Beauty's Cursed Prince Page 5

  Ella wasn’t sure how her stepmother sipped the hot liquid without scalding her tongue. Her working theory was that Lady Tremaine had forfeited her taste buds long ago in pursuit of the hottest cup of joe. She leaned in slightly, waiting for either the scathing criticism or the blissful silence, which would mean she approved.

  Lady Tremaine smacked her lips, took a second sip and set the cup down. “The drip method really is the only way to go. Still, I can tell you didn’t roast the beans twice. I don’t know why you insist on taking shortcuts, as if you think I’m an idiot you can hoodwink.”

  Each word was chosen with great care to inflict the most damage, her tone acerbic and sharp. Ella had roasted the beans twice, as per the instructions, but knew better than to speak up in her defense. She made a mental note to roast the beans three times instead, and kept her feelings to herself. “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry. I’ll get it right tomorrow.”

  “That’s what you said yesterday, and yet still I’m stuck drinking slop. If you could just get one simple thing right, my world would spin so much easier.” Her bony shoulders lifted and lowered in exasperation. “Come here.”

  Ella balled her toes inside her shoes and moved to her stepmother’s side, readying for the morning ritual of insult, and then battery.

  She didn’t brace herself—that never helped. She merely closed her eyes and leaned in, offering up her cheek for Lady Tremaine’s hard slap. She knew her skin would sting for five minutes, but the pain would dull. Everything, it seemed, had a dulling point. The pain of her father’s death had dulled slightly over the years, though the sting was still there. The slaps across the face had brought out her tears in the beginning when she’d begun living with her stepmother, but all crying had stopped two years ago. She knew it didn’t help anything, and she’d never been one to dwell in a pit of sadness she had no hope of draining.

  Ella looked forward to the slaps some mornings, because after Lady Tremaine got it out of her system, Ella was dismissed from her sight and could go about her day. When she didn’t get slapped, there was a slow, damaging needling regarding Ella’s figure, her attitude, her father, and even her Pulse that slowly wore her down.

  Ella ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek as she moved quietly up the steps to Drizella’s bedroom. It was her task to wake her second stepsister only after Lady Tremaine had dined, since Drizella was difficult for even her own mother to deal with. Ella made sure to walk on the sides of the wooden steps, using only the balls of her feet. Lady Tremaine didn’t like reminders that Ella lived there, her temper flaring when she heard her stepdaughter walking through the house.

  “Rise and shine, sweetheart,” Ella sang lightly, as she did every morning. Though Drizella was neither sweet, nor did she value matters of the heart, Ella still called her the precious name in hopes it would someday rub off on her stepsister, and remind her that she was capable of kindness (even if there was no evidence to support that).

  “Ung-mm-pffl,” Drizella spluttered, rolling around in her king-sized bed. She required seven down comforters to sleep atop, so every morning, she looked as if she was swimming on a series of cloudy waves that tangled around her long and Olive Oyl-like body.

  “Get out of here!” Drizella finally managed to shout, throwing her phone at Ella’s head, as she did most mornings.

  Ella caught the device, grateful they didn’t have to replace her phone yet again. She gently laid it on the nightstand and reminded herself to keep her shoulders rolled back. She knew that if the tiniest bit of tension crept into her body or tone of voice, the day would be shot. “Good morning, Drizella. If you don’t want to be late to your internship, you need to get up and get going.”

  “I need my pleated skirt I wore last week. The purple one. Did you think about that? About the chores that need to be done? Or did you just talk with your birds all day long—eh, Birdbrain?” She sniggered at the nickname she’d dubbed Ella with years ago. “Birdbrain. Because no one will talk to you, except for the birds.”

  “In all things, have the courage to be kind,” she reminded herself, quoting her father’s prayer for her.

  “What are you yammering about? Stop being annoying.”

  Ella hummed a song in her head, her hips swaying as she opened up Drizella’s curtains and motioned to the laundry basket in the corner filled with folded clothes. “It’s right in there, sweetheart. Let me get it for you. What top did you want to wear? I thought you looked lovely in your white sweater.”

