Halia: Daughter of Cinderella Read online

  Halia

  Daughter of Cinderella

  J A Armitage

  Margo Ryerkerk

  Contents

  Queen of Song

  1. 15th July

  2. 16th July

  3. 17th July

  4. 18th July

  5. 19th July

  6. 20th July

  7. 21st July

  Heiress of Melody

  1. 22nd July

  2. 23rd July

  3. 24th July

  4. 25th July

  5. 26th July

  6. 27th July

  7. 28th July

  Throne of Symphony

  1. 29th July

  2. 30th July

  3. 31st July

  4. 1st August

  5. 2nd August

  6. 3rd August

  7. 4th August

  Goddess of Harmony

  1. 5th August

  2. 6th August

  3. 7th August

  4. 8th August

  5. 9th August

  6. 10th August

  7. 11th August

  A note from the author

  After the Happily Ever After…

  Join us

  The Kingdom of Fairytales Team

  About J.A. Armitage

  About Margo Ryerkerk

  Copyright © 2021 by J A Armitage

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited By Rose Lipscomb

  Cover by Enchanted Quill Press

  Proof Reader: Tina Merritt

  Created with Vellum

  Queen of Song

  1

  15th July

  I swallowed hard as I surveyed the tray for room thirteen. A bottle of Malbec, two glasses, three bowls—the first one filled with crackers, the second one with olives, and the third with different cheeses cut into even cubes. The food and drink was perfectly arranged, thanks to me wasting several minutes pushing the items around on the tray. No longer having a reason to procrastinate, it was time to bite the bullet and deliver the dinner to my guest, no matter how much it terrified me to serve him.

  Taking a deep breath, I shoved the kitchen door open with my foot and walked up the rickety staircase to the first floor. My heartbeat quickened with each step I took to room thirteen and its occupant. Demons were terrifying enough in general, but our guest wasn’t just any demon. He was an incubus.

  Don’t look him in the eyes for too long, and you’ll be fine, I tried and failed to reassure myself as I knocked.

  “Come in,” a gruff voice said, and I exhaled. Normally, I hoped that my demon guests were in a good mood. However, with an incubus, it was preferable he was in a foul mood since it meant he might ignore me being female and forget to view me as an energy supply for his lodestone.

  Balancing the tray against the wall, I pushed the door open and entered. I kept my eyes glued to the ground and put the tray on the table. “Here you are, sir. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

  Footsteps neared me, and an icy hand reached for my face. Inching backward would only incur the incubus’s wrath, so I stayed perfectly still, telling myself he would soon lose interest.

  “Look at me, girl.”

  Not wanting to be thrown onto the streets, I did, silently counting to ten. The eye contact couldn’t last longer, or there would be no chance for me to escape the incubus’s mind control.

  “You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” His red irises sparked with passion. His pitch-black hair moved, even though the window was closed, giving it the appearance of soft silk.

  I glanced downward again. “If there’s nothing else, sir, I’m afraid I must go.”

  He let go of my cheek. “Send up the girl.”

  I practically flew out of the room, forgetting to inquire what girl. As it turned out, I didn’t need to search for her. On the ground floor, I saw a tiny thing, with porcelain skin and wide eyes standing in the entry to Madam’s Boarding House, looking uncertain.

  “Room thirteen,” I said.

  The girl gave me a shy smile. “Thank you.”

  I didn’t return her smile. “A word of advice, get out of this while you can.”

  The girl flinched back, and then she scuttled past me and up the stairs.

  I sighed. They never listened. I didn’t know what the incubus was promising the girl in return for her life energy, but whether it was money or a dream reality that allowed her to escape her life for an hour, it wasn’t worth it. It was best and safer for us normal folk to stay away from those who had magic. If I could stop seeking out the fae, I would. Unfortunately, I couldn’t. I didn’t go to Acacia out of convenience or to satisfy my desires, but out of necessity. If I stopped seeing her, I would die.

  After serving the incubus, I delivered a few more dinners to mostly human guests. The only magical guests were a sprite and a goblin, and, thankfully, both left me alone. Sprites could be nasty, but only if they were attacked first. As for goblins, they were interested in those that had money, so definitely, not me.

  Done with serving dinner, I headed to the laundry room to see if Tia needed help. My best friend was in the middle of folding sheets when I entered the furnace.

  “How do you stand it?” I fanned myself.

  She grinned. “I could ask you the same thing, Halia. I see the expression on your face when you study what occupants have requested room service. Yet, you always manage to go deliver dinner to the unholy creatures without turning into one.”

  “Haha.” I waved her remark away. Best not to think about what fae and demons could do to us, especially now that more and more of them were coming to Arcadia. Was our kingdom attracting them? Or was it that I had lived a sheltered life before?

