Bonded: Three Fairy Tales, One Bond Read online

  She flew to her wardrobe and slipped into her overdress and raced out of the castle as fast as she could, her feet still bare. No guards blocked her path. Her hair flew in ribbons behind her. When she stepped onto the moat, she did not feel its coldness. The stranger folded his arms around her. He kissed her deeply and she pushed away her thoughts of the blood and the spell and the death in Geoffrey’s eyes.

  “What are you?” she whispered when the kiss ended.

  He smiled and cupped her face in his hands. “You don’t know?”

  “An... an elf?” She felt silly saying it, having been raised to believe no such beings existed.

  He nodded. “I’ve never revealed myself to a human before.”

  “Then why to me?” She already knew the answer. It was the reason her heart wanted to tug right out of her chest. It was the reason she had uttered a spell and killed a man. He cared for her without the aid of magic. She didn’t know why he cared for her, but that was why she stood here with him, the only reason she was willing to leave everything Eolande had given her.

  He touched her face. “You might call it falling in love, but it’s different than that. We elves call it skel’sam’ielt. As an elf, I have the freedom to search for a perfect human match. You are that match. Think of it as bonding—only, you must be as willing as I.”

  She wanted to cry out that she was willing, but she wasn’t sure if she was. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “You weren’t ready, not to the degree you are now. That’s why I wanted you to remember me.” He placed his fingers to her chest. She felt their warmth even through her overdress. “You’re getting stronger. I feel it deep inside you. When I first saw you in the woods near your home, I sensed your strength, but it was untouched. Everything about you speaks to me, Cinderella. I was once weak, like you. I was once unsure of where to go or how to use my power. My people taught me, of course, and I am now free to perform a bond if I wish.” He took a deep breath and the stars stopped twinkling. The air stilled. “I’m sorry I had to leave you for so long after our meetings in the meadow. It’s customary to let our chosen ones guide themselves back to us. They must decide. Then you met Eolande and made your decision about Rowland. All seemed lost until now, until you began to remember me. I see now that you’re willing to sacrifice to be with me—even kill.”

  Her lips formed a small circle, and she stepped out of his hold. “You know about that?”

  “I sense you’ve done something to that extent.”

  “I didn’t mean to.” She looked up at the castle, wondering if Geoffrey was still collapsed on the floor. The stranger’s hand touched her waist. He pulled her close once more.

  “Know this. You cannot blame yourself for the death. There is magic in your blood. It was passed to you by your mother.”

  “What?” The world shrank around her. She thought of her mother’s gentle hands and eyes. Magic? Her mother had never done anything resembling magic.

  The stranger kissed her forehead. “This is something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time, Cinderella. Your mother’s ancestors descended from unions between humans and elves.” He smiled. “She discovered this later in her life, but by that time she was happy with your father, and she had you. She was content. She saw no reason to complicate things with magic. Most offspring of elves and humans end up this way, many of them never knowing magic runs in their blood. Don’t think of your magic as a bad thing. I wondered if this would be difficult for you to take, but you needed to know. I’m sorry.” He tried to tighten his hold on her, but she stepped away and stared at her trembling hands. She had killed a man. She had muddled her life far beyond what she thought possible—all because of magic.

  “I uttered the spell to protect myself from Geoffrey,” she said, disgusted at the warmth flowing through her veins. Her blood felt infected by a curse, something she knew was impossible to expel from her body. “Is my magic evil?” she whimpered. “Is that why my mother chose not to learn?”

  “Shhh.” He pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair. He whispered her name, Cinderella, Cinderella, Cinderella, until she saw vines encircling her. The winter dissolved and she closed her eyes and felt herself in the meadow once more, the warm summer air filling her lungs.

