “I believe the necklace killed Mother. Her eyes glowed the moment it settled around her neck. I thought it was a trick of the light, but when I touched it yesterday, I felt something. Magic, I think.”

  Father stepped toward me and grabbed my arms, his grip bruising.

  “Say nothing of your suspicions ever again. Do you understand? To do so will mean your death.”

  “But—”

  My father, who doted on Mother, Kellen, and me, and never spoke a harsh word, shook me firmly. I stared up at him in shock until I noted fear in his eyes. Fear for me. Fear for what even a whispered word of something so forbidden could do.

  “Yes, Father,” I said softly.

  He released me with an unsteady exhale.

  “Very good. Will you walk with me to the house?”

  We traversed the path in silence, and when we rounded the house, I saw a horse saddled and waiting. Kellen stood on the front step, her expression closed off to what she was feeling.

  “You’re leaving already?” I asked, noting Father’s red merchant jacket waiting atop the saddle.

  “As I said I would.”

  “But, I thought once I told you—”

  He gave me a sharp look.

  “You are smart and resourceful girls. Keep your wits. Take care of one another. Mind the rules. You’ll both be fine.”

  He agilely swung himself up onto the horse’s back and removed something resting at the front of his saddle.

  He handed me the bare branch he’d given me as a gift the day before.

  “Don’t forget to plant this. Farewell, my daughters.”

  Without any words of comfort, he prodded the horse forward.

  Kellen turned on her heel and went into the house. I couldn’t go inside. My mind was too full of grief, anger, and excessive questions to which I had no answers.

  Instead, I ran back to my mother’s grave and fell to my knees. I wished I could bury my feelings like Kellen. To suppress the hurt. But I couldn’t. It boiled out of me in a torrent of tears.

  I didn't understand Father's refusal to stay. Did he truly grieve so deeply that he couldn't see how desperately Kellen and I needed him?

  If it was truly magic that had killed Mother what were Kellen and I to do? No. What was I to do? For the first time in my life, I felt completely alone.

  It took some time for the tears to slow. When they did, the sun was peeking over the trees, and the soft chitter of animals had come alive around me. Wiping my face dry, I looked at my mother's grave. Time would flatten the mound of dirt. Plants would grow and disguise that a grave had ever existed. Only the marker would stand tall. But for how long? Maybe twenty years before it needed to be replaced? I dug a hole in the soft soil over her casket and planted the pear shoot.

  Sitting back on my heels, I looked at the tiny thing.

  “It's not much now,” I said softly. “But someday, in spring, dainty white petals will rain down on your head. Their fragrance will perfume the air, and songbirds will sit in the branches. Their sweet melody will keep you company even if I'm not here.”

  My words caught, and I started to cry again.

  A rustle and grunt from the nearby trees sent me to my feet, ready to bolt. Wild boar were wickedly dangerous.

  “You stupid beast, walk faster or I’ll see you on a plate.”

  An old woman with bits of twigs sticking out of her tangled nest of white hair tumbled out of the thicket. The worn and patched brown cloak that hung from her shoulders had seen better days. So had her dress. In her fist, she held one end of a rope on which she tugged mightily. An enormous pig reluctantly waddled into the clearing behind her.

  I’d never seen such a well-fed beast. He was easily twice the size of the woman, and he didn't waddle with disdain but with strain. I didn't see how his small legs could support his body.

  By appearances, they must have come from an outlying farm.

  When the woman noticed me, she stopped tugging on the pig and gave me a pleasant smile.

  “Good morning,” s
he said. “I thought I heard someone out here. Could you be so kind as to tell me where ‘here’ is?”

  Her lightly accented words told me she was from much further north.

  “You are near Towdown. It's just over the next rise.” I pointed to the south.

  “Towdown,” the woman said with distaste. “Not a place I wanted to visit. I’ve heard that magic has been banned here. Is that true?”

  “Yes,” I said nervously. As Father had recently reminded me, no one should speak openly of magic.

  “Where were you hoping to be?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Adele preferably.”

