The Stepsister's Lament Read online

  The Stepsister’s Lament

  Refurbished Fairy Tales Book 2

  By: S.R. Nulton

  Copyright © 2018 S.R. Nulton

  All rights reserved.

  This story is a work of fiction based off of works of fiction (we hope! ‘Cause otherwise, there are some very odd relationships out there involving amphibians).

  No character, place, circumstance or relationship is intended to resemble anyone/thing, living, dead, undead, mostly dead, or anywhere in-between.

  The author humbly requests that you suspend disbelief for a short while and enjoy this story for what it is…

  Whatever that may happen to be.

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  Table of Contents:

  Map

  Chapter 1: The Prince is Giving a Ball

  Chapter 2: In My Own Little Cottage

  Chapter 3: If you Give a Moose a Window

  Chapter 4: Into the Woods

  Chapter 5: Evil Fairy?

  Chapter 6: For Me?

  Chapter 7: Castle of Lies

  Chapter 8: Gilded

  Chapter 9: Mirror, Mirror

  Chapter 10: Spirally Logic

  Chapter 11: The Facets of Family

  Chapter 12: Bodies of Her Enemies

  Chapter 13: Questing Questions

  Chapter 14: What Big Teeth You Have

  Chapter 15: There and Back Again

  Chapter 16: Happily Ever After?

  Epilogue

  “It is a modern tragedy that despair has so many spokesmen, and hope so few.”

  -Oscar Hammerstein II

  Chapter 1: The Prince is Giving a Ball

  “Why would a fellow want a girl like her, a weak looking little beauty?

  Why can’t a fellow ever look closer at a solid girl like me?”

  I hated having to whine in public. It grated on my nerves and made me irritable. For once, however, my question had some merit. I’d never really thought much about it before. Everyone referred to me as ‘ugly,’ but I’d always thought it had more to do with the personality I presented them with. Watching the wealthiest people in Alenia coo over the couple in the center of the ballroom made me reconsider. Maybe I was worse off than I realized…

  “Oh, that was rather good! You borrowed a little bit of it from that minstrel, Oscar, didn’t you?” Portia asked quietly before looking around and raising her voice. “Joy, you know Mother doesn’t want you to talk in public! You sound like an idiot to everyone,” Portia reprimanded me. Seeing that people had bought our act, she turned back to the topic of our conversation. “You’re right though. In that dress, she looks a bit like a bubble. I know! We should both start speaking in poetry! Hmm, what rhymes with ‘bubble’? Never mind. But can you imagine Mother’s face if we had an entire conversation in just poetry?” she giggled. Well, more like honked, but that was her public version of a giggle.

  I just sighed and watched the prince of Alenia waltz away with a beautiful brunette in a size two dress. Thinking about it objectively, I could understand the difference in our treatment. Cinderella had all the classic features that were popular among the nobles. Basically, she looked like a short, dark haired Fey. She was small boned, lithe, and her skin had a natural golden radiance. I, on the other hand, am above average in height, but am just about average in looks. My hair is strawberry blond, my figure is thicker and curvier than either of my sisters, and there is little about my features to make them stand out. To make things more awkward, thanks to my mother’s “gift” I usually end up looking like a complete imbecile.

  But it was silly to compare myself to my sister. We excelled in different areas and she made sure I knew I was her equal. Instead, I turned my attention back to the girl in question, wondering if I should mention that the stunning creature making the prince fall in love with her was actually Portia’s and my stepsister. Nah! That would be laying things on too thick. It was easier to pretend I was dense.

  “Uggh! Just look at her! Her pink cheeks and soft skin and that neck! Why it’s ridiculously pale! I tell you, Joy, I don’t understand why men go after girls who are about as graceful as…”

  “Birds,” I finished before muttering “absurd” under my breath. I sighed again. For some unknown reason, Portia believed that being told you were ‘as graceful as a bird’ was an insult. Sadly, she used the phrase with some regularity and didn’t understand that she was actually complimenting the object of her ridicule. Cindy encouraged her, even! Of course, between the two of them, it was entirely possible that it was just another ruse. They loved playing games with the easily insulted.

  “Exactly. Well, she won’t hold the prince’s attention for long! Mark my words; he’ll come back to me. He said my laugh was the most unique thing he had ever heard. Positively infectious!”

  And probably wondered if it could be cured, I thought to my self, snorting. It was actually pretty funny. Her ‘unique’ laugh could almost rupture eardrums. It wasn’t her real laugh though. That one was beautiful. When we were little, Portia got tired of having to explain why she was laughing. She decided that making it grating on the ears was a better option. Less questions that way. Then Cindy came to us with her idea and Portia decided to make her laugh even more ridiculous. I doubt she even remembers how to sound natural anymore.

  I was considering my sister’s logic when I felt a pinch on my arm. “Ow! What was that…” I trailed off as I turned to meet Mother’s furious gaze, “…cow?” I winced at the rushed rhyme, but she should have known better than to interrupt me halfway through saying something! It never turned out well.

