Cinderella Dreams of Fire (Fairy Tales Forever #1) (7 page)

T
he walls
of fire once again warmed Cinderella as she walked through the flames of her dreams. In most of her dreams, everything she saw was hazy, but now things were starting to clear up. The edges had become less fuzzy and sharper around her. She saw the body of her mother laid out before her, and she wished that the woman she loved had her face turned toward her. She placed her hand, the hand of a child, into her mother's palm and squeezed.

The pain was ever present, though it was a distant pain.

As the flames began to inch toward her, she saw a familiar sight: the golden bird once again danced before her eyes. The shining light of its wings somehow stood out against the fiery red that surrounded her. The bird appeared to be trying to draw her attention. Was the bird actually gesturing to her? Was it leading her from the flames?

As Cinderella reached out to touch the bird and let go of her mother's hand, she awoke.

C
inderella needed a minute to decompress
. It's not every day that the traumatic puzzle of her dream received a new addition. This was the first night of over a thousand that placed a golden bird at the scene of her tragedy.

Between a possible figment of her imagination and the claw marks that connected a series of crimes to her meek sister, Cinderella's week was getting pretty interesting.

With Armenia and her stepsisters heading to the royal tea, she had all day to try to work out the mysteries in her life. She started with several hours of training. First, a series of body weight exercises, which had long ago become far too easy without only using one hand or arm. Next, she put her body through a test of the fastest martial arts her legs and wrists could muster. It wasn't until she sweated out the fire from her dreams that she felt like herself again.

A
fter bathing
and taking a trip into the village, she thought about how much her life would have been different if the fire had never taken place. She knew that all of the strength and speed she'd gained over the years would be nothing but a dream. She'd likely be weak and whiny, headed to the tea herself. She'd be decked out in a frilly gown, giggling at the sight of Prince Braedon up close. She wouldn't realize how much he hated every moment of it. Maybe deep down, she would've hated it, too.

She sighed. It was no use to think of things that would never be.

After trading in her typical blacks for a garb that would blend in with the rest of the villagers in the afternoon, Cinderella didn't have to go far before she heard of the latest attack. Her heart sank when she saw the crowd gathered around another tragic late-night event. On one side of the enraptured mob, the fat knight known to be the prince's best friend jabbered away about the victim.

"Of course I heard the scream. You could've heard it down the entire street. If I weren't having a nightmare myself at the time, I probably would've run over and gotten myself killed from bravery. It was an awful, awful thing. The smell of fire was everywhere. A lesser man might have fainted from the fear."

Cinderella slipped deeper into the crowd, wondering if she could learn anything valuable from the large crowd's ramblings.

"Between the Captain of the Guard and the best shot in the land, I think that someone is targeting the bravest men among us. For all we know, I will be next. If the queen fails to give me half a dozen men stationed at my door at all times, I may just have to move to the next kingdom over. I hear Martone is lovely this time of year."

Cinderella resisted the urge to punch Braedon's buddy in the face. She stuck around with the rest of the murmuring crowd until the bulk of the queen's men had ceased their investigation of the bowman's house. Without the cover of darkness, she used her stealth and speed alone to sneak through an open window and into the site of the attack.

Cinderella crouched in the corner and waited for the last royal soldier to leave and close the door behind him. Her line of work had taken her to many tragic locations before, and they all had a coldness to them. They all felt as though something that made them alive before had been wrenched from their very being. Any of these locations, no matter how vibrant and alive before, reminded Cinderella of a graveyard.

She treaded lightly to avoid making a noise that would alert the soldiers outside. Now that she was looking for them, it was easy to spot the claw marks upon the front door. They were just as deep and unidentifiable as the ones from the previous night. She ran her fingers along the deep crevices.

"I really don't want to have to fight whatever made these marks.” She looked around the room, but even in the day it seemed to have all the color pulled from it. “Knowing my life, I'll probably have to battle a dozen.” She continued to scan the scene, spying an arrow that had lodged itself in the wall. From the trajectory and the angle of the projectile, she traced the possible origin back to the top of the stairs. She nearly tripped over a warped and burned weapon that lay in a pile of ash by the top step. She worked the ash between her fingers and examined its pattern.

