Cinders Ella

Chapter 4

I could barely remember the day after, jumping at the slightest sound when I wasn’t dead asleep. The terrors I saw during the day, with my eyes open, were more horrifying than the ones I saw behind fleshy curtains of black. I ran into Charming once, and we both couldn’t say a word. The tension strung out between us was tighter than a noose after the lever was pulled and the floor fell away. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, but his skin seemed to have a little more color. Our conversation was terse at best, and then we parted ways, him with more regret than I. I began to truly hate palace life that day.

The next day went a little better, but not by much. I was sitting in a stuffy room, pretending to listen to my tutor prattle about something as insignificant as Little Red Ridding Hood’s triumph against evil. It suddenly dawned on me that I had never hated life as much as I did now. Not only was I unable to be happy with the man that I was in love with, but Charles was appearing more and more attractive by the hour, and I was afraid of the loneliness that drove me closer into his arms and further into his eyes.

Charles was the type of man that could whisk a woman away into his world and make them forget about the reality that threatened to take their joy. He could impress many maidens with the true tales he wove, and he could make them drown in his lovely green eyes that seemed to harness fire within them. That was not the kind of man I wanted, though.

“Is it?” I found myself muttering into my overly intricate quill. Some poor proud peacock somewhere was missing it.

“Yes.” The tutor smiled his yellow toothed smile, “It is.”

Startled I looked at him, and realized he thought I was asking about the lengthy math problem he had sketched up for me. When did we switch subjects? “Oh,” I lied, “I see now.” He beamed from the simple compliment, and I felt the fool.

I imagined Charles’ sweeping black curls, the way the looked as if he were constantly in battle, constantly ready for action, his eyes that sucked you in, his strong physique, the languid way he went about even the most menial of tasks… So unlike Charming, who was decent with a sword, but never one a person would imagine leading a charge against an army of giants. Charming was a sweet man who focused purely on the thing he loved, his interests were not based on the things that gave him the look of glory, the idea of triumph, but the thing he was born and raised to do; lead a country. To glory or ruin wasn’t my concern, and he certainly didn’t give up on the Elizabeth of the ball when she had fled from his arms; why should I him when he had a much better excuse?

I trudged from the classroom, though it was more of a forgotten library, must balls and spider webs growing thick on leather bound pages with limitless knowledge on them. What a waste. I thought, unable to stay on one subject throughout the whole day. My behavior was upsetting me, and I couldn’t stop. I trudged up to Clarisse’s room, expecting to find her and Diane. They were a rather fitting couple of cousins, both loved alcohol and boys, though Clarisse loved the idea of romantic, sincere, young boys where Diane was more into the rugged outdoors man who could possibly out ride her on any given day. I was able to let loose my hair and let go the side of me that was only known Sunday evenings at the cheapest bars in the slums from the life I left behind.

I shoved open the door, and found my young minstrel from the previous night, hands tied to the bed posts, sleeping peacefully, his instrument beside the bed. I heard Clarisse splashing around in her bath tub. Quietly I snuck out, shutting the door behind me. A small smile on my lips, one of bitterness, I walked away, my eyes averted from the path I was walking.

I walked in a daze for what seemed but minutes, but when I came to, I noticed I was quite lost, and unsure of where I was. It was dark and musty, the cold moist air threatened to settle in my lungs. I looked about, searching for a torch, when a harsh raspy noise carried on the faint breeze that came in from somewhere above. Chills ran my arm as I snuck forward, gripping the stone wall as tightly as I could with my body. As I rounded the corner, I realized it was magic making this place so formidable, magic that was making my body hurt in such a way.

The voices were still indiscernible, but I saw Charles first off, and my mouth went cotton dry. I might have been able to kill the other thing, but Charles could oust me blind, wounded, and have one arm tied behind his back. I bit back a wail of despair, and tried to listen. Still unable, I willed myself to understand, this could be Charming’s life in the balance.

