Bonded: Three Fairy Tales, One Bond Read online

  “Yes, Your Highness.” The sadness in Amie’s voice made Cinderella turn to look at her. The corset was undone now, and Amie slipped it from Cinderella’s body, her movements sluggish.

  Cinderella chuckled and said, “Perhaps I should let you get in the bath.”

  “No! You must get ready for the ball.” Amie helped her out of her undergarments and nudged her toward the bath. The water stung at first, but her body adjusted as she sat down and rested her head on the rim.

  “Your Highness,” Amie said as she gathered Cinderella’s hair away from her shoulders so it fell over the side of tub, “I was hoping I could speak with you alone.”

  Cinderella glanced up at the two other servants and nodded for them to leave the room. When they were gone, she looked up at Amie, who took a seat near a small table filled with oils and soaps and sponges. “What is it, Amie?”

  “I know about Eolande,” she said without hesitation. “The sprites have told me everything.”

  Shocked, Cinderella sat up. Her hair fell back into the water. “How much of everything have they told you?”

  “I know about the spells Eolande cast for you. I know she has controlled the king and queen... and even your husband. I know that you don’t want to be here. You are in love with someone else.”

  Heat spread to Cinderella’s cheeks. Although Amie had seen her naked countless times, she suddenly felt exposed and wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t know what to say. Nobody knows these things, not even Rowland. I—”

  “Your Highness, if you are unhappy, I want to help. I will not tell anyone.”

  Cinderella winced and shook her head. If Amie entangled herself in such things, she would certainly find herself in trouble. “I can’t let you help me,” she said, and watched Amie’s fingers twist themselves together.

  “Why do you not love him, Your Highness? He is kind and gentle and he truly loves you. Anyone can see that.”

  “It isn’t love.” Cinderella put a hand to her forehead. She was sweating. “It’s not that I’m unhappy. It’s more that I know what brought me here, and it’s a lie. How can I live with that?”

  “It’s a lie because of the magic?”

  “Yes, that’s all this is—the only reason I’m here. Magic.” She lowered her hand to the water and swirled the rose petals around. Some clung to her fingers. She thought of the stranger and his voice wrapping around her, his perfectly pointed ears and soft lips. Everything inside her reached out for him. He was unique and powerful and free. He was not a lie.

  Amie’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “I don’t understand what you want to do. How can I help?”

  Peeling the rose petals from her fingers, Cinderella wondered how anyone could understand. “I only want to see him again,” she whispered with a crack in her voice. “I only want to touch him one more time and ask him if it’s possible to be with him, whatever it takes. It’s not fair to Rowland for him to live with me like this. I care for him, but I can’t keep him wrapped inside such falseness. I thought I wanted this life. Now I’m not sure. I thought becoming a princess would solve everything. It was what would have made my mother and father most proud. It was a life that promised comfort and no more pain. Everything was guaranteed. Now that I’m here, it’s nothing like I imagined. It has come at too high a cost.”

  Amie’s face fell. “I am confused. You will leave His Highness? The castle?”

  Cinderella grabbed hold of the tub’s edge and shook her head. “I don’t know.” She thought of the trouble she could land herself in for simply thinking about running away. Was it running away? She was sure if she could see the stranger again she could figure things out. “All I know is that if I don’t see him again, I’ll never stop thinking about him.” She put her head in her hands. “I will never rid myself of these dreams—these memories.”

  “Who are you in love with? The sprites could not tell me. They only said your heart was taken before you met the prince.”

  “That’s true.” Cinderella touched her left breast, felt her heart beating like a hollow drum. “I don’t know who he really is, Amie. I’m not even sure what he is. I know that sounds ridiculous. Maybe it is.”

  “No, it is not ridiculous.” She lowered her eyes. “I have been in love, Your Highness. There was no rhyme or reason to it. I did foolish things, and I cannot explain why.”

  “You did?” Intrigued, Cinderella sat up straighter in the tub. She inhaled the perfume wafting from the water, hoping it would help her relax.