  I snorted. Having a leaky roof over my head and sludgy porridge for breakfast, lunch, and dinner could hardly be considered sheltered. The orphanage had provided me with bare necessities and nothing else. Then, when I turned eighteen, I was kicked out without any notice or advice on how to find work. Tia decided to go with me even though she could have stayed one week longer. It was by sheer luck that Madam Fontaine was passing by the orphanage when we left and told us she was looking for two maids.

  “And once again, Halia is one thousand miles away. What are you daydreaming about?” Tia asked.

  I shook my head. No need to bring up bad memories of living at the orphanage. “Nothing.”

  She let it go and handed me a big stack of freshly washed linens, while she carried clean towels. Together, we walked to the ground floor where we loaded the laundry into our cart, which was already filled with cleaning supplies. Then, we began our evening routine of cleaning the rooms.

  Tia and I alternated in who took care of the bathroom and who made the bed and tidied up the room.

  “Yikes,” I said as I opened the door to the first room on our list and choked on a mix of stale, rancid air. The first thing I did was thrust the window open and inhale a lungful of fresh air. Then, I began tearing off the sheets, wondering how in only one night, the guest managed to stain them with white, yellow, and red bodily fluids. I tried not to think too much about what had happened in the sheets, but my abundant imagination made it impossible. To distract myself, I began to hum. As usual, my humming turned into a song that I made up on the spot:

  There is a girl who cooks and cleans, cooks and cleans, to make a dime. One day, she hopes her road will take her to a better place. Her head tells her it’s impossible, impossible, but her
heart tells her anything is possible, even the word impossible is saying: I’m possible.

  “What are you singing?” Tia asked.

  “Nothing special.” I put on the fresh bed linens. “Just trying to distract myself from this gross mess.” I held up the dirty sheets for her to see, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

  “You should really do something with your voice,” she said.

  “Like what?”

  “Go to a bar that has live music; see if they will hire you.”

  I chortled. “Why on earth would they hire me?”

  “Because, Halia, you can sing, and you write your own songs.”

  I shrugged. “That’s not enough. Look at me.” I gazed down at my torn jeans and my bell-sleeved shirt that was put together from a bunch of fabric scraps. “I don’t look anything like those gorgeous performers.”

  “Anyone can look the part when put in the right clothes, their hair and make-up done. But most people can’t sing, and even fewer can write their own songs.”

  “Whatever. Even if someone would take me, I don’t want to perform.”

  “You keep saying that, but I know you’d be great onstage.” Excitement entered her face.

  I turned away, focusing on the dusting. “Leave it,” I whispered.

  Tia didn’t protest. Relief filled me, but it was tainted with a touch of sadness. I was being silly if I allowed myself to feel wistful about the stage. I’d never been on one. What would a girl like me even do up on a stage? Who did I think I was? I was an orphan and a maid. I was a girl trying to survive. I was not a singer. Singers were beautiful, rich, and lucky girls. There was nothing lucky about me. I was cursed, and twice a week, I had to pay a faerie to stop my curse from killing me. I glanced into the mirror hanging on the wall. My eyes were still a cornfield blue, but specs of gold were beginning to dot my irises. I needed to wipe out those golden specks before they turned into golden circles.

  Tia and I finished cleaning the room and moved to the next. Since we had cleaned room eleven to fifteen in the morning, we had to do one through ten, which took us several hours.

  “I need a drink,” Tia said when we were finally done. She wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. “I know what we could do.” A smile lit up her tired face. “I heard a rumor that the bar on Port and Sanderson Street switched hands a month ago. Apparently, opening night is tonight, and the first fifty people will get a free drink.”

  “I can’t,” I said, annoyance trickling through me. I loved my friend dearly, but even though she knew about my secret, she seemed to forget that I couldn’t go out on the nights before I visited Acacia. For the transaction between the fae and me to take place, I needed to get a good night’s sleep. The few times I had shown up tired or hungover, she had sent me away, saying my emotions were too muddy for her to sieve through.

  Noticing the dejected expression on Tia’s face, I said, “I’ll go next time.”

  She nodded. “All right. Do you want to take a walk tonight? I’ve heard there’s a concert at the castle. If we get close enough to the wall, we might be able to hear it.”

  I felt my forehead wrinkle. “Really? With everything going on, they’re still putting on concerts?”

  She shrugged. “I doubt the king will attend it, but the court still needs entertainment.”

  How anyone at the castle could think about entertainment when our queen had gone missing almost a week ago was beyond me, but it wasn’t my place to judge.

  “I’m afraid I already have plans for tonight.”

  Tia crossed her arms. “Victor?”

  I nodded. “He has a surprise for me.”

  Tia shook her head. “He’s not good for you.”

  I twirled a strand of my wavy, auburn hair around my finger. “He’s not perfect, but neither am I.”