Surprisingly, I was able to understand shortly after. To my horror, Charles was speaking to a dragons’ skull.

“I am sorry for this slight upon your honor, Milord,” He went to his knees, “But please impart upon me the knowledge of your kind? I must know what to do about Ella and Charming…”

The dragons skull lighted up, “You know what to do.”

“But-” The tone in his voice was high-pitched and full with fervor.

“Besides,” The dragons’ skull faded, “We are no longer alone in our conversation.”

“What?!” He hissed, spinning to his feet, dagger in hand. The feral posture on his body scared me more than the knife in his hand, a man who could slay the immortal and talk with the dead and use magic was more dangerous than a dagger.

“Sit down!” the older voice commanded, I almost gasped as a thread of magic came and forcibly made Charles sit. “You know as well as I that it could be just a mouse or some other creature with a pulse and brain.”

In the faint light, I imagined a blush on Charles face. It was his cutest look. Angry, I shook my head. What was I thinking? Charles was conspiring to kill Charming, and do something to me, maybe take me as his concubine. He seemed to be at least looking for another way, so was it a soul through the dead, using the skull as a bridge between the realms, making Charles do this. And if so, who could it be? Immediately the thought of my Step-mother came to mind. I turned and ran as fast as I could out and away from the room, not sure of where I was, when I crashed into something ahead of me. I collected myself from the ungraceful heap on the floor, and gaped at the thing I collided into.

“Charles.” He smiled his charismatic, white smile.

“Ella, what are you doing outside a room like that?” He extended a hand, looking perplexed as I refused it, remaining on the floor. Self-doubt and confusion flowed through me. If that wasn’t Charles down there, who was it?

“What do you mean?” I asked cautiously, wondering if I could make him say something, catch him in a stumble.

“Well, if my dwarvish isn’t a bad as I think it is, it says ‘enter thee of little heart, for here monsters be on your side.’ Of course,” He grinned, revealing a dimple on his right cheek and a rather small freckle just outside the crease, “my dwarvish isn’t what it used to be. The symbols for ‘little heart’ are somewhat faded, and are common symbols, so they could mean something else as well.”

“Like what?” I asked, picking myself up at last, dusting my dress. My fear of him was melting away with the twinkle in his eye and the smile on his lips.

“Well, what I said was ‘little’ could also mean, ‘tainted’, ‘swollen’, ‘twisted’, ‘poisoned’, or ‘cursed’. What I said was “heart” could as well be ‘mind’, ‘soul’, ‘spirit’, or ‘body’. Either way, it’s not a good room, and I feel it leaking evil aura’s through. Can we please leave?”

I looked at him intensely. The way he was looking at the door, the expression on his face… but it could all be an act. It could have really been him in there, making pacts with the devil itself. I took his arm, fleeing as fast as I could. Really, I was so much happier with life before I became a princess.

“Charles?” I began as soon as we were in familiar parts of the castle, “Do you know where the execution records are kept?”

He looked at me, his surprise all over his face, “I-I’m sorry?”

“The records of the dead.” I sighed, “I want to know if Charming had my Step-mother killed.”

A look crossed his face. Is it him? “I understand.”

You understand?! I wanted to scream and slap him in the face, you understand nothing!!

He led me down a staircase to the left and through a few halls before continuing with his previous comment. “When I was with the gypsies, I was with one of their women. She was to be my bride, but her mother was an evil woman. One night she snuck into our tent and tried to kill me in my sleep. I never knew until the next day, when my bride-to-be was sullen, and wouldn’t let me help her wash the clothes. For days I tried to figure out what had happened. Then my bride grew ill and died. All the gypsies then told me the story, convinced she had died because of her mothers evil spirit lingering to tear us apart.” I saw the tears in his eyes, “The story doesn’t hurt so much now as it did a month ago.”

“How long…?” I trailed off completely sorry for him, but partially frustrated. Was he still lying about the room? If so, how did he get out before me? And why was he there to begin with?