  “That’s because you’re simple and fat. The white sweater didn’t hang right. The yellow blouse. The one that shows off my boobs. I’ve got a date tonight, and I want it to go well.”

  “Gary?” Ella asked, trying to keep the dread out of her voice.

  “Gary Herchon,” she corrected Ella, drawing out the last name to sound exotic. “He’s best friends with Calvin, the Baron’s son. Can you imagine? If Mama marries the Baron, and I marry their close family friend?” Drizella tumbled out of bed, stripped her nightgown off and flung it onto the floor, narrowly missing knocking over the lamp on her nightstand. She waited like a princess in the center of the room for Ella to fetch her clothes and dress her in them. Her long nose pointed up in the air while Ella threaded her arms through the blouse and buttoned it up for her. “You can’t possibly understand how big a deal this is. Gary’s father is one step away from being on the council. Like, on the council! The Baron’s only got to appoint him, which he plans on doing once the council is cleared of the useless lame ducks. Any day now, I’ll be dating the son of a councilmember.”

  Ella rarely paid attention to Drizella’s posturing, but there was something in her smugness that worried Ella. “Cleared how?”

  Drizella’s grin widened, making her look like a vindictive cat. Then she drew her thumb across her throat with a wicked gleam in her eyes, evoking a gasp from Ella. “If they don’t step down, the Baron has ways of making people bend. If they won’t bend, he’ll break them. He already knows how he’ll do it.”

  “How?” Ella asked, her mouth dry.

  “Surely you don’t think all Lethals are as reformed as Sleeping Beauty’s husband. Most can’t get employment anywhere. Some would do anything the Baron asked for a quick buck.” Drizella’s pointy nose crinkled, as if talking about a woman who was prettier than her had left a foul stench in the air.

  Ella knew that if she wanted Drizella to keep talking, she would have to get her relaxed. “You work so hard. I can’t believe how well you’ve done at Hipristine Industries. You’re the best social media consultant they’ve ever seen, I’m sure.”

  “Can you believe they want me to keep a schedule? They’re not even paying me, but they want me to clock in hours. Ridiculous.”

  “Would you like me to rub your shoulders?”

  Drizella bristled with self-importance. “My feet, actually.”

  Ella bit down on her lower lip as she descended to her knees before Drizella’s vanity chair. She waited until her stepsister was comfortable, and then rubbed a dollop of peppermint oil into her palms, gearing herself up to do one of her least favorite tasks. “Is that better?” she asked politely, swallowing hard as she ran her fingers over the foot fungus that never seemed to go away. Drizella’s toes were big, hairy, scaly, and smelled like rotting onions. Still, Ella kept her politeness around her neck like armor, offering up an unbothered expression while she massaged. The only thing that would get the stink off her hands after the task was rubbing them in the cinders from the hearth, followed by a thorough handwashing.

  “I do work too hard,” Drizella mumbled, her eyes closing while she slumped in the chair.

  Ella eased up on the pressure, not wanting to relax Drizella too much, and impede on sharing time. “Do you really think the Baron’s going to have members of the council killed by Lethals, all so he can get a few more spots for his friends?”

  Drizella’s eyes opened. “That’s what Gary said. And why not? Lethals have to be good for something, right? We’ve got a
dinner date set for after the meeting the Baron’s holding to finalize everything.”

  “When would you like me to have your dress for your date ready? I mean, if the meeting’s nearby, then that doesn’t give you much time to prepare. I know how you like to look perfect.” Ella tried her best to keep her prying evasive.

  “Oh, I’ll have plenty of notice. The meeting’s at that stinky old cigar shop closer to the capital. That’s easily forty-five minutes away.”

  Ella rubbed Drizella’s feet for five more minutes, but all her sister wanted to talk about was how good Gary was in bed. If there was one thing Ella deemed more disgusting than Drizella’s feet, it was Gary Herchon.

  “One day, when you find some lowly servant to give you the time of day, you’ll see what I’m talking about. Gary sure knows what he’s doing between the sheets.”

