Banished: Book 1 of The Grimm Laws (29 page)

“
I
cannot marry him
.” Tears filled Cinderella’s eyes. “I thought you of all people would understand why I cannot.”

Wisteria reached for her hand. “You loved my son.” Her voice broke. “As did I. It’s because of that love that you must marry the Prince.”

Cinderella shook her head. “Nay, I will not. I feigned affection for the Prince because I thought that it would somehow protect Rushton, but now that he’s gone …” tears simmered in her eyes “… now that he’s gone there is no need to pretend.”

Even as she spoke the words, her mind was reeling. None of it felt real. After she’d collapsed, Prince Edward had taken her back to her room. He assumed that it was the news of a dragon attack that had caused her to faint. So consumed was he with Cinderella that the Prince couldn’t fathom the thought of her loving anyone else. Two full moons had come and gone since that fateful night, and still she could not come to terms with it. The world was bleak and empty without Rushton.

Wisteria gave her a searching look. “What will you do if you do not marry the Prince?”

Cinderella looked down at her hands. “I suppose I will go back and live with my stepmother and stepsister.” Wisteria’s soft chuckle sent her head shooting up. A flash of anger seized her, but then she realized there was no malice in the chuckle, only pity.

“You and I both know that Seraphina will never allow thee back in her home—not if you don’t marry the Prince. You will be an outcast, with no home and no place to go. The world can be a cruel place for a young maiden who has no way of earning her bread.”

“Perhaps I could remain at the castle as a Lady in Waiting … or live with thee.”

“Nay, the Prince would not allow thee to stay at the castle—not after refusing him. And while I am very fond of thee, I can scarcely provide for myself.”

Hopelessness overtook Cinderella. Tears sprang to her eyes. Wisteria was right. She had no place to go. “I loved your son.”

Tears filled Wisteria’s eyes. “I loved him too. He would want thee to be happy. You have no place to go. Rushton would understand.”

“Nay, I do not think he would.”

“Perhaps thou knowest him better than I thought,” Wisteria said with a sad smile. Her voice became resolute. “Alas, there is only but one course for you to take, and it is the mark of a true noble woman when she doth not shirk from the task at hand.” Wisteria arose from the settee. She went to the table and picked up the formal engagement letter that Prince Edward had written her. It contained the royal seal and a promise that if she married him then she would one day be a queen at his side. All Cinderella had to do in order to accept the engagement was to simply sign the bottom. “Come,” Wisteria ordered.

Tears were streaming down her face. Wisteria was right. She had no other choice. “Why art thou being so good to me?”

“My son loved thee.” Wisteria motioned. “Come, let us take care of this once and for all.”

Cinderella nodded and stood. Haltingly, she walked toward the table and glanced down at the document in question. Wisteria dipped the quill in ink and handed it to her. “Do it,” she urged.

With a shaky hand, Cinderella signed the engagement document.

W
isteria slipped
off her horse and tethered it around a tree. She glanced over her shoulder to be sure she hadn’t been followed before pulling her cloak tightly around her to stave off the dampness of the evening. It was always so cold and dark here. She warded off a chill. No matter how many times she had come to Griselda’s, it still made her feel like she was going down into a dark, damp hole where she could never escape.

She pushed open the door and saw Griselda leaning over a cauldron. An eager expression lit Griselda’s hideous features as she motioned with her claw-like fingers. “Come in, my dear. I have been expecting thee.”

The putrid stench permeating the hovel hit Wisteria full on, and she fought the urge to wretch. A small animal was strung up over the cauldron, its entrails hanging out and the blood dripping down into the liquid. She averted her eyes, not daring to look to see what Griselda was boiling.

Griselda wiped her hands on her ragged frock, eyeing her. “I believe thou hast something for me.”

She retrieved the pouch and handed it to Griselda who immediately went to the nearby table and dumped out the gold coins. She began counting them. The sight of the withered creature counting the money turned her stomach, and she had the sudden desire to get away from this place as soon as possible.

“Where is my son?” she said unceremoniously.

Griselda perched a hand on her hip and gave her a crafty look. “Art thou fearful that I might not keep my end of the bargain?”

“Nay, I simply want to see him.” Wisteria kept her expression impassive even though a sense of panic was rising in her breast. She knew that Griselda was sizing her up. Then it dawned on her that she had put Rushton and herself in a very precarious situation. Griselda was her ally, but she was also the most powerful sorceress that Wisteria had ever encountered. Her thirst for power and riches knew no bounds. She wondered fleetingly whether or not she could trust her.

Griselda turned her gaze from Wisteria and back to the coins. Ever so slowly, she returned them to the pouch and clutched it in her hand. Then, she turned her back to Wisteria and hid the coins somewhere on her person. “This way,” she said, not bothering to look at Wisteria. She led her into a small room off of the main living area.

Wisteria had not known what to expect, but this was beyond anything she could imagine. A gasp escaped her lips as she put her hands over her mouth. When they had struck the bargain, Griselda had only told her that she would take care of Rushton and would make everyone think he was dead. She hadn’t expected her to turn herself into a dragon and slay an army of men in the process. And she certainly hadn’t expected to see her son, encased in a translucent coffin that was floating waist-high in the center of the room. She stepped up and touched it. It was as cold as ice. Rushton was lying there, as still as stone, his skin a sickly gray. A sense of horror began to overtake her. Tears filled her eyes. “What has thou done to my son?” she demanded.

“Only that which thou asked me to do.”

“Is he … dead?”

Griselda let out a laugh that sounded more like a snarl. “Sleeping.”

Wisteria closed her eyes and let out a breath of relief.