  “You are not evil,” he said. “You are special. It is rare for humans to control magic. You simply don’t know how to control yours yet. It’s messy and dangerous, and when we elves discover humans such as you, we prefer to bond with you in order to help train you—although my wish to bond with you goes beyond a simple desire to train you, I’ll admit.” He continued to stroke her hair. “I can help you, if that’s what you want. If not, you can make the choice your mother made and continue on as you are.”

  She closed her arms tightly around him. “How can you help me? I don’t even know your name.”

  He paused and moved his mouth to her ear, whispering a name full of sounds she couldn’t hope to pronounce. They were rich and deep in his throat. Then he whispered, “You may call me Kale.”

  She mouthed the name, “Kale,” and relished the feel of it on her tongue, just as she had relished saying Rowland’s name the first time. The thought made her gasp.

  Kale pulled away. “What’s the matter?”

  “N-nothing.” She looked behind her shoulder at her window open wide, showing the yellow glow from her dying fire. A figure looked down at her. Her figure. Her face.

  “Don’t panic,” Kale said before a scream erupted from her throat. He turned her away from the window and looked into her eyes. “You’re here and there—I can’t enter the castle, but I had to speak to you.”

  “Why can’t you enter the castle?” She felt confused and disoriented, as if the ice from the moat was closing around her. The stars began to fade.

  “Do you want to be with me?” he asked. He pressed his forehead against hers and kept his attention locked on her.

  “I’ve felt a connection to you,” she said, trying to discern her feelings. “I don’t know what that means. I know I don’t want to hurt Rowland in this way anymore. It’s as if I’m stealing his choices. The magic feels wrong somehow, and you... you don’t feel that way to me.”

  He looked deeply into her eyes, searching. “I am magical as well. I hope you understand that. I can teach you to control your magic, show you joy beyond your comprehension. You’ll have power like you do now, but it will be different.” He took a deep breath. “You must perform Eolande’s blood spell. It is the only way to break your connection with Rowland. Until then, there is nothing I can do. I cannot bond with a human who is already connected to another by fairy magic.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. It made sense now. The shoes, the blood, the jewel—all related to her connection with Rowland. The warmth around her began to fade. “Do I have to decide right this moment?”

  “Whenever you’re ready.” Kale tightened his grip around her. “I sense your hesitation, even fear around me. I’ve been too forward, and I’m sorry.” He brushed his lips across her cheek. She wanted to kiss him again, but kept herself still. “Follow your heart, Cinderella. That is stronger than any spell, and in the end the only truth.”

  He was gone. Cinderella stood on the ice, alone, and looked down where Kale had stood. No footprints. The moon was covered with smoke once again. Horns sounded in the distance and screams drifted in the air. The ice shifted, groaned, cracked. Cinderella shrieked as she fell into the water. It sliced through her like a deadly blade.

  Rowland’s voice woke her and she sat up, surprised to find herself in bed. She was not wet or cold. The window was closed. It was still night. She turned to Rowland bending close to her, his hand on her shoulder. He was clothed in battle gear made of thick leather and metal, a sword at his side. Blood seeped from a gash on his forehead. His hair was matted with dust and he reeked of smoke and cinders.

  “Rowland!” She reached toward the gash and remembered the billowing smoke outside. She tried to speak, but her words
slurred into a mess. The thought of him in pain crushed her inside.

  “Shhh, I’m all right. You were screaming and I had to see what was wrong. Bad dream?” He stroked her cheek.

  “It was nothing,” she stuttered. “Where have you been?”

  “Dealing with some raiders in the North village.”

  “The North village? That’s where my father’s land lies. Rose’s house.” She shook her head, surprised she hadn’t realized where the smoke was coming from earlier. “Why were you down there? Surely it’s not your duty to fight?”

  “I wanted to make sure Rose and her daughters were safe, so I led a small troop into the village. We made sure your father’s land and the house remained untouched, as well as Rose and your stepsisters.” “Thank you, Rowland. That was sweet of you.” She wished no physical harm upon Rose and Lucy and Edith, no matter how much she hated them.

