Cinderella- Fairytale Retold

Chapter X

Ash spent the morning packing for their return to West Riding. She was struggling to fit Ana's newest acquisition—a heavy velvet wrap lined in rich blue silk—into her already overstuffed trunk when Gwen knocked on the open door and came in. She was carrying a folded piece of paper that she held out to Ash, who was kneeling on the floor in front of the trunk.

"It's a spell," Gwen said in a conspiratorial tone.

"What do you mean?" Ash asked, unfolding the paper. Written in what Ash assumed was Gwen's handwriting were several lines:

Good Lysara, play thy part

Send to me my own sweetheart

Show me such a happy bliss

This night of him to have a kiss.

"Tomorrow is the Fast of Lysara," Gwen whispered, kneeling down next to her and trying ineffectually to close the trunk.

"Oh," Ash said. She had first heard the tale of Lysara when she was very young, for it was a popular one, but she hadn't given it a thought in years. Lysara had been a beautiful but penniless young woman from the far Northern Mountains, and when the King, whose name had long been forgotten, first set eyes on her at a Yule bonfire, he fell in love with her, and she with him. The King's advisors disapproved of the match because it was thought that she was half-fairy, for her eyes were as deep and richly verdant as the forest. But even though everyone knew that no good could come of a union with a fairy woman, the King was so deeply in love with her that he arranged to be married within a fortnight. The first year of their marriage was marked by uncommon prosperity and joy, but it was also their last. Exactly one year after their wedding, Lysara died giving birth. During her short reign as Queen, the people had grown to love her dearly, for she was the embodiment of true love, steadfast and sweet. So the anniversary of her wedding day became known as the Fast of Lysara, when young girls made wishes upon their clean linen pillows to dream of their true love.

"Lysara watches over us," Gwen insisted, giving up on latching the trunk shut. "You must fast tomorrow in her honor, and before you go to sleep, say this spell—my mother's aunt gave it to me, and she knows a greenwitch who says it will work—and you'll dream of your future husband. That way you'll recognize him when you see him."

Ash must have looked startled, and Gwen misread her expression as apprehension. "It's all right," Gwen said reassuringly. "We all do it—all of us servants, anyway. We just don't tell the mistress. And it won't hurt to give it a try."

"Thank you," Ash said, bemused, and slipped the note into her pocket. "I'll try."

"Good," Gwen said. She impulsively reached out and pulled Ash into an embrace. "It's been good to have you here, Ash. I hope you'll come back with Ana again."

Ash awkwardly put her arms around Gwen. "I'll try," she said again.

Quinn House was cold and dark when they returned later that afternoon. While Jonas carried the trunks back upstairs, Ash lit the fires and began to prepare supper. She was surprised to find that she missed the bustle and excitement of the Page Street mansion; she missed being one of many, easily overlooked. She thought about Gwen, who wanted so desperately to dream of Colin; she thought about Ana, who wanted a life of luxury. What did she want for herself? Ash swept a pile of dried peas into the kettle hanging over the kitchen fire and added a handful of ham. She stoked the fire, and as the flames leapt up she remembered the bonfire, and the dancers, and the look on the huntress's face. Ash put the lid on the kettle and did not think about her question anymore.

The next morning, Ana did not come downstairs for breakfast. Lady Isobel sipped at her tea and said, "Ashiyaana, go upstairs and see what is taking Ana so long. Her breakfast is getting cold."

When Ash opened the door to Ana's room, she found her stepsister awake and sitting at the window looking out at the courtyard, dusted with snow. "Your mother is asking for you," Ash said.

"I'm not going down," Ana replied. "Tell her I'm ill today."

Ash eyed her stepsister skeptically. She did not seem ill. In fact, Ana was particularly lively, with a glow in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes that made her look as if she were holding back a secret. "You don't look unwell," Ash observed.

Ana's brow creased in annoyance. "Tell her I'm sick," she stated again. "And don't bring me any food; I can't stand it right now."

Ash shrugged and went to deliver the message, but her stepmother insisted that she bring Ana a boiled egg and some tea. When she carried the tray upstairs, she found Ana sitting in the same position. "Your mother told me to bring this for you," Ash said, depositing the tray on the small table by the window seat.
"Take it away; I won't eat it," Ana said.


"Fine," Ash said curtly. "I'll just tell your mother you wouldn't eat. She'll probably call the physician."

This caused Ana to actually look worried for a moment, and then she turned to Ash and said, "Ashiyaana, I really can't eat it, but you mustn't tell Mother."

Ash looked at her stepsister's face, flushed with desperation and hope, and said, "You're fasting, aren't you?"

Ana colored, asking unconvincingly, "Why would I do that?"

Ash shook her head. "I wouldn't have thought you had it in you," she said archly, "to revert to old superstitions."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ana said, and turned away from Ash.

But Ash could still see her stepsister's cheeks, pink from the lie. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded note that Gwen had given her. Walking over to her stepsister, she placed the paper on the window seat. "Here," she said. "Read this aloud before you go to bed tonight." She picked up the untouched tray and began to leave the room.

"You won't tell Mother?" Ana said in a low voice.

"I won't," Ash promised. She took the tray back down to the kitchen, where she poured herself a cup of tea from Ana's untouched pot, and very deliberately cracked the egg on the countertop, watching the shell splinter. She peeled it away and salted the damp, slippery white surface of the egg. When she bit off the top, the yolk fell in golden crumbles onto the scarred wooden table.