A woman with black curls had her hands around Victor's neck. He groaned, causing Ella's cheeks to heat. He gasped and looked Ella in the eye.
"No. Ella. It's not—"
The woman turned. It was Olga. Her smile grew wider when she realized they'd been discovered by no other than Ella. The prince gave Olga a gentle push and followed Ella, who ran away from the scene.
"Don't be shy, Victor. Come back." Olga's voice reverberated through the castle halls. Her voice sounded slow and loud, grotesque.
Ella arrived at the garden, Victor panting behind her. He grabbed her by the shoulders.
"You're hurting me, master."
"Don't call me that."
"I have no other words for you. It is late. You might not understand it, but I have duties in this castle. I have to go to the village and dump the waste. It would not be wise to lose my job over a man."
"The village?" He frowned. He then plucked a rose from the bush to his left. "For you."
She inspected it and tossed it back into the bush. A stolen rose would do more harm than good. People asking questions while it withered away in her room.
"It's too late to go to the village. The last group must have left half an hour ago."
Ella's mouth dried. "What do you mean, 'group?'"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Brunhilda sends people into groups. There is too much waste to dump and not enough hands. Besides... I don't want to scare you, sweet Ella, nor any lady, for that matter. But the village isn't what it used to if you know what I mean. There have been robberies, and sometimes worse."
She swallowed, but the lump in her throat wouldn't vanish. Olga had tricked her, like a sort of innocent child who knows nothing of life. Her entire existence, people respected her enough not to cheat her, and so it was as unexpected as being hit in the face. She was no longer respected. She was being openly cheated.
"Do you know where Brunhilda might be?"
He shook his head and crossed his arms. "What about us?"
"There's not an 'us', master. I have to get going if I don't want to end up on the streets of Bon. Thank you for the information. It's more precious than you can gather. And please," she exaggerated the pause, "enjoy your woman. You never know when you'll have to marry Laila."
The prince sneered and turned his back to her.
She went to the king's cottage, where she suspected Brunhilda may be. This time she knocked. She had surprised enough people during intimacy for a day. Indeed, it was Brunhilda who opened the door. Her eyes widened at the sight of Ella.
"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in the village."
"That's the thing. I'm sorry." Ella stared at her wooden shoes. "I don't know what to dump, or how to get to the village. Olga was going to finally help me, but then..."
"Olga?" She pursed her lips. "Then what?"
Ella looked her in the eye. "She was with the prince."
Brunhilda opened the door wider, revealing the assortment of buckets and cleaning soaps, and brushes. "So you don't get the wrong idea, after those tales you tell."
It was strange to find the housekeeper defensive, nonetheless, she couldn't blame her. In this place, a woman was little more than her reputation.
Brunhilda let out a grimace. "I'll show you."
They strolled together down the garden and for a moment Ella pretended she was still in the mansion she'd taken for granted. Hiding from her stepmother, Geneve, and her father. She remembered how her mother had held her hand and told her stories of the fae. On the flowers, she'd spotted creatures sleeping inside, which were sure to be fae. Never disturb them, Ella. They are their own thing. They keep the magic of this place going.
She'd told her stepsister Griselda as much, and as was expected, the stepmother had disturbed them. When her sister came back, whining, an angry red spot on her cheek, Ella couldn't hide her glee. Nevertheless, her father wasn't amused, and he'd sent her to sleep on the abandoned tower. He changed so much, her father. She wanted to blame it on the sickness but knew, deep in her heart, that it wasn't so, it was the death of her mother that had changed him.
"Here we are." Brunhilda tried to mask the disgust that drew on her face.
In front of them was a stack of buckets, full of what could only be feces. "Are they human?"
"Both. Animal and human." Brunhilda shrugged. "I cannot take you to the village, but I'll make a map."
Ella nodded. She wasn't in a position to complain.
Brunhilda bent and grabbed a long stick from the floor. She drew lines and circles and stars until before them was a map.
Now Ella was certain she'd get lost. The only thing left was hoping nothing too bad happened to her.
"You walk all the way to the waterfalls and then turn left. After about fifteen minutes, you'll get past the woods and into Vinni village, where you're to dump the buckets on the lake."
There were twenty buckets left. "How many times do I have to go and return?" Ella bit her lower lip so hard it was about to bleed. She'd thought one trip would be more than enough to finish the endeavor of cleaning the castle.
