Cinderella: The Cinder from the Ash

Chapter Fifteen

Ella yawned, stretching her arms above her head. Instead of the cracked headboard she had grown accustomed to her fingers touched nothing but air. A frown creased her brow. Opening her eyes slowly, she glanced around. She had fallen asleep on the floor, the only space in the attic not devoted to the numerous chests. Her creation was draped over the trunk at her feet. It was sapphire blue taffeta, snug at the waist, the fabric flaring down into a full skirt, and back up into a tight bodice that left her shoulders bare. Ella sat up, rubbing the sleep from the corners of her eyes. Her body ached from sleeping on the hardwood floor, and the thin beam of sunlight illuminated her prison, just as it had the day before. She could hear her step-sisters, clattering up and down the staircase; voices shrill with excitement and squabbling.

“Esmae, the purple ribbon is mine! You know it matches my eyes!”

“Your eyes are not purple, Evangline! Stop being so selfish!”

It was the perfect opportunity for Ella. She took it. “Evangline, Esmae, if you let me out, I will help you with your hair and ribbons. I will make sure the prince cannot help but choose one of you to dance with.”

It was bribery that worked. The lock clicked, the knob turned, and the door swung open shortly thereafter. Evangline flounced through first, the offending ribbons dangling from one graying hand.

“You both look – lovely,” Ella lied. In truth, her step-sisters looked hideous. Evangline had clothed herself entirely in purple, from the dyed feathers in her hair down to her heeled shoes. It was clear she intended to be chosen as the prince’s bride. No wonder Esmae was having fits. Ella’s shoulders shook as she attempted to hold in her laughter. Her elder step-sister looked like nothing less than a terrifying, somewhat decayed eggplant, and her younger was a vision of…she was not sure what…in a blood red gown which did nothing to brighten her blackened skin and sunken cheeks.

“Tell her to give me the ribbons,” Esmae demanded.

Evangline raised her brow bone and snorted. “I am not required to listen to her…nor to you. The ribbons would clash terribly with your…whatever it is that you decided to wear.”

“At least I look more flattering than you,” Esmae shot back. “You presume too much by wearing the royal colors. It will only take one look, and the prince will turn away from you.”

“And turn to you, I suppose?”

“Sisters,” Ella stepped forward, forcing the two girls to each take a step backwards. “There is no point in arguing. Esame, those ribbons will not enhance your beauty. You would look astonishing, however, with a single red ribbon threaded through your hair. You have one, do you not?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned to Evangline. “I understand you are eager to be chosen, but Esmae is right. Unrelieved purple is not flattering. There are white ribbons in my dresser. Will you bring them up?”

“You mean to redress us?’ Esmae’s button nose flared. “But you are – you are you.”

“I do not mean to re-clothe you,” Ella reassured her. “I simply thought –” but her younger step-sister refused to let her finish.

“It is not your place to think. Consider yourself lucky that we choose to open the door at all!” She brushed past Ella and strode into the attic, where she stopped short. “What on earth – Evangline, look! Cinder believes she is going to the ball!”

“What?” Evangline pushed her way in. “That is laughable; she would never be welcomed! She is nothing more than a servant!”

“I received an invitation,” Ella stated, “just as every other unmarried woman in the kingdom.” Resolve stiffened her spine. “And as such, I have every intention of attending.”

“Then you will go in rags,” Esmae snarled. Before Ella could stop her, she grabbed the offending gown off the trunk and began ripping at the fabric.

All Ella could do was watch in horror as her younger step-sister unknowingly shredded her dreams of seeing Grey again.

“Evangline,” she appealed, “stop her.”

Her older step-sister grabbed her forearm when Ella lunged forward, intent on stopping Esmae.

“It is what you deserve by attempting to rise above your station,” Evangline smirked.

Ella’s vision blurred. “Why are you doing this? What is so horrible about wanting what used to be mine?”

Evangline’s grasp tightened further. “Your father was a merchant. We elevated you.”

“If you are so sure I am worth nothing,” Ella whispered, “then why bother destroying my gown?” It was in pieces, but that fact was not stopping Esmae from shredding the scattered bits into fabric confetti.

“Girls, what are you doing up there?” Celina’s voice stopped Esmae’s manic shredding.

“Nothing, Mama,” Evangline called out. “We shall be down in a moment.”

“You should not be up there at all!” Celina snapped. “Come down at once!”

The two girls stared at each other, wide-eyed. “Yes, Mama!”

Esmae bared her teeth at Ella. “Enjoy the ball, Cinder! If you can get there, that is!” Grinning broadly, they hurried from the attic, slamming the door shut behind them.

With her step-sisters shrill laughter echoing in her ears, Ella bent nearly double until her legs gave out. She huddled on the floor, rocking back and forth. Thanks to her step-sisters, there would be no escape. There would be no ball. There would be no Grey.