Cinderella Dreams of Fire (Fairy Tales Forever #1) (13 page)

C
inderella stood
atop one of the highest rooftops in the entire village as the evening crept in. It was the only vantage point that gave her a view of her stepmother's house. She'd spent the entire day working the plan over in her mind, but more often than she liked, the thoughts of what her life had truly been crept throughout her consciousness. She stared into her stepmother's window and wondered how much longer she could've not realized the true horrors of her stepmother's misdeeds.

"I know why the Godmother never told me.” She clenched and unclenched one of her fists. “I would've had a knife at her throat at the age of ten. But she would've killed me."

The thief let her eyes wander to Malina's window. Not only had the stepsister attempted to torture her every moment they shared in the house, but she was also murdering for Armenia. She had taken part in countless attacks that destroyed families and killed children.

"Not a huge surprise there, but there's a difference between being mean and worshiping evil.” The thief let out a heavy breath as her eyes moved to Kiyara's window.

She was the only person in the house who seemed to care for her. Kiyara acted like a true sister, playing with her in the small moments when Armenia turned her back. She was the only one the thief could trust to share the truth with.

"Then why did she hide the truth from me?"

The revelation of her stepmother and Malina being evil did not surprise her all that much. But learning that Kiyara was somehow a part of it all made Cinderella question everything. How long would it be until Kiyara shared all of her secrets with her mother? How long would it be until the girl she considered her true sister killed someone near and dear to the thief?

"I can't hesitate. If I see her, the only right thing to do is to kill her."

Cinderella couldn't bring herself to even think about how she'd raise a sword to Kiyara's neck, but it might be the only way to stop the trio from taking over another kingdom.

She let the carousel of thoughts spin in her head until the carriage pulled around the front of the house. Her stepmother and stepsisters looked incredibly elegant in their gowns. She saw them take the long walk from the door to the carriage, all the while wondering if tonight would be the night she ended their lives. Her eyes focused not on Armenia, who she'd happily dispatch in a moment, but on Kiyara. Her stepsister looked happy as she and Malina held hands. Cinderella could very well attack the carriage now before it made any progress toward the castle, but there was something she still needed to do. As the horses pulled the carriage away, Cinderella's eyes moved up to one last window of the house.

S
afely inside
, Cinderella paused with her fingers on the doorknob. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been inside this room. Fighting a dozen burly guards didn't make her heart beat as fast as it did in this very moment. She breathed in deeply and turned the handle.

Cinderella stepped into the musty, dry room. It felt like a place where old, unused items were put away in storage, never to be heard from again. She thought the room completely lifeless until she heard a light cough from the bed. Grayer and with more wrinkles than she remembered, her father lay beneath the sheets, his unfeeling eyes fixed upon her.

Every step she took toward the bed felt as if she had heavily weighted shackles on each leg. Snippets of memories from before her mother's death danced across her mind. Nobody would believe it now, but this motionless man beneath the sheets used to play with her. He used to tell her that he loved her. And for so long, Cinderella thought that she had done something unforgivable. That she had somehow caused this man to break and no longer care about her. How many tears had she shed over this painful explanation she'd created for herself?

It took half an age in her mind, but the thief finally reached her father's bedside. The whole time she walked across the room, the man's eyes were locked on her. His face, however, remained otherwise motionless.

She took his weathered hand in hers. “Hello, Father. I don't expect you to listen or love me, but I needed to say something to you before… before Armenia probably kills me too."

A force greater than she'd ever experienced pressed down upon her. It was difficult to breathe. “I know– I know this isn't your fault.” She bit her lip to keep the tears at bay. “Damn it. Now I'm going to cry. I'm sure your second wife will really get a kick out of that."

Her father had no reaction to any of the words she said.

She pressed on anyway. “I just had to tell you something.” She took in a deep impossible breath. “I don't care what you feel or if you could ever feel something again, but I love you. I love you in this moment, and no magic or evil power can take that away from me. Right now, I love you, Father."

Her father's breath caught for half a moment. Cinderella froze. She leaned in toward him and wondered if there was any chance that he might reciprocate.

But it was just a momentary glitch, and he returned to his steady, motionless, consistent breathing.

She let out the air in her lungs and pressed her lips to his hand. “Goodbye. If I make it, I promise to come back to you and visit your room every single day."

She reluctantly let his hand go and backed toward the door. She let all the pain and insecurity of the last ten years fall away from her and tumble to the ground. It would have to stay here for now.

She took one last look at her father. “I have a job to do."

P
rince Braedon couldn't stop
his mind from racing down a million different paths. Through his window, he could see all the carriages arriving in the moonlight. He wondered how many women and young girls had bet all their hopes on this night. How many women wanted him to pick them up and transform their lives through his love, his wealth, and his power?