“It’s been about two and a half years.” His voice stiffened up, as if he were unused to the tears that threatened to fall. “Don’t tell my mother though. She would be angry to hear I even considered marrying a gypsy. It would have been a disgrace to our family.”

I only nodded, lost in my mental wonderings. If it wasn’t him, then who?

--

I slammed another musty book closed, anger coursing through my veins. It wasn’t in this one either. I had gone through all of the past records of burnings, beheadings, and arrows in the head. Then I went to the recent executions, and then I went in the future executions. Nothing, nothing, nothing!!

I was about to scream, when Charles summoned me. “Here.” He looked smug and tossed me a small, unattractive book.

Curiously I opened it to the page he marked. I felt him move over my shoulder to read with me.

February 20,

I hate this stupid book, I wish to burn it. Who cares what my thoughts are on what matters? Today I have resolved to go to the cottage that Elizabeth told me about, though I do wonder about this Ella person. Will she be jealous and want me for herself? Maybe kill me? I know these are foolish ramblings, but these are things a King-to-be must worry about. I am a monster though, feeding my father that drivel in his tea daily. But if I didn’t, how would I be king? Well, my coach is awaiting. Off to find my princess.

February 20, midday.

I still wish to burn this book. I found my princess; she is none other than a dirty maid at her own estate while her step-mother lives high on the hog, as if she were royalty. I was so angry at the fact my bride-to-be was so mistreated. And then the ugly, pretentious woman presumed to strike my Ella, not once, but twice. To hit royalty is a crime punishable by death. I covered Milady’s ears as she covered her own eyes, making the magic easier to use. I was stunned at how easy and addictive the feeling, the rush was from unleashing all the angry thoughts into that one spell. The mother is now nothing more than the cinders in the chimney Ella, my sweet, had to clean out for so many years.

February 20, evening.

Ella was introduced to my father (I hate this book), she thinks him a teddy-bear, I wish he would die already. Then I could offer the kingdom to my bride. She is so young and beautiful, I can’t wait to marry her and see her form without so must pretense as to clothing. I guess all men have thoughts like such. I have realized that I have been feeling rather odd lately, as if I can’t get enough sleep. I also don’t enjoy my food as I used to. As I sit here, it now dawns on me that I forgot about the step-sisters who tortured ‘Cinderella’ for so long. I think I’ll set a curse upon them as well.

Sweet Dreams,
Charming.

I was so stunned I had to re-read those little passages many times. “Poisoning his father?”

Charles shrugged, “Royalty does this a lot. In fact, I’m more surprised he didn’t do it sooner, or have his father killed in a more quick way. Sometimes concubines even kill the babies of Queens so that their son will become king, in hopes he will take his mother with him as he ascends.”

“Glad you’re used to this, but I am not.” I placed my head in my hands, my temples pounding as the thought of him using magic… and so flippantly. “Why didn’t he tell me he could use magic?” I questioned no one, a little angry when Charles answered.

“Well, sometimes women totally blow things out of proportion, and he probably thought it wasn’t something you would be pleased to hear about right after an emotional scene like the one that he portrayed in his little book.” Charles picked the flimsy thing up and waved it at me. “Though, you should have kept on reading, his writing gets more and more odd. It’s as if he’s becoming possessed.”

I gave Charles a sharp look. Sheepishly he set the book down and averted his gaze. His proud demeanor fell away to one of shame. “I-I’m sorry… I was thoughtless…”

“Yes, you were.” I snatched the book out of his reach, “Do you think that since my husband to be is behaving so strangely I would fall into your arms in despair? If I did, would you be in such need of chivalry that you would take advantage of my weakness?”

His blush was so red I could not imagine blood circulating to the other parts of his body. “Milady,” There was a type of trembling anger in his voice that terrified me, “if any part of my behavior suggested that I would act so sinfully, then please let me know so that I could change my behavior to better suit civilized life.” It was with those words I realized that my betrayal to Charming was purely in my mind.

