Cinderella Is Dead(56)

Amina sways back and forth with her eyes closed. “The rue is quick. Especially in the moonlight.” She glances toward the water. “In you go.”

“We have to go all the way in?” I ask. The moon seems brighter than I’ve ever seen it.

“Absolutely.” Amina’s tone becomes deadly serious. “Long ago, when people wanted a glimpse of what the future might hold, they could look into a body of water such as this, on a night when the moon was full, when the water is calm. I have learned that putting yourself into the pool during divination makes the visions clearer. When you enter the water, empty your mind and see what will be revealed.”

“There you go again,” Constance says. “You and your riddles.”

The air is suddenly quite chilly, and a thought occurs to me. “Do I have to disrobe completely?”

Constance’s gaze sweeps over me, sending a jolt down my spine.

“Nudity is optional,” says Amina. “But from what I can tell, we all have the same bits and pieces. And even if you don’t, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, dearie. I’ve seen my fair share of tallywhackers as well.”

Constance scrunches up her nose. “Make her stop.”

I stifle a laugh. I feel almost euphoric in the light of the moon.

“I’ll go first,” says Amina.

Amina disrobes without a second thought and strides into the water. Constance slowly turns to me, covering her eyes with her hands.

“I was right, Amina,” Constance says. “There is nothing in these woods scarier than you.”

I can’t hold it in this time. My laugh rings out like a bell in the stillness.

“Hush,” Amina croaks.

She bobs in the water, eyes closed. The moonlight shines down on her. The water beads on her hair. The pond doesn’t ripple as she gently sways in the water. All around us, fireflies gather on the branches on the trees, their little yellow lights flickering on and off. Constance and I watch in silence. Suddenly Amina’s eyes snap open and she looks at Constance. “So that will be the way of it.”

“The way of what?” Constance asks.

Amina wades to the shore and wraps herself in her shawl. “You next,” she says to Constance.

Constance turns her back to me and slips her arms out of her tunic, pulling it up over her head and tossing it to the ground. I am unable to take my eyes off her. She removes her trousers and tosses them aside. As she pivots toward me, I have to make a concerted effort to keep my mouth from falling open. A blanket of freckles covers her chest and shoulders and trickles down on to her arms like a sprinkling of stardust. Her hair, a mass of red, luminescent curls, frames her face like a halo. She doesn’t look away or try to cover herself. A wave of yearning threatens to consume me. With a smirk, she wades in until the water rests just below her shoulders.

“Close your eyes,” Amina orders.

Constance glances at me once more before doing as she’s told. My head is still swimming, but now from more than just the rue. Constance tilts her head up, like she’s listening to something. She strikes at the water with her hand. Her eyes open slowly. They are rimmed with tears.

“What is it?” I ask.

Constance doesn’t answer. She closes her eyes again. Her breaths come in quick bursts; a whimper escapes her. She opens her eyes and climbs out of the water, collapsing onto the ground. I rush to her side.

“I’m fine,” she says. I don’t believe her. She’s trembling, holding herself around the waist. I drape her tunic around her shoulders, and she smiles, but there is sadness there.

“Your turn, Sophia,” says Amina.

I’m not wearing a chemise under my tunic and vest, and I think about going in fully clothed. I move to the edge of the water but stop. I’ve fled the ball, traveled into the White Wood to find a witch, and am preparing to raise Cinderella from the dead. Compared to those things, being naked under a starry sky doesn’t seem like such a monumental task.

I unbutton my vest and set it aside. Amina turns completely away, but Constance raises her eyes to the sky. I slip out of my tunic and trousers and wade into the pool. I brace for the chill of the water, but it’s like stepping into a warm bath. Constance levels her eyes at me, and something shifts in her. Her mouth opens and then closes, like she wants to speak but can’t. And while she looks me over, taking in every inch of me, her gaze lingers longest on my eyes.

“Try to clear your mind,” says Amina. “If that’s even possible.” She gives me a knowing glance. My face flushes hot with embarrassment.

I close my eyes. In the water I am weightless. I tilt my head back and suddenly feel like I am falling. My eyes snap open. I scramble to keep my feet under me. The water sloshes about, lapping at my chest.

“Are you all right?” Constance asks from shore.

“Yes. I—I just—I’m okay.” I close my eyes and again feel like I’m falling. The king’s face appears in my mind’s eye, sneering, a mask of hate and anger. His eyes are black and hollow, and Cinderella stands just behind him, speaking to me, her words muffled. The king reaches for me, taking hold of my shoulders and pulling me close to him. His face transforms into something horrid and rotting—something dead. A ball of white-hot light erupts between us, pulling at the center of my chest. I cry out.

“Sophia!”