Cinderella Dreams of Fire (Fairy Tales Forever #1) (6 page)

T
he heat
from the walls stung Cinderella's cheeks. Smoke burned her eyes as she tried to look around for the one reason she hadn't run away. The fire was so blindingly bright around her that she wasn't sure she could keep her eyes open that much longer. But she had to look. She had to find her amid the accumulating rubble of a collapsing building.

Her heartbeat quickened as she searched every last spot that had yet to be touched by the fiery killing machine before her. Her hands were slick with sweat as she cupped them to her mouth.

"Mother?"

C
inderella awoke with a start
. Her face was pressed against the cold stone of the wall. She was surrounded by linens she'd spent the entire day cleaning. Cinderella rubbed at her eyes. “I'm glad the old witch didn't see me. Who knows what she would have done to me in my sleep."

She looked down at her hands. They were calloused and strong, but they weren't burnt. She had scars from that fateful night on her lower back, but her hands had somehow escaped without a lasting reminder. She sighed and returned to work for the remaining few hours until nightfall.

T
he thief arrived
at the Godmother's house under the cover of darkness. Between thoughts of dirty linens and wanting to mount Armenia's head on a pike, she thought of Prince Braedon. Most of those thoughts revolved around how annoying and insolent he'd been over the time she had known him. Like most royalty, he usually seemed to think he was better than everybody else around him... but not always. After all, he had saved a little girl from dying.

I would never tell him, but that was pretty impressive.

Cinderella's thoughts were interrupted by a faint clanging sound behind her. She drew the sword from her scabbard and turned toward the noise. As she crouched into a fighting position, a burst of air sprung up behind her and she felt a light slap on the back of her head. As she turned to swipe at the blur, her blade struck nothing but air.

She grunted as she rubbed at her hair with her free hand. “Show yourself."

Another noise prompted her to step forward. The second she did, another burst of air zipped through the room and she was struck in the same exact spot, this time with a fist. For the second time, she was too slow to get a weapon on the attacker, her sword frustratingly hitting nothing at all.

Cinderella's instinct was to get angry and swipe her sword in every direction. Instead, she thought through the many lessons the Godmother had given her. She withdrew her weapon and closed her eyes. A whole new world opened up to her, with her other four senses focused in response. She controlled her breath and waited for something to happen. When the next speedy attack came, the thief used her training to duck down and sweep her leg at just the right moment.

With a yelp of surprise, a man whose voice she recognized tumbled to the ground. Cinderella opened her eyes to see Prince Braedon dusting himself off.

Cinderella smirked. “I see the knee is feeling better."

He sprung up into a crouched position. “It might be better than ever after what the Godmother taught me. You up for another round of sparring?"

"You call that sparring?"

The prince grinned and made a run at the thief. Sure, he was fast, but things were a little easier when she could see him coming. When he got close enough, she slipped underneath his left arm, hooked under the armpit, and used his own momentum to toss him halfway across the room. He landed on his upper back with a satisfying fall. The heir to the throne of Loren groaned in the dust.

Cinderella cracked her neck to one side. “The element of surprise works much better for you. I'd stick with that.” She looked up through the window. “Besides, I was planning to spend my time patrolling for whatever it was that killed the captain’s wife.

The prince was up quicker than she expected. “You need to take me with you. This is the most fun I've had in ages."

"Fun? You were nearly killed by a raging carriage. You call that fun?"

The prince relaxed his face. “I know that you would. Why should I be any different?"

While the Godmother didn't seem to be in the room, Cinderella could feel her presence throughout. She knew what course of action her mentor would take.

T
he thief
and the Prince patrolled along rooftop after rooftop, looking for anything out of the ordinary in the sleeping village. Cinderella attempted to adjust her typical routine to include a sidekick, but said royal sidekick seemed to want nothing more than to start a conversation.

The prince remained slightly out of breath the entire time. “So, the Godmother told me your name. Would you rather go by Cindy? Ella? Inder?"

Every time the prince attempted to speak, Cinderella sprinted away from him and leapt to the next rooftop. The prince followed, never getting quite as much distance as she did in her leaps.

"I just don't wanna keep saying 'hey' and 'you' instead of addressing you by your preferred name."

Another run and another leap away from conversation.

The prince was relentless. “You know what, I hear that we have something in common."

Cinderella could feel her blood starting to boil. “If you say a dead parent, I'm going to twist more than your knee."

The prince's mouth gaped open in fake surprise. “She speaks! I guess you only do that when someone touches a nerve, Cindy?"

"Elle. Call me Elle. Let's just leave it at that."

