Fallen: A Cinderella Story

Domesticae

The wards were erased during the daylight rising of a new moon, and set anew once the moon sank below the horizon. Asha gained some relief from the uneasy sensation of being watched. Mistress also insisted on inspecting all of her clothing and anything new which had come into Asha’s possession over the past month. There had to be a locus hidden somewhere. It was never discovered, however, if it even existed.

The nights passed in alternating flurries of activity and the normal, staid routine of the household.

Dressmakers came and went, vying for the lucrative business of Mistress. Afterall, to the victor would go the outfitting of the entire household, including its eligible staff. Word spread.

Suddenly too, was the household of interest for its sheer quantity of eligible, young, mortal females, who had never been bitten. They understood the ways of the Nightfallen and its Law, and were in thrall to none, yet owed allegiance to Mistress. Mistress was hailed as a visionary, and her weekly salon swelled with Made and Borne alike, eager to see the running of the household for themselves or on behalf of their own houses. Mistress was selective in whom she allowed—mostly other women, of course.

The Twins lurked in the shadows with perpetually sour expressions. They resented the attention Mistress was receiving. They found subtle ways to interfere with the staff, but made Asha the special focus of their torment. Neither Mistress nor Nena seemed to notice. Asha wondered if the nebulous, imagined danger to her beyond the wards was as awful as what awaited her within. From dusk until dawn, she was pursued by them; they sought her out, undoing her work, making outrageous, exacting demands, and generally driving her to the brink of speaking out of turn or letting an ill thought slip through her guard. She considered how far they might dare and shivered. Even if she managed to successfully defend herself against any physical violence, her life would be forfeit. Asha knew well the dynamics of the Made and the Borne. Mistress had power and wealth, but she could not help her if the Twins chose to attack her in earnest.

Asha was deeply relieved when signs of her approaching menses began to appear. She duly notified Nena, who made the arrangements for her transport to Monthly Run, the house where the mortal servants were sequestered during their menstrual cycles.

There was nothing to pack— nothing was permitted to return to the manor once taken to Monthly Run. Any woman or girl returning had to wait a full three days past the last visible blood, and bathe fully in three changes of water.

Asha was surprised to see that Nena was personally going to drive her to The Run. This was not unprecedented, particularly when there were matters requiring her attention in town, but it was not common by any means.

They cleared the grounds of the manor before Nena broke her silence.

“What have you done to anger the Twins, you stupid girl?”

“Chatelaine, in truth, I know not. Their ire became directed at me the day of the proclamation. I do not know what to make of any of it.”

“It is well that you spend time away at this moment. You are receiving too much notice, yet it cannot be said you are behaving inappropriately. Mayhap I should send you to Summer’s End,” her voice trailed off thoughtfully.

Asha swallowed a sigh. Summer’s End was two days’ journey to the north. It was a small, ancient castle situated in the foothills of a high mountain range at the head of a deep lake with very little in the way of modern comforts. In summer, it made for a cool, green retreat above the dust of the cities and towns. On the edge of winter, it would be nearly unbearable. More than the Nightfallen sought refuge there. Asha did not like to think what hunted there in the long winter nights.

“I will do as you see fit,” was the only acceptable response.

“It must be discussed,” Nena stated blandly.

“Yes, Chatelaine.”

They finished the drive in silence punctuated by the creaking of the wagon and the clopping of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestone. Nena slowed the horses at the gate of Monthly Run, and Asha hopped down from the running board. Nena nodded at her and drove off in the direction of the town.

Asha pushed through the front gate, latching it behind her, and rapped on the front door. Jane, chatelaine of The Run, answered it promptly and the women curtseyed to each other.

“Well met, Asha. Do come in.”

She stepped aside and allowed her to pass.

“Well met, Chatelaine. Are you well?”

“Oh, aye. Come now and have a spot of tea. It’s nearly finished. You’ll find your things in the garden room. Has it started yet?”

“No, not yet, just the symptoms.”

“Good, then have tea, change from these garments, and we’ll launder and store them to wear on the return.”

Asha curtseyed and made her way through the hallway to The Run’s main hall. A bevy of ladies who managed The Run and those who served the manor were seated at small tables around the fire.

Although manners and rank still prevailed, The Run was a solely mortal space, therefore many of the rigid protocols so heavily enforced to protect mortal safety in the presence of the Nightfallen were relaxed. Asha could not settle, however. Not with the possibility of a winter sojourn at Summer’s End to escape the unexplained wrath of the Twins hanging over her head.

She appreciated Nena’s concern, at least. She hadn’t thought anyone had noticed. Then again, Nena was the very soul of discretion. Asha reflected on the moment of passion she had witnessed. It had caught her completely by surprise; there had been no hint of that affair whatsoever. She wondered if that was why Nena had chosen to remain well beyond her twenty-fifth year. She did not need to consider what to do with this new information. The very first rule of serving the Nightfallen was to keep their secrets.

She thought then of the large, male corpse being drained of its blood. Had he merely been prey, or had he also known things he should not have?

