Cinderella vs. the Fairy Godmother (sequel)

Chapter 28

             For the second time, Valerie woke up with a headache. She slowly opened her eyes and stared at the smooth white stone of the ceiling for several moments before the colour registered. This was white marble shot through with silver and gold veins, not the dappled white of Darren’s palace. She jerked upright and winced as her head began throbbing harder.

            She glanced around and found herself on a bed. Again. She glared down at it, part of her noting it was a real bed, heavily stuffed with feathers and that she had several blankets on her. The other part of her was quickly realizing it held no weapons.

            The rest of the room reminded her of her room at Darren’s. It too screamed “delicate princess”. Everything was in shades of pink and soft purple and edged with white lace. Softly coloured tapestries covered the windowless walls and a giant flower-shaped rug lay on the floor. A fire burned in the gold and white fireplace directly across from her. The furniture in the room was heavier but carved into endless looping swirls and painted white and gold. A large armoire sat across from her, open. She could see a rainbow of gowns peeking out, some shimmering and sparkling in the candle and firelight.

             Shoving the blankets off her, a sudden silver sheen caught her attention. Lying beside her, cleaned of blood, was her sword. From its position, she guessed she’d released it sometime while she slept. She grinned as she sheathed it, checking to make sure it was loose in its scabbard. The reassuring weight of steel at her side helped keep the panic she could feel tickling the back of her throat from exploding. She doubted she would be as lucky as before. Besides, Amorrt was already awake.

            Valerie took stock of herself as she stood. Her stomach was still a bit sore and her head pounded when she moved too fast. But neither was bad enough to prevent her from fighting. Slowly stretching herself out like Isaac had taught her, she checked her body for strained muscles. Her training showed and she was pleased to find herself still in decent shape.

            Only after she finished limbering up, she had no doubts about being forced to fight before she could escape, did she approach the door. She was a few feet away from the white and gold monstrosity when it swung open. Valerie’s hand dropped to the hilt of her sword before she froze.

            Standing in the doorway was one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. Blue-black hair was swept up into sleek bun that was encircled with braids. Wide silver eyes watched her with interest from under perfectly arched brows. A straight nose hovered above pouty red lips. The face was placed on the softly curved body of a model, covered in a fur robe of silver. Valerie felt her back go up. She’d only seen such unnatural perfection once before. “You’re a godmother,” she said, taking another step back.

            “And you are late.”

            Valerie glared as her grip on her sword tightened. “Why do you people keep saying that? I’m not late. I was never supposed to be here in the first place. I was attacked and kidnapped. Now, I want to back to Darren’s. But I’ll settle for somewhere in Armith.”

            The godmother took two steps forward. “You are needed here.”

            She stood her ground and allowed her anger to bleed into her eyes. “No, I’m not. Now who the hell are you?”

            “Yes,” the perfect woman hissed, the depth of excitement on her face making Val shiver. “Yes, that is the fire that is needed.”

            She drew her sword about an inch out of its scabbard. “Who the hell are you?”

            The smile the godmother answered was smug. “I am Izolei. You may address me as godmother. I will bring my godson here after we have finished discussing your position.”

            “I’m not calling you anything. And I’m not meeting your godson. I’m going home. I thought your weird rules made it so only one prince per princess and all that jazz.”

            Izolei frowned, a slight crease appearing on her forehead. “You belong here. Your fire is needed. That…southern prince has no use for your fire. But my godson does. His is a line of Ice Kings. Without a partner full of fire, they will fall into unchanging indifference. It is a fate that has befallen no few of my godchildren. So I am forced to seek out those with strong fire in their souls and bring them here. Your fire burns brightly. I have long been waiting to have you.”

            Valerie felt herself going pale. The reddening as her anger flooded her veins and blazed in her eyes. “It was you! You’re the one who sent the Jaloam. Both times!”

            The godmother cocked her head slightly. “I could not allow the southern prince to waste you.”

            “Waste me? Waste me? What goes on between me and Darren is none of your damn business. As for ‘wasting me’, he at least brought me back with him openly and willingly. He didn’t have to resort to this sneaky, in the shadows bullshit! Now, I’m going to say this once, and only once. If you don’t let me go, I am going to kill you. Violently.”

            She looked amused. “Mortal threats do not frighten me.”

            Val crossed the distance between them in three angry strides. She held her face close to Izolei’s, her eyes burning into the godmother’s. “They should. Because if you cross me, I won’t rest until I have your lifeless body in front of me. I won’t put up with Darren’s stupid bullshit. What makes you think I’ll put up with yours?”

            She took a step back as her smile fled. But in a moment it came back, brighter than ever. “Yes. I knew you were the correct choice. You have more fire than I knew. You will do well with my godson.”

            She drew her sword but already Izolei was walking away, her silver furs trailing behind her. Valerie managed three steps before the godmother shut the door. A second later, she heard the click of the lock snicking into place. She stared for a moment, uncomfortable reminded of Kiara and her refusal to hear anything she didn’t want to.

Val shook herself out of her shock. In moments, anger replaced the shock and she stalked over to the bed. Giving into the rage for just a minute, she stabbed the bed four times, screeching as she did so. With feathers falling all around her, she dropped to the floor, fighting back tears. Tears were useless and she fought them down. She had planning to do.