  “You lack confidence and proactivity. He’s a jerk. There’s a huge difference between the two.”

  “He’s not. He simply has strong opinions.”

  “You’d be better off without him.”

  “I have to go.” I walked away without hugging Tia goodbye. She was wrong. Victor was good for me. He had rescued me that night in the alley when a customer had tried to rip off my dress. He chased down the elf who had tried to leave the boarding house without paying up and had made him pay us an extra 10 percent for trying to flee.

  Victor was my only hope of escaping the life of an orphan and a maid. With his help, I could become a better version of myself. With his love, I could finally have my own family.

  As I left the boarding house, a refreshing summer breeze greeted me, ruffling my long hair. I closed my eyes and stood still for a moment, savoring my freedom. The sun had long gone down, but my favorite time of the day was just beginning. The city was coming alive with lights, singing, and dancing. At the night market, vendors were selling their wares, and delicious scents of cinnamon, vanilla, and chocolate tickled my nose.

  I strolled past the night market, taking my time since Victor was always late. In the center square, the acrobats balanced on their hand, contorting their bodies in positions that looked impossible while fire breathers swallowed whole swords.

  Ten minutes past our date, I left the market and headed toward the lover’s bridge where Victor had told me to meet him.

  The center of the bridge was my favorite part. It was crowded with love-locks, some engraved with names, and others only revealing the initials of the lovers. How many of them were still together? Had the ones that broke up taken down their lock? Or did they hold on to their key, cherishing that, at least, they had known love even though they had lost it?

  Would my and Victor’s lock hang here one day? I doubted it. Unlike me, he wasn’t into sentimental “crap.” And while I liked the idea, a part of me was relieved that we weren’t official on this bridge or anywhere else for now. Eventually, he would ask me to marry him. While on a logical level, I knew this was good, my soul found the idea terrifying, and my heart said no, even though getting married would mean security and not wanting for anything ever again.

  It’s not worth it. Don’t marry him.

  But if I declined, I’d have to stay at the boarding house. That was no life either.

  I traced the top of one of the locks as if petting its head, ashamed that instead of thinking about sharing my life with Victor, I was wondering if he would come through and one day give me the music shop he had promised me. I knew he would never gift it to me as a wedding present. He believed gifts needed to be earned. By being his bride, I wouldn’t have earned anything. I would have to first prove myself as his wife and a mother.

  My stomach contracted. I couldn’t be a mother yet. I could barely take care of myself. I needed time for myself, to explore who I was and what my purpose was in this lifetime before I could consider bringing a new life into this world.

  Footsteps came from my left. I turned to find Victor marching toward me, still wearing his patrol uniform, his hair as black as the night, his already sharp features sharpened by the shadows the streetlamps created.

  He stopped two feet away from me. “Halia, do you always have to stand in the middle of the bridge, making me come all the way to you?”

  “N-no, I’m sorry.” Had I been selfish? I guessed I should have been more attuned to his mood.

  “I’ve had a busy day. I really don’t need you to be difficult as well.”

  “I wasn’t trying to—”

  “Let’s go.” He grabbed my hand, none too gently and pulled me after him.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Dover’s Tavern.”

  My steps faltered. Dover’s Tavern was worse than the boarding house I worked at. Our guests might be nonhumans, and the house was old and creaky, but everything was clean, and we used fresh ingredients for our meals. The tavern, on the other hand, was populated by rowdy drunks and had been temporarily shut down a few months ago over claims of serving rat meat.

  “Can’t we go somewhere else?”


  Victor’s eyes narrowed. “What, are you too good for Dover’s now?”

  “No, but it’s such a nice night out, I thought we could stay outside. And you said you had a surprise for me.”

  “Yes, well, the surprise will have to wait with everything I have going on. I’m hungry. Come on now, I need to eat.”

  Thankfully, I had already eaten. The benefit of the boarding house serving food was that I was allowed to eat it as well. However, to appease Victor, I ordered a French onion soup while he got the pig roast. I crinkled my nose as the dish was brought out, trying not to think about how the animal had been mistreated in his short life. The tavern wasn’t known for its ethically sourced meat.

  Victor wolfed down half of his dish before abruptly putting down his fork and looking up at me. “Aren’t you going to ask me what is bothering me? Don’t you care?”

  “Of course, I do.” But if I’d asked, you’d accuse me of being intrusive.

  “We have lost another establishment.”

  “Really?” I tilted my head. “I didn’t realize there was a fire.”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “No, nothing like that. A demon bought the bar on Port and Sanderson Street. As if it weren’t bad enough that he’s invading our city, he’s renaming our bar. Who does he think he is?”

  The bar had been renamed so many times, I didn’t understand why it mattered if the name changed again.

  “Guess what he called it? Daydream! Pure travesty!”