The Stepsister's Lament Page 8

  I blinked at him, letting the idea process. Biting my lip, I told him, “That sort of makes sense…” Reese snorted and shook his head. “It does, though,” I told my companion. I had a feeling that Reese had never been chased down by an archer before. If he had, he’d have known the wisdom of running in zigzags.

  Merriweather looked manic with glee. “I knew I sensed a kindred spirit in you! But great stuperific garden gnomes, your manservant is in need of some alternative thinking courses. You should enroll him in my course next season. I usually start after the first meteor shower of the autumn windstorms.” I had no idea what he was talking about, but I nodded thoughtfully and ignored Reese’s pointed looks. “Actually,” the Fey continued, “I also keep it messy here so that it feels like my little Briar is still about. I do so miss my goddaughter.”

  My ‘manservant’ interrupted another soliloquy when he cut in to say, “We should be going. Evil grandmother and her large shape shifting wolf are tracking us and we don’t want to lose our lead.” He grabbed my arm and moved me toward the door.

  “Of course. No one here wants you here anyway. Perhaps I’ll go visit Mallie. About time we planned our little girl’s wedding. She should be meeting her true love sooner rather than later. Yes… that will be fun to arrange.” He suddenly noticed us sneaking out the kitchen door. “Don’t leave just yet, little Sunny! I have something for you!”

  And with that he ran out of the room to the sound of breaking dishes. After a few minutes of thumps and crashes, he skipped back into the room holding the ugliest hat that I had ever seen. It was even worse than the one Portia made when she was 5 and convinced that she wanted to be a milliner when she grew up; I still shudder when I think of that monstrosity.

  “Here you go!” he exclaimed. “I knew that this was perfect for you. Well, I knew it was perfect for your grandmother or someone of her line, but she’s bad at playing my games. Too linear. You’re spirally enough, but not so spirally that you lose your way. It will work better for you.”

  With that he shoved it into my hands and pushed us out the door into the forest. When I turned to thank him, the cottage was gone. I turned quickly in a circle, but saw nothing more than a grove of beech trees.

  “How did… where did the house go?” I asked Reese. He just shook his head.

  “Welcome to the wonderful world of conversing with the Fey. They love showing off. Most of them prefer to show off their Feyness: their appearance, grace, bloodline… whatever makes them Fey. Others form collections. The Seelie have a big interest in purity and are beginning to have trouble with inbreeding, whereas the Unseelie are more into collecting knowledge of any sort. Both groups tend to get very angry if you disagree with their opinion of what you are showing off. Such incidences have caused a few mental breaks, to no one’s surprise. The more magic they wield, the faster they seem to lose touch with reality.

  “Maleficent is probably the sanest of the Fey on the entire continent. She gave herself structure and rules after seeing some of her contemporaries go crazy with their power and self-importance. The only things she flaunts anymore are her intelligence, comfortable home, and her love of her goddaughter. And she believes in all things in moderation. Then there are those Fey like Merriweather. Grandfather says that he just went crazy and decided that would be his little thing to showcase instead of the other way around. Not even arrogant like most of them…” he mused. “Come on. We need to get going if we want to get to the castle in the next few days. And get rid of that hat!”

  I just sighed and followed him. How the man knew where we were was a mystery, but he had never let me down before, so I wouldn’t quibble over something that would do nothing but waste time. Well, I would listen to him about the direction we should go. I wasn’t about to throw away my new acquisition, no matter what he said. Instead, I studied my new hat.

  I knew it was called a top hat, but I had never seen anyone wear such a thing before; the style wasn’t popular in Alenia. Anyway, it looked almost nothing like the sleek head covering I had seen in a fashion plate. Instead, it was patched together with odds and ends fabric, almost like a patchwork quilt.

  There were pieces of teal silk, fiery orange brocade, a lovely violet muslin, even black velvet stitched with silver leaves, and champagne colored satin with little freshwater pearls forming the bodies of gold embroidered bumble bees. One patch appeared to be made out of a mirror and was held in place with a combination of thread and sheer determination.

  There were also a number of feathers collected on one side. A pheasant tail feather, one from a raven’s wing, one that looked to belong to a sparrow, and one more that I had never seen before. It was a rich burgundy, so dark that it almost looked like a raven’s, but glistening with electric blue and gold.

  It looked like whoever made it was confused about what they wanted, so they threw all their ideas in one hat. Merriweather was right; a linear thinker couldn’t wear it. Grandmother would have hated it on sight. At least, until she noticed the lovely bits of magic woven into it. Those would certainly gain her attention.

  “Figured it out yet?” Reese grumbled. He was still glancing at the hat with a combination of awe and disgust on his face.

  “Not really. I can see the magic woven into the fabrics, and I know that they interact somehow, but I can’t quite see what they all do. Actually, I don’t see what any of them do. I can’t identify that feather either,” I told him, pointing to the strange burgundy one.