“I… I… Oh, I am so sorry.” I stood, clutching the book to my chest and fled from the room, realizing that I had made the biggest mistake in my life.

As I slammed my heavy door, satisfied with the echoing bang, I threw myself onto the bed and wept. I was a street urchin, the dregs of the world clinging to my flesh no matter where I went. I imagined a man, a wonderful, kind man like Charles, madly enough in love with me to steal me from beneath my Princes’ nose. Worse yet, I wanted him to. I imagined about nights that were just the two of us, stowing away past my Ladies in waiting, the guards, and my fiancé.

I was the unfaithful one, I was the woman in every story I’d ever heard about women who had jumped into a life they could not understand. I was cursed beyond the savior of the crown, and I was filthy by blood. My embarrassment and anger flooded through my eyes, coursed down my cheeks. Then I fell into a fitful sleep that even Charles’ banging on the door could not break.

--

Later that evening, with Clarisse’s gentle nudging, I awoke and donned a gown of light blue, emerald green sewn into the hem, a large ribbon around my waist, accentuating my thin body. As Clarisse helped me dress, leaving the corset on the bed, she gossiped about how the King is slowly recovering, the Prince promising his appearance at the feast tonight, welcoming Karen’s large family.

I sighed heavily, smiling in attempt to make her feel as though everything was okay. All my Ladies In Waiting knew what had happened between Prince Charming and I, but they still imagined it more… romantically than it was, should I say? Clarisse played with my hair.

“You know?” She clucked on and on. I smiled at her obvious joy. “Your hair is getting darker. It’s not as blond as it used to be. It accentuates your face a lot more now. Your eyes are more prominent.” I smiled as she hopped from subject to subject, from minstrel boys, to knights, which she thought was better. And why. Then she started talking about Charles. I bristled at the mention of his name, my face turning a deep red color.

“Why are you red, Milady?” Her voice was no longer as light and girly as it had been. Did everyone suspect my unscrupulous behavior?

I sighed again, she put down the brush, and I didn’t bother to see if my hair was actually done or if she was waiting for me to continue. I pushed away from the mirror and turned to face Clarisse, “How widely known are the events that happened last night?”

She gave a kind of sad grin, “Well, almost the whole castle knows he was pounding at your door last night. Charming isn’t too happy about it, but he doesn’t seem happy about much lately…” She gave a sad grin.

I put my head in my hands and bit back a wail. “I was entertaining … thoughts about him!” I moaned, on the edge of tears. I felt Clarisse’s light hand on my shoulder.

“It’s okay.” She whispered in my ear, consoling me, “You have been through a lot lately, give it a rest. Besides, Charles is so much more handsome than Charming… I think, if you’re into that kind of guy.” She amended seeing my glare.

“That’s not the problem.” I whispered, once again burying my face. “The problem is that I blamed Charles for trying to take advantage of me in my weakened state, and he wasn’t!”

Clarisse snorted, “Of course he wasn’t! He’s too chivalrous for that. He would be much more forward in that kind of behavior.” She looked at my face, the despair written on it. “Oh, relax! It’ll go away in time! It’s the kind of thing that happens all the time. Well, maybe not all the time, but pretty frequently. Besides, you could just order him to-”

“No! No, no, no, no!! I will not hear anymore of your talk, your fork tongued serpent talk!” I shouted, though smiling. Clarisse was such an odd ball. What a weird way to attempt to make me feel better. What’s more odd, it worked.

“Glad to be of service.” Clarisse curtsied and took my hand. “You’re done, let’s go get the others and go to the ball.”

“It’s not a ball.” I corrected, following her out. She smiled at me demurely.

“Ah, the cute minstrel boys,” she sighed, “And there’ll be knights so Diane will be happy too.”