"He was famous for this weapon. He wouldn't have let it sit in a fire. After he shot it, someone did something to him. But it doesn't make any sense."

She took another lap around the room to gather all the data she could. While she was able to ascertain that the creature with massive claws and who was able to somehow control fire had taken the bowman's child, it did not get her any closer to identifying who, or what, these things were. As she prepared to slip back through the window, something metallic caught her eye from between two floorboards.

Cinderella crouched toward the shining object and took a small chain in her fingers. She lifted it up off the ground and grasped it in the palm of her hand.

"Hey, you! What are you doing in here?"

The thief didn't have to think twice before taking three large bounds across the room and jumping through the open window. She put her hand through the loop in the chain and let it roll down until it was around her shoulder. She easily climbed to the rooftop before any other soldiers saw her and leapt across two additional buildings until she was far away. There, she let her heart settle.

"I like the darkness better."

She let the chain roll back down to her hand, and she spun it around to see what lay at the end. It was a fairly impressive blue stone that no doubt had come from somewhere far away and mystical. The light seemed to swirl about it like a low-hanging cloud. But Cinderella didn't need to take a second glance to know exactly whom it belonged to. She'd seen it around the neck of her stepsister Kiyara ever since the first day she walked into her life.

T
he Prince breathed
in the cold air from the high ledge outside his room. He looked down at the preparations for his impending tea; the early afternoon sun made everything below look disarmingly bright and merry.

"What a mirage. Perhaps the only cheery ones are the mothers forcing their sons and daughters to take action."

He bounced on his toes from side to side and considered scaling the three stories it would take to get up on the roof and hide from it all. Once in solitude, he might be able to finally understand the claw marks on the captain's door. Two sets of claw marks. Could a pair of hellish creatures be scaring the very soul and duty out of his kingdom?

"Fear and pain can do things to a person."

He could have pictured the Captain of the Guard or too many other soldiers who recently retired after making that statement, but the person he thought of was none other than Cinderella. He pictured the thief moving from rooftop to rooftop with ease. She was completely open to risking her life and limb for her mentor, but she was almost completely closed off to companionship.

He'd asked around about her mother's death, and it was particularly gruesome. The father, an earl, had withdrawn much like the soldiers of the past few months. What Cinderella hadn't mentioned was the demanding stepmother Armenia who had taken over her mother's position and life. It was no wonder the beautiful, blonde creature of the night had sunk into the darkness.

He was thinking about the moment when their hands had met when he heard a familiar voice calling from his open window.

"Your Highness?” Braedon's personal servant called out to the ledge like it was every day a prince would be hanging on the edge of death. “The guests are beginning to arrive. Your mother has put me in charge of getting you presentable."

The prince looked up. “It would be so easy to just hide on the roof.”

"Prince Braedon? Your mother may have my head if you don't make it to the tea soon."

The prince nodded and glanced one more time at the roof before swinging his way into the room.

B
raedon’s mouth
hurt from smiling so much, and his mind ached from the fakeness of it all. He nodded lethargically as a woman droned on about her teenage daughter who cowered beside her. The woman was incredibly hopeful, but her high-pitched wail of a voice led to the serious possibility of making Braedon's ears fall off.

"You can probably tell this by looking at her, but she is both smart and funny in equal measure. I feel like the luckiest mother in the world to be able to laugh and think so much in my own household. Of course, if a charming man like yourself happened to take her off my hands, I would mourn her absence, but who in their right mind would stand in the way of true love?"

One look at the young teen told the prince that she wanted to disappear from the entire conversation.

"There are so many beautiful women here, but let's face it, many of them have loved before. Nobody wants to be second best or second choice, right? With a young girl like my Mona, that's something you won't have to worry about. Would you be willing to take five minutes just to get to know her?"