  He huffed and walked a bit faster. “It is a thunderbird feather. I don’t know how he got ahold of it, but it should never have been in his hands.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the only time a thunderbird loses a feather is when it is preparing a nest or when it is about to be reborn. If it is for a nest, the feathers keep its egg warm and protect it from predators. When the chick is born, it eats the feathers and uses the magic in them to jumpstart its system. Without them, the chick won’t survive.” He paused and then spit out, “They also are known to attract lightning.”

  I nodded carefully, trying to understand what he was telling me. “So, it was stolen from a nest?”

  He sighed and slowed down enough to look me in the eyes. It was also enough for me to see the tightness and hard look in his own eyes. “Or one was killed for the feather. They used to be incredibly popular for royalty, until the lighting rod effect was discovered.” He laughed harshly. “A few burnt up queens and noblemen and suddenly it wasn’t considered such a coup to own anymore.”

  I frowned. “So, it’s dangerous?” Nothing had seemed to bother him much before, even his home being set on fire, so I couldn’t quite understand what his problem was.

  “Of course it’s dangerous! Skies… For someone who has such a bloodthirsty relative, you are far too trusting, Joy! Merriweather just gave you a hat of dubious origin and magical ability that will most likely kill you during the next thunderstorm,” he spit out. “And you decided to keep something given to you by a clearly sick and twisted individual!”

  “Oh, so I should walk around believing that everyone is out to get me? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? Because I lived like that for most of my life Reese, and let me tell you, it is exhausting! I hated every moment of every day until I left home. In fact, if it weren’t for my needing to protect Cindy, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation! So excuse me for trying to find something worth hanging around for, for believing that there are people worthwhile out there, even if they don’t think the same way that you do!”

  Or, at least, that’s what I wanted to say, but I’d learned long ago that there was no point in throwing out angry words. They never did any good or changed anyone’s opinion of me.

  Instead, I stomped off, trying to release the tension in my hands. No need to let the idiotic man know how much I wanted to hit him. He didn’t need to know how much I had come to care for him. I had forgotten not to get attached. I needed to let it go. He would soon hate me as much as everyone else so h
is opinion would matter as little as everyone else’s did. It was time to get back to my original goals.

  Besides, if everything went according to plan, he would be free of me soon.

  ~

  We had traveled for most of the day in complete silence. The hat that Merriweather gave me was packed neatly in my aunt’s bottomless magic bag. Even out of sight it seemed to tug at my attention and create a wall between Reese and myself.

  The further we moved, the colder I felt inside. I just couldn’t believe that I had let myself get so soft, particularly with grandmother after me. She would take advantage of any weakness she could find. After so many years of pain and trouble, the last year at the cottage had lulled me into a false sense of peace. My lovely life on the edge of the forest had been disrupted. If I really thought about it, I had always known that it wouldn’t last. I was never that lucky. That had always been Cindy’s lot in life.

  When I first met her, I thought she was an angel. Her hair was still a sun kissed brown and glowed in a halo of ringlets when the light hit it instead of the dark, sleek panel of silk she had now. More importantly, she was nice to me. Her father was the sweetest man I had ever met and he loved Portia and I like we were his real children. He still did, but was rarely allowed to show it thanks to my mother’s rules and his frequent merchant trips abroad.

  Cindy was his spitting image in female form. Hard working, loving, kind, and generous, she was everything I wanted to be. She was also very clever and good at hiding it. I doubted her new husband had discovered that the depths of her brilliance quite yet. She loved to be underestimated. Said it made life simpler if people thought she was just a pretty face

  When we were about 12, her father’s business began to decline slightly and we were required to take over certain responsibilities so the servants could be let go. Loving animals as she did, Portia took over the stable boy’s responsibilities. Cindy decided that she should do the house cleaning. I was left in charge of the cooking and gardening. We kept the housekeeper so that we could have someone help us coordinate our efforts and keep the accounts, but Cindy took over that as well when the woman finally retired. She loved math and figuring out where the pennies could be pinched.

  Mother used the lack of servants as an excuse to act meaner every year, taking advantage of Cindy at every turn. At least, that’s what it looked like outside the house. In reality, she was trying to keep my grandmother from causing problems. She was okay being the bad guy in the village, knowing that it was keeping us all safe. The people that mattered knew the truth. Mother has always been on the selfish side, but she was never intentionally cruel.

  Cindy was the one who came up with the ploy of Portia and me bossing her around in public, making it seem like she was much too busy taking care of our demands to spend time talking. She figured it would please my mother and keep the village boys from interfering in her housework. I don’t think she ever realized how effective it was but she often told me how much she regretted asking that of us.

  Cindy had always been a lovely little girl, though little impressed with her own appearance. Unfortunately for her, she was considered the most beautiful woman in the county by the time she turned 14 and had already been proposed to at least 5 times. Before we enacted our plan, she was being harassed constantly. It grew worse when my stepfather began to travel, which made her more obstinate. She had always told me that she would never marry before she was 18. According to my stepsister, women who married younger didn’t know themselves well enough to make an informed decision. To say she wasn’t happy with her rise to popularity was an understatement.