  “Adele? I've never heard of that town.”

  The old woman considered me for a moment.

  “Town? Never heard of it? Strange child. Everyone has heard of the city of Adele and its white towers. It’s the best market for fine silks and fresh citrus.”

  I shrugged apologetically.

  “I'm sorry. I don't often venture from my home, and when I do, it’s only to visit Towdown’s market.”

  She waved away my apology.

  “It’s no matter. I know where I am now and that I need to head west.”

  “Head west? You don't want to do that. There's nothing to the west but the Dark Forest.” My gaze flicked to the pig. “You’ll never make it through that cursed place with such a tasty treat for the beasts.”

  She gave the pig a satisfied smile.

  “Do you hear that, pig? We can go through the Dark Forest, and I can watch you be eaten. Seems a fitting end for you.”

  The pig made a squealing sound almost as if he understood her.

  Her smile faded as she cocked her head and studied me for a long quiet moment.

  “I’m not sure what to think of you.”

  “Think of me?” I asked, careful to keep any hint of judgement from my tone.

  I looked down at my skirt and saw where the material was stained with dirt from kneeling. I brushed as much as I could away before looking up again. Her gaze flicked to the mounded dirt at my feet.

  “Who was that?” she asked.

  “My mother.”

  “Was she a good woman?”

  The blunt question surprised me.

  “She was a very good woman,” I said. “Her name was Margaret Cartwright.”

  “You sure you want to plant that tree there?” she asked.

  “Yes. The marker will weather and rot long before a pear tree will.”

  She made a non-committal noise.

  “What is your name?” she asked.

  “Eloise.”

  “Do you practice magic?”

  This woman was dangerous in her ignorance.

  “No,” I said emphatically. “I think it best that I go now.”

  “I must beg a favor, Eloise,” she said, stopping me from leaving. “I'm old and tired, and this pig moves slower than me. I have places I must be and have no time to wait for him. If I leave him in your care, will you eat him?”

  I looked at the pig, who stared back at me. I wasn’t opposed to caring for animals, but I wasn’t so sure about this one. Something in his eyes seemed to plead with me, an almost human quality that made me want to shiver and politely refuse her. However, I couldn’t. I’d witnessed her struggle with the beast.

  “No, ma'am. I will not eat him.”

  The woman started forward, tugging the pig along.

  “Then I will leave him in your care for a while. I have nothing to offer you for his keep, though.”

  “There is no need. I like animals and won’t mind caring for another one. It will be a welcome distraction.”

  I glanced at my mother’s grave, feeling the sharp stab of grief anew.

  The old woman caught my hand in her own. Turning it over, she studied my palm then glanced at the grave. Was she checking if I was dirty? When she looked up, she captured my gaze with a shrewdness that contradicted her age.

  “I wasn’t expecting this,” she said softly.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Never mind me.” She shook her head slightly. “Distractions are good when grieving, but don't forget these rules. Feed him lightly but once a day. He has been overindulged his whole life. If he continues to be over indulged, he will certainly die a horrible death. Do not trust him. He is an animal who would sacrifice you to gain his freedom. Walk him through the forest twice a week. You never know what he will find for you. He knows how to earn his keep.”

  She pressed the rope into my hand.

  “If you need me, you can ask for Rose at the Brazen Belle in Towdown.”

  “I thought you were headed to Adele.”

  “I am. But, I believe there is business here that I must address first.” She started past me, her stride surprisingly agile for her age.

  “Take care, Eloise, and mind the pig.”

  As soon as she disappeared, the pig started nosing the base of my skirts.

  “None of that, now,” I said. “If you misbehave with me, Hugh will take over your care. And, Hugh does not care for pigs.”

  The pig grunted and followed me willingly enough as I started toward the house. I decided not to notice how he was more docile with me than he had been with the old woman. Or the way he kept glancing at me. Instead, I focused on the encounter with the old woman. Rose.

