Cinderella Is Dead(49)

Constance stands up, clenching her fists. “It was all based on a lie. You—you tricked her.”

“The law of three says that whatever you put out will come back to you three times over,” Amina says. “I’m sure I’ll get what’s coming to me. Just you wait.”

“And you’ll deserve every bit of it,” Constance says through gritted teeth.

I can’t wrap my head around the enormity of his lies, the depth of his deception. Cinderella’s story is so much more complicated than I imagined. I never would have thought that this is what the actual truth could be. But what I suspected, that Manford was the monster of the fairy tale, turned out to be true in the most terrible way.

“How do we stop him?” I ask. It’s the only question that matters now.

“You can’t,” Amina says. “You are no match for him. Nothing can be done.”

“I don’t believe that,” I say.

“You have no idea how powerful he has become,” Amina snaps. “There is no defeating him. My best advice would be to run, hide, save yourselves if you can.”

“You can’t be this much of a coward,” Constance says.

Amina turns slowly, and a wave of silent rage pulses out of her. I stand up and move between them.

“Please,” I say, as much to Amina as to Constance. “We need your help.”

Constance speaks to Amina without looking at her. “We can’t go back. You need to help us.”

Amina glances at me, her face softening again. She looks around the small room, muttering something to herself. She nods at me. “You can sleep by the fire. You”—she eyes Constance—“can sleep outside for all I care. I don’t have much extra room, as you can see, but stay, and we’ll discuss this in the morning when I’ve had a chance to clear my head.”

Amina shuffles off, and I sink down onto the floor, relieved that she and Constance haven’t come to blows. The things Amina told us feel too big, too impossible. Am I just supposed to take her at her word? Believe that magic is real and so much more dangerous than I thought possible?

Constance briefly considers taking Amina’s advice to sleep outside, but changes her mind as the howling of the wolves, along with a blustery wind, picks up again. Amina tosses me a pile of blankets before settling herself on a straw-stuffed mattress in the far corner of the room. The house contains cupboards and closets but no other rooms as far as I can tell.

Constance and I take turns stoking the fire to keep the drafty little cottage warm throughout the night. As we drift in and out of sleep, I keep some distance between us, though I awake several times to find her face very close to mine, her eyes closed, her breath soft and warm. I’m afraid I’m dreaming, that I might reach out and she’ll be gone. But I allow myself to think of what it would be like to spend my days with her freely, in a future we create.





23





Constance stirs before Amina. She sits up, rubbing her eyes. Her body suddenly stiffens.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

She groans and rubs her shoulder, rolling her head from side to side and stretching her neck. “The floor isn’t very forgiving. Did you sleep okay?”

“Not really.” I unbandage my hand to find the wound almost completely healed.

“Look at that,” says Constance. “I guess the witch is good for something.”

I look to where Amina is sleeping. “Whether she’ll help us or not is another question.”

I have a feeling Amina wants to help us. She wouldn’t have shared her story if she didn’t. But she’s clearly not a person who does anything out of the kindness of her heart, so I understand Constance’s skepticism.

Constance shifts around on the pile of blankets. Her tunic, which is entirely too big for her, slips off her shoulder. My heart speeds up a little, and I look away. When I turn back she is smiling at me, which only makes my heart beat faster. She purses her lips, then lets them part, sucking in a quick puff of air. She smiles again, and I notice a deep dimple in her right cheek. If I had been standing, I might have had to sit down.

“One thing,” I say, changing my train of thought.

“All right.” Constance raises one fiery-red eyebrow.

“I know you’ve got a lot to be angry about. And I don’t blame you, but we don’t have any better ideas.” I glance toward Amina. “We need her to tell us what she knows, and I’d like it if she didn’t use whatever power she has to obliterate us first.”

“We don’t even know if she’s telling the truth.”

I had thought the same thing, but I look down at my almost completely healed wound. Her books and concoctions line the walls, and I’m sure there is something at work here that I don’t yet understand.

“I don’t know exactly what she is either,” I say. “But just promise me you won’t provoke her before we figure out more.”

“I’ll try,” she says. “For you. Not because I’m afraid of her.”

“Of course not,” I say, smiling.

Amina rolls over and sits up. Bits of hay stick out of her mussed hair, and she looks confused for a moment.

“You awake there, Granny?” Constance asks, an edge of annoyance still coloring her voice. I shoot her a glance, and she frowns dramatically, mouthing the word “sorry” to me.