  “Yes, that is why I am here.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  Pain spread across Amie’s face, and Cinderella instantly regretted asking her to reveal anything.

  “Your Highness, I—”

  “It’s all right. You don’t have to tell me.”

  They stared at each other. Despite the sprite’s warning, Cinderella felt a new bond with Amie, and she wanted to erase the pain from her friend’s heart, whatever it was that made her look as if someone had twisted a knife in her. It hurt Cinderella to know she had experienced love and did not have it anymore. She wondered why the sprite had warned her about Amie when she clearly trusted her with secrets. It was unfair that they flew around scattering such information. Perhaps the sprites were the ones not to be trusted.

  Amie stood and walked to an iron stand that held twelve burning candles. “Your Highness, I know what you must do to see your love again.” She lifted her hand over the candles, moving it back and forth so the flames flickered. “I have seen you watch your husband’s friend and his fiancée. There is talk they are in love.”

  “You know about the blood?”

  Amie turned to Cinderella. Her face was serious, the pain wiped away. “There is a spell I can teach you which may keep you safe if something should go wrong during the deed.”

  Shivering, Cinderella wondered if the water was already growing tepid. “You know magic?”

  She looked away. “I know many things.”

  An hour after guests began leaving the ballroom, Cinderella walked to her room where she found Amie waiting in the outer chamber.

  “I did as you asked, Your Highness,” she said as soon as the door closed behind Cinderella. “They followed their nightly routine of taking wine before bed, and now I believe they have retired to their separate chambers. They do not normally lock their doors, so you should easily be able to get inside.”

  Cinderella wrung her fingers together. Her face felt hot and damp. She worried about using Amie as her accomplice, but she had no simpler choice when Amie was the only one who knew her secrets. She looked into her friend’s eyes and saw honesty in them. “You put in the powder?”

  “I did, Your Highness. You will be safe to visit them.”

  “And the dagger?”

  Amie held out a small sheathed dagger that Cinderella took with trembling fingers. She slid it down the front of her dress where it fit snugly between her chemise and corset.

  “Do you have a vial?” Amie asked.

  “Yes.” She looked into Amie’s shadowy face and wondered if a bond between them truly existed or if she was imagining it. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself for what she was about to do. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  They left quickly. Amie stayed just behind Cinderella and asked, “Do you remember the spell?”

  “Yes, but I don’t understand how uttering a few words will help me much. I’ve seen others utter magic spells and nothing happened.”

  “You have been touched by magic, and you must know that you are capable of such things.”

  Cinderella stopped and turned to face Amie, whose dark hair curled sweetly against her pale forehead. “How am I capable of magic? Because it has been used on me before?”

  “I sense the capability within you, Your Highness. I sense it more strongly in you than I have in any human being.” Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Have you not wondered why Eolande chose to help you?”

  Cindere
lla’s breath stalled in her throat. She had never thought of herself as being chosen. Eolande had called herself a fairy godmother, a magical being who would watch over her. “I thought Eolande was sent to me somehow,” she explained quietly, almost laughing at how ridiculous her words sounded. “By my mother or father.”

  “That is understandable, but I do not think that is what happened, even if you do believe in exchanges between the living and the dead.”

  The royal chambers were guarded more heavily than other parts of the castle. Once Cinderella and Amie entered the guest quarters, the halls were empty. Cinderella’s heart pounded when they reached Cecily’s chamber. “Amie, I...” She thought of the sprite and her warning, the stranger, the dagger pressing against her breastbone.

  “Yes, Your Highness?”

  “Nothing. I’ll return in a moment.” She left Amie in the hallway and opened the door to Cecily’s chamber. The young woman was asleep in her bed. Cinderella hadn’t thought of taking the candle from Amie, but enough moonlight shone through the windows for her to carry out the deed.

  Cecily’s arm was limp. She didn’t stir when Cinderella pricked her finger with the dagger. The blood was black in the dim light, and she held the open vial to the wound and squeezed the woman’s finger. She wasn’t sure how much blood she needed, but figured enough to fill half the vial. When she finished, she placed a cloth to Cecily’s wound and held it there until the bleeding stopped. Cecily remained asleep, her hair bright enough to shine in the moonlight.