I rolled my eyes, “Either I won’t be able to hire anymore musically gifted men, or they all will be fighting amongst each other to be the first hired for you, my lovely.” I squeezed her hand affectionately.

She laughed, “Knights are already clamoring for Diane, it’s my turn.”

We giggled our naughty giggles, like teenage girls sneaking our way into an all boy’s boarding school. She knocked on the huge doors where my ladies were gathered, chatting and laughing. That was how it should be, happy, carefree. Silently I cursed my luck, putting on a smile for all to see. Karen glanced my way, so did Chelsea. Eventually everyone was hushed and looking my way.

Karen looked at Hannah, who was just gazing at me. She seemed to be calculating something, looking at the younger woman who was my unofficially official rival.

“Charles said he would not be attending the feast until after the music had started, Milady.” Karen yanked her eyes off of Hannah and onto me. I smiled without humor.

“Oh, Ella, will there be any bachelors at this feast?” Chelsea was absolutely stunning in her cream colored gown. The sleeves swept off her shoulders, her hair flowed unrestrained down her back.

“Well…” I smiled, looking at Karen, “Charles does have a twin… there is Charles himself, and there will be a few minor Princes and Lords sitting at our table. Maybe I could marry you off?” Chelsea smiled.

Hannah frowned at me, dressed in a dark green velvet dress with black satin ribbons accentuating her fine curves, enhanced by the corset she donned. Her black tresses were in tight ringlets and doused with rose scented oil. She was about to say something when a knock came at the door.

Diane smiled, opening it. A knight stood at attention, his sharp blue, gold, and white uniform crisp and neat. He smiled openly at Diane asking her if she would save him a dance, but snuck glances at Clarisse, who wasn’t paying the least bit of attention. I sighed at the display. Everything about love disgusted me as of late.

The knight turned to me, “Milady, the Prince has sent for you and your ladies to come and join us in welcoming our guests. He has told me to inform you that he will be arriving shortly after the first course is served.”

I smiled and dismissed him. Chelsea walked beside me, looping her hand around mine, “Let’s go.” Her cheeks were flushed with excitement. I was glad for her. We strode through the halls, knights around us. This was a good night for everyone. Knights flirted with ladies, ladies flirted with knights, princes and lords mingled, drank, flirted. It was all some sort of cesspool for unsavory behavior, I felt my mood worsen.

“Where are Aryl and Adrianne?” I asked Chelsea.

“Taking care of the babies.” Cheslea shrugged, “Aryl said to ask if you would be so kind as to allow her to retire early, one of the boys is sick.”

“Which one?”

“The smaller one… what’s his name? Aiden or something.” Chelsea smiled at a couple of young boys who ran into the dining room. “Aryl isn’t feeling too well either, so Adrianne is helping with the young ones.” She paused, biting her lower lip, “Isn’t it sad to think that the baby could die?”

I was startled to hear that come out of her, but relaxed by her tears. Chelsea was musing about something she had before experienced. I smiled, wiping at her tears gently, “Come, come. We can’t marry you off if your face is streaked.”

She smiled at me, “Of course.” Chelsea looked happy, but her attitude was glum. Until the dining room doors were opened.

The festive colors and happy minstrel boys spinning and dancing, the idle gossip only served to make the tedious hours greeting and introducing Lords and Ladies a little less ordinary. Chelsea had been dancing with three different young men; Diane was in a rather secluded corner with a small group of soldiers; Clarisse was flirting with an older looking minstrel, chestnut hair and light blue eyes; Karen was beside me, at the door, anxiously awaiting the arrival of her family. It all seemed to be going well, and then Charles showed up.

“Mother!” He was jubilant, wearing dark tan breeches and a dark green shirt with some crème colored patterns sewed into the hems. He was dashing. I felt myself blush when our eyes met. “Milady, Elizabeth.” He swept onto one knee and kissed my knuckle, as was customary.