This is a game that has no winners.

He sipped on a small glass of water, which would've been a much stronger drink if his mother had let the quintet of guards in front of his door give him even a sip of booze. He straightened the lapels of his jacket and smoothed the fabric down. There was nothing more he wanted than to rip this outfit from his body, put on a fighting tunic, and dash across the rooftops with Cinderella. With the two of them combined, he knew they could stop this menace once and for all. He pictured the thief's face for a moment before a disruption from the hallway cleared the thoughts from his head. He turned to see a scuffle as someone was trying to enter his chambers.

"What is the meaning of this? I am a knight of the queen's castle and I wish to speak to the prince immediately."

Braedon rolled his eyes. “Let him pass. He means me no harm. Well, not much harm anyway."

Stumbling backward into the room and barely avoiding impaling himself on a lamp, Falstone was dressed in finery that may have fit him properly about five to ten years ago. The seams were stretched so tight, the knight was poised to tear his shirt apart with any movement.

His smile was wide and intoxicated. “My boy. Look at how well you clean up.” He whistled loudly. “If I were of a different persuasion, I would have to shower you with affection."

Braedon sighed. “I'm touched, Falstone. But please don't talk about showering me with affection."

The hefty knight slapped the prince on the shoulder. “Have I told you lately that you are like a son to me?"

The prince looked up at the man's bearded face. “You can't have it both ways. You can't say that I'm attractive and also your son."

Falstone's laughter echoed through the prince's chambers. “They've kept you sober too long, my friend. Your wit is getting almost too fast for old Don Falstone to understand it."

The knight looked around in every direction. “Where are the drinks? I thought you'd be celebrating your night among the ladies."

The prince gestured with his chin toward the guards at the door. “My mother's welcome wagon isn't very interested in letting me imbibe today."

Falstone returned an incredulous look. “I've never heard of a worse atrocity in all my life. And I was married three times!"

The prince pointed toward his dresser. “You can have all the tea you like. In the last day I've had more tea than my body can handle."

The large knight wrinkled his face but stepped up to the makeshift bar anyway. He poured himself a small glass of brown, pungent liquid, and revealed a flask from his pocket. He expertly concealed it from the guards' view, helped himself to a mighty portion, and stowed it back in his trousers. He took a sip and smiled. “Not half bad with the right extra ingredients.” He raised an eyebrow. “How goes our demon problem?"

The prince shook his head. “I haven't been allowed to investigate, so Cinderella has probably had to do it all on her own."

He squinted. “You still haven't gotten over her yet?"

"It's been a day, Falstone."

"Exactly. You are about to have dozens of women fawning over you.” Falstone tried to mimic a waltz as he walked over, but he just looked like his body was twitching uncontrollably. “If these beautiful vixens smell even a hint of love for another woman on you, you have little to no chance to bring them back up here."

The prince balled up his fist and knocked his knuckles on Falstone's head. “I'm not interested in them. I don't even know if I'm fully interested in Elle, but I need to get in touch with her.” He looked over at the guards by the door. None of them were paying full attention to him and Falstone. He ran over to a small table and began scrawling something on a piece of parchment. “I have a mission for you, Falstone. Secret, royal business."

The knight's smile grew wide. “My favorite kind of business. What do you need me to do? Drink a foreign dignitary under the table? I'd be great at that."

The prince finished his message and held it up in the air. After checking it over one more time, he nodded his approval and folded it up. “You're always intercepting my messages. I'd like you to deliver one, instead."

Falstone nodded. “I can do that. I can certainly do that, my boy. It's about time you trusted me with some secret royal business."

The prince handed over the message, which Falstone promptly put into his flask pocket. “Find Cinderella and deliver this to her."

He raised an eyebrow. “Wait. You want me to leave the ball? I had plans for this. I've got my eye on a vintage brandy and several vintage widows."

Braedon put his hand on Falstone's shoulder. “Don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to come back and get the party going when you return. The… drinks will still be here."

"Very well. In the name of the Prince of Loren, I will fulfill this duty for you. But you may need to give me some more tea on the way out. This is actually quite good."

Braedon patted his heavyset friend on the shoulder. “That's the spirit. You can have all the tea you want."

Falstone surprised the prince by spinning toward him and giving him a massive bear hug.

The prince struggled to breathe in his friend's massive grasp.

"I'm proud of you, my boy. Your father would be, too."

Braedon coughed. “Thanks– Falstone– can you– it's a tight hug–"

The knight released him and grinned. “I just have too much love to give, I suppose. I'll make sure this message gets into the right hands."

Braedon let as much oxygen as possible into his lungs. “I appreciate that. Goodbye, old friend."