  Ella could spot Drizella’s bravado and lies a mile away, but she was barely listening anymore. Her mind was focused on the potential plot that would eliminate a sizeable chunk of the council if she didn’t intervene.

  6

  Pinpricks of Possibility

  Ella usually went to the grocery store in town to get what was needed to cook for the household, but that day she drove to the next town over to the most affluent section of Avondale—the East Village. She strolled into the upscale grocer’s that mostly sold vegan health food, and made her way to the far wall, where she busied herself pretending to read the labels on the bins of loose-leaf tea.

  Her palms were sweating as she tried to appear inconspicuous while she readied her Pulse. Most people could touch someone and press a feeling or idea into them. A fraction could touch death into people, or extreme harm.

  Ella’s father knew he had to instruct his daughter carefully when he learned of her abilities.

  Instead of a Pulse, Ella had been born with the ability to send out her hearing. There was no precedent for something like that. In decades past, possessing a gift that was a variant from the norm had the potential to put you in real danger. The Wicked Queen Vanessa who’d ruled three thrones before King Hubert had made it her business to round up all the variants and exploit their gifts. Most didn’t make it out of her dungeons before she’d driven them to insanity. Or perhaps the mandatory lobotomies came before.

  Malaura had possessed magic at levels no one ever dreamed of. Since she’d abused her power so cruelly, having anything outside the norm was often treated with skittish glances and ostracism.

  King Hubert was a fair and even-tempered ruler. Even so, Ella’s father hadn’t been one to put things to chance where his daughter was concerned, so he taught her to hide her gifts. Upon graduation, her Pulse was declared ‘kindness,’ which was a relief felt through both Ella and her father. Life was simply harder for Deadpulses. Though Ella didn’t have a Pulse in the traditional sense, the proctor for her final exam felt himself growing kinder around her when she touched his arm. She didn’t bother to correct him, knowing that it was simply her demeanor that had made him feel a rush of tenderness in his soul.

  Ella never bothered furthering her education after that. She’d considered herself fortunate to have graduated under the radar, and did her best to keep her secrets to herself.

  She leaned in and inhaled a long drag, filling her lungs with magic she’d always been able to sense in the air from birth. The particles were far too small for most people to notice, but Ella could feel the pinpricks of possibility.

  When she exhaled, she sent her hearing out, bypassing the walls, the people, the shopping carts, and any other distractions, so she could infiltrate the store next to the vegan health market.

  The Baron had been bragging the last time he’d been to the house for dinner about the weekly meeting of the minds housed in the backroom of the cigar shop. Gary Herchon boasting to Drizella about how important he was to know about such things narrowed down the window for Ella, so she would be at the right place at the right time to overhear all the wrong things. Ella’d had no idea this was what they discussed during their cloak and dagger meetings. They were an unofficial clandestine men’s club, and the Baron assumed telling Lady Tremaine where and when they took place wouldn’t do anything to expose his secrets, since no one but the invited could get in.

  However, the Baron didn’t know that Ella could hear through walls.

  As she continued to breathe, her lungs didn’t fill with the scent of tea from the barrels before her. Instead, a heavy sting of pipe tobacco weighted her body, making her feel as if she was on the other side of the wall, smelling and hearing everything going on there. She’d never been able to send out her sight. Usually Hearing and Scent were enough to do whatever spying she needed to be part of, and today was no exception.

  She pursed her lips through ten minutes of posturing and name-dropping as the important men and the hopefuls tried to impress each other. She filed every detail in her mind, but most of it was either unimportant, or clearly fabricated to win the favor of the Baron.

  She’d had to scrub the kitchen and living room floors twice before Lady Tremaine was satisfied and allowed Ella to leave to complete her errands. The meeting started twenty minutes ago, but Ella was grateful it seemed she hadn’t missed the most important parts.

  Then finally, she heard something that made her spine stiffen.

  “Caleb, Eustace and Remus need to be reckoned with. They’re too comfortable in their council seats, and far too vocal.”

