Cinder & the Prince of Midnight

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Cinder normally liked market days. On those days, she was free to wander around town on her own with no chores to do for a few hours other than to buy whatever looked fresh.

But today, she had a hard time enjoying anything. The next hunt was coming. It was weeks away, but it would inevitably come just as the moon would inevitably grow fat and full.

She stumbled around, only half aware of what she was buying, when she saw the flower stall.

Cinder was drawn to the stall and the silver-haired woman who was giving a basket of flowers to a customer. Cinder politely waited until the woman was gone before talking to Silver.

“Will you help me, please?” The words barely escaped her mouth.

Silver looked at her with sharp eyes. “Help you with what, child?”

Cinder looked around to make sure no one was listening. The market was busy and everyone seemed to be preoccupied with their own business. Still, she kept her voice down to a whisper.

“I’m the girl who killed the nobleman in the woods.” Tears blurred her eyes as she whispered it, and her whole body trembled.

A look of surprise came across Silver’s face.

“My stepmother is going to send me on the hunt again and again. Every month on the full moon. I don’t know what to do.” She tried her best to keep her voice from quivering.

Silver’s nostrils flared and she stood tall. “Well, blubbering about it won’t help you.”

Cinder blinked rapidly, feeling her eyes dry at the sting of Silver’s indifferent tone. There was nothing like indifference from others to make a girl stiffen her spine and trudge on. What choice did she have?

“That’s better.” Silver handed her a thorny rose. “Here. Come back over here and help take the thorns off. You’ll at least be out of the way of my customers then.”

Cinder hesitantly walked around to the other side of the stall.

Silver handed her a knife to clip and scrape the thorns. “My granddaughter Ruby used to help me, but her father has too many chores for her now.”

Silver had thick gloves on to protect her hands, while Cinder had none. But Cinder didn’t complain.

It was comforting to have something to do instead of fret over what would happen in a matter of weeks. She scraped and clipped, her fingers getting prickled.

When she was done with the first rose, Silver handed her more. Cinder started to say that she had her own chores to do for her stepmother, but Silver had already turned to talk to a customer. Cinder picked up a rose and began cutting off the thorns.

Silver helped customers as they came by but didn’t say anything to Cinder during the quiet times. Cinder figured that maybe she was supposed to forget she’d ever confessed to her. Sometimes, people were like that. They pretended that a thing never happened and everyone moved on as if in silent agreement. Perhaps this was supposed to be one of those times.

Only, Cinder wouldn’t be allowed to move on as if nothing ever happened because it was about to happen again soon. Her hands began to tremble and she pricked herself even more. Blood trickled down her fingers and along the rose stems.

Silver took the rose out of Cinder’s hands and handed her a pair of gloves.

“Here, use these, silly girl. Don’t get blood all over my flowers. You don’t want some ladyship discovering a young girl’s blood on her market flowers. She may get a taste for it and come after you.”

Silver wiped the stem clean of blood. Cinder looked up at her nervously. Did ladies really do that?

Ladies all seemed so proper and well mannered. But she supposed her stepmother was the same way in public. In private, though, she was practically demonic.

It was much easier to de-thorn the roses with gloves on. When Cinder was done with the roses, Silver gave her the task of separating out dried flowers into bunches for sale.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have chores—”

“Yes, you do. And they are not going to get done if you’re gallivanting around the market.”

She shoved the dried flowers into Cinder’s arms. Bit by bit, Silver gave her more tasks and showed her how to do them. They talked of nothing but flowers and the mindless tasks of dealing with them.

Cinder gradually calmed down. It soothed her to be preoccupied, and every time her mind drifted to thoughts of running for her life through the dark forest, Silver gave her another task to do that took up all of Cinder until she got the hang of it.

At the end of the market day, Cinder helped Silver pack up and put everything into her wheelbarrow. A heavy mood fell on the girl as she packed the flowers up for the morning.

One more day closer to the next hunt.

Silver walked away without saying goodbye. Nor did she take her flowers with her.

“Silver, you forgot your flowers.”

She turned to look at Cinder.

“What are you dawdling for?” asked Silver. “Come along and bring those flowers with you. You don’t expect me to push that heavy thing all the way home, do you?”

Silver turned and walked away.