Tonight's patrol had even less intrigue than usual. Often, Cinderella would find a knifing to stop or a trio of drunkards stripping off their clothes in a very public place. She wondered if the talkative prince was scaring off both the weirdos and the genuine leads.

She sat down and wrapped her arms around her knees. “We can take a break."

Braedon sighed with relief. “Thank the gods.” He let himself slump down to a lying position. “I don't know how you do this every night. I could really use a drink."

Cinderella shook her head. “Sadly, Your Highness, they don't have kegs that run a line up to the rooftops in your noble village."

The prince lazily rolled over to her side. “It is sad. Speaking of sad, how did your mother die?"

Do not throw him off the rooftop. Do not throw him off the rooftop.

She shot him a death-glance. “Is this legitimate third date conversation?"

He smiled. “So, you're finally admitting that we've been going on dates?"

She looked away from him. “I don't want to talk about it."

The prince nodded. “Understood. My father died in a grizzly hunting accident. I never even got to see him before he passed away."

"I think I heard about that. You know, because your father was the king of this freaking country."

The prince sat up. “All I'm saying is that we have something in common."

Cinderella leaned away from him. She knew the Godmother would say that talking things out was always more helpful than keeping them in. But she spent all day doing things she was supposed to do, and frankly, she was a little tired of it.

"I can think of one small difference."

"What's that?"

Cinderella stood and walked to the edge of the roof. “You have a mother who invites you to tea. I have a father who hasn't spoken to me in years."

The prince joined her by the edge. “I'm forced to go to tea. It's different from an invitation. You would understand if you didn't have control–"

"Sssh."

Cinderella saw something familiar fluttering in the air. A small golden light danced across her field of vision. It was some kind of bird... an incredible, glittering bird. And the amazing creature brought back something from Cinderella's memories. She couldn't grasp exactly where she'd seen the shining animal before, but the golden shimmer was as clear in her mind as if she'd seen it yesterday.

"Did you see that?"

The prince blinked. “I saw something for a second, but I thought it was just a star."

Cinderella followed the bright golden bird as it fluttered down past the rooftops and perched in front of a house she recognized. It only waited for a second before it flew off out of sight.

"We're near the captain's house."

The prince glanced around. “Wow. Didn't we start here tonight? Think we've gone in a circle for the entire village."

Cinderella eyed the outer wall of the building next door. “I want to check it out again."

With expert agility, Cinderella pushed off the rooftop and aimed for the side of the other building. The second she came into contact with it, she pushed off the wall with her opposite foot. She repeated the same motion several times over until she'd rebounded off each building three times and landed softly on the ground below. She looked up at the bewildered prince.

"I think I'll just climb down. Meet you over there?"

Cinderella tsked and walked across the road to the captain's front door. She went to the exact location where the golden bird had perched. She placed her fingers on the spot, as if trying to conjure the memory where she'd seen the bird before. Closing her eyes and concentrating hard on her breathing, she couldn't come up with anything relevant.

The prince startled her out of her thoughts. “Now that’s interesting."

Cinderella turned toward him. “What?"

He stepped forward and placed his hand on hers. A small bolt of nervousness went through the thief's arm and into the rest of her body. Her instinct said to withdraw her hand immediately, but she let her hand linger under the prince's touch.

Damn it.

The prince gripped her hand in his and pulled it off the front of the captain's house. Her eyes widened.

"Are those…?"

The prince nodded. “Claw marks."

Sure enough, something with sharp, powerful nails had clawed up the front facade.

Cinderella had seen a variety of claw marks and paw prints in her missions through neighboring forests, but these marks were larger than any she'd ever seen. Her blood pressure began to rise.

Prince Braedon seemed to be having the same reaction, as his face whitened. “What could've done that?"

Cinderella examined the door from top to bottom and opened it a crack. She shook her head. “I don't know, but there's a matching pair on the other side."

K
iyara learned
a long time ago not to ask her mother questions. When Armenia told her to put on something dark and leave the house in the middle of the night, she did it without a moment's hesitation. Her mother hadn't brought up the previous night's adventure whatsoever. It was as if she didn't even consider Kiyara had a part in it at all. All the blame was laid at the feet of Cinderella.

It isn't fair. It's never fair.

Kiyara thanked the gods that neither her mother nor her sister checked Cinderella's bed before they left the house. She prayed that none of them would see the thief of the night as they walked from their carriage to an unfamiliar part of town.

Her fears were never realized. They didn't see a single soul on the way to a house that didn't ring a bell in her recollection. The house was modest but well decorated on the outside. Kiyara stood behind her mother and her sister, playing with the fabric of her dress. “What are we doing here?"