  “Why stop there?” another man said, puffing on his pipe. “If you’re going for Remus, why not just go for the Chancellor himself? Remus will prove far more difficult to take out.”

  “Remus Johnstone doesn’t scare me,” Mr. Herchon said, his swagger in full swing. Ella could practically picture his pot belly that he’d passed down to his son Gary.

  Ella’s spine stiffened at the crack of the Baron’s voice. “Then you’re a fool. We’ll not send out an attack on Remus. If there’s one way to get us all found out, it’s that. Stay away from the Chancellor, his daughter, and Remus. They’re being watched too closely by the public for anyone to get too near. There’s sure to be a spotlight wherever they are for quite some time.”

  The Baron’s snide voice always had a hiss of something sniveling to it that made Ella’s skin crawl, and the others fall silent. She gathered her blue flannel tighter around herself, as if she could feel his garlic breath on her shoulders. Whenever he came over to entertain Lady Tremaine, Ella was sure to make herself scarce. She pretended not to notice the way he stared at her body, but she felt his gaze as if it had groping hands.

  When he continued, she leaned in to hear everything the Baron said as clearly as she could. “The way to take down the Chancellor without drawing too much suspicion is to slowly take out his supporters on the council. The ones who always vote to pass his policies, no matter how outdated and frustrating they might be. We can’t kill the Chancellor. And laying a hand on Remus would be suicide. However, we can cut off their legs by taking out their supporters on the council, and then bringing in some of you more progressive-minded individuals to take their places. That’s how you collapse a beloved leader, gentlemen.”

  “Very well, which ones are we targeting first? I assume you intend on using Lethals to carry out the job.”

  “Of course. I was thinking we should start with Caleb and Eustace. Nobody cares about them. Eustace is so old, people will assume he died in his sleep if the Lethal does his job correctly. And Caleb has many enemies. It’s only a matter of time before one of them came after him.” The Baron chuckled, and Ella could hear the clanking of ice in a glass.

  Angst over picturing the Baron too near her made her lose her grip on her Hearing, and suddenly the sounds and smells of the cigar shop next door vanished, replaced with the scent of loose tea, and the sound of a mother trying to shush her fussing baby.

  Ella shoved her sweaty palms into the pockets of her light blue cardigan she wore over her flannel. She’d always loved how the delicate color complimented her eyes, mak
ing them seem brighter, almost appearing as if she could afford things like makeup to enhance her features.

  Ella tried to send out her hearing again, but she was too unfocused as she worried about what she should do with the information that could shake the magical community if handled improperly, or not handled at all.

  She cast around for any excuse she could find for being in this particular store, wandering down the aisle that had facial serums and hair elixirs. She found an anti-aging eye cream that had been advertised on TV, and took it to the checkout. She hoped that would be enough to explain her presence here if the Baron spotted her, and also to give her stepmother a little boost to make her feel pretty for her date that evening.

  When she checked out her item, she asked the clerk if there was a payphone nearby. Ella wasn’t permitted to own a phone. Once her stepmother learned of Ella’s abilities, she exchanged Ella’s right to walk about freely for a lifetime of servitude. Ella reasoned that working as a servant in her father’s home was better than the possibility of a government-sanctioned lobotomy.

  She moved down the street and turned the corner, shivering against the chill of the light dusting of snow. She’d owned three winter jackets before, but they’d all been taken away, either as punishment for a cleaning job poorly done, or because Drizella or Anastasia had seen her thrift store jacket and wanted it for themselves. Ella shut herself in the phone booth and shuddered against the pane, grateful to the simple structure for at least shielding her from the wind and peppering of snow.

  Ella had memorized the prince’s scrawled phone number on the napkin before she’d burned it. She didn’t want her stepsisters seeing his number lying around, and then call the man who’d been nothing but sweet to her. She tried not to overindulge her imagination with memories of his handsome features, but it was hard not to. Most people in her village looked the other way when they saw Ella coming because they knew she worked for Lady Tremaine, who wasn’t known for being a blessing to society.