Falstone dashed over to the dresser, filled his cup halfway with tea, and topped the rest off with his special concoction. “And goodbye to you, Your Royal Highness.” He took a large gulp. “Ahhh. The sweet taste of secrets.” Then he lumbered out of the room and past the group of guards.

The prince chuckled to himself. “If that message ever sees the light of day, it'll be a miracle.” A flickering light caught the prince's eyes from just outside the window. “Now what the heck is that?"

Braedon stepped toward the clear glass before him and saw that what glimmered wasn't just a light, it was gold. A bird he couldn't help but recognize flapped its wings and stared right at him. But that wasn't even the most interesting part. The bird appeared to be wearing something around its neck that dangled all the way beneath its feet. The prince had a sneaking suspicion that whatever this object was, it was meant for him.

C
inderella prepared
for the ball by sharpening her weapons.

She loved the sound of stone on metal and the sparks that shot into the air when she moved her blade at just the right angle. Part of her wished she could stay in preparation mode all night long, but tonight would be a confrontation ten years in the making. She felt a presence behind her and turned to see the Godmother staring down at her.

The thief blew metal shavings off a dagger as she placed it into the third scabbard on her belt. “I think I'm ready for this. All the weapons are in good condition, and I believe I have a strong plan of entry. Did you need anything?"

The Godmother beamed with pride. “You really have turned into quite the young woman."

The thief wasn't sure exactly how to react. Her forehead creased. “Is this about the twins telling me everything? I know you had your reasons for not being forthcoming, so you don't need to get all weepy on me."

"I don't plan on crying; it's just an observation. You're strong, you're smart, and the prince wasn't able to take his eyes off you the second he saw your face. I would have to say that you are a very impressive young woman."

Cinderella grunted. “If this is your idea of a pep talk, I'm not sure it's working."

The Godmother stepped into the light. “I'm sorry that I didn't tell you more, sooner. You learned what you needed to learn in the exact order it came. But that doesn't mean it was easy for you, or that it was right of me to withhold that information."

The thief stood up. When she first entered the care of her mentor, she would have to look almost straight up to meet her eyes. Now, they were nearly the same height.

"Why did you take me in all those years ago? Was it just to stop Armenia when she rose to power, or was there something else behind it?"

They heard a small child's grunt from the other room, followed by several whaps against a burlap sack. Hannah was already training to be just like the thief.

The Godmother searched for the right words. “People who have had a horrible tragedy in their lives tend to gravitate toward one another. It's only when pain is shared that it can be turned into something so much greater."

Cinderella huffed. “I'm not so sure about that."

"Prince Braedon might have a different idea than you do."

The thief gave a sharp chuckle and turned around. “The prince abandoned me. We had a chance to take this on together, but he decided he had to go through official channels. If I had any momentary…
feelings
for him, his little act of treason surely snuffed them out."

Her mentor laughed. It was so rare for Cinderella to hear mirth from her caretaker that her chest began to warm.

The Godmother looked wise as she smiled. “It's never that simple, Elle. If we expect everybody in our lives to be perfect all of the time then we will most surely be alone. But you are not alone, and I have a bit of evidence to prove it."

From behind her back the Godmother revealed a glowing golden dress. It was the most incredible thing she had ever seen. The thief had spied countless dresses paraded before her by Malina and her stepmother, but she wasn't sure anybody had laid eyes on an outfit quite like this.

The thief's voice hitched. “I was planning on sneaking in."

The Godmother walked closer and gestured with her eyes for Cinderella to touch the dress. When she did, she could feel just how silky and smooth it was. It also smelled incredible, as if it belonged at the ball.

Her mentor cradled the dress like an infant. “The twins spun this dress themselves in repayment for you saving their lives."

The thief looked up. “How am I going to–"

"Don't worry, it has hidden weapon holsters built in."

Cinderella laughed. “I guess they know me after all.” Her hands paused above the dress for a moment until she finally decided to take what was hers. She grabbed the golden garment and prepared to change into it.

Before she could, the Godmother took her by the shoulder. “I need you to remember something, Elle."

The thief nodded.

"Revenge is about hate and anger. If you go into this to help other people, and if you think nothing of yourself in the process, then you may be able to take a much more positive, loving approach. Trust me when I say, it's a lot more fulfilling than revenge."

Cinderella looked between her mentor's eyes and the dress. She let her teeth press into the inside of her cheek. “Dammit, everything is going to make me cry today.” She grabbed the Godmother in a tight hug and didn't want to let go. Her mentor held her back in a moment the thief didn't want to end. When she finally let go, Cinderella didn't hesitate on her path to the next room.

When she was alone again, she looked at the dress not like an object of clothing, but like a partner on her most important mission.

"All right, dress. Let's see exactly what kind of damage we can do."