The Stepsister's Lament Read online

  Besides, you can finally make real friends. You don’t need me.

  Give me a hug and go back to your party. Celebrate being free!”

  I grunted as she threw herself at me. “I love you, Joy bug!”

  “And I love you, Cindy-soot. I’ll write you as soon as I’m settled.

  Now why don’t you reassure the queen since she looks so rattled.

  I want a quick word with your groom,

  So please, give us some room.” She nodded and gave me a wink before walking over to her new mother-in-law.

  “I can’t believe that you’re here!” the prince muttered.

  I turned and glared at him, exasperated by his rudeness.

  “Of course you believe the rumors, you royal pain!

  Can’t you see I care for her, more than a plant loves rain?

  I’m leaving to protect her from one who hunts me now,

  And I won’t leave 'til you listen, no matter how you growl!

  You think us evil, her stepfamily

  But none of us would kill casually.

  There is one coming who would hurt her.

  Just… make certain that Cindy’s life is secure. ”

  “What are you talking about? You sound utterly insane! I can’t understand half of what you’re saying. And why does everything rhyme?” the prince asked. And he’d clearly ignored the whole part about someone possibly hurting his wife. Clearly my words were about as meaningful as a pile of mud in a wet field. I answered his question anyway.

  “My mother, she’s a witch.

  Granted, not very stable or power rich.

  I chose to play the bully

  To keep people from looking too closely.”

  He frowned at me, but I just nodded over to my beautiful stepsister and tried to make it simpler. She could explain everything clearly to him at a later date.

  “Cindy is waiting to start your new life of joy and laughter.

  Go. You two have earned your happily ever after.”

  With that, I strode off into the woods. It was time to run away. If only I could join the circus. I’d always wanted to raise flying elephants.

  Chapter 2: In My Own Little Cottage

  Years ago, I must have been about ten at the time, my aunt gave me the key to her cottage. She told me that I would always be welcome there and that the key would allow me to find it, even when it was hiding. Magic houses do that, you know. Hide, that is. I’d always secretly wanted to live there. I wanted to know what it would be like to be on my own for once. At home we were always tumbling all over each other. We only had a few servants, but they were as close as family and between my mother’s love of being needed, Portia’s habit of stumbling into the strangest situations, and Cindy’s intense attachment to us all… well, suffice to say life at the manor could be a bit stifling.

  That on its own would have made life at my aunt’s house strange. She was an enchantress and, unlike my mother, well trained and extremely talented. That’s probably why Aunt Grace had been so particular about where her home was built. Her house had been erected on the edge of a “haunted” wood, surrounded on three sides by a massive lake, and nearly invisible. It had been designed to disappear into the landscape and the various forest creatures served as an early warning system for hostile incursions and nosy neighbors. Not that there were many of those, normally. Unlike most villages, there were almost no gossipy wives. In fact, the majority of the area was peopled by unattractive, older men. The village only sported about three women, and at least one of those was 90 and had given birth to a third of the inhabitants.

  The forest sat on a ley line and had much more magical activity than anyone realized. Those forest creatures I mentioned not long ago? Most of them are highly magical. In fact, quite a few of them came from the Fey Forest originally, making the old road a very unwelcoming pathway. After all, no one wants to deal with a chimera if they don’t have to, not to mention the giant spiders and invisible mice. Invisible mice don’t sound very scary until you realize that invisibility also equals being bold enough to climb anyone who slows down enough. Besides, since the Fey king was cursed, there had been very little in the way of travel to the Fey Forest, which is the only reason to use that road at all.

  Despite the creepy neighborhood, her house was close enough to a village for me to walk there for supplies, but far enough away to prevent visitors. Well, at least those of a human variety. Other visitors came quite regularly, especially after they heard that I had a gift for healing. It’s not true though. The only gift I have is for being hated and reading my aunt’s nearly incomprehensible handwriting. It was the first time that I’d had a chance to practice anything that my aunt had taught me; mother was very particular about presenting the correct image. She always said that showing compassion was the number one reason for the kingdom’s decline after it’s glorious and bloody heyday. People often wondered if we were descended from trolls when she stated such things.

  The cottage had all sorts of spells on it to keep it in good repair and minimize the time Aunt Grace would have to spend on basic cleaning; she hated dusting, only slightly less than she hated my mother. My aunt had lived comfortably there for years before she accidentally married a salamander, turning him into a prince who, in return, swept her away to his kingdom to the south. On the way there, she’d sent the family a note and reminded me to use her home if I needed to. Considering that only a month later, Cindy was married, it was good timing.

  Everyone was quite astonished when they heard about her getting married, especially considering that she was in her early 30s. I say ‘everyone’ but Aunt Grace was always a really private person, so it was mostly the villagers near her home and the merchants she was friends with that were astonished. And the people she was ruling over. That threw them for a loop too.

  The general consensus is princes prefer young women, usually between 16 and 22. Any older and it was considered gauche, unless they were widowed queens. At that point they were fair game until they turned 27. Either way, she was now blissfully happy and I had a pair of cousins that were about four months old. My mother was thrilled to be an aunt but flatly refused to let us meet them. She claimed it would send the wrong image to the neighbors. She was probably right.

