“Cinderella, Cinderella, never ever gets a fella!” the sisters squeal in unison.
“Very clever.” I dust off my dress as best I can. “Since my services are no longer needed, I’ll be leaving.”
“Leaving?” Cilla’s glee evaporates instantly.
“Where would you go?” Stacia says.
“Maxine will let me stay with her.” Clinging to what’s left of my dignity, I pour water into the kettle and set it on the iron stove. “I’m done putting up with your abuse.”
“Abuse?” Stacia squeaks, her eyes wide. What’s wild is that I actually believe she’s never given a single thought to her behavior toward me before.
“Yes. Abuse.”
Cilla huffs. “You’re lucky to have a place to live. Go and live under a hedgerow with that crazy witch. You won’t last a day before you come crawling back to your warm bed.”
“It’s you who won’t last two days.” I dunk my hands in the cold bucket of water I was going to heat for washing, blackening it with soot. “You’ll have to carry this by yourselves. Cook your own meals. Slop the pigs.” A wry smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Clean your own chamber pots.”
Both sisters gasp in horror.
“You can’t leave us,” Cilla says indignantly.
“Watch me.”
Calm settles over me. I remove the apron and toss it over the back of a chair. Ten steps between me and freedom. Once I get into the yard, I’ll take Moll from the pasture and ride to town.
But that means leaving behind the mementos of my parents. They’re all I have.
Foolishly, I hesitate. Tremaine’s arm whips out. He grabs me by the wrist, squeezing hard enough to grind bones. Startled, I flinch.
“You’re not going anywhere, Ellie.”
He cuffs me. Stars explode, blinding me for an instant before the room swirls drunkenly. There is no more laughter from Cilla and Stacia. Only dread-filled silence.
“Get upstairs.”
He shoves me toward the steps.
“No.” I might be terrified, but I won’t stay here another night.
“I said get upstairs.”
He advances on me. With my heart pumping terror through my veins, I back up one step. Another. He looms over me with his dragon-fire whisky breath.
“Or I’ll tell the prince what a whore his queen is,” he growls too low for his daughters to hear.
He knows.
Tremaine is as cunning as he is cruel. He won’t hesitate to use the knowledge of what he did to me to keep me trapped here. Forever.
He grips my throat and drags me closer, his stinking breath rolling over me in a foul cloud.
“I don’t know how you did it, you scheming bitch, but you’d better have enjoyed your time with the prince because you will. Never. See. Him. Again.”
My stepfather shakes me with each final word. He throws me forward. Dragging in ragged lungfuls of air, I cough and crawl up the creaking wood steps.
“That’s right, Elinor. Crawl like the vermin you are.”
His boot lands on my bottom. The bridge of my nose collides with the stair. Pain shatters across my face. Wetness drips down my face.
