Page 3 of Of Curses and Courtship

Of the great many things their mother taught them, my stepsisters certainly learned to fear their mother. I don’t find her nearly as terrifying. She isn’t the reason for this spectacular castle. It is mine—or rather, it was my father’s.

I’ll never understand why he didn’t leave it to me in his will. I’m twenty-nine, and I can indeed care for a house all on my own.

I never knew my stepmother was so nasty until it was too late. I suppose my father could say the same.

The day my father’s life came to an end, so did mine. I’m a ghost, floating along these halls, waiting for something to rouse me from the slumber of a living death.

The old, rusted front door creaks open. I lift my head and meet Raia’s petrified stare. She freezes in place, her feather duster coming to a stop.

“You must leave,” I hiss. “If she finds out that you have been helping me, we will all be in trouble.”

They exchange a look and lift their damp skirts, preparing to scurry out. We have been through this before, and they know better than anyone thattheywill not be in trouble. No matter what they do, no matter my involvement, it will always be my fault.

“Children?” Lady Ashbridge calls, her voice shrill enough to make the house quake.

Children. We’re too old to be considered children; she knows it very well. Raia is three years younger than I, and Elisa is my exact age. We are grown beings. The condescending tone in her voice makes me quake, but I’ll never tremble from fear. No, it’s always with pure rage.

I duck my head and scuffle around on my scraped knees, clutching the sponge with white knuckles. Please, let these moments pass without another scream of her wretched voice.

The click of her heels against the wood will always send a shiver up my spine. The sound is a sign that the joy my sisters and I have been basking in will soon come to an end.

The younger women scurry around the room, searching for an escape, but it’s no good.

The clicking grows louder.

Until it stops.

I don’t have to look at her to know her hands are on her hips. It’s a stance that’s been seared into my mind.

“You,” she whispers harshly. “Were you forcing my daughters to clean again?”

“Mama—” Raia begins to speak.

Lady Ashbridge holds a hand in the air, silencing her daughter with a single gesture. “I was not asking you, child. I askedher.”

I crane my neck to take in my stepmother’s terrible,towering form. Her salt-and-pepper hair is in a tight bun, as it so often is. Her wrinkles may speak of age, which is beauty, but the wrinkle between her brows is pure frustration. She’s always cross with me.

A large necklace, made of gold with red stones in the middle, hangs at the base of her throat. In all my years of knowing her, I’ve never seen her without it.

Useless magic sparks at my fingertips. The energy taunts me, begging to be of assistance, but it slips through the cracks each time. It’s gone before I can decide what to do with it.

My chest deflates, and my courage goes with it.

I avert my gaze. “I’ve been cleaning alone, my lady.”

She’ll know I’m lying. Somehow, she always knows.

“Balderdash,” Lady Ashbridge spits, gesturing at Raia. “Her skirt is filthy and wet. Why is your skirt damp, child?”

“Because…” Raia blinks back tears. She’s always the first one to break.

“You must understand, my lady.” I drop the sponge on the floor. “I did notforcethem to do anything.”

“We helped of our own free will.” Elisa holds her head high. “Mother, we’re bored. It’s been an awfully dull day. What would you rather we do with our time? Run about the town like hellions?”

“Silence.” Lady Ashbridge’s word is law in this cold home.

We listen, even though I’m fighting the desire to slip free and put her in her proper place.How? How could I? If it weren’t for her, I would be without a home.