"It's your first time, so, just this once."
Ella let out a deep breath of relief.
The buckets were heavy, causing her back to crouch. She was sure if she did this enough times, she'd end with a hump on her back. Like the legend of the Hunchback who lived in a church. With every step the buckets swung, causing the putrefaction to waft toward her nose. Nausea built at the back of her throat, she focused on the trees instead.
After following the natural trail in the woods, she saw a small white cottage at a distance. The roof looked like made of hay. It had a wooden plank that read: The Green Green Tavern. Ella wondered what sort of place a tavern would be like and if it would be worthy of a detour. Of course, she'd heard a thing or two from her stepmother, but she'd learned by now that wasn't the most accurate source of information. She walked with the two buckets until a man emerged from the place.
"May I help you?" He looked old but not too old, like a fifty-year-old man. He was short and had a prominent stomach that told how much beer he drank daily. His clothes were relatively clean, but not too much. "What's that smell? Go far and away, girl."
"I wanted a beer." Ella had never drunk a beer in her life.
The man eyed her up and down. "It'd be two coins."
Ella's lips turned into a line and without a word, she continued on her way to the lake. She'd win nothing from telling the man she had no money, and that she might not even like beer.
There were houses similar to the tavern here and there, with white facades and wood-rimmed windows. She wondered what it would be like to live in such a peaceful place, with no servants, no people, but the family you were given at birth.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she arrived at what she was almost certain was the swamp. Frogs stood on lotus leaves, croaking. Ella grimaced. She'd always hated the slimy creatures. Once, her stepsister told her there might be frogs that turned into princes. Ella had wondered all day until she found one and kissed it, her lips and mouth covered in slime that smelled of mold. After the event, she spent a month in bed, her stomach grunting, turning, and emptying.
Her steps were hesitant. The land wasn't trustworthy in the marsh. The lake was more a clearing than a lake. It was green and had leaves floating that looked like strands of dirty hair. A bubble formed on the water, and then another and another, as if something was simmering. Slowly, she emptied one of the buckets. Liquid splattered on her dress. Ella shook her head and emptied the second recipient.
"I would be careful of disturbing whatever's in that lake," said a female voice behind her.
The voice caused her to drop the bucket into the body of water. She turned, irritated to see who was disturbing her at such a moment. It was a woman with ample curves and deep purple lips.
"I just dropped one of the two buckets that were given to me by Brunhilda. Do you even begin to imagine what that means? It means I won't receive any payment. It means some people will think I stole. Because when you are a servant, they believe all you can think of is what you don't have and how to snatch it. And it's true. We do think such things, but we don't act on them. I'd never, never in my life steal a bucket of feces." Ella covered her face with her hands and dropped to her knees. "Have you even seen my dress? It's the ugliest dress in the entire world and it's mine. And now, now there's no way I'll be able to afford another, now that I owe a bucket of waste."
The woman licked her lips and frowned. It was as if she was trying to plan how to escape the tragic scene. "Sorry. I... well, I saw you dumping your buckets. But you shan't. There's a creature that lives down there, an awful godforsaken thing. I wanted to warn you. It's the most disgusting thing I've seen."
Ella stood and spat next to the women's wooden shoes. "Don't help people. It's seldom worth it." She pulled the remaining empty bucket from the floor and walked as straight as she could toward the castle. Trying to project as much dignity as one could manage when dressed like that.
Even though the castle was filled with people, it was cold and felt empty when she walked inside. If Ella could have one wish, it would be to take a bath. She wasn't supposed to use the main entrance, but she was tired and sure it'd be a shorter trip than surrounding the castle to enter through the stables.
A gasp escaped her mouth when she saw the prince smirking at her. He stood at the top of the stairs with golden spiral banisters. The carpet that covered them was purple and his clothes were emerald with embroidered gold.
"Ella." He descended the stairs to come face to face.
"Master. I was leaving."
He shook his head and caressed her cheek. For a moment, she forgot about Olga kissing him, and closed her eyes, getting lost in his touch. "What's the occasion?" She asked.
"Why?" He stopped touching her, leaving a coldness inside of her.
"Your clothes."
"You'll see." He said and walked away from her.
Her head hung down. If she'd forgive the prince, she could at least take a bath, she was almost sure of it.