Before the prince could answer, the queen graciously interrupted the exchange and pulled him over to another pairing of a mother and a daughter. Unlike in the previous sales pitch, this daughter appeared to be much more age-appropriate.

The ruler of Loren whispered in his ear. “Are you having a good time?"

The prince rolled his eyes. “I'd rather be stabbed in the eyeballs. But, I suppose it could be worse. I could be naked, running over hot coals.

"Please, leave your snark out of this. This could be a fine pairing for you.” The prince put on his game face and examined the girl in question. There was no denying her beauty. Her flawless skin and long, flowing blonde hair were very attractive. She had brown eyes and an ample bosom no doubt enhanced by the green dress she wore. Truth be told, the mother did not look much older than her daughter.

The queen gestured to the two women. “Prince Braedon, let me introduce you to the Lady Armenia, and her daughter Malina."

The prince hid his recognition of the name and reputation of Cinderella's stepmother. This was a woman who had tortured his sparring partner for over a decade. Her fake smile was even more plastered-on than usual.

"Charmed to meet you, too.” He started by kissing the mother's hand before moving on to the daughter's. “I hope you're enjoying your tea. It's a little fruity for my taste, but my mother knew that it would be mostly beautiful women in attendance."

Malina leaned her chest toward Braedon. “It's not the kind of tea for a rugged man like yourself, my Prince."

Is she being serious right now?

The prince put on his most polite face as his mother's eyes widened.

Malina placed her arm on the prince's shoulder. She had a smile that seemed to indicate a desire to go upstairs. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but I've never seen someone so handsome up close. I absolutely had to touch you to make sure that you were real."

Even Armenia seemed a bit taken aback by her daughter's direct approach. “My apologies for my daughter. She's been kept so chaste and innocent for so long that she has no idea what to do when something like love comes over."

The queen smiled. “I completely understand. Love is a very strange beast."

Armenia wrapped her fingers around the prince's bicep. “It's pretty obvious you don't spend all of your time at court, Prince Braedon."

The prince wasn't sure how to extricate himself from the situation. He froze his face like a happy statue in response. “Thank you so much. I try to remain active."

Armenia placed her hand on the queen's back. “If you don't mind, I'd love to discuss a few matters of state while our children have a private chat."

Braedon attempted not to be sickened by Armenia's smile. He hoped his mother could sense the woman's evil through her tainted smile.

"But of course. Braedon, play nice."

Braedon nodded, a sculpture hiding his true feelings.

As soon as their mothers stepped out of earshot, Malina produced a small flask from her bosom. She unscrewed the cap and took a swig.

The prince chuckled. “Too much for you, as well?"

Malina wiped her lips with her arm. “It's a lot of pressure.” She shook the flask from side to side. “I've almost downed the entire thing, but you're welcome to a swig. I've heard you're a fan of the drink."

The prince knew there were too many eyes upon him to partake. Besides, he'd actually been sober the last two days, and it left him feeling energetic.

He put up his hand. “Thank you, but you seem to be enjoying it far too much for yourself."

Malina tucked the flask back into its hiding place and put her arm around the prince's neck, pulling herself closer to him. “Let's get down to business, Braedon. There are a lot of girls here, but I'm a woman. I'm happy to fulfill all of your–"

"Who's that?"

The prince spied a lady his age sitting on the edge of a garden bench. She was shivering.

Malina tried to turn the prince away from the petrified attendee. “She's nobody. She happens to be my sister and I can tell you that she is little more than a cold fish."

The prince gently removed Malina's arm from his shoulder. “I think I'm going to give the cold fish a little company. I'll speak with you later, Malina."

As he walked away from her, he heard a frustrated, high-pitched yip from the inebriated damsel. He smiled to himself.

Armenia's other daughter continued to look away from him, even when he sat down beside her on the bench.

He gladly let the fake smile evaporate from his face. “Are you okay?"

His words startled the girl, and she appeared to shrink into herself as she turned around. “Oh. It's you. Yes, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. You're shivering on a warm summer's day. That doesn't seem normal."

The girl let out a sad laugh. “I guess you don't know me very well. I'm not sure if I know myself well."