  He leaned down and grazed his nose across hers. “Anything for you, my love. I don’t wish to see you in pain.” He played with the ends of her hair. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

  Her first instinct was to answer yes. She wanted to be held and comforted, but Kale’s voice kept echoing in her mind. She glanced at the box on her vanity and remembered the vial inside. She looked at Rowland and winced. She had murdered his friend, Cecily’s lover, someone’s son. That would bring him pain when he found out. She looked away.

  “Christina?” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms. “What’s wrong? I promise I’m all right. It was only a skirmish— nothing.” He rocked her back and forth.

  “That’s not it.” She gasped and wheezed, fighting back her tears. She wouldn’t cry. She would save that for morning when Cecily found her lover dead.

  “Then what is it?”

  She searched his face. A part of her desperately wanted to break the spell and find out if he loved her beyond the magic. If he did, her thoughts ran wild imagining how her heart might react. She would sit across from him and ask him a thousand questions, knowing each answer was coming from him and not from a spell. She would understand him for the first time.

  She kissed him. He tasted like smoke, but his tongue turned sweet against hers. She heard Kale’s voice in her mind once again, and it reminded her of the ice and the warmth and the stars and promises of joy. Feeling torn like this was going to kill her.

  Rowland held her close the entire night, his heart beating so loudly it seemed to fill the whole room. The sound was all she could hear. Rowland lived and Geoffrey didn’t.

  She tossed and turned and moaned and woke Rowland up three times. Each time he held her close and sang softly in her ear.

  Waking to screams echoing through the castle, she sat up in bed to see that Rowland was gone. Amie soon entered with a small pewter box in her hand.

  “Your Highness, we must hurry.”

  Everything came back to her full force. She choked on gasping breaths and stared at Amie as she set the box on the vanity. She whirled around to fetch a gown from the wardrobe. “They have found Lord Geoffrey,” her voice echoed from inside the small room. “His Highness is helping to move the body.”

  Cinderella blinked back her tears. There was no sunlight this morning. Even through the thick glass windows, she could see the dark clouds hanging like a heavy canopy over the earth.

  Amie emerged from the wardrobe with a deep purple gown draped over her arms. “His Highness asked me to wake you,” she said quickly. Every movement she made was a flurry. Her eyes were bloodshot. “I believe they are assuming....” She stopped in the middle of the room. “Oh, Christina, they are blaming this on Eolande.”

  It was the first time Amie had called Cinderella by name, and the sound made her shudder. It felt too serious. “They can’t possibly know Eolande’s involvement in Geoffrey’s death—the connection is too far removed.”

  “There is much talk about the fire in the woods and the man she killed. They are worried about sorcery and plots to further divide the kingdoms. Lord Geoffrey’s death means no marriage, and no marriage means no uniting the lands. His Majesty was the first to suggest Eolande. He fears the blame will land on this kingdom, and there is enough turmoil as it is.”

  Slipping out of bed, Cinderella listened to Amie recount the scene she had glimpsed in Geoffrey’s chambers, Cecily’s loud cries as two men pulled her away from her fiancé, her red hair like a wild wreath of flames around her face. Amie took a deep breath. “There is a private council you must attend, and I need to hide the evidence that you have been weeping all night.”

  Cinderella sat down at her vanity and looked at her face in the mirror. Sure enough, the skin around her eyes appeared puffy and red. She had tried to keep from crying, but it had been impossible. “What does it matter? Rowland knows I couldn’t sleep. He thought I was upset about his putting himself in danger.”

  “It is the king I am worried about,” Amie said. “He is frantic, Your Highness. He seems desperate. I do not wish to give him any reason to suspect you.”

  “His own daughter-in-law? I don’t think he would consider such a thing.”