Asha did not shiver at this thought; it was the same reflection she had after every corpse draining, when she had a moment in which her very thoughts were not possibly being monitored. Such curiosity was a certain path to death. She supposed her questions would be answered on the day the corpse was someone she had known, or on the day she herself ended up on the table.

“Penny for your thoughts, Asha?”

Eleanor, one of the scullery girls at the manor, had spoken. Asha realized she’d been stirring her tea mindlessly.

“Ah, I am afraid they’re more costly than that, Eleanor. Just ensuring I left proper instructions behind. There’s always the concern something was missed.”

“Yes, it is always a worry. If you think of anything, I am happy to relay it day after next.”

“That is most kind… only… you are aware of the proclamation regarding the Solstice Ball, yes? You will need to report for fittings. There are day lessons scheduled with a dancing master as well. Chatelaine will issue instructions.”

Maddy, one of the stable girls, spoke then.

“Dancing!!! As Mistress before me, I do not relish being bound to some man, but dancing I adore.”

Asha hid a smile, yet still glanced around to make sure the wrong ears were not listening. Poor Maddy never really seemed to develop an understanding of discretion.

“Dearest Maddy, such words are dangerous spoken aloud. In certain situations, they are equally dangerous even as a thought in your pretty head. Still, may your light ever shine,” Asha added gently. Maddy still seemed cowed, so she reached over and patted her hand.

The three women looked out the window at the setting sun. They quickly finished their tea and cleared their little deal table. Asha betook herself to her temporary quarters to change before the blood came.

As it happened, the blood did not arrive until the next day, and with it the aching and cramping. “Surly” and “cross,” described her mood perfectly. Luckily, The Run had many hands to make light work and an endless supply of hot water bottles. Asha had heard that mortal employers made no such concessions for their female employees in the mortal sphere. She always neglected to ask when visiting the shops of her former colleagues.

She sunk back into the velvet upholstery of the settee and took a sip of tea. Thusly fortified, Asha returned to carding wool. There were few ways to serve during this time, so most of the tasks involved serving themselves. The wool, at least, would see several washings.

The week passed in tedium, in carding wool and in readying the kitchen garden for winter, but with a delicious freedom of thought. The dangerous time was transitioning back to service, and shedding those mortal habits once more.

Chatelaine sent several of the women into town on a morning supply run. Asha was feeling significantly better by that point and was one of the handful on the long walk to town, bundled in woolens, baskets in hand. They trod lightly upon the cobblestone road, speaking of nothing of consequence, most of them being accustomed to silence or the utterance of brief instructions, and never, ever to opinions. But then, in the safety of sunlight, one of the younger women, just barely reached her majority, asked the fateful question.

“But what does it mean, practically, to be a mortal up for selection at the Solstice ball? Meaning, what happens when a member of the Nightfallen chooses a mortal consort? What does she become? Is she consort in fact or is she for breeding? What is her end?”

“Were you not made to learn the histories?”

“The histories give brief summaries of notable monarchs and their consorts, but the consorts are rarely elaborated upon. We might better prepare ourselves with more relevant information…unless the expectation is a bunch of pretty mortals in ballgowns with no expectations or understanding whatsoever,” she finished with blunt sarcasm.

The older women of the party exchanged uncomfortable looks. In truth, there was no answer to her questions. She was correct; none of the histories mentioned the mortal consorts beyond the children born to them, and which among those offspring were mortal, and which Borne. There was nothing to indicate whether the mortals were Made or eaten or sent off into comfortable retirements until their natural ends. The younger woman opened her mouth to say something more, and another woman silenced her.

“Hush, Theodosia. This is an uncomfortable topic, even in the sacred light of day.”

“Then how uncomfortable might it be to be chosen? If death is on all sides, the only freedom for which one can hope is for the best possible death.”

“Which is precisely why you must stop your tongue this instant.”

And yet, Theodosia’s questions foolishly asked aloud and in public, no less, nevertheless had been weighing on her own mind in its most private moments. Up until this moment, the proclamation ordering them all to present themselves at the ball had been treated with restrained enthusiasm by the household staff.

After all, who wouldn’t want to be the consort of a sovereign of the Nightfallen? They were cultured and wealthy and held all the powerful beauty of a predator. It was a heady combination, even to those who, had they not served them, might well have been their prey. Their mortal servants, most of all, should have known better.

A man, cloaked against the seasonal cold, was passing toward them along the road. The others paid him no mind, but something in the way he moved caught Asha’s notice. There was a dangerous grace to his walk that, had it not been daylight, would have made Asha certain that a member of the Nightfallen was approaching.

The road narrowed at a small bridge over a stream, requiring them all to pass quite close. Instinct took over and Asha, at the tail of her group, curtseyed slightly as the man passed closest of all to her. His face was deeply shadowed by his hood; Asha could not see his eyes, but she saw his nostrils flare as he paused and bowed equally slightly to her. The grim set of his mouth softened. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized how closely they were standing, the man’s presence suddenly overwhelming. There was a dampening of sound and that fraction of a second stretched itself into unfathomable time. Did the man sense it too? In reality, they quickly moved past each other, yet Asha felt shaken.