"I have a surprise for you." Evangeline met Ella on the porch. "Come on, before Mama catches us."
"Eva, wait. I have to put the meat away. Where are you taking me?" Ella half protested her stepsister's tug on her uninjured arm but followed her into the house.
"Shhh..." Evangeline held her index finger up to her lips. "Come into the kitchen."
"What about Mama and Esmae? Where are they?" Ella whispered.
"Esmae is in her room, resting. She told Mama she had 'a headache', but I believe she is faking. Mama wants her to bathe before the ball, but Esmae is convinced the prince will not care. Mama believes differently."
"But the ball is still weeks away. Surely it can't hurt if Esmae bathes before then." And my nose would greatly appreciate it. All the perfume in the world didn't disguise the fact that her youngest stepsister smelled worse than the pigs in their pens.
"She got it into her head that not aging precludes the need for basic hygiene." Eva shrugged. "I have no idea why Mama allows her to get away with it."
"I'll never understand why she sees bodily filth as an asset," Ella agreed.
"You know what Esmae is like once she gets a thought into her head. But she is not my concern." She smiled. "Did you believe I had forgotten what today is?"
"This is all quite mysterious, Eva. What have you done?"
"Kitchen," her stepsister replied, tugging Ella toward the open doorway. "You go inside first," she instructed.
Ella walked into the kitchen. On the far left stone wall, reaching all the way up to the ceiling, was the main fireplace, large enough to hold three adults standing side by side. The spit used to cook meat was dusty and adorned with cobwebs. That fireplace hasn't been lit since Papa disappeared. Then again, why would it? She sneezed. The smaller fireplace had been lit recently, and the still smoldering embers softened the air from chilly to tolerable. The long wooden table in the center of the room held a plate with two half pears on it, drenched in cinnamon and honey.
"Happy birthday, Ella," Evangeline said.
"You made me baked pears." Ella put the butcher's basket onto the table, tears prickling her eyes. A faint memory tugged at her heart. Mama, my actual Mama, and cinnamon among the scent of warm honey and sweet pears baked to perfection.
"I know they're your favorite," her stepsister replied, "and it's been a long time since I cooked. For a moment I felt...alive." She smiled. "Now, empty that basket and come sit. Enjoy your pears."
"I'll be right back," Ella replied as she picked up the basket and headed for the cellar. It took little time to hang the brains on the hooks dangling from the ceiling and walk back up the creaky wooden stairs. Hearing voices, she paused at the top step.
"Please, Esmae, be kind. It is her eighteenth birthday." Evangeline's light voice sounded clear through the wooden door.
"And I will never be eighteen," Esmae snapped. "If I cannot enjoy my majority, why should she?"
Ella pressed her ear against the door.
"Are you jealous that Ella's father saved her from the spell?" Eva's voice was incredulous. "That is hardly her fault, Esmae! Neither is it her fault we were turned. She was barely born when the spell happened!"
Tears formed in Ella's eyes. That's what a true sister is, always defending me, whether I'm there or not.
"Then she should have turned with us," Esmae retorted. "I will never understand what you find so fascinating about her."
"Girls, that is enough," Celina replied. "Esmae, today it does not matter how we feel. The fact of the matter is that she controls our destiny. For now. So we shall do whatever is necessary to prevail. Even if that means coming to a birthday celebration I was not consulted about, nor approve of."
"It is only pears, Mama," Evangeline protested. "They would have rotted on the branches otherwise."
"Or we could have given them to the butcher for his pigs. Do you never think, Evangeline? We could have had pear-flavored brains on our table!"
"But," Evangeline began, "there's still plenty of fruit on the trees. We can still donate to Mr. Robere."
"Your attitude will put us firmly in the poor house," Celina snapped. "You are wasting time that could be better spent."
"It's my time to waste, Mama, and her eighteenth birthday should be celebrated."
"Oh, yes," Esmae chimed in. "By all means, let us celebrate the fact that a human now controls our fortunes. How lucky we are."
"We are human," Evangaline pointed out. "It was not so long ago that we breathed, Esmae. Show some compassion."
Ella heard Esmae's teeth grind together.
"Esmae, broken teeth will not impress the prince!" Celina snapped. "Compose yourself immediately!"
Nor will filth, I reckon, but Mama won't make her bathe. Stifling a snicker, Ella pushed through the door, feigning surprise at the sight of her stepmother and stepsister.
"Mama. Esmae. What are you doing here?"
Celina strode forward, her arms outstretched. "It is your birthday. There is no reason in the world why we would not be here. With you."
Except that you've never cared about my birthday before. But I can pretend if you can. Plastering a wide smile across her face, Ella accepted her stepmother's thankfully brief hug. "I'm glad you're here," she lied.
"We cannot share in your pears," Celina said, "but I believe there is part of a wine-soaked pig brain in the icebox. Esmae, do be a dear, and go fetch it."
"Why should I--" Esmae complained, but Celina cut her off.
"Because it is your sister's birthday."
"But--" Esmae continued.
"Do as I instructed. Now."
Shoving her way past Ella, Esmae stomped down the cellar stairs, muttering under her breath.