I rose an eyebrow at him. He seemed more able to deal with my affections for him than before. Karen butted in, forcing Charles to rip his eyes away from my own. My heart was beating as fast as it did the night Charming attempted to kill me. And the guilt kicked in. Charming, my fiancée, not Charles. Charming…

“When are the brats going to arrive?” Charles grabbed up his mothers hands, and then looked at me and winked, “You should see Luke. And little Devon. Aw, they’re so much cuter than their older brothers.”

I started, I had forgotten about his twin, “That’s right! You have a twin! What is his name?” Karen looked at me, and then her gaze shifted to behind me, towards the door. Her face lit up with a curious joy that I had only witnessed a few times before. I turned around as she ran towards the opening.

“George!” She exclaimed, wrapping her arms around a squat man with a barrel chest and thick arms. He hugged her back, laughing.

Charles moved beside me, closer than I was comfortable with. “That’s my dad.” In followed a group I couldn’t quite make out.

“Come on!” He laughed, tugging my hand. I bristled at the informality of which he addressed me, but I had to remember he was only eighteen and full of testosterone and joy. I followed a smile on my face. With Charles, it was easy to forget. So easy.

He was ahead of me, hugging and laughing and slapping someone on the back. “Ella!” His smiled was so loud I could hear it. He pushed the youngest one closer. “Devon.” I smiled and shook his head. He had the same hair as Charles, but his eyes were a dark brown color, and his skin was paler with freckles over his nose and cheeks.

“Devon, you are such the little gentleman!” I exclaimed as he kissed my knuckles. I looked at Charles, who was booming with laughter. It floated away and mingled with the noise of the hall around us.

I looked at Karen, who was glancing our way, whispering to her husband. They both caught my curious looks and shifted their gaze. “Hello. You’re very pretty, Milady.” A very smooth, young voice came from my left. I turned and was met with a young pair of arms around my neck.

“Hello, you must be Luke?” I felt him nod.

I pulled away slightly, “Well, you’re very handsome.” I smiled. He looked nothing like his brothers. Red hair, dark skin, his eyes were so dark they were black.

Charles came up beside us, I looked up at him. “He looks just like Uncle Bart, don’t you Luke? He’s also got the charm of Quinn.” I looked at the man Charles whacked on the back and bit back a gasp.

“Quinn.” I rose and he took my hand.

“How my brother keeps his eyes off you is beyond any will power I could have imagined possible, Milady.” Quinn was the spitting image of Charles, slimmer, less muscular, his eyes were not green but blue with brown flecks, but everything else was the same.

He bent and kissed my hand in a less polite and more sensual way than should have been allowed. If I had closed my eyes, I could have imagined Charles… I yanked my hand away at the thought crossing my mind.

“You sir,” I smiled, “Would do well to not be so forward.”

He laughed Charles’ laugh, “Of course, Milady, of course.”

I looked at Charles. He was tense, anger in his eyes. He was glaring at his twin in a way that frightened me, “You know Quinn, I have this Lady in Waiting who can’t seem to wait for a man to marry her. Should I introduce you?”

He looked at me, the smile on his mouth was disgustingly familiar, it oozed shivers up my spine. The eeriness of it spooked me, and I could not settle my mind until I had declared it to be like Hannah’s smile, which was not totally true. I led the way to where Chelsea had taken a break from dancing, her silver wine goblet held daintily in her hands. I smiled as she turned to look at us approaching, her eyes went wide as saucers.

“Ella.” She curtsied, “And which one is Charles and who is the other?” I could just see the thoughts running through her mind.

Quinn stepped forward immediately, “The Queen to be told me of your need to find a man, and I would not mind being so forward as to ask you to consider myself. A beautiful…”

Chelsea smiled at him and waved for us to leave. Charles and I stood back as they moved to the dance floor.

“What have we done?” Charles asked, smiling.

“Something good.” I told myself mostly to banish the shivers, “Something really good.”

Chapter 4, End