Disowned: A Cinderella and Snow White origin story Page 3

  “It is our way into the castle. Your Father’s way to cultivate a relationship with the people who can grant the permission he needs to establish larger trade routes.”

  “You’re selling me to gain more wealth?”

  “We are not selling you.”

  “How large of a dowry is Lord Greylin receiving?”

  Mother had the grace to flush and look away.

  Outside the carriage, the wail of crying joined the shouts. Before I could open the panel to see what was happening, the door opened, and Father entered.

  “Perilous times,” he said quietly as he took his seat and banged on the roof.

  “What is it?” Mother asked with concern.

  “The Queen of Turre is dead.”

  “Childbirth?” Mother asked. “Five pregnancies can put a strain on—”

  “It was not childbirth that killed the queen. Those sharing the news speculate it was magic.”

  “And the king? Does he live? His heirs?”

  “Of that there was no news.” He thoughtfully tapped his thigh. “This could change things. At best, trade will slow because the royal family is in mourning.”

  “And the worst that might happen?” Mother asked.

  “Turre might cast its accusing gaze at Drisdall and shut down trades completely.” His gaze locked with mine. “I cannot risk the future of our House on the whimsies of a child. Tomorrow I will send word to Lord Greylin. You shall be married within fourteen days.”

  My stomach twisted.

  “How can a long engagement possibly cause our family to fall to ruin?”

  “We need to establish secondary trade routes to prepare for the worst. I will discuss this no further.”

  I set my hands demurely on my lap.

  “As you say, Father.”

  The carriage continued its rocking journey home. The low murmur of voices and shouts faded while silence reigned inside.

  What more was there to say? Father’s determination to marry me to a man that I did not know, remained firm. Yet, I would not consent to wed a stranger twice my age only to appease my Father’s fears of the future. If he would not accept my spoken refusal, he left me no choice but to act.

  A cold fear filled my belly, but it did not sway me from my decision. Father had been clear what would happen if I refused. I would be cast aside. Disowned.

  I turned my head and peeked through the carriage curtains. People moved along the edges of the cobbled lanes. I knew how dangerous it could be out there. But Atwell had shown me that not all men are cut from the same tattered cloth; and the terrifying uncertainty of leaving home filled me with less dread than the thought of marrying Lord Greylin.

  Leaning back into my seat, I accepted the single suitable course of action left to me.

  Tomorrow, I would run.

  Chapter Three

  The multitude of skirts tangled around my legs. If not for the slow, quiet pace I maintained, I would have fallen head first down the stairs.

  The first light of the new day dimly lit the narrow back hall leading from the stairs to the back of the house. With a lumpy bag at my back and the volume of skirts from three layered dresses, I barely fit.

  Each brush of fabric against the wall made me cringe with the certainty that someone would hear. However, as I neared the kitchen, I knew I needn’t worry. The soft clink and scrape of pottery and pan covered any sound I made as the cook and Judith prepared the morning meal.

  I waited in the entry to the kitchen, listening to the familiar sounds and picturing what the cook and Judith were doing. It was a routine I’d witnessed often enough. The cook at the butcher board. Judith either at the pot or gathering dishes to set the table. Occasionally even fetching items from the cold storage. That’s what I waited for. When she left her post, the cook would have her back to the entry to stir the pot, and I would be able to slip out the door.

  A scrape of noise sounded behind me on the stairs. My eyes widened at my carelessness. I hadn’t considered the housemaids. Panicking, I peeked into the kitchen. Both Judith and the cook had their backs to me. Easing the door open, I slipped outside.

  Dawn’s early light created dusky shadows over the yard. The chickens and goats moved in their pens back by the stables. Everything else remained quiet.

  With determined steps, I walked away from the only life I knew. Armed with the ornate dresses I wore and the meager possessions in my bag, I struck out on a new path. One I felt certain would lead to a happier life.

  Very few people moved about this early among the big houses near the castle. As I walked, I noted a horse and guard leaving the castle grounds through a side gate. I envied his ease of travel but knew leaving on foot was the safer option for a quiet escape.

  The gentle clop of the horse’s hooves faded as the rider gained distance. I followed in his wake toward the Market district. There, people moved about, setting up their tables for the day to display their wares.

  One farmer had already unloaded produce. As I walk past, I heard him direct his son to take the wagon to the stables further from the Market where it would not hinder prospective customers. I knew of a stable not far from Elspeth and followed the young man. When the wagon slowly rumbled forward, I nimbly hopped on the back. He never noticed my company, and I made better time than walking.

  When the wagon brought me near Elspeth’s as I’d hoped, I left the wagon and strode toward Elspeth’s humble cottage. Her comments about feeling like my mother would be tested in the next moments. And though my own mother had sat in silence as my father threatened to disown me, I hoped that Elspeth would be more than a mother figure. I desperately needed a friend too. For, if she chose to turn me away, I had nowhere else to go. I thought of the years I’d been going to Elspeth for spells. Since I was old enough to understand what a spell meant. Freedom. And freedom was exactly what I sought now. She would understand. She had to.

