Cinderella: The Cinder from the Ash

Chapter Fourteen

Ella opened her eyes reluctantly, dragged from her rest by the scent of freshly brewed tea. “Mmmm…is it morning already?”

“It is afternoon, Ella. You slept the morning away.” The tinker smiled when she looked at him. “How do you feel?”

It was a simple question, but Ella’s eyes filled. She hadn’t been asked that question in what felt like a hundred years. “I feel as though I can finally breathe,” she admitted. “It is like the weight of the world has dropped from my shoulders.”

“In a way, it has,” the tinker replied. “Your world since your father’s death has been Celina and her daughters. You have never lived anywhere else, nor done anything but their bidding, true?”

Ella nodded thoughtfully. “My whole life has been lived at their whim. I am not sure what to do, now that I am no longer living it.”

“Well, the direction of your life hardly needs to be decided today. Would you like a cup of tea before we talk more?”

Ella sat up, the blanket falling to the floor. “What happened?” She took the cup of tea the tinker held out. It, too, smelled of sunshine.

“The Beaumonts are searching the town and surrounding area for you,” the old man said. “I would not recommend you leave the safety of the wagon until later this evening, if at all. Perhaps we can continue our previous conversation regarding your father to pass the time.”

Ella’s stomach rumbled, as though in protest of his words. “I would like that very much, but I must eat first.”

The old undead smiled, showing off blackened gums. “I do not think my meals would be to your liking. Did you bring your own food?”

“I have a basket with vegetables…” Ella trailed off. “I had a basket. Did you see it? Did I leave it outside?”

“If you did, the rats would have gotten it by now.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Then I have nothing,” she replied.

His still intact eyebrows beetled. “Where do you get the vegetables? I cannot imagine Celina growing them for you.”

Ella laughed. “No, she can barely stand having them in the house. I grow them at the abandoned church across from the square, but I can hardly go there now, with everyone looking for me.”

“The Beaumonts are searching for you, and they are only three people,” he pointed out. “They cannot be everywhere at once. If you simply wait until after dark, then you can replenish your supply.”

“If Grey did not already take them,” Ella muttered under her breath, though her heart beat faster at the prospect of running into him again. To calm her nerves, she took another sip of the sunshine tea. “You implied you knew how my father died. Tell me.”

He eyed her. “Are you sure you are ready to hear the answer, Ella?”

“No, but I am sure I need to know the answer, nonetheless.” She sat back down. “What happened?”

The tinker sat across from her. “You know what we are,” he started. “You know what we have to eat to survive.”

“I know you need raw flesh.” Her voice shook.

He shook his head. “Do not mistake us for ghouls, Ella. Those are the stuff of nightmares. We are reality, and it is not flesh that sustains us, but brains. It must always be brains.”

What he refused to say outright took Ella a split moment to realize. “They ate him.” Her voice was flat, but the cup of tea he had given her shook, liquid sloshing onto the wooden floor. “Those--they--she ate him.”

He reached out, taking the cup from her. “There was no proof they consumed him, but he did vanish suddenly, and there were human brains served the day after his disappearance. Celina has always been very careful to conceal any evidence of her misdeeds.”

Ella choked out a bitter laugh. “I would hardly call my father’s murder a misdeed.”

“It was a horrific act,” the tinker agreed. “And I am sure Celina will be justly punished for it.”

The sun’s slow crawl cast long fingers of gold across the wagon’s floor, appearing to rest for a brief moment on Ella’s teacup before moving on. Ella watched the rays, gathering her thoughts.

“How?” She finally asked. “How will she be punished? Who would punish her? The king? The mysterious prince whom no-one has seen? If he is too cowardly to show his face, how would he ever dare to punish my step-mother?” The questions rolled out of her like a flood.

“Maybe you will be the one to administer a fitting punishment.” He rose to his feet. “Come, the day is nearly gone. I am sure you can safely gather your human vegetables now. We are not so far from the square. You should be perfectly safe.”

Ella took a deep breath in, holding it for a moment before releasing it. “I will return soon.”

“One moment. You cannot go out looking like that. You do not have the protection you had when you were young, and your face is...quite noticeable.”

Her hands flew up to cover her cheeks. “I don’t want to put make-up on again,” she began, but he cut her off with one raised hand.

“Wait here, I am sure I have something you can use...tinkers have everything…Ah, yes! Here it is!” He triumphantly held up a black scarf. “Wrap this around your face, and be sure to keep your head down.”

Ella took it gratefully, wrapping the scarf as he instructed, leaving a thin strip around her eyes so she could still see.

“Be safe, Ella.”

She slipped out of the wagon, hugging the shadows until she reached the relative safety of the trees. Although it was not a long walk from there to the church, the full moon hung high in the sky, bathing her in a white glow when she ventured onto the cobblestones.

“Cinder!”

The cry stopped her in her tracks.