  My first friend in my new environs was a dryad, not that we were particularly close. Her tree was quite young and had been suffering from a beetle infestation, so I made her a repellant that my aunt had taught me years before. Ssoothgra was ecstatic and came to visit nearly constantly after that. Young dryads were like that; they would use any excuse to gad about before they rooted themselves too firmly. The excess energy usually only lasted a few years, though. Once her taproots were fully established and she wasn’t competing for space with the other saplings, she would calm down.

  In any case, she seemed to enjoy being around someone who rarely spoke. It gave her more silence to fill with chatter and helped me work on laughing more. Cindy was constantly telling me that I took life too seriously, but Mother was big on not showing emotions or weakness. Either way, I needed to learn to interact with someone who didn’t hate me on sight. It felt oddly freeing.

  Ssoothgra was helping me adjust to life away from my family and their insanity and, as a result, I often was treated to interesting bits of information about the forest or the town as she joined me for tea. Not that she drank anything, of course. A dryad’s physical form is a tree. It is their spectral form that talks to you, but they can’t really touch anything. That was the main reason the woods surrounding my cottage were considered to be haunted. Dryads are also known as ‘tree ghosts’ due to their non-corporeal forms and that particular patch of trees was home to a fairly large number of dryads. Anyway, I usually welcomed the respite from the isolation. I did not, however, welcome the news she brought that afternoon.

  “Joy! There is a man in the forest! He is searching for your cabin!”

  My head jerked up as she spoke, but I kept on mixing a tea for the elf lord who was attra
cting colds like flies to honey.

  “What makes you think he is looking for me?

  And how is he here? I thought you made all trespassers flee.”

  “He has magic in his blood,” Ssoothgra told me. “We can’t chase him away. And I know because he asked us trees. No one said anything though. They know you. They don’t know him.” She paused to consider something. “Though he did seem vaguely familiar. Then again, most of the pretty ones do. I love it when they come and try to compare themselves to us. As if a mortal could ever compare to a nymph!” I tried not to roll my eyes. For some reason, she always forgot that she was a mortal. I shouldn’t expect much better though. She frequently forgot that I needed to sleep as well and would wake me in the middle of the night to ‘talk’.

  “Well, I doubt without help he will find this place.

  You could walk past 10 times and ne’er find a trace.” Only members of the family that Aunt Grace had programed into her protections or people sent by those family members could find the house. Well, at least among humans.

  I let the dryad rattle on as I finished my project and considered what she had said.

  “Ssoothgra, how would he know to address your people?

  Yours are not known to be agreeable.”

  Dryads were usually sticklers for protocol. But then again, most of them lived for centuries, so it made sense. Most of the longer-lived races developed overly verbose traditions. They had the time, so why not?

  “I don’t know. It does seem odd. So few know our traditions. He must be from an old family. I mean, they are the only ones who really know any of the proper ways to enter a new territory and even then, few of them actually care. They usually go out of their ways to either avoid us or insult us.” The dryad paused and her eyes went wide. “If he is then he might be from…”

  A knock at the front door interrupted what she was about to say. We both jumped slightly. In the year that I’d lived in that little house, I’d never had anyone knock on the front door. All my guests and patients had come calling from the forest entrance.

  “What are you going to do?” Ssoothgra asked nervously.

  I dusted off my hands and removed my apron before stating simply,

  “Don’t be silly! I’ll answer the door.

  No need to panic ‘til we see what’s in store.”

  I ignored her protests and moved to the main entrance. One more quick breath and I opened the door to meet the future as it knocked. At least, that was what I told myself.

  I opened the door to blinding sunlight and shadow much taller and broader than anyone from the village. “Hello. I’m sorry to intrude, but I’m looking for a Miss Joy. Would you please tell me where I can find her?” inquired possibly the most attractive man I had ever seen.

  He wasn’t pretty, like Ssoothgra had told me. No, his features were much too strong for that. Instead, he was striking. His rich auburn hair had become mussed during his journey. When it combined with his suntanned skin and the gold specks in his dark green eyes, it made you feel like you could see the mischievous boy he had once been, just returning from an adventure in the height of summer. The muscles filling out his well-tailored clothes belied any thoughts of innocence or youth. His style was understated and much more simplistic than most wealthy people would choose. It was odd considering the expensive fabrics.

  And apparently spending close to a year in the company of trees and middle-aged, balding men will make you freeze in front of the first attractive person you see.

  Then, what he said hit me. He must have thought I was the help.

  “If you are looking for Joy, I am she.

  I beg you would give me no reason to flee.”

  And there was my curse, deciding to make a simple conversation incredibly awkward. I have to speak in poetry. Always. The quality is usually pretty poor since I still have to make it up as I go along. Figures that the curse would make me do all the hard work. In general, it is inconvenient and annoying, not to mention I have to study dictionaries and poetry on a regular basis to even have a chance at speaking clearly. At the ball, I ended up muttering to Prince Christopher all about ships passing in the night. I was trying to chat with him about philosophy.

