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“What do you think needs to happen in Lille?” I ask. She stares at me, her brown eyes glinting, a deadly serious look on her face. “I think we need to burn the whole thing to the ground and start over. The entire system, the ideals that have been woven into this society. It all has to go.”
People are going about their business as if only a day ago their daughters hadn’t been snatched away from them, as if Liv hadn’t died. I resent being back here.
I watch a young boy pocket a silver spoon from a table as the man attending it bargains with one of his patrons. My first thought is to alert the merchant, but when he makes a comment about the length of a young girl’s skirt and how her legs are simply too inviting to resist, I stop in my tracks. He deserves to have his things stolen.
Even if we can find a way to end Manford’s reign, men won’t suddenly start keeping their hands to themselves, or allowing women the same rights that they have. We’ll have to fight for it, and I cannot help but wonder what the cost will be.
He walks up to a young girl near the front of the crowd, maybe ten or eleven years old, and slips his hand under her chin. “Smile. You’re so much prettier when you smile.” I can’t see her face, but she must acquiesce because he grins down at her in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“If my life could serve a purpose,” the woman begins, raising her head a little and looking directly at the king, “then let this be it. I would die to give even just one person the chance to be free from you.”
This is the reason no one speaks up. Manford has no qualms about killing someone on a whim. It could have been any of us. We are too busy trying to survive to worry about anything else.
“You gonna kill me, woman?” the man asks incredulously. He doesn’t think she will do it, but I’m certain she will. “I could do it,” she whispers, her mouth close to his ear. “And not even bat an eye. Slit you open like a fish and let your guts spill out on the ground. I suspect even the dogs would leave your entrails alone, you disgusting little man.”
I love her omg
“Come now,” he says. “You don’t really want to hurt me. A beautiful lady like yourself wouldn’t do that.” The corner of Constance’s mouth twitches. “That you try to flatter me when I have a blade at your neck makes me want to slit your throat and spare the world your ignorance.”
I LOVE HER OH MY GOD
Constance wields her power like a sword, a power that I didn’t even know we could have. I’m in awe of her.
SAME BABY GIRL
“Do you think he’s dead?” I ask, trying to figure out if I care. “No.” Constance sounds severely disappointed by that.
“The bomb.” She holds the container up, giving it a little shake like I should know what it is. “Did you make that?” I ask. “Of course,” she says flippantly. “My mother taught me.” “My mother taught me how to make bread.” The corner of her mouth turns up. “Well, that has its uses, too.”
“Were you trying to choke me back there?” she asks. “I thought you were one of the guards,” I say, heat rising in my face. “I’m so sorry.” “You can’t choke a full-grown man. You have to stab him or run him over with your cart. Come on now, Sophia.” She straightens her jacket and leans back on the seat, grinning.
My mother might have actually fainted if I was both in love with a girl and thinking of learning to use a sword.
Same tbh
“You’ve got everything covered,” I say. “Well, not everything,” she says. “I haven’t figured out how to make you look at me the way you did when I was standing by the fire back at the house. I don’t know that anyone has ever looked at me that way.”
Constance hands me a lamp and a small box of matches. The light illuminates only the area of the cart where we are sitting and does nothing to penetrate the curtain of blackness in front of the horse. “At least if something attacks us, we won’t see it coming,” Constance says. I turn to stare at her, but she only shrugs.
“When the leader of this kingdom treats women as property, it sets an awful precedent. People think it’s okay to do the same.”
have done things you cannot fathom. I have been more wicked than you can imagine.” This is not a warning. This is not a threat. It is an admission.
“Who was he?” Constance asks. There is fear in her voice, a wavering in her tone. “Who was this man that came to your door?” Amina rests her pipe on the arm of her chair and stares into the fire. “The very same man who now sits on the throne.”
“Mersailles has only ever had one ruler since the time of Cinderella,” Amina says. “There is no city in the Forbidden Lands producing potential heirs to the throne. Charming is Manford. Manford is Charming.”
comprehend what this means. “He has a power,” Amina says. “Something that sustains him. I don’t know how, but what is certain is that the prince of Cinderella’s tale, his successors, and the man you call King Manford are one and the same.”
Omg he takes sustenance from the girls!!! Just like a man
“And what did you get out of all of this?” Constance asks. “I doubt you helped him without getting anything in return.” “He made me one of his closest advisers,” Amina says in a way that sounds almost disappointed. “He continued his cursed reign, and in turn he made sure I never had to worry about who might decide that a witch might make good kindling.”
Amina shakes her head. “If you drop a frog in a pot of boiling water, it will jump out. But if you stoke the fire slowly, it will allow itself to be boiled to death. The changes in the very beginning were subtle. A curfew was imposed for the safety of the women. Women were required to wear long dresses to protect their modesty. Men were elevated to positions of power because they knew best.” Amina gives an exaggerated sigh. “Everything was framed as being in the best interest of the people.”
Constance leans in. “She goes up there to kill him and ends up his blushing bride? Make it make sense, Amina.”