Celina shook her head. "Never mind her. Come, have a seat at the table before the pears congeal. You would not want all your sister's hard work to go to waste, would you?"
Ella shook her head. "No, of course not, Mama," she murmured, sitting down at the table.
"Evangeline, get plates down for your sister and me...and of course yourself. We should celebrate your sister's birth together."
Taking the blue stoneware plates off the shelf, Evangeline set the long rectangular table, humming under her breath.
Ella leaned forward. "What now, Mama? You seem to be orchestrating this, so what's next?"
"I have orchestrated nothing, Cinder. What a suspicious nature you have! Esmae, I can hear you loitering on the staircase, listening to our conversation. It is an unbecoming feature for a future princess of the realm."
"Maybe I do not wish to be a princess of the realm, then," Esmae retorted, walking in and dropping the tray holding the pig brain onto the table. "If I cannot do as I wish, what is the point?"
"Of course you wish to be the princess, Esmae," Celina corrected. "Once you are crowned, you will be able to do as you will, with no consequences."
Ella caught Esmae's sideways smirk. If she's chosen, it'll be the end of me, and probably Eva, too. Esmae's been too spoiled by Mama to allow us even the smallest amount of grace.
"Carve us each a piece of brain, Evangeline. Since you look so at home in the kitchen." The maliciousness in Esmae's voice was thick enough that Ella could hear it.
"I have always enjoyed the solace cooking provides. It's unfortunate you never learned the skill," Evangeline replied.
"I will be first a princess, then a queen. I have no need for the same sort of common talents you enjoy," Esmae retorted.
"Funny," Ella murmured, "I thought common is something you'd be eminently familiar with."
"I will not stay here and listen to your jealousy!" Esmae shrieked. Raising her clenched fist, she smashed the plate holding the birthday pears. "Enjoy your dessert," she spat before storming out. "Esmae Grace, come back here!" Celina snapped, but the door was already swinging shut. "That child..." Her face darkened. "Never mind." Rising from the table, she continued. "Since your birthday surprise has been ruined, there is no need for me to stay. Esmae and I have more important matters to attend to. Although I expect this mess to be cleaned up, and the entire kitchen spotless, before either of you leave." Holding up her skirts with one hand, she swept out.
"Well, that was pointless," Evangeline said with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Ella. I had hoped Esmae would behave for once."
Ella laughed, leaning across the table and picking up the shards of broken plate, dripping with honey and flattened pears. "She never has before."
"You do not have to clean that up," Evangeline protested. "I can take care of it later."
"You aren't my servant," Ella replied.
"Nor are you mine."
"Then let's clean it together," Ella suggested. "The sooner we get it done, the sooner it'll be done."
"You sound like someone out of a fairy tale."
"Hardly," Ella laughed. "I sound like someone who doesn't want to spend an entire day in the kitchen, cleaning up someone else's mess, on my birthday."
"I know it's not what you envisioned," Evangeline replied. "But once we get it done, I want to talk to you...upstairs, where we cannot be overheard."
***
"I can't believe that gown was specially made for me," Ella whispered. "How on earth did you keep it from Mama?"
The bed springs groaned under Evangeline's weight, slight though she was. "All I had to do was convince her I wanted a specially prepared brain and did not trust you to deliver the message to the butcher. Once I was out of the house, it was easy. Did you like it?"
"Have you seen it?" Ella asked. "It's stunning."
Evangeline shook her head. "No. I just told Gregory I wanted something unique enough to catch a prince's eye. Tell me what it looks like."
"I keep forgetting Mama used you as her errand girl until I was old enough," Ella said. "The gown is like an unlit cave. It's so dark, it sparkles."
"That would be eye-catching. Does it have jewels in it?"
"Not sewn onto the outside..." Ella mused. "It looks like tiny diamonds have been sewn into the weave of the fabric itself, but the silk's so delicate, I don't know how that's possible."
"Magic," Evangeline replied. She reached out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Ella's ear.
"That's the same thing Gregory said." Ella frowned. "Where did Mama and Esmae go?"
"They went to see Mr. Fitzsimmons. Today's your eighteenth birthday, after all. Mama will not have forgotten what that means to us."
"I would never force you onto the streets, Eva," Ella promised, covering her stepsister's ice-cold hand with her own warm one.
"Could you say the same about Mama or Esmae?" Evangeline smiled a trifle sadly. "We know we live here, in this house, by your sufferance. It's one of the reasons Mama is so cruel. She cannot abide living off someone else's goodwill."
Ella nodded slowly. "She's my stepmother, though. She should've wanted to keep me safe because she loved me."
"I don't think Mama is capable of love," Evangeline retorted. "Well, maybe for Esmae, but not for me, and definitely not for you."
"Why not you?" Ella stared at her stepsister. Underneath the bruising of undead flesh was porcelain skin so white it was nearly transparent, and her hair was the color of a raven Ella had seen once, sitting in a tree not far from their house. In short, Evangeline was stunning by any standard of beauty, living or undead. That, combined with her sweet nature, should have made Celina proud beyond measure.
"Mama's sole reason for existing is to see Esmae become a princess so she can gain social standing."