The prince scooted closer. “You're Kiyara, right? Cinderella's stepsister?"

Kiyara looked surprised. “I don't think my mother would be very happy to hear that you know about Cinderella. She wants Cinderella to be the girl that everyone forgot."

The prince marveled at how different Kiyara was from either of her sisters. She wasn't headstrong and tough like Cinderella, and she lacked the brash overconfidence of Malina. Of all the girls he'd met at the tea so far, Kiyara was certainly the most relatable.

He put his arm around her shoulder and she leaned into him like a little child. “I'm sorry for the other night. It was brave of you to save that little girl."

"That was you. You are the friend. I didn't put two and two together."

He glanced up and saw Malina giving him an evil glare from across the garden. He wondered if Kiyara's other sister would have any feelings about him having his arm around the fearful girl.

Kiyara nodded. “It was me. If it weren't for you, who knows what would have happened? Who knows what is happening…?"

The prince raised an eyebrow. “Do you know something about what happened to the captain?"

Kiyara sniffled. “I don't, but I have a terrible feeling about all of it."

The prince had a strange feeling of wanting to wrap a blanket around the depressed girl and protect her. “I feel the same way."

Braedon noticed a messenger walking across the grass toward them. He wore a somber look upon his face. The prince released his hold of Kiyara.

"More bad news?"

The messenger let out a heavy sigh. “I'm afraid so, Your Highness. There's been another attack. The head bowman's son is missing. You told me to let you know if any–"

The prince stood up. “I need to go. I need to put an end to this."

Kiyara looked up into his eyes as if she had something to say. Instead, she nodded and crumpled back down in her original, solitary position on the bench. Both the queen and Armenia stomped over toward him.

His mother spoke up first. “What exactly is going on here? What news do you bring?"

The prince stepped in front of the messenger. “Don't trouble yourself with it. It's something I need to look into, and the rest of you should enjoy the party. I'm sure you'll enjoy it more than I would have anyway."

Armenia did not appear to appreciate the comment. “But you'll return, right?"

The prince shook his head. “I'm sorry. I'm sure I'll see you and your daughters at the ball.”

He tried not to look the queen in the eyes, but he knew the anger she felt for him right then. He knew he might be making a wrong decision, but he walked toward the stables anyway.

W
ith all hands
on deck for the tea, the prince was alone in the stables as he prepared his ride. He wondered whether staying in the village for another night would've prevented whatever it was cutting their army down one by one. He'd saddled his horse and was ready to hop up when he heard a noise behind him. He turned around in a fighting stance, only to see Armenia standing there in the stall. With the look she had on her face, Braedon wasn't sure it was smart to relax out of his pose of readiness.

He held his breath. “Armenia, you shouldn't be in here. You might sully your dress."

Her eyes were locked on his. “You had my Kiyara in your arms, and now you're stepping away as if nothing happened.” She took a menacing step forward. “This is very distressing for me as a mother."

"I've never been one. I wouldn't know."

Her gaze was so focused, the prince wanted to turn away but couldn't. “You think you can do whatever you want, just because you have the backing of the crown behind you. You don't care what people get hurt along the way, do you?"

The prince gulped. “You're not the first person who's told me I should be more grateful."

Armenia took two more steps toward him. “I'm not saying you should be more grateful. I'm saying you should be afraid."

"Afraid?"

She stopped about a foot away from his face. “One day you're on top, but the next it can all come crashing down. And then, you'll do anything you can to protect your loved ones. Anything."

The prince nodded. “I understand.” He did not understand.

"Today I have to leave for an important kingdom matter, but I promise you that I will have a dance with both Malina and Kiyara at the ball."

After another second of an intense stare, Armenia let her face soften into a smile. “That's all a mother can ask for. Take care, Prince."

Braedon did not hesitate. He jumped upon his horse, turned it around, and rode straight out of the stable without another word.

What in the heck was that?

As his horse trotted out the stable doors, Prince Braedon noticed a smoking trail of scorched grass.