Cinderella Dressed in Ashes

Carmilla’s tone was scary. She smiled flatly at her obedient daughter then stood up slowly, taking her time. She never did anything in a hurry. She rubbed her dress gently as if she had caught germs from sitting on her daughter’s bed then turned and walked out of the room.

“And don’t worry about Mr. Oddly Tune,” she said from the hallway. “May he and his laughable name rest in peace.”

Shew grimaced. How was it possible to keep anything from the Queen?

“Would someone prepare my bath?” she ordered other servants outside.

“Why does she have to weigh my heart, Tabula?” Shew asked in the absence of her mother.

“Ah—” Tabula stuttered, unable to look Shew in the eyes. “I’d better be going, princess.”

She watched as Tabula clutched the Queen’s mirror and left with it, closing the door behind her.

Shew walked to uncover one of the mirrors in her room and inspect her image. She was a mess.

 “Who the hell am I?” she muttered again. “And why can’t I remember why they weighed my heart? How is it even possible to weigh someone’s heart?” she scowled at her own image. Although her reflection looked like her, it also looked like a stranger. People tend to think of themselves as good and kindhearted, until they look in the mirror and discover they have blood on their hands. Of course, that’s when they decide to go buy another mirror.  For a long time, Shew stood in front of the mirror, imprisoned by the silence of her room.

Suddenly, she could hear something crackling in the walls. It was a strange sound, as if someone was walking inside them. Alert, she scanned the large chamber with her eyes.

11 The Princess and the Pauper

The sound kept increasing.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of black boots behind the curtains. Someone was there, eavesdropping; maybe the black cloaked person from the Field of Dreams.

Shew stood frozen at first, but quickly decided she had enough and hurried to pull the curtain open and expose this mysterious person.

When she was halfway across the room, she heard someone call for her from behind.

“Joy!”

Shew froze in place and turned around. She saw Cerene tucked away in the unlit fireplace with a broom in her hand. It was Cerene who’d made the noise in the walls, she was sneaking in through the fireplace like usual.

“Stop staring and come over and help me,” Cerene said.

Shew lent her a hand. Cerene threw her precious broomstick into the room first—it was a strange broomstick, heavy and made of some kind of iron. Shew pulled on Cerene with all her might and dislodged her from the fireplace, spreading ashes into the luxurious chamber.

Cerene looked like she’d been working in the coal mines.

What was new? This was Cerene, all ashes, all the time.

“Thank you,” Cerene said. “You should make one of your many servants clean that fireplace of yours.”

“But of course, Cerene” Shew nodded, bowing her head and letting out a giggle.

“It’s full of dead squirrels. If you persuade the Queen, I can really clean this mess,” Cerene said. “How can a castle so beautiful have such an awful fireplace?”

“What were you doing in it anyway?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Cerene picked up her broomstick and smiled at her. Shew couldn’t see much of Cerene’s face except her teeth.

Shew suddenly remembered there had been someone behind the curtain. Cerene had distracted her unknowingly.

When she turned around to look for them, they were gone. She pulled the curtain back and looked out the window, but she didn’t see anyone she didn’t recognize.

“Looking for something?” Cerene asked.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry.”

“So you like my surprise?” Cerene said.

The way she asked melted Shew’s heart instantly, “I do like your surprise, and I’m glad you’re not mad at me anymore,” she responded with a sincere smile. “However, you need to bathe. You look buried in all that ash.”

“You don’t look bad yourself in all that…” Cerene held her smile. “Blood.”

Shew laughed from her heart. So did Cerene. Although one of them was a princess and the other a maid, they both had a lot in common.

In the middle of laughing, Shew saw a newer scar on Cerene’s neck. This one was a different scar. It was a bite mark that Cerene tried to hide underneath the ashes.

“Who did this to you?” Shew broke her laugh and gently grabbed Cerene by the neck. “Talk to me, Cerene. I’m not going to let go without you telling me about this. Who did this to you?”

“I am a Slave Maiden, remember?” she pulled herself away, holding onto her broom like a cane.

“What are you talking about?” All kinds of obscene scenarios flashed in front of her eyes. What did they do to her? Who were they?  “I thought Slave Maiden meant…”

“It means I am a slave. I only do what my masters demand of me,” Cerene said, “even when they want to feed. Why is it so hard for you to get it?”

“Who’s been feeding on you?” Shew grimaced.

“Who do you think? There are only two insane people in this castle,” Cerene said, wiping her face with Shew’s bed sheets. She did it spontaneously, unaware of the consequences the Queen had in store for Shew.

“Two?” Shew wondered. “You mean the King and the Queen?”

“I mean you and the Queen,” Cerene blew her nose in the bed sheet.

“Are you calling me insane?” Shew smiled.

“Everyone thinks you’re some kind of a monster,” Cerene said. “I know it for sure. I helped you bury one of your victims.”

“Oddly Tune was no victim,” Shew bent forward. “He was a werewolf. How many times do I have to remind you?”

“You drank his blood, Joy,” Cerene said, wiping her teeth with the bed sheet. “But I don’t hate you. Being a monster is good. I expect you to be strong enough to stand in the face of those want to hurt you,” she said. “And maybe those who hurt me,” she said under her breath, but Shew heard her.

How could I not admire a Slave Maiden who sits on my bed, treats my bed sheet like toilet paper, dares to call me what I really am, and then tells me that she forgives and doesn’t hate me?

Shew sat next to her, “Does the Queen feed a lot on you?”

“I don’t know. Whenever she needs to,” Cerene said, pulling out her glass urn from under her dress. She had wrapped it around her waist, covered it with curly leaves, and knotted it with vines from the trees.

“You know she slaughters young girls and swims in their blood, don’t you?” Shew said, trying to sound as tender as possible. The imagery of what the Queen did sent a cringe through her soul.

“I know. I’ve seen it,” Cerene said.

“You have?”

“I have figured out most of this castle’s secret doors and pathways,” Cerene’s eyes glittered.

“I can imagine,” Shew said. “I’m wondering why the Queen spared you, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious? She doesn’t hesitate in bathing in any peasant girl’s blood,” Shew said. “So why hasn’t she killed you?”

“Maybe she thinks I’m good at housework?” Cerene suggested, her eyes darting aimlessly, trying to figure out why. “I could be a senior servant like Tabula one day.”