  “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you two dancing with Prince Christopher? I did not bring you here to eat and gawk at the dancers, Joy!” Her gaze cut to Portia, causing my sister’s laugh to start and end with a snort. “And you! What have I told you about laughing in public?”

  “But mother!”

  “But nothing, Portia! You two girls, get out there and convince that boy to marry you!” she hissed before pushing us into the path of the dancers just as the clock struck midnight.

  I wasn’t exactly pleased with the development, particularly due to the bruises that were forming after I collided with a particularly spirited pair of dancers. I had no idea how the woman managed to kick my thigh, but her corset was obviously looser than mine if she could bend that way. Still, I moved slowly toward my stepsister, hoping to give her some more time with her newest conquest. Cinderella was incredibly sweet, but also took things too seriously. She deserved to enjoy the party a little longer before we returned home.

  Just about the time I reached them when the clock began to chime, making Cindy jump guiltily.

  “Is it that late? I’m sorry, I need to leave,” she declared while backing toward the door.

  “What?” the prince asked, grabbing for her arm. “You can’t! I have to…”

  “I’m sorry!” she declared breathlessly. She yanked her hand away and ran up the stairs to the entrance. When the prince of Alenia moved to follow, I stepped in his path. The magic must have been ending to put my calm sister in such a tizzy. Delaying him would give her a chance to reach the rendezvous point before the carriage collapsed. Stupid Fey godmothers with their ridiculous time restrictions! You’d think immortals would care less about such things but they were all sticklers for proper scheduling.

  “Your highness! We never finished our dance!

  Or my poetry recitation, perchance?” I called ou
t.

  Between my bulky skirts (at least three years out of fashion) and the crowd, he was well and truly trapped on the elegantly inlaid dance floor. The bells tolled again as Cindy slipped through the doors and the prince politely refused my advances. Ten more seconds and I let him escape to chase after my sister.

  There, I thought. That should give her plenty of room to escape cleanly. If I were really lucky it would also help me avoid another lecture from Cindy’s Fey godmother. That woman was an absolute nightmare when something got her dander up.

  “Um, I’m sorry, but I need to…” He barely managed to get around me before Portia cut him off with an inane laugh and attached herself to his arm.

  This time he didn’t attempt an excuse, just a bob and weave to escape. I sighed and made my way back to the buffet. Mother had told the local gossips that I’d been put on a diet, so I needed to act like I was only eating bitter greens at home. She meant well, but it made life extremely trying when she made up new stories. It would almost be easier if they were true, but Mother is a bit flighty. Still, I was glad that the horrible evening was almost over. I was exhausted and all I wanted was to fall into bed.

  Hopefully I wouldn’t have to face the prince and act the fool like that again.

  ~

  I hate my life. Okay, no, I don’t, although I have every reason to. Quite simply, it sucks. Unfortunately, it’s my fate. I know that sounds trite and melodramatic, but it’s true. For one thing, I’m literally cursed. I can only speak in poetry, which is miserable and I never seem to get any better at it. Oh, and everyone in town despises me. Pathetic sounding, but it is a major problem. I have to pay nearly five times the listed price for everything and there is a good chance that going there will result in damaged clothes and the destruction of whatever overpriced item I’d just purchased from the merchant. I know what you are thinking, but I’m not paranoid. Even the crazy lady who goes around telling everyone that they are wonderful tried to spit on me. Twice. Oh! And my mother is very selfish and flighty, as I mentioned earlier. Luckily she isn’t mean, at least not deliberately. She just forgets that other people think differently than she does. Or that they exist at all.

  But, despite all that, including the fact that I had to act like an idiot at the royal ball the week before by throwing myself at royalty, I don’t hate my life. I have two wonderful sisters and a mother who loves me, even if she is miserable about showing it. It’s true that I’m despised by most of the country and rarely seen as an actual person with feelings, but you can get used to anything eventually. I figure that they aren’t family so their opinions don’t matter much. That’s our motto; we do whatever it takes to make our family work. Even acting rude or stupid in front of important people.

  Which I had to do all over again. It’s a good thing I love my stepsister.

  When my stepsister escaped the ball, she dropped a shoe. Prince Christopher picked it up and decided to try it on the foot of every eligible maiden in the kingdom. Royalty seems to be real logical that way. Luckily, his advisors reminded him that only the women in the immediate area and a few noble families would have attended, so he cut his list down by quite a lot. Still, I doubt he realized how many women that would be, particularly when quite a few widows and wives tried it on too. How he was expecting to determine maidenhood, I had no idea. Honestly, I think he would have given up the silly idea entirely if he had just looked at the latest census!

  Too bad Cindy had fallen for him. He didn’t seem all that bright, but I suppose that having a deceptively intelligent wife would be perfect for him. It was hardly a surprise when he showed up at our rundown mansion still looking for his future bride a week later. He’d been flying through the women of the capital and had made it out to our village in the outlying areas. Luckily we were ready for him and quickly locked Cinderella in the kitchen. She thought it would reinforce the lies we had been telling for the past seven years.

