The Stepsister Scheme

, Danielle said. Please go.
    The aviar galloped away. Danielle heard her splashing through the water, and then there was nothing but the sound of the waves. She prayed Wind had been fast enough.
    “Charlotte, go and tell the Duchess we’ve dealt with the trespassers,” said Stacia. “But do not—”
    “—say who you’ve captured,” Charlotte muttered. “I know, I know.”
    Danielle watched her go. Of course they couldn’t tell the Duchess they had imprisoned the prince and princess of Lorindar. The Duchess would have no choice but to act, or else risk violating Malindar’s Treaty. But so long as nobody mentioned their names, the Duchess could enjoy the benefits of ignorance.
    Sunlight flashed off Stacia’s knife, focusing Danielle’s attention. She held her breath, waiting for the first cut. But instead, Stacia rolled back her sleeve and sliced her own arm. Her stare seared Danielle’s skin as she walked in a slow circle, dripping a ring of blood around Danielle’s feet.
    “Did you truly think you were meant to be a princess?” Stacia asked, and now it was undeniably her stepsister’s voice. “That destiny would set you upon the throne of Lorindar? ‘Queen Cinderwench.’ What a laughable idea.”
    She leaned closer, until her cheek touched Danielle’s. “I know how uncomfortable you’ve been these past months, a clumsy duck trying to live among swans. Don’t worry, my dear stepsister. With the magic I’ve learned from Queen Rose, I’ll be more than happy to return you to your proper station.”

    CHAPTER 11
    Danielle hummed as she rubbed a soapy rag over the wooden floor of Stacia’s bedroom. The humming bothered her far more than the actual cleaning. Her mind was her own, but thanks to the curse Stacia had cast, her body now obeyed her stepsisters. And Stacia preferred her slave cheerful.
    Danielle couldn’t even turn away as the harsh, caustic fumes of lye soap began to rise from the floor. The Duchess mixed her soaps with various flowers to soften the scent, but for Danielle, the smell of rose and honeysuckle mixed with lye was worse than the soap, triggering the nausea which had plagued her for... however long it had been.
    She clenched her jaw and tried to breathe as little as possible. It didn’t help. She could only watch as the meager contents of her stomach spilled onto the floor she had nearly finished cleaning.
    With a groan, Danielle returned the rag to the bucket and stood. She stretched her back as she studied the mess.
    A soft splash drew her attention to the corner of the bedroom, where a miniature waterfall trickled from the wall into a small, triangular pool. The water emitted a sparkling blue light as it splashed into the pool, so that the bedrooms were never truly dark.
    A pair of pale, pink-eyed fish splashed again. Stacia rarely bothered to feed them, and since caring for Stacia’s pets wasn’t one of Danielle’s duties, she was helpless to do anything herself. If not for the algae growing along the stones, the fish would have starved long ago.
    The sight of the pool reminded her of the walk through the Duchess’ cavern, following Stacia and Charlotte after their fight in the cave. She had kept her head bowed, already a slave to Stacia’s magic. But she had glimpsed the great waterfall pouring down the side of the cavern into a wide lake, filling the air with soft blue light.
    How long had it been? Her stomach was significantly larger than when she was captured. Trapped here in the tunnels of the Duchess’ cavern, with the sun and the sky nothing but memories, she didn’t know if weeks or even months had passed. If Talia had survived, she certainly would have reached Beatrice long ago. The fact that nothing had happened meant...
    Danielle tried to wrench her mind to more pleasant things, but even her thoughts refused to obey her. Surely Beatrice wouldn’t have given up. Snow had talked to her. She knew about the Duchess.
    She knew, but they had no proof. No witnesses. Nothing that could force the fairy court to help. Ambassador Trittibar would do what he could, but...
    Humming through her tears, she grabbed another rag and began sopping up the worst of the vomit. Once she finished the floors, she still needed to dust the common room and take care of the laundry. She tried to lose herself in the physical labor, to let her mind find peace the way it used to back in her father’s home.
    Her eyes ached. Not for the first time, she wished for enough freedom to