Malina turned back with a sneer. “What do you think we're doing, genius?” Kiyara took a step back, which startled both a rat and herself.

Armenia clicked her tongue. “Sisters should support one another, Malina. You know that Kiyara has developed a unique gift of blocking out the past. Apologize."

Malina wrinkled her nose. “I'm sorry. Now can we get on with this?"

Armenia grinned with pride. She reached her hand toward the door and touched the knocker. Then her hand pushed through the door like it was made of nothing. The lock on the front had fully disintegrated before Kiyara's eyes. Her left arm began to twitch.

"I think it's time to pay our new friends a visit.” Armenia gripped the new hole in the door and easily pulled it open into the street. Malina practically dove inside, while Kiyara required a bit of coaxing from her mother. The butterflies in her stomach were multiplying with every second and, with great hesitation, she stepped inside the unfamiliar house.

When Armenia closed the door behind them, it was nearly pitch black inside the stranger's foyer. Kiyara felt the tears begin to form in her eyes. “Can someone please tell me what we're doing here?"

Armenia sighed and snapped her finger. A lantern on the far end of the room lit up like magic. “We're just paying someone a little visit."

The ability to see everything around her failed to lessen Kiyara's nerves. “Then why did we break in?” The sound of a large man stumbling out of bed made the tears flow down Kiyara's face. She did her best to blend into the wall.

Kiyara spied the man of the household stepping into the light at the top of the stairs. She recognized the head bowman of the Queen's Guard almost immediately. Kiyara had seen him at various upper-class gatherings and parties. But she'd never seen him draw his signature weapon, which was pointed right at her mother's head.

The bowman pulled the string back a little tighter. “Who are you? And what are you doing in my house?"

Before he had a chance to react, a little boy ran between his legs and took the stairs downstairs.

"Son, no!"

But it was too late. The young child giggled as he watched the three women before him. Malina opened her arms wide and gestured for the boy to come close. The child was so fast, the soldier had no chance to turn his weapon on Kiyara's sister before she held the boy high in the air and between her and the weapon.

She laughed as much as the boy did. “What a beautiful son you have."

The bowman breathed heavily. “If you touch a single hair on his head–"

Armenia let out a deep, throaty chuckle. “Your little toy won't hurt her. You're out of your depth, bowman."

With that, the queen's best shot zipped a warning arrow to the side of Malina's head. It whizzed past her ear and lodged itself in the wall with a thud.

Kiyara bent to one knee and felt the bile moving up her throat. She started to dry heave.

Armenia faked a yawn. “You've revealed your weapon, and now it's time for me to show you mine.” With one swift motion, Armenia closed the gap between herself and her daughter and touched Malina's shoulder.

Still gripping the young boy, Malina let her cloak fall to the ground. Then she looked up to the ceiling and opened her mouth wide. The alabaster skin on her arms started to change color as she expanded wider and taller. Her shoulders broadened and the soft delicate skin turned thick and scaled. Kiyara couldn't turn away from the sight that both horrified her and struck her memory.

I've seen this all before.

The bowman backed away from the edge of the staircase with horror. Once standing just above 5 feet tall, the grotesque demon had gained two full feet in height and its arms and legs were thicker than that of a horse. Fangs extended from her mouth and she let out a terrifying smile, as she pulled the bowman's son tighter.

"Father!"

The bowman didn't hesitate any longer. He fired an arrow directly for the chest of the beast Malina had become. With a wave of her hand, Armenia shot out a small ball of fire directly into the path of the arrow. The wooden shaft disintegrated before their eyes as the metal arrowhead lost its trajectory and clinked harmlessly to the ground.

Armenia turned toward Kiyara and raised an eyebrow. “It's time, my daughter."

Kiyara shook her head and started to back her way to the front door. Malina let out a floor-rattling growl, and Kiyara started to become lightheaded from fear. She kept backing up and backing up until she was pressed firmly against the door they'd originally entered.

As the bowman readied another arrow, Armenia turned and sent a fireball right into the man's prized weapon. The bowman screamed as his hands caught fire. He dropped the now-useless device.

Armenia turned her attention back to her daughter. “No more time for games.” She took Kiyara by the throat and lifted her high into the air. Immediately, the change began to take place on the inside and outside of her body. Pain exploded through every muscle from top to bottom.

Everything in Kiyara's body broke down and came back together again completely different. Her skin changed from white and soft to grey and stone-like. All her fear and pain began to slip away. Her mother released her grip and began ascending the staircase, where the bowman was calling out for his son in vain. Kiyara's hands grew long, wide, and clawed. She wished she could run away from herself as her mind went blank and blood-red with rage.