  I sighed, realizing that I was once again forced to pretend I was just like my reputation claimed while making sure that everything worked out as we’d planned.

  I’d been sitting there for ten minutes trying to force my stepsister’s tiny shoe on my much larger foot before the royal finally decided I’d had enough time. When they tried to grab the shoe from me, I screamed,

  “It’s mine, but clearly you shrunk it! It fit perfectly at the ball.

  No need to get pushy; it needs some stretching is all.”

  No one seemed to notice my sarcasm, so I continued the farce and tried to shove it on once more before allowing the royal steward, Lio, to take it from me. Then I sat back to watched the dramatics, waiting for my cue and while wincing at the cuts on my foot. My stepsister had ridiculously small feet! The stupid thing had ripped opened the scabs on my foot from the ball, just when they were beginning to heal!

  Portia went next, but she was almost six feet tall and her shoes usually were men’s boots, so that was over quickly. Naturally, Mother wanted to try it on as well. It was too sparkly for her not to use any excuse to hold the slipper.

  It didn’t take long before my mother was making a total nuisance of herself, screaming that the shoe had cut off her circulation. It was finally time to stop playing to the expectations of the guards and end the farce. When Prince Christopher looked over at me in exasperation I jerked my head toward the kitchen. He frowned, so I did it once more before glaring at the shoe he was holding once again.

  “What’s behind those doors?” And he finally caught on! I had begun to worry about the future of our country.

  “Doors? What doors?” my mother squeaked as she limped in front of the kitchen entrance. Portia and I, of course, did the same. It had to be quite the sight, since each one of us was missing a shoe.

  “The ones right behind you, madam!”

  “Oh! Oh, these doors! Nothing, it’s just the kitchen. A few pots and pans… maybe some mice.”

  We had to make a pretty comical scene, practically the start of a joke. A blonde and two redheads stand in front of a door, all with bleeding feet and all wearing only one shoe... No one else seemed to see the humor in the situation.

  The prince snapped his fingers. “Lio.” I stepped back immediately. The royal steward had been dealing with my mother for years, and he hated her with a passion. For some strange and completely unknown reason, she believed that if she could just get him infatuated with her, it would pave the way to our union with the royal family, something my stepfather found incredibly funny. Instead, our invitations to special events at the palace were frequently “lost” in the mail until the day before it happened. Her puppy dog eyes and abundant cleavage provoked a special sort of harshness, as he demanded the key to the kitchen.

  In less than two minutes, he had discovered mother’s hiding spot for the key, divested her of it, and opened the kitchen for royal inspection. Unfortunately, Cinderella wasn’t there. Mother’s look was triumphant when we watched the prince walk out the back door and into the path of my stepsister. It was then that the country at large discovered Cindy has unusually small feet, weird toes, and a thing for glass footwear. Who knew?

  ~

  “Joy! Thank you so much for all that you’ve done for all these years! I know that you think I didn’t notice everything you’ve gone through to keep us all together, but I did!” Cinderella gushed at her wedding reception. I had snuck in through the back and was regretting it. While my sweet stepsister was happy to see me, no one else was. It is unnerving to be glared at by an entire wedding reception.

  “Dear, sweet Ella, what are you doing over here, love?” Prince Christopher asked. The overly sugary talk made me want to gag, but apparently Cindy liked it. “Oh! Good day, Miss Joy. What brings you here?” Translation: How did you get past the guards?

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Chris! She is here to wish us well! I told her about the back way in, so stepmother wouldn’t know she came. I wish you would stay and attend the dance! Everyone is here and they would love to meet you!” she declared. />
  I smiled sadly.

  “No, they would not, as you well know.

  You, yourself, the rumors did help sow.

  I had to tell you how happy I am for you two.

  You are blessed to have met your prince with a shoe.”

  The prince in question seemed taken aback by my speech. He probably thought I’d been trying to impress him when we’d spoken at the ball. Well, Cindy would have to explain it to him later.

  “It may hurt to hear, but please, do not cry,

  For I fear it is time for us to say goodbye.”

  That stopped both of them. “Goodbye? What do you mean? Joy, you can’t really be leaving, can you?” she demanded.

  “Aunt Grace invited me to travel with her.

  I’m using your wedding like a spur

  It moves me on to other things

  I hope to be home next spring

  When an impending family reunion won’t feel like a burr.”

  Cindy blinked three times quickly. She’d gotten the message. It was a good thing Portia had talked us into that secret code as children. It made it much easier to avoid itching ears looking for gossip. And spies, which are basically the same thing.

  “But! I need you Joy! You can’t leave! Who else do I have?” My sister asked as her big hazel eyes filled with tears. Cindy had always been good at acting innocent. She could even fake tears if necessary, but these were real. She’d miss me quite a bit and we both knew it. “You’re my only true friend!”

  I sighed. She wanted me to make our relationship clearer to her husband. He probably thought she was too sweet to think badly about anyone. Nodding to her, I replied,

  “You have always been so silly about things.

  You are married to a man who will one day be king!

  You will be too busy for the next few years,

  Adjusting to being a royal to shed any tears.