“Hast thou so little faith in me, fair one?” There was a warning in Griselda’s tone that sent shivers running down Wisteria’s spine. Griselda was not to be trifled with, and even though Wisteria’s power was strong, it was certainly no match for Griselda’s.

Her heart began to pound. “Nay, ‘tis only my personal anxiety over my son,” she added quickly.

This seemed to appease Griselda. She offered a slight nod.

“Was he hurt?”

“A few cracked ribs and a broken leg.”

Wisteria’s eyes went wide.

“When I become the dragon, I lose a measure of control.” A macabre smile twisted over her face, revealing decaying teeth. “But have no fear, he is healing quickly, and I can assure thee—he feels no pain. Shall I awake him?”

“Nay!” Wisteria countered. “Cinderella is not yet engaged. I will send a raven to thee when the engagement is complete. Awake him then.”

“Very well.”

Wisteria placed a hand on the box. “Will he have any memory of this?”

“‘Tis hard to say what the mind remembers.”

She nodded and stepped away.

Griselda pointed at Rushton. “Thou hast gone to great lengths to separate him from Cinderella. Might I ask why?”

Irritation bubbled in Wisteria’s chest. Even though Griselda looked like an old hag, she was cunning and wicked smart. There were very few things that she didn’t know, and Wisteria felt sure that she already knew the answer to this question.

“Would it have been so terrible if Rushton had ended up with the maiden that he loves,” Griselda mused.

“He loves her too much!” The words came out with a vengeance. “Love is dangerous! A love like that ‘twill make him weak.”

Amusement lit Griselda’s eyes. “Art though speaking from experience?”

“Aye.” She threw back her head, her nostrils flaring. She was growing weary of Griselda’s games. Hatred flickered in her eyes. “Aalexander taught me that!”

“And what will happen if Rushton ever finds out what thou hast done?”

A shiver crept over Wisteria. Was that a threat? She gave Griselda a challenging look. “And exactly how would Rushton ever find out?”

“The truth has a way of seeping out, no matter how hard we try to keep it contained.”

Her lips formed a hard line. “Well, let us hope—for both of our sakes—that he never finds out. ‘Tis getting late. I must get back.” She adjusted her cloak and cast one final look at Rushton before she left the room. “Sleep well, my son,” she murmured.

Just as she was about to leave the hut, Griselda called to her. “Thou art forgetting something.”

Wisteria turned, a question on her face.

Griselda handed her a torn and dirty pouch that was stained with blood. “These are the items that thy son had in his possession when the dragon attacked. I no longer have any use for them.”

It was not until she got on her horse that Wisteria thought to look inside the pouch. She was surprised to find the stone there amongst the other insignificant items. Had Griselda not realized the value of it? Surely a powerful sorceress such as her would realize what it was. A chilling thought struck her. Perhaps Griselda did realize and this was another one of her twisted games. Only time would tell. She looked up at the darkening sky and then pulled on the reins, urging the horse to take her home.

E
lle applied
pink lipstick and then brushed blush along her cheekbones in two swift strokes. She powdered her face and then fluffed her hair. As she studied her reflection in the mirror, Adele’s strange words came back to her. She’d said the mirror was trying to tell her something important, but what? She scrunched her nose. “What are you trying to tell me?” she asked aloud. She had to laugh at herself because a part of her was actually waiting for the mirror to reply back. “I suppose a touch of crazy runs in the family.”

“Speak for yourself.”

She looked up to see Josselyn standing in the doorway. “Are you about ready? Mom says we’re leaving in five minutes … with or without you.”

Elle leaned into the mirror and began applying mascara. “Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Josselyn crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’d love to leave me here, so I wouldn’t be able to perform tonight in the band, wouldn’t you? What are you gonna do this time, sabotage my bass guitar?”

A hateful smile twisted over her face. “Careful, Elle, paranoia will get the best of you, and people really will think you’re crazy.”

Elle tightened the mascara tube and put it on the dressing table. She turned to face Josselyn. “Crazy is a relative term, huh, sis?”

“Stepsister!” Josselyn fired back.

“And first cousins. Don’t forget that part.”

“Whatever.” Josselyn rolled her eyes before stomping down the hall.

Elle let out a sigh. She really shouldn’t keep baiting Josselyn, but it was hard not to. Things between them had gone from bad to worse ever since the dinner fiasco at Edward’s house. All week, Josselyn had blabbered on about how much she enjoyed talking to Rush and how fascinating he was. “He’s so handsome,” she cooed. “But I suppose you only have eyes for Edward now. Oh well, your loss is my gain.”

To make matters worse, Rush had been pointedly ignoring her. Elle blew out a breath. She really couldn’t blame him, not after seeing her at the dinner party with Edward. And for all outward appearances, it looked as if she’d taken Edward’s side. The irony of the whole thing was that her conversation with Adele at The Chocolate Fountain had helped to set things straight in her mind. It shocked her to realize that she really did want Rush. Despite everything—their love/hate relationship and the memory loss thing, she wanted him. A tingle rushed through her, and for a split second, she thought the reflection in the mirror looked pleased. “Did you hear that?” she whispered into the mirror. “I choose Rush.”
Now I just have to figure out how to tell him
.

“We’re leaving!” Josselyn yelled from downstairs. “Final call.”

“Yeah, yeah. Coming!” Elle mumbled, grabbing her purse and bass guitar. Somehow … someway … she was going to find a way to talk to Rush. Even though he was being a moron about the whole thing, she would force him to listen to her. Once she admitted how she felt about him—out loud and to his face—all would be well. She was sure of it. Now all she had to do was to remember those dang chords. He would be really ticked if she bungled everything up and made the band look bad tonight.