The Stepsister Scheme

gentle?”
    “I don’t understand,” Danielle said, still thinking about midsummer’s night.
    “In bed. When he... ” She pointed to Danielle’s stomach. “He was supposed to be mine, you know. Mother promised. I want to know what I missed. Was he kind?”
    “He—” Danielle ground her teeth together. Charlotte had no right to those memories. “Tell me where he is.”
    “He has his own cell, somewhere in the tower. He thinks he’s back home, and that Stacia is his wife. They’re holding him in case something happens to your baby. He truly loves her, you know.” There was no triumph in her words, only bitterness. “I thought if I could show them that I could control the magic, that I could kill you—”
    Charlotte slammed the wine onto the floor so hard Danielle thought the bottle might break. “And then Brahkop learned you were pregnant! That’s twice you’ve stolen him from me. I’m prettier than you or Stacia. Why am I the one who’s alone?”
    “Do you love him?”
    Charlotte stopped moving. “What?”
    “Armand. If you loved him, you wouldn’t let Stacia and Rose keep him locked away like this. You have me. Let him go.”
    “So he can return home, find someone to break the curse, and lead the entire kingdom here to rescue you?” Her laughter had a hysterical note. “Really, Cinderwench. Do you think I’m stupid?”
    Foolish, not stupid. Foolish and trapped and lonelier than you’ve been in your entire spoiled life.
    “I think you’ve been horribly mistreated.” Danielle was amazed she could get the words out without vomiting again. “But if you really care about Armand—”
    “Even if I was his true love, I can’t free him. I’m not allowed to see him, let alone kiss him. Not that he’d let me.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Stacia has a husband as well as a prince, and they both love her. How is that fair?”
    Danielle’s breath caught. So many curses were broken by something as minor as a kiss. “Is that the weakness in Stacia’s spells?” Danielle asked. “If he kissed me—”
    “He could kiss you all night long, and you’d still be cursed.” She sneered. “He doesn’t love you anymore, remember?”
    “But I love him. If I kissed him, would it break Stacia’s love spell?”
    Charlotte shrugged. “Probably. Most of Rose’s curses have that loophole. Something about leverage and possibility. An unbreakable spell takes too much power. True love is rare enough most spells are never broken. I don’t really understand it all. Magic makes my head hurt.”
    Slowly, Danielle’s hope gave way to despair. What good was knowing how to break the spell when she had no way of doing so? This was simply one more torment. To kiss Armand, she would have to be free. Armand could be standing right here, arms wide, and the curse would stop her.
    Purple rivulets of wine dripped down Charlotte’s chin as she took another drink. “You’re not the one keeping him from me,” she mumbled. “It’s that baby.”
    The door slammed open. Stacia took one look at Charlotte, and her face twisted with disgust. “I told you to fetch Cinderwench, not to lounge about getting drunk.”
    Charlotte belched.
    “How ladylike,” Stacia said. She turned to Danielle. “Come with me. Before I set you to work, there’s something I’d like to try.”
    Inside, Danielle recoiled from the gleam in Stacia’s eyes. What were they going to do to her son? She could have killed Stacia in that moment, but her body obeyed her stepsister’s will.

    Two darklings waited in Stacia’s room. Danielle recognized the one who clutched a platter of steamed fish in his single arm. Stacia must have intercepted him on his way back to Charlotte.
    Both darklings crowded behind Danielle as Stacia led her around the bed to the small altar in the back corner. Stacia had forbidden Danielle to clean it, or even to touch it, and Danielle gave silent thanks every day for that small blessing.
    The marble slab was stained with blood, along with the greenish residue of some old potion. Powdered ash covered the surface, and a halo of black wax showed where a candle once sat. Clots of wax had dripped down the side, black icicles that melted into the cracks between the floorboards.
    “Please sit down,” Stacia said, gesturing to the bed.
    The false kindness in her voice made Danielle ill. She sat on the edge of the bed, as far from the altar as she could.
    Stacia clucked her tongue, and the two darklings climbed