Fallen: A Cinderella Story

Proclamation

Cook had made a hearty stew of winter vegetables and beef. A hint of red wine and thyme wafted up out of the deep plate. The ladies and girls toasted Mistress, as was their habit, and began their supper promptly. There was a certain giddiness in the general mood as speculation ran rampant about the expected proclamation and the Borne sovereign coming of age. The household staff was not much given to gossip—that was a dangerous activity among the Nightfallen— but a mysterious prince and a royal ball were certain to cause excitement, even among the serving class and the mortal allies of the Nightfallen.

A Borne prince was even more exciting; the Made had to die in order to enter into the power and privilege of the Nightfallen, the Borne did not. The Made could therefore not reproduce without the taking and giving of blood. The Borne were simply born that way. They could breed with mortals, thereby securing their lineage. While it was possible to breed with other Borne, their fertility rates were so low that most preferred a mortal mate to prevent excessive inbreeding.

While there were class distinctions among the Nightfallen, they were largely unconcerned with the class distinctions among mortals. The Nightfallen, by virtue of their longevity, did not associate employment with class.

It was therefore very possible, even likely, that a Borne prince might choose a servant as a consort and mate, hence the rampant giddiness at table. It was well-precedented.

Asha hid a sigh as she tucked into her food. She had four more years to go until Mistress would give her the momentous choice whether to remain in her employ, to become Made, or to be set up in some industry among her fellow mortals. Asha still had not reached a decision, but she did not see catching the eye of a Borne prince as a reliable option. Mistress held a dim view of marriage as a form of slavery. This opinion could not help but instill itself in the women of her household. Only a few married and entered the mortal world as a bride at twenty-five. Most chose to set up in business. Some, like Nena, chose to remain. Asha could remember only one who chose to be Made. She had admired her commitment and bravery. The death had not been pleasant, and her rebirth even less so. Her inhuman screaming echoed in the halls of the manor for days, driving even the most seasoned servants to utter distraction.

Her former colleagues had been forbidden to enter her presence or attend to her, lest the bloodlust of the newly Made turn her against them. The moment she was stable, Mistress took her somewhere distant to hunt. Mistress returned some scant months after, but the former colleague did not. None could question Mistress directly, but it eventually became known that she was established somewhere in the East. That was now some years ago.

That path did not frighten Asha, but it wasn’t to be taken lightly. She often considered what she might do with the long, vigorous years of the Nightfallen.

“Asha…Asha? I see Cook has truly blessed us all with this stew. Asha is transported!”

Asha roused herself from her reverie at Nena’s voice and the tittering of the other women and girls.

“Come again, Chatelaine?”

“The proclamation is expected shortly after midnight. We are all to dress for an event upon waking. Give yourself enough time to dress your hair, Asha.”

“Yes, Chatelaine,” Asha inclined her head. It was delivered with Nena’s usual curtness, but it hid kindness. Asha’s silver-blonde hair was thick and exceedingly fine. It took a very long time to dress adequately.

“See that every single fireplace is swept at sunset. You, Elisabet, begin in the east wing. You, Asha, begin in the west wing. Emmaline, Veronica, prepare the receiving parlour. It is unknown whether the page is mortal or of the Nightfallen. Cook, plan light refreshment accordingly. I do not think I need remind you all of tonight’s importance. No page is ever just a page; they are eyes and ears and a tongue to speak. Do not forget that you represent the House. All hospitality will be offered in accordance with the Law.”

The assembled staff nodded solemnly. Mistress had taken great pains to have them all educated. Every woman and girl among them knew the Law.

Shortly afterward, all were dismissed from table and Asha returned to her little room and slept.

She awoke shortly before sunset, and dressed in her oldest clothes, tying a kerchief around her face and a sleeved apron on over her gown.. She headed to the west wing and begain the filthy task of sweeping out the fireplaces and relaying them with kindling and logs. Elisabet was getting a slow start to the morning, so Asha crossed into the east wing. It was then that she caught a fleeting glimpse of something she should not have in the entrance to Mistress’ box room.