  Why would she ask if I practiced magic? As my father had warned me, it was dangerous to even utter the words, ignorant or not. But more than that, why would she ask it of me only hours after burying my mother whom I suspected had been killed by magic?

  After tucking the pig into the vacant pig pen, I fetched water from the well and quickly washed my hands and face before going inside. Neither Judith nor Anne were in the kitchen.

  While I nibbled on a bit of roast I’d found set aside for me, I considered the circumstance in which Kellen and I found ourselves. The expectations we’d once held for our future, to care for our ailing parent, had drastically changed. We could no longer hide away at the estate like we had. We were of an age where most girls were either betrothed or already wed. Although Mother had wanted the same for us, I knew the next trip to the market wasn’t going to undo the impressions that had already been made.

  Thankfully, the need to follow society’s expectations to find a suitor would need to wait. Propriety demanded seven days of full-mourning. After that, a minimum of thirty days of half-mourning.

  Kellen and I had four more days of peace.

  “That’s all you get,” I said when the pig looked up at me. “The old woman is right. You’ll die if I continue to overfeed you. Remember, pigs who still need fattening avoid the butcher’s block.”

  The rattle of a carriage drew me away from the pig’s pen and his displeased grunts. Instead of passing by, the sound seemed to draw closer. I moved to the house and paused on the steps, waiting to see who it might be. Behind me, a swath of black material hung from the door, an obvious reminder that we were a house in full-mourning.

  I hoped it wasn’t an over-eager gossipmonger. Whatever shred of patience I’d possessed for snooping people no longer existed.

  A carriage rolled up the drive. Nondescript, it certainly looked like the type easily rented from a smith in town. I watched the contraption slow to a stop as the driver nodded down to me. Before he could move from his perch, the door to the carriage flew open, and a woman garbed in black stepped down without assistance. The laced veil obscured her identity only a moment before she flipped it back.

  Her black hair stunned me as much as her face. With her soft brown eyes, dark hair, and pale skin, she looked just like Mother.

  “Eloise, my darling.” She came toward me, a smile on her lips while tears gathered in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” She wrapped me in her arms and held me tightly to her bosom while her hand smoothed over my hair.

  Comfort enveloped me, and I hadn’t realized how desperately I’d needed it. I only wished it was from someone I knew.

  “Thank you,” I said, hesitantly returning th
e hug. When she pulled back and gave me another tearful smile, I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Who are you?”

  “Of course, Margaret wouldn’t have mentioned an estranged cousin from her mother’s side. How silly of me not to introduce myself. Call me Maeve. Consider me your fairy godmother. I’m here to set the world to rights.”

  She hooked her arm through mine and led me toward the house.

  “When I heard your father planned to leave immediately, I offered to stay with you and Kellen. The two of you shouldn’t face what’s to come alone.”

  “Father mentioned making arrangements for someone to stay with us.”

  She stopped walking and looked at me with concern.

  “He didn’t tell you who?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  She waved a hand in the air, a dismissive gesture Mother had often used.

  “None of this ma’am nonsense. Call me Maeve or Auntie Maeve, if you prefer. I cannot believe that father of yours.” She clucked her tongue and carefully removed her veil. “That’s men for you, though. They don’t deal well with grief and can’t think clearly.”

  I opened my mouth to ask…well, anything, but a scrape of noise from the stairs drew our attention. I looked up to see Kellen, paler than usual, standing on the first landing. She was staring at Maeve. Given Maeve’s resemblance to Mother, I understood her shock.

  “Kellen, this is Maeve. She’s here to help as Father mentioned.”

  Kellen blinked then nodded to Maeve.

  “Welcome, Lady Maeve.”

  “Please call me Maeve or Auntie Maeve. There’s no need for me to be Lady Grimmoire here. At least, not yet.” She exhaled heavily and glanced at me. “We still have a few days of solitude before chaos descends, do we not?”

  “Yes. Three more days.”

  “Very good. It will give us time to plan and prepare. But, that can wait for now. Is there somewhere I might rest for a bit?” she asked, looking between us. “Traveling always tires me.”