  Capping the vial, Cinderella hurried out of the room and walked with Amie to Geoffrey’s chamber.

  “Be careful,” Amie whispered as Cinderella opened the door. “Geoffrey drank a great deal of wine and I am not sure how quickly the powder will have affected him.”

  Cinderella gave Amie an annoyed glare. “You’re telling me this now?”

  “I am sorry, Your Highness. I am sure it will be all right. Cecily did not wake.”

  “No, she didn’t.” Pushing the door open, Cinderella entered the chamber. The air smelled of sandalwood, a scent that reminded her of Rose, who often wore it as a perfume despite its high price. The moonlight lit Geoffrey’s chamber as well as it had Cecily’s, and Cinderella crept to the bed and pulled out her dagger once again. She took a deep breath. Geoffrey looked as if he had collapsed onto the bed as soon as he had undressed. He had not bothered to pull the covers over himself and his naked chest peeked through his unlaced undershirt. Loud snores issued from his throat.

  Unsheathing the dagger, Cinderella lifted his hand and dug the knife tip into his finger. His skin was tough and she had to dig harder than she had on Cecily. Finally, a small globule of blood appeared. Setting the dagger on the bed, she uncapped the vial and picked up Geoffrey’s hand once more. She squeezed his finger, watching as thick drops joined Cecily’s blood.

  Geoffrey’s snores ceased. In a flash of movement, he sat up and Cinderella dropped his hand. She capped the vial and grabbed the dagger, knocking the sheath to the stone floor where it rang out with a metallic clatter. Before she could decide whether to retrieve it or simply run, Geoffrey grabbed her wrist and pulled her close.

  “What are you doing in here?” he hissed, rocking back and forth as if he were half asleep. His breath came out ragged. It stank of wine and meat. Finally, he focused on Cinderella’s face. Recognition filled his eyes. “Princess?”

  She followed his gaze to her hand with the dagger. She was surprised to see her arm raised high, as if she wanted to plunge the blade into his chest. “Good sir,” she stuttered. “Please let me go. I was only...” She couldn’t continue. She had no idea how to explain herself.

  Geoffrey’s grip tightened. He lifted his other hand and looked at the lines of blood trickling from his finger to his wrist. He stuttered and looked back at the knife, reaching up to rip it from her hold. She pulled it away. She was unsure of his intentions or what he would tell Rowland, or even worse, Marion. The vial, only made of glass, felt fragile in her fingers growing numb from Geoffrey’s grip. Still holding her, he jumped off the bed and lunged for the knife once more. “Give me the dagger! I’ll take you to Rowland and we’ll straighten out this mess.”

  With a desperate cry, she yanked herself from his grip and turned toward the door. Her mind filled with Marion’s narrowing eyes, her cold warnings, the tall, sandy-haired tutor she had assigned to instruct Cinderella every morning for the past week. A future queen would never be allowed to sneak around the castle with a dagger and a vial of blood. What would everyone think if she was caught? They would assume something dark and disastrous, and Geoffrey seemed determined to discover her intentions. He would never let this go. He was right behind her. She felt his hands reaching out to grab her when Amie’s spell came to her mind. Focus on Eolande. Call to her. Conjure her power as your own. Direct the magic into your voice and say with all your strength—

  “Me contegas!”

  Her voice rang out, loud and shrill, as she spun around and hurled the words at Geoffrey. She raised her arms high, the vial in one hand, the dagger in the other, and a burst of shimmering light exploded between them.

  Geoffrey swayed, staggered, and fell forward, collapsing at her feet. The smell of sandalwood pressed around her. She stared at Geoffrey’s motionless form on the stone floor, his face bathed in moonlight, his widened eyes glazed with death.

  4

  The Stranger

  Cinderella’s chamber was empty when she rushed inside. Amie followed and shut the door. She whispered, “Are you sure he is dead, Your Highness?”