  “Keep believing that.” Amie swept her hair into a simple style, quickly secured the crown on her head, and snatched the pewter box she had brought with her. “A cream to cover the red,” she said, dabbing the substance around Cinderella’s eyes. “You must be strong today. You must be ready to push as much attention away from you as possible.” She paused and looked intently at Cinderella. “You must be willing to sacrifice Eolande if need be.”

  Cinderella squirmed at the thought. Could she sacrifice Eolande to save her own skin? She glanced at herself in the mirror. She looked pale but beautiful. The red was gone from her face. The purple gown made her eyes glow a strange shade of violet.

  The council consisted of the king and queen, Rowland and Cinderella, and six men dressed in black and purple robes sitting at a long table. The room was quiet until William entered and took his place on his throne.

  Staring into her lap, Cinderella listened to Rowland’s shaky breaths. She had never seen him so stiff. His hands gripped the arms of his chair. His knuckles turned white.

  “We’re here this morning to discuss a course of action for Lord Geoffrey Blackwell’s murder.”

  Cinderella looked up and lifted a trembling hand. William nodded, and she asked, “Why are you certain it is murder?”

  Marion cleared her throat. “Dear child, the man was cut with a knife. There was an obvious struggle, and this was found in the young man’s chamber near his bed.” She placed a dagger sheath on the table, and Cinderella tried to keep her face calm. She had forgotten to retrieve the sheath before she had left the room. The dagger was now right next to her fur shoes, both buried in her trunk.

  She nodded and returned her gaze to her lap. She then remembered Amie’s advice to stay strong and act her part. She lifted her head and participated in the discussion as much as she could. Rowland argued that Geoffrey’s murder had nothing to do with the land agreement, while William insisted the blame had to fall on someone and the proper punishment be served before news of the murder made its way outside the castle. Cecily’s parents held a grudge against William and would most certainly use the situation as an excuse for violent action.

  The weight on Cinderella’s shoulders grew so heavy she thought she might crumble under the pressure, but she stayed strong and even took Rowland’s hand into her own when his voice trembled and his face turned red with frustration.

  “It is the sorceress in the dungeon,” one of the Privy Council members said. “Everything about the man’s death feels like dark magic to me. She has persuaded a servant, perhaps, to kill Geoffrey—hence the dagger. Or perhaps she is able to escape the dungeon at will for her dark deeds, I do not know.”

  “It’s true his death was unnatural,” William said as he put two fingers to his chin. “I hate to admit we have a sorceress among us—suggesting it publicly often sends panic through the people—but this woman could be a
solution to our problem.”

  “She’s been on the execution list for months now,” another man said. He waved a stack of papers in the air. “We’ve only been awaiting your word, Your Majesty.”

  William’s straight nose wrinkled near the top. His lips twisted, and he turned his attention to Rowland. “Do you still have an objection to her death?”

  Cinderella’s mouth dropped open. Their logic seemed completely flawed. All they wanted was someone helpless to blame. Rowland let go of her hand and glanced at her before answering. “No, Father. If you feel this is the best course of action, then we must proceed. I don’t want Geoffrey’s death causing us more problems than we already have.”

  Cinderella couldn’t keep the words bursting from her mouth. She leaned to Rowland and asked, “You objected to her execution? Do you know her?”

  He smiled softly and touched her cheek. “I met her when she was arrested. She specifically asked to see me.”

  She straightened more in her chair. “Why?”

  “I’m not sure. I kept my distance from her, but she only looked upon me to plead for her life. I told her I would do what I could.” He looked back to William. “Father, it’s unfair to execute her for a crime she didn’t commit.”

  “She admitted to the death of the man in the woods!” Marion said, and brought her fist down on the table. “We cannot be weak, Rowland. Now, more than ever, we must remain strong. We must stand by the laws we have set down. Everyone knows this. The rebels will be brought to justice, and this sorceress’s dark magic will give us an explanation for Lord Geoffrey’s murder.”

  “Thank you, Marion,” William said with a growl in his throat. He looked at his Privy Council, and then Rowland. “Are we in agreement?”