“Cinder, where have you been all night?!” Ella was sure her step-mother’s shriek could be heard clear across the town. “How dare you sneak out and worry us so!”

Ella’s heart dropped when she saw Celina emerge from the church garden. The vegetables would have to wait. “I--” her mouth refused to form the words she knew her step-mother wanted to hear; words of apology and contrition.

“You stupid, stupid girl,” Celina hissed, grabbing Ella’s arm. “What made you think your trickery would not be found out?”

“Oww.” Ella twisted free of the other woman. “Let me go! You have no right to manhandle me!”

“No right?” Her step-mother’s voice lowered even further. “I have every right! When your father left, did I kick you out onto the street? No. I allowed you to stay; I treated you like one of my own. How dare you speak to me in such a manner?”

She couldn’t help it. The laughter rose from deep within her. “You are out of your mind. You never treated me like your daughter. You have constantly reminded me I am not good enough, not smart enough, not undead enough.”

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, her step-mother had grasped her by the upper arm and was marching her across the street, toward home. “You are coming home. Immediately. I am not having this conversation with you.”

Try as she might, Ella could not break free of Celina’s iron grasp. “I am not your servant,” she gasped out. “You cannot hide me away forever.”

“Oh, you are so wrong about that, you little…” Her step-mother clamped her mouth shut, and a bit of flaking skin sloughed off.

“Wait,” Ella protested, “you do not understand. I need food.”

“I sent Evangline out late last night. Your step-sister, who has better things to do than to be your servant, took time out of her evening to kneel down in the dirt and gather up your filthy vegetables. And then we discover that you have snuck out the window? Have you no shame at all, Cinder?”

“If you had not locked me in my room, sending Evangline would not have been necessary,” Ella replied.

“You were locked into your room because of your behavior,” her step-mother said. “I can see that wherever you were improved nothing.” She stalked up the drive, and yanked open their front door. “Inside. Now.” Not giving Ella a choice, Celina shoved her through, slamming it behind her. “All the way upstairs. You cannot be trusted to have a room with an accessible window. The attic is large enough. And take that ridiculous scarf off. You look like a vagabond.”

Ella’s jaw set rebelliously, but one glance at her step-mother and she obediently walked up the staircase to the small attic door, unwinding the black scarf as she went. It floated along behind her. By the time she reached the top of the progressively narrow staircase, she had run out of scarf to unwrap. She glanced over her shoulder to see it lying there, as though beckoning her backward. She turned back to her fate, and to the doorknob, which turned easily in her hand. Stacked chests greeted her sight, lining the walls two and three deep. She stepped through the tiny opening, thankful for the small window, though it was set high enough in the far wall that there was no possibility for escape. Ella sighed, her eyes welling with tears now that she was alone. There was no chance of seeing Grey at the garden again; no chance of wearing the gown the tinker had stored for her; no chance of escaping the life she lived, and it was all because she was different. In a world filled with undead, where could she possibly belong? She turned back to the door, intending to return to her room and gather her few belongings, only to see it slam shut.

“Wait!” she cried out. “I need food!”

There was no reply, only the click of the lock turning. Scrubbing at her wet cheeks, she forced herself to take one deep breath after another until the ball of anger in her chest melted away. If the attic was to be her new home, she would make the best of it. Starting with investigating the chests that had surely belonged to her parents. Besides, she would not miss the chance to go to the ball, even if she had to sneak past her steps to get there, and that meant she needed something to wear. Maybe her parents chests would hold something she could use.

Opening the lid of the third chest, Ella gasped. It held all her childhood treasures; a wooden rabbit with moveable legs, a doll that was both prince and beast, a series of books her father had given her upon her 5th birthday, and her favorite gown. Somehow, someway, Celina had never thrown them away. It could only be because her step-mother would never have set foot into the attic. Her father must have stored everything of sentimental value away before he died. Before he was murdered, she reminded herself firmly. That was her main reason for attending the ball, she had to remember that. She would ask, beg if necessary, for the King’s justice. Her step-mother might never be convicted of her father’s death, but humiliation would work in its stead. Ella shut the lid carefully, and moved to the next chest.

The fourth lid opened easily, almost as though it had been waiting for her touch. Inside were the true treasures she needed. Ella reached inside, and pulled out yard after yard of materials. Vibrant red silk the color of blood, green velvet so dark it was nearly black and sapphire blue that shimmered in the scant moonlight. At the bottom of the chest was her mother’s sewing kit, complete with everything she would need to make a new ball gown. Ella smiled through the tears that crawled down her cheeks, her heart warm for the first time in years.

“I promise you, I will get justice for Father,” she vowed. “I will speak to the king tomorrow evening on his behalf. Celina will pay for what she has done. She has been untouchable for far too long. No more.” Picking up the sewing kit, she gathered the sapphire blue fabric into her arms and took it to the small circle of moonlight. It would take her all night, but she knew she would pay any price to see justice done.