The door was open slightly ajar. Mistress and Nena were locked in an embrace. Mistress had opened the neckline of Nena’s gown, and Asha saw her teeth grazing Nena’s throat. Nena, ever stern and dour, shuddered in passionate anticipation. The door slowly shut on the scene. Asha was too shocked to have a single thought in her head. Very quickly, she filled the void in her mind with thoughts of sweeping out fireplaces to create the least amount of mess. She worked twice as hard as normal, if for no other reason than to keep her thoughts superficial. She could examine…other things…later.

She had finished the sweeping and laying of the great hall fireplaces when a nearly imperceptible sweep of sound behind her made her turn and curtsey. It was the Twins. The Nightfallen kept their names private. It was part of the Law. If they had names, none of the household knew what they were.

“Ladies,” Asha greeted them.

The Twins appeared in deepest blood red morning gowns. Their chestnut colored hair was not yet dressed for the night and hung in rippling waves down their backs. Their eyes were ringed with kohl and hunger.

“You. Ashes Girl. Go forth and bring us something fit to drink.”

Asha sunk into the deepest of curtseys.

“And it please you, shall I serve you here or in the dining room?”

“In the moon garden.”

“Yes, Ladies.” Asha curtseyed again, and departed the great hall backward. The Twins took sunset tea brewed with roses, and with a splash of blood. She was glad she had had time to finish her own work and some of Elisabet’s before they had appeared.

Once in the anteroom of the kitchen, Asha removed her sooty apron and stowed it. She quickly washed her face and hands and delivered their request to Cook, who already had the kettle steaming. Asha poured fresh blood into a special vessel prepared with an anticoagulent and began to dress a breakfast tray. The Twins were Borne; they could and did eat light meals, though the blood and flesh of the living was, of course, their preferred food.

She poured hot water over the rose petal tea and allowed it to steep while she assisted Cook in the preparation of steak tartar. Here was the cause of Elisabet’s late start; she had come to know that a mortal farmer in the neighborhood would be slaughtering a young bull in the afternoon. She had persuaded him to delay it until just before sunset. The meat was still warm. The Twins, if they could be pleased, would be.

Asha finished dressing the tray, ensured she looked presentable, and brought the tray to the moon garden just beyond the glass doors of the formal parlour.

The sun was just setting. The moon, which had risen during the day, was setting with it. The moon garden was a labyrinth of white rose bushes with false centers set with tables and chairs. At its true center was a shallow, circular pool planted round with night-blooming flowers. On summer nights, it was spectacular. In the late fall, it was a withered, somber place. The cold which cut through Asha’s winter woolens would not disturb the Twins at all, who sat, their heads tilted at identical angles, gazing at the reflections of the autumn-curled stalks and leaves in the pool.

Asha did not make a sound to signal her arrival. They were aware of her the moment she had passed from the doors of the parlour. She gently set down the tray, placing a delicate bone china cup on its saucer before each of them. She laid the table before tipping some blood into the teacups. The first Twin reached out lighting fast and flung the cup at the stone edging of the seating area, where it shattered and splattered blood onto the leaves of the roses.

“Ashes Girl, clean that up.”

“Yes, Lady.” Asha kept her mind blank. She could think whatever she liked later. She curtseyed deeply and began to collect the broken shards of the teacup, when the second cup was flung, narrowly missing her head, and shattered next to its twin. Asha did not flinch. She had expected it. She collected the further shards and carried them into the house, her hands wet with the blood she had poured into each. Elisabet looked up from her sweeping in the parlour fireplace and gave a slight nod. Asha nodded back. She disposed of the china shards, scrubbed her hands, and bid one of the we older girls follow her with bucket and cloths discreetly. She placed two, fresh cups on a silver tray and returned to the garden.