Constance and I take turns stoking the fire to keep the drafty little cottage warm throughout the night. As we drift in and out of sleep, I keep some distance between us, though I awake several times to find her face very close to mine, her eyes closed, her breath soft and warm. I’m afraid I’m dreaming, that I might reach out and she’ll be gone. But I allow myself to think of what it would be like to spend my days with her freely, in a future we create.
“Put the kettle and pot on. We’ll need something to eat. What will it be—eye of newt, tongue of dog?” Amina cackles. “That’s disgusting,” Constance grumbles.
“It’s not as if he kept her in a cell,” Amina says quietly. “She had her own room in the palace. It was quite lovely, actually.” “A prison is still a prison no matter how pretty the decor,” says Constance.
“We all make choices that we wish we could take back. But we can’t change what has already happened. The only thing we can do is try to make things better now.
“I don’t. I feel sorry for them. My parents, that is. They only know how to follow the king. They’ve lost their way when it comes to knowing how to help me.” “And you’re not lost?” I think for a moment. “Maybe I am. But the difference is that I want to be found. I’m not happy pretending everything is fine when I know it’s not.”
My feelings for Constance grow with each passing second, but my feelings for Erin hang heavy on my heart. I feel terrible for caring so deeply about Constance while Erin suffers.
“Can you ever just give a straight answer?” Constance asks, throwing her head back and looking at the ceiling. “I’m exhausted trying to decipher your riddles. See what can be seen? What does that mean?” “It means shut up and stop asking so many questions,” Amina snaps.
“My dear Sophia, you may one day find yourself the topic of your own fairy tale. I can already see him turning your escape into a cautionary tale.” “I won’t give him the chance to use me like that,” I say. “I would die first.” Amina turns to me, sadness in her eyes. “Please don’t say that. Because you very well might.”
Constance is so suspicious of Amina that she adjusts to Amina’s schedule, sleeping when she sleeps, waking when she wakes, and following her around, which pushes Amina to her wits’ end.
Constance tightens her belt and runs her hand over her dagger’s hilt. An insidious little smile spreads across Amina’s lips. “It won’t do you much good. It’s not the wolves or bears you should be afraid of. The night creatures, the ones with no name who come alive in the moonlight—those are the things you should be worried about.”
“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as a toad, Sophia.” “But you’d be such a cute one,” I say. “A beautiful bullfrog.”
The air is suddenly quite chilly, and a thought occurs to me. “Do I have to disrobe completely?” Constance’s gaze sweeps over me, sending a jolt down my spine. “Nudity is optional,” says Amina. “But from what I can tell, we all have the same bits and pieces. And even if you don’t, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, dearie. I’ve seen my fair share of tallywhackers as well.”
Your fair share of HWAT???!
Amina disrobes without a second thought and strides into the water. Constance slowly turns to me, covering her eyes with her hands. “I was right, Amina,” Constance says. “There is nothing in these woods scarier than you.”
“There’s a woman in Lille who runs a shop called Helen’s Wonderments. She claims to have all of your recipes, all your potions and powders. Says she’s as close to a fairy godmother as most of us will ever get.” “Helen is a liar and a cheat and sells cow piss in fancy glass bottles to unwitting, often desperate people,” Amina says disapprovingly. “The only reason she’s allowed to continue is because Manford knows she’s a fake.”
I drank a half vial of cow piss and gave Erin the rest. That is a secret I’ll be taking to my grave.
I forgot about that
We are all shaken by what we’ve seen: the vague notions of a future beyond our control despite our best efforts to change the present.
Amina walks around the cart, carrying a stack of books. I glance at the book of spells. The cover is crisscrossed with fine lines that look almost exactly like the ones on my palm. It’s not leather at all. It’s human skin.
Constance’s hand moves to her dagger, and the man glances at her. He scratches the top of his head. He is completely confused. “Do you even know how to use a sword? Women aren’t permitted to—” “The pointy end goes in your neck,” Constance snaps.
Cinderella’s snow-white hair hangs down her back, and she looks from me to Amina and then to Constance. A shower of dust shakes free from her as she cocks her head to the side. “Gabrielle?”
“You—you look like her.” Cinderella’s breath rattles out of her. “My Gabrielle.” A knot forms in my throat. Gabrielle’s name from Cinderella’s lips sounds as if nothing but love remains in her memory, faded as it must be.
“What does he take?” I ask. “I don’t know,” says Cinderella. “I don’t remember. There was only him, and the light, and then there was nothing.” The light. My vision. They are connected.
“I think we sometimes make the mistake of thinking monsters are abhorrent aberrations, lurking in the darkest recesses, when the truth is far more disturbing. The most monstrous of men are those who sit in plain sight, daring you to challenge them.
“How many girls will he hurt before we have a chance to stop him? How many women are being hurt right now in Mersailles because of the rules he made?” I look back. “And what about the young boys who will never have a chance to be decent people because they are taught from the cradle to be despicable? And we’re going to hide? I want him dead. Right now.”
“There are three things you have to do when you’re using a blade,” she says. “You have to be able to hold on to the dagger; you have to be able to strike whatever, or in this case whoever, the target is; and you have to have all your fingers when you’re done.”
“Not even you, with all your wishful thinking, can change things. You’re not special, Sophia. You’re just a silly girl like the rest of us.”