"But you're the older sister." The words came out before Ella had quite registered them. "Why not marry you to the prince instead?"
Evangeline shrugged. "Esmae wants the privilege that comes with being a princess, and Mama wants the power. I care for neither, so I am quite...expendable."
Ella nodded. That sounds like Mama.
"Come now, Ella, tell me what else your day held. How is your garden? Are all the vegetables you planted ripe?"
"Nearly," Ella began slowly. "The carrots were, and I'll go back to pick the radishes in the next few days." She paused. "Eva, do you think it's possible I'm not the only living human?"
"What an odd question!" Evangeline shifted on the bed. "I think it's possible. Anything is possible, Ella. Why do you ask?"
"I think I saw one," Ella confessed. "He was in my garden when I arrived."
Evangeline lowered her voice. "Are you sure he was alive?"
"No, he was covered head to toe in mud."
"Did you speak to him?"
A smile curved Ella's lip upward. "Yes, we spoke to each other. He was so different from the other undead boys I've seen around."
"That does not explain why you think he is alive."
"We split the carrots that were ripe," Ella summed up. "He said he needed some for his pigs. But he's not a town boy. I've never seen him before."
"That hardly means he is alive. It means his pigs are hungry. Do you think you will see him again?"
Ella nodded. "Yes, in two days' time so we can split the radishes." She paused. "What should I do, Eva?
"Whatever do you mean?" Evangeline rose from the bed, straightening her skirts. "Go see him, and find out the truth, whatever it is."
Just at that moment, the front door slammed shut. "Ella Rose Adler, get down here this instant!!"
Ella's eyes widened. "Mama never uses my full name," she whispered. "What could possibly have happened at the solicitor's office?"
"I have no idea," Evangeline said, "but you had better hurry."
Ella nodded, gathered her skirts up with one hand, and ran, leaving her oldest stepsister behind. Her heart slammed painfully against her ribcage at the sight of Celina, waiting at the bottom of the staircase. The normally deep brown of her eyes was dilated and flecked with green. Esmae's features mirrored her mother's, but a defiant sneer was plastered across her lips.
"What is it, Mama? What's wrong?"
Celina took three steps forward, her hands clenched into fists. "Do not pretend you do not know," she hissed. "You are a wretched child, and I never should have allowed you to stay in my house after your father..." she paused before continuing, "after your father left us."
Ella backed up the stairs. "I don't understand, what'd I do? What happened at Mr. Fitzsimmons' office?"
Esmae laughed bitterly. "Listen to what the human says, Mama. 'What'd I do?' Pathetic. What have you done? You turned eighteen, Cinder. Why do you refuse to understand?" She stalked to the bottom of the stairs and glared up at the older girl. "You survived."
"Esmae, enough." Celina's voice was quiet but effective. The young girl snapped her mouth closed.
Ella's eyes filled with tears. "Why do you hate me so much, Esmae? Because I don't conform to your standard of beauty, or is it because I'm my father's daughter?"
"You are an abomination that never should have survived past your childhood," Esame sneered. "The only thing that saved your precious family name from being wiped out entirely was Mama deigning to lower herself to the merchant class and marry your father."
"Esmae!" Evangeline stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at her stepsister. "You cannot possibly mean that."
"I can and I do," the younger girl asserted. "Just because you happen to like the little wretch, do not assume everyone in this house feels the same way."
"She is our sister," Evangeline protested.
"She is most decidedly not my sister, and if you side with her, then you can join her in my affections."
"So be it," Evangeline said. "This house has held nothing but horrors for me."
"Get back to your room, Evangeline," Celina spat. "I will deal with you later."
With a single-stricken look at Ella, Evangeline fled back down the hallway.
"Esmae, you should not explain our motives to this...this human," Celina admonished. Her nostrils flared, a tiny chunk of them falling off and hitting the floor at her feet. She stepped forward. "As to what happened at the solicitor's office...Mr. Fitzsimmons informed me this house, in fact, all the property in the apparent farce of a marriage between your father and I, have been granted to you."
Ella frowned. "But...you knew this already. I remember when Mr. Fitz told you Papa's will gave everything to me on my eighteenth birthday. I don't understand why you're so angry now."
"Because you should have died, you little troll," Celina spat. "If you had just died before now, everything would have worked the way it should have. I would have control of my finances and not be dependent upon a living human for my needs. Why is that so difficult for you to comprehend?"
Ella shrank in on herself. "But it's not my fault," she whispered. "And you know I'd never make you live on the streets."
Celina stalked three steps closer, until she was at the bottom of the stairs, standing next to Esmae. "Typical. You completely miss the point. I should not have to worry about such things. Ever." She bared her teeth at her stepdaughter. "Let me be perfectly clear, Cinder. If we could get away with killing you...we would."
Ella's eyes widened. "You can't be serious."
"What do you think you are worth?" Esmae demanded. "You are nothing. You are less than nothing. You are alive."
Ella edged around her stepmother and her younger stepsister. "I can't stay and listen to this." Before either woman could respond, she escaped outside, where her feet took flight. She ran toward her garden, toward the place she felt the safest, her chest heaving with the breath her stepmother wished she did not have.