The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(59)
“Then I can go?” Ella had been so full of hope she’d been unable to breathe.
“That’s what I said.”
What she hadn’t said was that she would hand Ella a list of tasks so ridiculously long that there was no way she would ever be able to get them done in a month, let alone three days. But Ella was no fool, she’d had a feeling there would be some kind of catch. If not an unmanageable list of things to do, then it would have been something else impossible. There was no way she would ever be allowed to do something as wonderful as attend a concert. She never had before, why should things change?
You could go anyway, a small voice in the back of her head told her. After all, what have you got to lose? What would they do to you afterwards? Beat you? Keep you in the house and force you to work your fingers to the bone from morning till night, seven days a week?
Ella allowed herself a small smile at the irony of it all. But she didn’t have any money, no means of transport, nothing to wear and, most important of all, no ticket.
It was all so unfair. Ignoring the dull ache in her bottom, she crossed one long leg over the other, folded her arms behind her head, and stared deeply into Zainon’s light gray eyes, willing him to show her a way. One night. One night was all she was asking for. A few measly hours in exchange for a lifetime of servitude and drudgery, one magical experience about which she could dream and fantasize for the rest of her life. Something amazing to cling to while she scrubbed floors, polished windows, pruned plants, washed dishes, mended clothing, and did the thousand and one other things that toiling in her stepmother’s house involved.
“Please, Zee,” she whispered, reaching out to stroke his chiseled cheek. “Show me a way.”
Unfortunately, the day before the concert, Ella still hadn’t come any closer to finding a way to get there. Nor had she been able to make any significant progress on that ridiculous, mile-long list she’d been given.
“How are you coming along?” Her stepmother’s voice was almost gleeful. “Do you think you’ll finish on time? Time’s a’ticking.”
Ella dropped the sponge she’d been using to wash out the kitchen cupboards and spun around to face the tall, angular woman. “I’ve been asking you this question for years and you’ve never given me a decent answer. But I will ask again: why do you enjoy torturing me so?”
Griselda raised an arched eyebrow. “Torturing you, my dear? I cannot fathom what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I mean. I bet you don’t even have a ticket for me. I bet you’re just using this whole thing as yet another way to humiliate—” Her words died in her throat as her stepmother reached into her skirt pocket and produced a slip of paper.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean, dear. Of course I have your ticket. It’s right here.”
Ella eyed the card suspiciously. “How do I know that’s a real ticket?”
Griselda held it out. “You can see for yourself. Uh-uh, don’t take it. You will be able to hold this in your grubby little hands once you’ve completed all the tasks.”
Zainon Matthews Live, the ticket said. Ella’s heart beat faster at the sight of the delicately embossed words. The date, the time, the location… it all seemed to be real. So close, and yet so far. “Please,” she whispered in a strangled voice. “I’ve never asked you for anything. In all the years since Father died, I’ve cooked, cleaned, served and waited on you hand and foot. Not just you, but on Nathan and Anastasia as well. Never a single birthday gift, never a kind word in return, but I always still—”
“Always what?” Griselda barked. “Behaved? Did as you were told?” She gave a shrill laugh. “If that were truly the case, would we keep having to punish you? How many times has poor darling Nathan had to take the paddle or the strap to you—to no avail? And as for the ridiculous notion that I’ve never given you anything… is food and shelter nothing? You have a roof over your head, clothes on your back, enough to eat. You get a damn sight more than you deserve. Even now, you’re getting a fair chance to attend this stupid event, although I cannot for the life of me fathom why you—any of you—would want to go. I’ve heard this… person… sing, and really, what he does cannot be called music. Not by any stretch of the imagination!”
Ella sighed, biting her lower lip as the ticket was once again removed from her sight and tucked back into Griselda’s skirt pocket. She was too tired to argue. I might as well face facts… no matter what I do, I won’t be able to go. Bitter tears of disappointment threatened to spill over and she swallowed them back past the sudden lump in her throat. “Fine,” she said at length. “If you say so, Mother.”
“Do not presume to take that tone with me, young lady,” Griselda spat. “Else I’ll think of some more things to add to that list.”
“I don’t think that would make any difference.” Ella clenched her fists. “Your list as it stands is more than adequate. In fact, I might as well give up now. You know as well as I do that your demands are impossible. Ten people working around the clock couldn’t complete those tasks in time for tomorrow evening.”
Her stepmother gave a mocking chuckle. “Such a defeatist attitude, dear. So pathetic. Just like your father. I must admit, I was a little irritated when he died so young, leaving you in my care…” she eyed Ella as though she were a cockroach on a plate of food, “but in another way, I suppose it was a blessing of sorts. You have saved me a fortune I would otherwise have had to spend on real servants.”