  I turned the corner and spotted a familiar horse standing in front of Elspeth’s home. My steps slowed. The guard from earlier was now cloaked and spoke to Elspeth by the door. The low murmur of his voice barely graced the early morning silence, and I wondered what a castle guard needed of a caster. A love spell perhaps?

  The guard straightened and turned my way, having heard my approach. With a small bow to me, he moved back to his horse, got on, and started down the opposite end of the street.

  Elspeth opened her mouth, clearly ready to scold my early visit. However, her gaze caught on the bag I carried, and her disapproving expression changed to worry.

  She waited until I was inside her home and the door firmly closed before questioning me.

  “What brings you here so early? And with so much clothing?”

  “Mother and Father gave me a choice. Wed Lord Greylin—the current Lord—or become disowned. I chose the latter and left before they woke.”

  “Margaret, it is not uncommon to marry—”

  “Do not tell me I should consider marrying a man old enough to have fathered me. While others may think it's suitable, I do not. You know I would be miserable.”

  “Do I? I have met Lord Greylin. He is a decent man. As kind as any man in his position is.”

  “Which says nothing about his character. I’ve yet to meet someone with wealth who doesn’t turn a blind eye to the people struggling to eat every day. The people you help with what you earn. You, who has very little. How can we excuse those with wealth for taking no action?” My righteous deflection fell on knowing, deaf ears.

  “That is not why you do not want to wed him.”

  “I do not want to wed him because he said a spell could fix my beauty.”

  “He thinks you too beautiful?”

  “Recall that he saw me under the influence of a spell to rob me of my beauty. I thought the chin wart magnificent, by the way.”

  “I see. So, you ran from home. What do you intend, Margaret?”

  “You have no apprentice. I have watched you make potions since I was this high.” I held up my hand
. “I already know much of your trade.”

  “Your parents will regret their decision and come back for you within days.”

  “Not if they never learn where I am. Please, Elspeth. I have nowhere else to go and refuse to be auctioned off like a mare for breeding.”

  She gave an exasperated sigh and shook her head at me.

  “As if I would ever turn you away, imp. Remove some of those layers while I search for a bag. I hope you are not fond of those dresses. If you truly mean to disappear, we will need to get rid of them.”

  “I was thinking we could sell them for something plainer. And perhaps trade for a cloak more suited for this area.”

  She looked at my cloak critically, checking the thick lining.

  “This is modest, but anyone with an eye would know it’s more than anyone here could afford. We’ll take this with us.”

  “Take? Where?”

  “I need to go to the Brazen Belle for some information and supplies.”

  My brows rose, and she laughed at me.

  “Reconsidering being my apprentice?”

  “I’m only curious what business we have there and why you think they are suited to sell my dresses.”

  “Men don’t always have coin. Sometimes it’s easier to trade a wife’s pretty gown. No one raises an eye when a whore trades a pretty dress for coin.”

  She watched me closely when she used the word “whore.”

  “You're not trying to scare me away by visiting a place you think I won't like, are you? Because it won’t work. I will go anywhere I must.”

  “I’m not trying to scare you. I have business there.”

  “We have business there.” She smiled at my inclusion. “Does this business have to do with the guard I saw? Does he fancy someone at the Brazen Belle?”

  “It would be much simpler if he did. Unfortunately, it is something much more complex that I need from the Brazen Belle. We’ll speak of this more when we return. Hurry now.”

  Within minutes, we set out at a brisk pace. The streets were no longer as quiet as before. People moved about their business, starting their day. No one paid us much attention.

  Elspeth carried my spare dresses in a bundle. I struggled to keep up. My stomach rumbled, begging for breakfast. I ignored it. Elspeth did not.

  “They will have something for us in the kitchen there.”

  I made no comment, unsure what to expect from a whorehouse meal. While I knew everyone needed to do what they must to eat, I couldn't help but wonder what would make a woman choose prostitution over marriage. At least with marriage, a woman only needed to sleep with one man, as distasteful as he might be.

  In the distance, I could hear the din from the Market district. Vendors shouting their wares. Conversations overlapping one another. The clatter of footsteps over the cobble. I could also smell the delicious aromas of freshly cooked foods and pastries. I loved mornings in the Market. And some large part of me reveled in the fact that I would be able to spend more time there now.

  The Brazen Belle stood out among the other businesses on its narrow dirt path. Taller than its neighbors, the lower half of the establishment was a bawdy bar room where wenches wore questionable dresses that barely contained their bosoms. Even at this early hour, there were patrons waiting for ale and perhaps a little cuddle from the serving women once the libation had been delivered.

  One of the women, walking the room with a tray laden with mugs, spotted Elspeth and winked at us. Elspeth nodded in return and steered me toward the kitchen. In the back, the cooks were busily preparing the day’s stew and baking their own bread. Elspeth sat me down at the table and asked them to feed me.

  “Don't you want me to accompany you?” I asked when she turned to leave.

  “Not this time. I think we will slowly ease you into everything the Brazen Belle has to offer.”

  A few of the kitchen staff snickered, and Elspeth gave them a censoring look.

  “Take care of my new apprentice. See that no one bothers her.”

  They both nodded quickly.

