Sinful Cinderella

Still smoking! That blasted pipe is between her teeth and she grins around it. With her wrinkled dress and messy hair she looks like a mad woman that stumbled into our yard.

“All right, you can move now.” She takes the pipe out of her mouth and wiggles the stem. A thin stream of sparkles flies out to each person. But if they can move now, they don’t. Everyone – Edgar, Stepmother, Loony and Moody, the two soldiers – simply stares at Godnutter. They all look afraid, unsure of what to do or say.

Godnutter winks at Edgar. “Sorry, princey, no bride for you tonight. I’m the brat’s fairy godmother and it’s my job to look after her. I won’t let you take her against her will.”

Edgar does nothing but stare at her. Like me, he’s probably heard tales of fairies but never saw one in real life. And he probably assumed they were pretty. But despite the white wings that sway open and shut like a butterfly’s, Godnutter is just scary.

Stepmother finds her voice first. “Her... fairy godmother?”

“I was her ma’s sister, once.” Godnutter rocks on her feet like she’s having a great time. “But that’s a long story and not a cozy one either. In short, I’m in charge of the girl. Whether she deserves it or not, I’m here to protect her. And none of you can stop me.”

“Are - are you the reason she went to the ball?” Moody asks carefully. “I thought she had a secret lover that helped her get there.”

“Oh, she’s had plenty of those.” Godnutter rolls her eyes and Stepmother looks indignant. I guess she’s mad she never knew that. “But yes, dearie, you’re right about that. I gave her that hideous dress, and the slippers. She wanted the prince, foolish girl. But that’s only because her family made her feel insignificant.” Godnutter looks at Stepmother. “You did a lousy job, toots.”

Stepmother lifts her haughty chin. “She was not my daughter.”

“Yet she was a child entrusted to your care. And you let petty jealousy poison your heart. You rejected a little girl who just wanted to be loved and made her walk a path of loneliness. There are no words for that kind of cruelty. You utterly disgust me.”

Stepmother’s face is barely readable. Except for the tight clamping of her jaw, she shows no emotion.

Godnutter turns to Edgar who takes a reflexive step backward. “And you, well,” Godnutter shakes her head sadly, “There’s little hope for someone like you, a man who takes pleasure in harming women. But mark my words, princey, one day the world will see you for the beast that you are. And no one will pity you.”

Edgar smirks but I can tell he’s being cautious. Respectful of the power she wields. He probably doesn’t want to be turned into a frog or something.

Godnutter steps over and wraps her arm around my shoulders. “Come, dear. I’m taking you away from these people. I can’t give you much but I have a little cottage in a seaside village. You’ll be safe there, you can start a new life.”

A cottage by the sea. That sounds nice. Maybe I can set myself up as a dressmaker and find a nice man to marry. A new life, a new me.

But there’s one more thing. “What about the white magic?” I ask. “Do I lose it?”

Godnutter chuckles. “You won the wager, dumpling. Our deal was that you’d lose the magic if you failed to win the prince. But look at him, he wants you desperately. The fact that you’re turning him down is beside the point. No, the magic bottle is yours to keep. Those freaky good looks too.”

“Is that how she got so pretty?” Stepmother asks bitterly. “I always knew it was something unnatural.”

I can’t help but gloat a little. “Yes, Stepmother. The more you mistreated me, the more magic I earned. I used it to improve my looks. So thank you! Your cruelty was useful to me.”

Godnutter shoots a jet of smoke from her mouth. “That’s enough, brat. It’s time to go.”

“Who has my decanter?” I ask, imperiously folding my arms. I know it came out here, I saw it, though my attention was mostly on the prince. Somebody was holding it. After several seconds of silence, Stepmother says, “Lunilla has it.”

Lunilla is still behind me, so Godnutter and I turn to face her. But once I do, something hard smashes against the back of my head. I pitch forward as a shower of crystal rains down around me. I hit the ground, the white fragments bouncing and mixing with those left by the slipper. My crystal decanter. Stepmother threw it at me.

Pulsing waves of pain wash the back of my head. I’m breathing heavily through my nose. The white magic! The only thing of value I owned. Besides Papa, nothing else ever made me feel special. It was the decanter that generated the magic, I know this. A magical artifact, rarely bestowed. I will not be getting another.

“Well, that was uncalled for!” Godnutter barks.

“Keep quiet!” Stepmother shouts. I hear her footsteps approach me. “Sneaky little slug,” she hisses. “So many secrets. Well! I’ve got a few of my own. Did your precious Papa ever talk to you about your mother?”

“Don’t!” Godnutter says sharply.

“You will let me speak!” Stepmother snaps. “There’s a reason he never spoke of her. Because she was wicked. She cared nothing for your father and broke his heart by fooling with other men. They were like trinkets to her, her collection of lovers. And oh, how proud she was! When your father objected, she laughed at him.”

My head feels swollen, too heavy to lift. I’m lying on my side, Godnutter before me, Stepmother behind. I squint up at Godnutter. “Is it true?”

Godnutter takes a long draw from her pipe. When she sighs, the smoke sprays out of her nostrils. “Our family has problems.”

Lunilla snickers.

“He wanted me to help you,” Stepmother goes on. “Teach you to be pure and kind and as unlike your mother as possible. But look at you.” She pokes my shoulder with the toe of her shoe. “Just as much of a tramp as she was. It’s a good thing your father is dead.”

My eyes focus on the broken bits of crystal spread across the ground. The severed heel of my slipper is within reach. I thought it was intact but now I see a section broke off the tip, giving it a jagged point. I reach out and close my hand around the heel. “Don’t you talk about my father,” I growl. I spread my other hand on the ground and push up onto my knees.

Stepmother laughs. “Why not? He was no prize. A man of moderate wealth at best. His only treasure was his daughter.” Stepmother grinds out the word like a curse. “But take no pride in that, my darling. When he was dying, he confided to me that because of your mother’s wicked ways, he was never even sure if you were his daughter.”

A high shriek breaks out of me. I spring off my knees, thrust upward with my hand, and the sharp heel punctures Stepmother’s stomach. She makes a hard sound - “uh!” – and bends over me, wide-eyed. Grunting, I shove my hand against her and bury the crystal spike in her body.

Loony and Moody scream as Stepmother drops. Now she is on the ground and I’m standing above her. She’s making unpleasant gasps, her whole body jerking. Then, like a clock winding down, her motions slow before settling into silence.