“Ashes Girl, the tea’s gone cold.”

“I will remake it right away, Ladies.”

“No. You are to clean the blood. Send that one.”

“Yes, Ladies.” Asha gave some quiet instructions to the girl and sent her away again.

Asha then began to clean up the blood from the stone and the rosebushes, taking great care not to prick herself on any thorns.

It was the most tedious evening Asha had ever spent. The Twins were gracious to every other servant. They seemed to have singled out Asha in particular. They shattered dishes and smeared whatever they did not eat. The evening crept into night. They demanded Asha help them dress, much to her dismay. They had no intention of releasing her, and Mistress was nowhere to be seen.

And yet, Mistress ensured her staff was impeccable. Asha accepted the abuse with grace. It was clear by the time Asha finished dressing the Twins’ hair, that they had grown bored of their game. Out of a sleeve, one of the Twins produced a vial of blood and unceremoniously dumped it over Asha’s head. Asha froze. This came dangerously close to a breach of the Law. The Twins knew it too, for they put their delicate, pale hands over their noses and bid her go.

Asha hurried from the room, feeling the blood run down her neck and into her collar. In a way, she was thankful she had been sweeping fireplaces today. They were very old clothes which could be burned. They day after next was her free day. She could have them replaced. But now she would have to bathe. There would be no way to be dressed and ready to receive the messenger bearing the proclamation. Passing through the scullery, she called for bathing water in the shed at the bottom of the garden. Every woman who saw her pass knew the Twins’ handiwork when they saw it. No one said or even thought about it, but subtly readjusted their work to accommodate this new burden.

It was freezing in the shed, but Asha quickly disrobed and climbed into the tub. A girl brought down a change of clothes and soap. Asha took the time to thoroughly wash her hair and scrub her neck and scalp. The Twins were actively interfering with Mistress’ orders. It wouldn’t be taken lightly, and yet, Asha would bear the punishment. Later. She would think later.

She climbed out of the tub and rinsed the strong soap from her body in the frigid air, shivering all the while. It was at this inopportune moment that she heard quiet footsteps in the garden. She hurried to towel herself off and slip into a chemise, throwing a broad, woolen shawl around her. She was barefoot and shivering when the footsteps passed close to the door, but did not enter. She could feel the presence on the other side of the door. Asha held her breath.

After a long moment, the unseen presence passed on, and Asha gathered up her things and ran up the servants’ passages to her chamber. She dressed as quickly as she could, shivering from more than the cold. The black silk fell heavily around her. She tugged it gently over her stays and smoothed it over the fine wool petticoats. Her hair being wet worked to her advantage; she braided it and looped the thick, heavy braid around her head, pinning it in place. She secured it further with a demure, black, lacquer comb. There was a flush of pink glow to her skin after the hot-and-cold of her hasty bath. She grabbed her finest shawl and hurried through the passageways just in time to hear the clocks chime midnight.

Shortly thereafter, there came a knock at the door.

Asha made her way to the kitchen to help in the service, but Nena swooped in from around a corner on her way to answer the knock and waved at Asha to follow her, giving her a stern look that trumped anything she might have thought to do instead. Nena handed her a sword, carved from ashwood and set with silver. She kept an identical sword for herself. Only the swish and sweep of their skirts followed them through the hallways to the massive front door. Nena opened the front door wide, secure in the power of the wards. She and Asha sank into deep, graceful curtseys, then pointed their swords at the heart of their visitor.

“Who approaches Moon Garden Manor on this dark night,” Nena intoned.

“One who bears a proclamation which is as Law to the Nightfallen,” the cloaked and masked figure responded in a surprisingly deep voice. So, a male messenger had been sent.

The masked man seemed to turn past Nena to look directly at Asha, but it was hard to be certain. Asha tilted her chin slightly in response, displaying the full length of throat, shoulders, and tops of her breasts. It might be assumed that such a gesture could be construed as an offer, but among the Nightfallen, it was more akin to a display of power. Here was a house so powerful that its mortals could not be touched. She felt his gaze run down her whole body and back to Nena. It was appraising, but there was no lechery in it, and it somehow felt familiar.