  I will admit, though, I did use it to scare off some unwelcome suitors. My grandmother’s matchmaking skills were less than stellar, and nothing frightened a greedy wizard more than an ugly stepsister who won’t stop spouting bad poetry. No contract marriage could ever be worth that. It also assured people of my “stupidity,” ensuring that I would be underestimated by my enemies. Always a good thing.

  Judging by the look of confusion on this man’s face, either I was not what he expected or he hated poetry just as much as I did. Do, really.

  “Erm. Right. Well, I was just visiting your sister and she asked me to give you a message, since your lovely cottage is on my way home.”

  I cocked my head to the side and considered him. My sister sending him would certainly get him around the protections. But, for this place to be on his way home, he must be part Fey. He doesn’t look Fey though, I mused, but chose to ignore that and focus on the first part of his comment. Despite the closeness of our family, only Portia was ever referred to as my sister, and she was horrible about communication. Moreover, she wouldn’t have asked a stranger to deliver something. All the questions popping up in my head were making me quite frustrated.

  “My sister? Portia? You can’t be serious!

  Do stop trying to be mysterious.”

  “No, not her. Princess Cinderella,” he said, eyes twinkling with repressed humor. I just nodded. That made more sense. She always corrected people when they tried to emphasize the ‘step’ part of our relationship.

  “Well then, my missive if you please, good sir.

  We would not want to cause a stir.”

  He seemed even more bewildered by my words than before, but there was nothing to be done. He handed me my letter and continued to stand there, a bemused smile on his face. Amazingly, the paper was still crisp, despite the long journey.

  I slid my nail under the wax seal and opened the letter. It was a short message, written on a half sheet. All it said was ‘I’m pregnant. She’s coming for you.’

  “Oh! Great gods.

  What are the odds?”

  The paper slipped from my fingers and landed on the ground before going up in flames. If my sister had gone to the trouble of commissioning a spell to protect the message, things were dire indeed. And of course she would have to put in that bit about being pregnant. Cindy always hated giving people bad news and tried to lessen the blow by telling them something happy first. It also explained why she couldn’t come in person.

  Without another word, I turned and ran into back into the cottage. There was only one person Cindy would have referred to as ‘she’. There was little time left to prepare. After all, I doubted she was very far behind the messenger, not with how quickly she moved when she was motivated. I knew she’d probably given me some time, liking the thrill of the chase, but it was still hard to believe that she’d found me already. The cottage should have been protected from her magic! But I knew she had powerful allies who would have helped her flush me out if needed.

  I was in the middle of frantically packing various remedies when someone grabbed my arm and swung me around. The messenger my sister had sent stood before me, concern leaving a wrinkle in his forehead. Before he could say anything, Ssoothgra interrupted him.

  “What is it? Joy, what’s wrong?” she asked, taking in the scene.

  “I don’t know how, but she found me.

  If she finds me here she will leave this forest in debris.”

  “Who? Who is coming?”

  “My grandmother.

  How I wish it were another.”

  Ssoothgra froze. “Grandmother? As in your mother’s mother? The one who…”

  She had trailed off, so I nodded and said,

  “That’s the one

  From whom I run.”


  I turned to the man still holding my arm and stared him down until he released me.

  “Thank you for the note.

  Please leave before she finds me.

  The trees can hide you.”

  “Lady, I cannot leave you in such distress. Wait… was that a haiku? I didn’t think anyone in this part of the world even knew what they are, let alone be capable of writing one.” He eyed me carefully, considering his next words.

  Meanwhile, I kept my mouth shut, all the while railing at my mystery man in my mind. Stupid man is going to get himself tortured and turned into a slave. Why is it no one ever listens to me? No, I’m obviously too dumb to understand what needs to be done. Stupid curse!

  “Your sister,” he continued before I could lash out, “and her husband would never forgive me if I left you to this danger. I can help you.”

  “Of course, but my sister’s multitudinous charm

  Cannot cancel out the threat of harm.

  It is very kind of you to ask,

  But I won’t burden you with this task.”

  I will admit that there was more than a bit of censure in my tone, but it only made him smirk and start picking things up.

  “Why don’t I take you to my home? I’m sure Christopher would approve of that, and it is significantly safer than a single cottage in the wood.”

  I laughed bitterly.

  “My sister’s husband may bring her joy,

  But to him my name is just a ploy.

  He’ll bring me no harm, this much is true,

  But no storm would he willingly bring me through.

  A great and mighty king he’ll one day be.

  When that happens, I’ve no doubt I’ll flee.”

  He cocked his head to the side and studied me carefully. I don’t know what he saw, but instead of arguing with me further he just began helping me pack. I huffed at him, but turned back to the worried dryad. I had more important things to take care of than an annoying messenger.

  “Ssoothgra, I need you to listen carefully.

  The tea for Lord Jalimth must be prepared cautiously.

  The ingredients and instructions are in the packet,