Cinderella Is Dead(82)
“You stayed in the woods because you wanted to,” Constance says. “Not because you felt bad about what you’d done.”
“That’s only partially true,” Amina says, turning her attention back to Constance. “I do feel a twinge of guilt about Cinderella, but it’s nothing that can’t be stifled with a full pipe and a stiff drink.” She twists the dagger between her fingers. “I told you I was no fairy godmother, that I’d done things you couldn’t fathom. You asked me to lay down that burden. But you had no idea what that would mean.”
I can’t understand. “You knew he was killing people, and that it was how he was extending his own life?”
“Now, Sophia,” Manford says, speaking to me as if I were a child. “I have managed to keep some things to myself.”
Amina looks down at the floor. “I’ve never actually seen him do it. I didn’t want to know the details. It was better that way. The first time was—when was it?”
“When that beggar woman came to our door in the first months after you’d risen me from the ground,” says Manford. “When I realized what I could do, that I could maintain myself indefinitely, well, that was a secret worth keeping even from you, Mother.”
“You haven’t managed to keep it a secret from everyone,” Amina says. “Constance is in possession of a book that has a very interesting illustration in it.”
“Is that right?” Manford asks. “We’ll have to look into that.” He turns to Constance. “Will you give me the book willingly or must I use more … persuasive measures?”
“If you take a single step toward me, I will make you regret it,” Constance says, her voice unwavering. “Please try it. I’d very much like to kill you.”
The king’s mouth turns down, and he shakes his head. “A cozy cell might humble you. Make you change your mind.”
I think of the girl in the cell next to mine. Did Amina know about her and the others? “Have you spared a thought for anyone else?” I ask, staring at Amina. I cannot believe she has betrayed my trust this way. “Not just the people here in Lille but in the whole of Mersailles, all the lives that have been ruined because of him?” I can’t stop the tears from running down my face. “I thought you cared about me. How could you do this?”
The king laughs. “Mother, perhaps your talent for lying is better than I thought. This fool actually thinks you care for her.”
Amina draws her mouth into a straight line as she approaches me, her eyes steely. She raises Cinderella’s dagger up and gently taps the handle where the pink stone is anchored.
“Just like I saw it,” says Amina. “Forgive me.” She draws a deep breath and lunges toward me.
I raise my arms in defense, and there is a flurry of footsteps. Amina jerks forward like she’s been struck in the back. The look on her face puzzles me. It’s pain.
She pushes the handle of Cinderella’s knife into my hand and stumbles forward. The crow screeches, beating its wings as it flies up and circles over our heads. A sound, like the roar of a river, shatters the silence. The terrible noise is coming from the king.
The tip of Constance’s dagger sticks out of Amina’s chest as Constance grips the hilt behind Amina’s right shoulder, heaving, her eyes blazing. She has run Amina straight through.
Amina heaves a long, slow sigh as she collapses onto the floor.
“No!” Manford shrieks.
Amina closes her eyes as a luminous cloud engulfs Manford. A sallow light erupts from him. The pulse knocks Constance and me backward with such force it sends us flying in opposite directions. Constance tumbles through a set of double doors on the other side of the room.
Manford, still surrounded by the blinding light, staggers toward me. I scramble through the door closest to me. The bodies of several unconscious palace guards litter the hall like fallen trees. Clutching Cinderella’s dagger, gasping for air, my insides twisting around, I stand and run. Glancing behind me, I see Manford picking up his pace.
Careening through the halls, the clatter of swords and guards echoes from somewhere behind me. I find the staircase leading to the dungeon and race down. I can escape to the courtyard and circle back to get Constance.
The cells are empty now, and my heart races as I move to the end of the hallway and open the door.
A monstrous shout erupts from behind me. “Stop!”
I can run. I can go find Constance and get the hell out of here, but that’s not what I came to do. If I run now, I’ll be running forever. Amina is dead, and I hope that means that the spell she cast on Manford is broken. If there’s any chance he’ll be vulnerable now, I have to end him.
I close the door and turn to face Manford. He stands in the darkness at the far end of the tunnel. I take a step to the side. He mirrors my movements like a shadow.
“You are resourceful, if nothing else,” he says. His voice sounds different. It’s rough, and he gurgles in between breaths. “From the looks of things down here, it seems you’ve cost me quite a bit of money.”
“Only tyrants deal in the sale of human beings.” My fear has ebbed. Anger comes rushing back.
He takes two steps into the dancing light of the candles. I recoil as he moves closer. I grip Cinderella’s dagger so tightly my hand aches. Large swaths of skin have come away from the side of his neck; the white bone shines through a hole in his cheek. I stumble back. His skin, moldering and rotted, falls off in chunks as he lumbers forward.