“This humble messenger has been sent to demand entry on behalf of his house.”

“Which house makes a demand so bold? Which house speaks words that are Law?”

“The Borne house of Burning Brand. Its head is your king.”

At this part of the entry ritual, Nena nodded, once, to Asha, who stepped forward. Drawing herself to her full height, she began her part of the challenge.

“Show us, then, the proofs you bear.”

The messenger reached into the folds of his cloak and produced a document, set with a seal pressed into red wax with a gold metallic shimmer. Asha sheathed her sword and took the document from his hands to examine the seal. She passed it to Nena and redrew her sword while Nena examined the seal herself. The women exchanged a look and a nod.

“This proof is accepted. We humble maidservants will escort you to our mistress. You may cross the threshold.”

The man took a step into the house. Asha caught the faintest aroma of funeral lillies as he did. That sealed it; he was not mortal, he was of the Nightfallen. The wards never lied. Sending a messenger of their own kind was a display of power as well.

The women escorted him to the formal reception parlour. Nena tugged on a bell pull and all of the adult women of the household entered in their black silk gowns. Nena entrusted her sword to Elisabet, who dutifully took her place on the messenger’s left side, then swept from the room. She returned with Mistress, who entered in a gown of burnt-out black silk velvet with a high neck and hem and cuffs of a red silk satin. She was flanked by the Twins in matching, canary yellow gowns heavily embroidered with geometric patterns in silver. Mistress curtseyed. The Twins merely nodded and treated the messenger to appraising looks of their own. He seemed unconcerned. He bowed formally to Mistress.

Mistress nodded and raised her right hand from the wrist. The messenger, Mistress, and the Twins sat down. One of the servants brought in a tray with delicacies to tempt the Nightfallen. The messenger accepted the cup of bloody tea offered to him, but only drank half of it. Once hospitality had been established, he quickly took on a brisk, businesslike air.

He stood, bowed, and retrieved a scroll from his cloak.

“The royal majesties of the house of Burning Brand do require the pleasure of your company for the solemnities of the winter solstice.

A grand ball will mark this occasion of not only the longest night, but also the majority of a son of that house. This proclamation extends to the mortal members of the houses of the Nightfallen. All young women who have achieved their majority are required to attend.”

Mistress stood and curtseyed to the messenger.

“I hear, and obey.”

She gestured to the servants, who also curtseyed and repeated the response in unison. Asha and Elisabet, flanking the messenger with their swords, escorted him to the front door. He stared at Asha a long moment before turning his attention to Mistress and bowing formally. He backed out the door, bowed again, then disappeared into the night. Mistress looked out into the night for a long while before bidding the women close it.

“The wards will be erased and redone tomorrow itself,” she declared in her soft, smokey voice. Asha and Elisabet curtseyed in acknowledgment.

“Yes, Mistress. We understand and obey.”

“Asha, walk with me.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Asha followed Mistress to a less formal parlour. She procured a small device from a drawer in a sofa table and set it to spinning. She sat on a sofa and bid Asha to do the same.

“Who is that man?”

“Mistress? He was the messenger.”

“He was only paying attention to you. Who is he?”

“In truth, Mistress, I know not. I have no male acquaintances beyond the household vendors. Certainly none among the Nightfallen.”

“The wards work? You were able to tell? Well, he certainly was quite taken with you.”

“There was a fragrance of funeral lillies.”

Mistress pierced her with a look Asha found difficult to interpret.

“Stay close to the manor. If you needs must go out, do not do so alone.”

“Yes Mistress.”

Mistress stood suddenly and Asha sprang to her feet and curtseyed.

“I don’t like it. I will tolerate it for now, but I do not like it.” She left the room.

Asha wondered what she meant by that.