The Stepsister Scheme

sinuous curve of steel.
    “Why, Charlotte?” Danielle asked.
    Tears began to drip down Charlotte’s face. Danielle stared. Not once had she seen her stepsister cry, not even at her own mother’s funeral.
    “It’s not fair,” Charlotte whispered. “You had everything.”
    For several moments, Danielle was too stunned to answer. “ I had everything. I , who cooked your meals and cleaned your home and tended your hair and—”
    “I should have been Princess Whiteshore,” said Charlotte. “I would have been, if you hadn’t cheated me. You and your dead mother.”
    Danielle flinched. “My mother is gone. Destroyed by the Chirka you summoned.”
    “Gone?” Charlotte looked up, and for an instant, sympathy pushed the hate from her eyes. Then her expression hardened again. “It doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve taken everything from me.”
    “Is that why you took Armand?” Talia asked. “To reclaim what you thought was yours?”
    A yellow pixie flew out of the tunnel. His flight was erratic, looping and spinning in every direction. He nearly collided with Talia before flittering past. He muttered an apology, but the words were too fast for Danielle to make out. He sounded like a hiccuping sparrow.
    “Perhaps this isn’t the ideal place for your interrogation,” Arlorran said gently.
    Talia nodded. “So take us somewhere better.”
    The gnome rubbed his beard. “I already offered to take you back to my place. You said you weren’t interested. Besides, shouldn’t you be worrying about your witch there?”
    “Arlorran, we need your help,” said Danielle. “You made a deal.”
    “Aye, and I did my part. I summoned the girl.”
    Snow looked up, an innocent smile on her face. “Technically, that wasn’t the deal. You said, ‘You give me wings so I can fly, and I’ll do my best to help you.’ You never specified what kind of help.”
    Arlorran removed his cap and rubbed his scalp. “Did I say that? Well that hardly seems fair, taking advantage of a poor, drunken gnome. I meant—”
    “How many fairies have done the same to poor, naïve mortals over the centuries?” Talia asked. “You made a promise. So long as we need your help, you’re bound to provide it.”
    Arlorran scowled, and his little hands balled into fists, crumpling his cap. He looked like he wanted to run over and Strangle Talia with his bare hands, though he was far too short to reach her throat. Still, he looked ready to give her kneecaps a good thrashing.
    “Please,” said Danielle.
    Arlorran threw his cap on the ground. “Should have pushed you over the edge myself,” he muttered. “As for you,” he added, glaring at Snow. “That’s the last time I stay up all night, telling you old gnomish romance tales.” He stomped to the center of the platform. “Well, come on, then. I haven’t got all year.”
    Danielle glanced at the others. Snow shrugged and hauled Charlotte to her feet.
    “Not so hard, you stupid wench,” Charlotte complained. How many times had Danielle heard that same curse?
    Talia gathered up their belongings, never taking her eye from Charlotte.
    “Take my hands,” said Arlorran. “Everyone touching. A little closer, if you don’t mind. Wouldn’t want anyone to get left behind.”
    Danielle took one of the gnome’s hands in hers, then put her other hand on Snow’s arm. Talia did the same on Arlorran’s other side, leaving Snow’s hands free to hold Charlotte. Charlotte tried to tug away, but a quick yank of her bound wrists pulled her back, scowling and swearing under her breath.
    “These had better be some wings,” Arlorran muttered. He sighed, whispered something under his breath, and then they were falling.
    Danielle had barely drawn breath when she found herself in darkness, standing on what felt like stone. She had already bent her legs, preparing for an impact that never came, and only Arlorran’s grip kept her from losing her balance completely. The smell of stale fish filled her nostrils, knotting her stomach.
    “Easy now, ladies,” Arlorran said. “Just give me a moment or two to light a lantern.”
    Before he could, light blossomed from Snow’s choker.
    “Sure, that works, too,” said Arlorran. “Sorry about the smell.” He ducked through an arched doorway in the wall. Thick, lambskin carpeting covered the floor in the next room, muffling his footsteps. There was a clanking sound, and he returned moments later, brushing his hands together. “Cranked open the