Flight of Frost and Aurora

Chapter 11

"It's not tight enough, Charlotte! Pull harder!" Lute demanded, her voice sharp with urgency. "I must be perfectly thin!"

"If I may, you really don't need your corset this tight. You're already quite slender," Charlotte replied, her fingers striped red and white from tugging at Lute's laces. "If I pull any tighter, I fear you won't be able to breathe."

"Oh, what do you know about being thin and svelte? You have the figure of an ox! Now give it one more pull, and then fetch my makeup!" Lute snapped.

Charlotte complied, giving the corset one last, forceful tug before rushing to retrieve Lute's cosmetics. They had concocted a paste from chalk and milk for her skin, charcoal for her eyebrows, and a mixture of crushed berries and beets for her lips. Carefully, she began to paint Lute's face.

"Careful, you clumsy fool!" Lute barked. "Do you want to ruin my skin?"

Charlotte took a deep breath, striving to keep her frustration at bay. "I'm doing my best, Lute. Just hold still for a moment." She meticulously applied the berry and beet mixture to Lute's lips, trying to ignore the sting of Lute's harsh words.

The reason for Lute's frantic preparations was the impending arrival of the dashing Sir Peter, who had come home from schooling and was seeking a wife. All the eligible young women were eagerly planning to meet him at the village square—except for Charlotte. Her stepmother had strictly forbidden her to attend. You see, Charlotte was a thousand times more beautiful than Lute, and many of the eligible bachelors would undoubtedly prefer to court her instead of her stepsister.

In fact, there was a time when Eisheth had attempted to arrange a marriage for Lute with a wealthy suitor. She even set up a meeting with him and his parents to discuss the arrangements. However, one glance at Charlotte was all it took for both the man and his parents to declare,

"Do you take us for fools? Your daughter is an ugly wench! We'll take the pretty little maid."

From that day forward, Eisheth was resolute in her determination to keep Charlotte hidden from all the young men in the village.

"My wig! I need my wig!" Lute ordered.

"Here it is," Charlotte replied, carefully placing the wig atop Lute's head.

Lute gazed at her reflection in the mirror.

"Am I not magnificent, Charlotte? Don't you wish you could look as I do?" she boasted, admiring herself.

"You are lovely," Charlotte said, though the words felt insincere. In truth, she believed Lute could be fair of face if only she weren't so vile and black of heart. Lute was the daughter of the evil man who had attacked Mother Rosamund and Mother Carmilla long ago. Before that fateful event, she had been as pretty as Charlotte, but her vain and spiteful behavior had led the sisters to curse her, ensuring she would look ugly as long as she behaved ugly for the rest of her life.

"On second thought, something is missing," Lute said, her expression twisting into a sneer as her rodent-like eyes fell upon Charlotte's braid, comparing her stepsister's golden locks to the wig. "Mother! Mother!"

Eisheth rushed into the room at her daughter's call.

"What is it, my precious?" she asked, her voice dripping with concern.

"Charlotte's hair is nicer than my wig!" Lute whined.

"Nonsense! The wig was purchased from the finest hairdresser in Russia, and the hair used for it belonged to a tsarina," Eisheth replied dismissively.

"I want Charlotte's hair! Cut it all off and make a new wig for me!"

"Oh no, please, Stepmother!" Charlotte pleaded, her hands flying protectively to her head. Though not a vain girl, her long, golden hair was precious to her, inherited from her late mother. People often remarked that Charlotte resembled her father, sharing his face, skin tone, and slender build, but she had inherited two traits from her mother: her long blonde hair and striking blue eyes.