  “Yes!” Cinderella paced the room from the fireplace to the bed. She put her hand to her chest and tried to stop the wheezing in her throat. She felt her heart pounding—unlike Geoffrey’s when she had dropped to her knees and put her ear to his chest, directly against his skin. Nothing. No beating. Not even a flutter. She had looked into his eyes and known he was dead. She had killed him.

  “That spell is not capable of killing,” Amie muttered with tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. “It is for protection, but it should have only stunned him long enough for you to escape.”

  “It definitely stunned him.” Cinderella pulled out the vial of blood from a tiny pocket in her dress and held it up to the candlelight. The blood was black and thick. Looking at it made her eyes fill with tears. With guilt invading her senses, she lowered the vial.

  Amie sat down at the vanity. “This is terrible,” she said as she put her head in her hands. “How could this happen?”

  “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry I dragged you into it.” Cinderella was unable to discern how she should feel about Amie, if the sprite’s warning had been for something like this. “Nobody will know or suspect it was me,” she said flatly. “They will therefore not suspect you since you are almost always with me.”

  Amie looked up. “Oh, Your Highness, no one would suspect you of such a deed. They may simply assume he drank too much. I have seen that happen before.”

  Lifting the vial once more, Cinderella watched the candlelight change the blood from black to red to black to red, a constant flicker. She felt dark inside, and weak. “It must be me,” she said. “The spell went wrong because of me. You said I have a strong capability for magic.” She thought back to Eolande in the prison when she had told her about the forest and how she had burned a man alive. If an enchantress such as her could unintentionally wield such evil power, Cinderella feared for her own naive talents.

  Amie shook her head. “I do not think it was you who caused his death. That spell is harmless.” She stood and walked to Cinderella, placing two hands on her shoulders. “Your Highness, I do not believe there is such a thing as dark magic. It is the conjurer who makes the difference.”

  “Then it is me,” she said with a whimper. “It was me who killed him, not the spell.”

  “No, I do not think. I mean, I sense things in you that feel dark, yes, but I do not... I do not know, Your Highness.” She lowered her hands and looked at the
floor. “I will help you prepare for bed now.”

  She nodded and turned around. Amie’s fingers felt faster than normal as she unlaced the strings and helped her out of the gown.

  “I will be back in a moment.” Amie left to put the gown away in the wardrobe.

  Cinderella stepped to the vanity and tucked the vial into a small box filled with less expensive jewelry that didn’t need to be locked away. The box was near the window, and she hoped the cold drafts would keep the blood fresh until it came time to perform the spell—if she performed it at all.

  She reached up to unpin the crown from her head and dropped it onto the vanity. Everything felt heavy and uncertain. When Amie reappeared, she turned around for her to unlace the corset. As the strings came loose, Cinderella let out a relieved sigh. In the silence that followed, Amie began to weep, but Cinderella didn’t say anything. She felt incapable of comforting anyone.

  “Do you require anything else, Your Highness?”

  “No, unless you can tell me where Rowland might be.”

  Amie shook her head just as the sound of a horn echoed in the distance. Cinderella ran to the window and pulled it open. Past the moat and the extensive castle grounds was a plume of smoke rising from one of the villages. A gasp left her throat as the smoke curled into the night sky, slowly spreading a gray film over the stars and icy yellow moon.

  She excused Amie, but felt too tired and frightened to go in search of Rowland. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. What if he was in danger? Something to do with the fire? When he didn’t answer her knocks on his door, she tried the handle, but found it locked. Exhausted, she fell into bed. The stranger came to her, as he often did—helping her relive the memories of his visits. Only this time, her dreams were not memories. This time, the stranger stood outside in the dark. He called to her in his musical voice, and when she sat up, warmth washed over her.

  Slipping from her covers, she walked to a window and opened it to see the stranger standing on the frozen moat. The ice did not crack or buckle beneath his weight. Somehow, she could see the fish sliding beneath him. Everything was clear, the sky a rich, glowing blue, the stars perfect points of light emitting so much brilliance they drowned the moon. There was no fire now. The stranger beckoned to her. “Cinderella, come down to me.”