  I’d never been well liked, but when I began to demean Cinderella in the village, things only got worse. The other girls in the village went from just avoiding me to throwing cruel insults (among other things) and convincing their male admirers to torment me. Portia seemed to be excused by most as a simpleton. In fact, I regularly heard people say that she was just following my bad example. The summer I turned 15 was when it hit its peak.

  A few weeks before the May Day celebration, one of the village boys asked to court me. His name was John and he was the son of the village blacksmith. He was a popular flirt around town and very attractive, as helping his father at the forge had given him more musculature than most of the boys in town. He had never noticed me before, but suddenly, there he was, telling me how lovely my dress was and how my eyes shined so brightly when I smiled. Everything he said made me feel beautiful and so special. Also, a little suspicious, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

  Three days before May Day, I was walking back from the village after buying some spices for the house. I’d been thinking about John, imagining all the fun we would have. In a fit of whimsy, I spun around like I was dancing. And spun right into Lorenna Hatter.

  “Ugh! Watch where you’re going, idiot,” demanded Lorenna when I bumped into her at a curve in the road. “What is your problem?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t see you.

  I was distracted by the sky so blue.”

  “Yeah, no kidding! God, what John was thinking when he took that dare, I will never know.” She rolled her eyes and dusted off the back of her skirt when she had fallen in the dirt because of me.

  I frowned.

  “What do you mean when you say ‘dare’?

  Why would you say something so unfair?”

  The knot that had formed in my stomach when I ran into her tightened, making it hard to breath properly. I hoped that she would blame it on my running earlier.

  “Oh, please. You don’t think that he is actually courting you because he likes you? Heavens, no! He was playing a game with some of us and one of the other boys dared him to bring you to the May Day celebration. Said he’d double any bet made if John got you to not only go but also humiliate you. Extra points if you fell in love with him first. I think the whole thing is sick. I mean, who would want to go out in public with you?” She laughed as she walked back toward the town. After a few steps down the road, she turned back to me and grinned. “He’d probably be mad I made him lose the bet, but I don’t think you’ll say anything. Not that he’d believe an ugly cow like you over me.”

  I began running, bolting down the road as fast as I could. Not wanting to see anyone else, I made my way to the little cemetery just past the house. When Cindy’s mother died, she was buried there and Cindy planted her mother’s favorite tree on the grave. The cherry tree had been watered faithfully for years and grown tall and strong. Every time my stepsister was upset, she went to pour out her heart and tears on her mother’s grave, watering the tree some more. It had always seemed silly to me before, but that day I decided that I should follow her example.

  The cherry tree had held onto its blossoms much longer than any type should and the petals carpeted the grass when I fell in front of its trunk.

  “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” I sobbed.

  “I am both looks and friend poor.

  Cindy needs my help so much

  But I feel like I just took a punch.

  How can I continue to be

  The one who helps her stay free?”

  As I sat there crying, a sparkle filled the air. That was the first time that I met Cinderella’s Fey godmother. I wish I could say that it was the last. That woman is a piece of work.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, child. Of course you can keep doing this. You will keep helping my goddaughter,” the sharp-eyed woman told me. Her hair was so blonde it was white, contrasting with her youthful complexion in a startling way. She fluffed her sparkly robin-egg dress and sniffed. “Why do you think a worthless creature like you is allowed to be around her? No, not just worthless but also ugly and cursed. You’re very presence aggravates me and you believe that you should actually be more to her than a convenient stepping-stone? That is your purpose!”

  “What on earth could you possibly mean?

  She is my sister, despite what people think they’ve seen.”

  I eyed her susp
iciously as she fussed with her gown some more. There was no cause to be wearing a formal ball gown in the middle of the day in a cemetery.

  “Stepsister. And you are here because you’re needed as her foil. You are the evil, the ugly, the thing that makes her so good. Without you, she cannot fulfill her destiny.” She went on to tell me exactly how much Cinderella was meant to do. She even told me that my prophecy would be fulfilled once Cindy was crowned queen.

  She told me she knew of my mother’s ‘vicious’ ways and my grandmother’s bloodthirsty reputation. According to the Fey, all the females and males in my family tree before grandmother were horrible, going back more generations than I could count. Who was I to try and be something better? She said I was from a family of criminals and had little to no magic. But I could be there for Cindy. I could save her from my family and get her set up comfortably. She would watch out for Portia and then I could leave. I could go where no one would know my name and use my meager skills to help someone. Then, when I had repaid some of my debt to the universe for my existence, I could disappear forever. When I was no longer necessary, I would save them all the trouble of trying to fix what was made incorrectly. I would die.

  Quite frankly, I could tell immediately that she wasn’t a very involved Fey godmother. If she were, she would have known more about my family and our relationship with Cindy’s. It seemed like she was even less informed than the villagers! Still, the encounter clarified something in my mind: it didn’t matter if I was hated. People would think what they would think and nothing I could say would change the opinion they chose to have. Being hated didn’t matter as long as I didn’t let it matter. It may have even been true that my job was to make Cindy look better and be despised for the rest of my life, but as long as I remembered that their hatred didn’t matter then I was fine.