  Satisfied, Elspeth took my cloak and dresses, except for the one I wore, and left me in the warmth of the kitchen. One of the kitchen maids placed a bowl before me, and I quietly ate the stew. It wasn't as tasty as what came from Mother and Father's kitchens. But I didn't mind.

  I’d barely scraped the bottom when Elspeth returned. The bundle of dresses was gone, and in its place was a bag that cast a soft blue glow at its seams.

  “It is time to go, Margaret. We have much to do.”

  Excitement filled me as I realized that this time I would be the one helping create the magic. I wondered what kind.

  I wiped the sweat from my brow then switched hands to ease the ache in my right arm.

  “Don’t stop,” Elspeth warned yet again.

  “After two days, I understand what ‘keep stirring’ means, Elspeth.”

  I stared at the muck in the pot. The soft blue glow of the three moonflowers had faded as soon as the spring water first boiled. The rank smell had grown with each ingredient Elspeth added to the pot at regular intervals.

  “Do you think it’s true?” I asked.

  “The news about Turre?”

  “Yes. There’s been nothing since the night before I arrived. The king’s emissaries should have returned with news.”

  “Not necessarily,” Elspeth said. “It takes a fair number of days for most merchants to cross through the Dark Forest.”

  I thought of the extensive swath of woods that separated the two kingdoms of Turre and Drisdall. Even with the enchanted passage that protected travelers from the creatures that prowled the shadows, not many willingly ventured the route. Those who did, did so with haste.

  “But, merchants with heavily laden loads are slower than men with swift mounts,” I said. “Something must have delayed the king's men.”

  “Likely waiting for an audience with a grieving king. Focus on the potion.”

  I continued to stir, staring into the pot, watching for the moment the mixture turned a color. What color, I did not know. However, I did understand what we were making. Elspeth had explained it to me the moment we had returned from the Brazen Belle.

  The guard I'd noted the morning of my arrival had been sent on behalf of the royal family of Drisdall who feared an attack like the one the royal family of Turre was rumored to have endured. The queen had requested a means of defending her family against magical attack. The potion I stirred was only one part of creating protective amulets for the king, queen, and their small son.

  “I can't decide if I should find it comforting that there are parents who still care so much about their child or if I should find the king and queen entirely selfish for only thinking of their family and not the rest of the Kingdom.” It didn’t matter that protecting the kingdom was beyond Elspeth's skill or any other caster in existence—the great casters who'd fought in the great war now long gone. The request seemed entirely too selfish.

  “Do try to keep those thoughts to yourself when we meet the royal family. I rather like having my head upon my shoulders.”

  I turned to look at Elspeth who was carving oval disks from Elder, Ash, and Oak.

  “I’m going to meet the royal family?”

  “Of course. You are my apprentice.”

  I grinned and turned back to the pot. If my mother and father knew I was to have an audience with the king and queen before they could, they would be positively green with envy.

  “As for how to think of the king and queen,” Elspeth said. “Think well of them as the king and queen are fair rulers, and by preserving their lives, they are ensuring our way of life.”

  “But should our way of life be preserved?” I asked, thinking of Mother and Father and others of the gentry.

  “There is poverty and injustice everywhere, Margaret. Changing rulers will not change that. Look at the good that exists because of our current rulers.”

  “You’re right. It’s not the king or queen’s fault th
at their wealthy subjects are selfish, braying asses.”

  Elspeth snorted.

  “I hope you can channel that passion into potions. We could use the wealth to better the lives of those around us.”

  I grinned and focused on my task.

  “You’re right. I should not place the fault of others on those in charge. No one can choose how I should behave except me. The same holds true for everyone else.”

  A swirl of yellow suddenly burst forth in the pot, and I quickly used the coarse skirts of my newly acquired dress to remove the boiling mixture from the flames.

  “What color did you see?” Elspeth asked.

  “Yellow,” I said.

  “Very good. Set it on the stool, and continue stirring until it changes again.”

  Elspeth and I continued our idle conversations covering whatever topic struck my fancy. Over the past two days, I had yet to grow tired of her company or she mine. It made the endless hours of work easier and more enjoyable.

  As if reading my mind, she asked, “Any second thoughts about apprenticing with me?”

  “Not one.”

  The yellow faded from the muck in the pot.

  “The color is gone,” I said, looking at her with concern.

  “It happens. Or so I've been told. Keep stirring.”

  I switched arms again.

  “After I'm done with this piece, we will trade places,” she said. “I need you to pick up the flattened gold from the blacksmith.”

  I was more than ready to escape the monotony of pot-stirring.

  “I'll buy us both meat pies on the way back.”

  In less than an hour, I was walking the dirt paths toward the Market district. With the large hood of my very plain cloak tugged low over my brow, I wasn't concerned about anyone recognizing me. I wasn't dressed well enough to be recognized. And for once, I was grateful for the snobbery of the gentry.

  Stretching my legs with long, brisk strides, I inhaled deeply of the clean, crisp air. It was good to escape the smoke-filled cottage. However, I felt certain that the smell of the concoction still clung to me.

  Near the Market district, I spotted a face I thought never to see again. Atwell was speaking to the very blacksmith I needed to approach. A smile curved my lips.