Page 1 of Glass Hearts
I
Part One
Arabella
Will anyone notice if I add a bit of extra wax polish to the floors? Maybe my stepmother, Bernice, and her gaggle of daughters will slip, fall, and break their necks, finally releasing me from my bound curse to them once and for all. Then I can make my grand escape to the Terra Isle and live the rest of my life out in a cottage as the resident hermit with many animals, happily ever after. The end.
A girl canmorbidlydream.
Heaving the heavy bucket of water on the last few steps of the winding staircase, I almost crash into one of my stepsisters leaving the bathroom. The handle evades my grip, and I catch it two seconds before it topples over. Of course, my own morbid daydream would almost cause me to fall down the stairs, such as my luck.
“Belllllyyyy,” Mia whines with that horrid nickname they have called me since my father’s passing. “Make sure to organize my dresses by color while we are out!”
“Oh! And be sure to really scrub the bathroom floors—I may have spilled my face powder all over the place.” Pia, or maybe it was Zia, snarks over her other sister, who is also making a mess of her makeup. Wonderful.
Mia, Pia, Zia and Lia, the bane of my existence. And yes, those are their names. I just call them the Quadias—the identical quadruplets. I never get the chance to get to know them, to see how their personalities differ from each other. Bernice hasalways ensured we remained apart since childhood. Which can be rough when they intentionally and meticulously all share the same look, and style, along with their identical features. They all have the same haircut of long shiny brown hair, and all share the same chocolate brown eyes. They even match their training regimen to maintain their lithe, stunning bodies. Besides their looks being identical, it’s as if they share the same brain cell. Their outer beauty doesn’t match their ugly-hearted insides.
The Quadias are a younger carbon copy of their mother, Bernice Baudelaire, my awful stepmother. Her heart is as black as the coals that I have yet to scrape out of the fireplace. Her condescending, stony gaze meets mine as the quadruplets bicker among each other about who gets the blue cloak.
“Dearests, please get in the carriage. I would like to have a word with Belly.” She waits as they tumble out of our moderately sized townhouse. “Now, Arabella. After your chores, I think you should go to The Lucky Barn and find yourself a young gentleman who would look at your drab face for a lifetime. After all, once your sisters are married to the princes, you will no longer be welcome here. I will sell the townhouse, and if you aren’t wed by the time your stepsisters are, then I must choose a suitor for you. Your curse is very much my curse. I would rather not have you around longer than I must. Until then, keep scrubbing,Belly.” She sneers as she leaves with my stepsisters.
Their nickname for me aims to spear, but it doesn’t. I have always been on the curvier side compared to my stepsisters. Though even if it were to aim fire at my weight, I couldn’t care less. Yes, I have a bit of a tummy, but quite frankly I would rather have an extra dessert than no dessert at all.
The only time I don’t like my body is when men seem to notice me. A girl loses her libido when their pickup line starts with “With hips like that, I could see you bearing my children.” No thanks, bucko.
From the pictures I have found of my parents, I can tell I took more after my mother; she had the same soft features, blonde hair, and blue eyes. Mother died giving birth to me, and Father died when I was twelve. He married Bernice after she had blackmailed him into the union. He had a broken heart, lots of money, and a secret that Bernice could hold over him. She had sunk her claws into any possibility of a happy ending for the two of us without Mother. But Father had magic, and upon signing the blackmail agreement and vows, he had spelled my damnation. What was to be a fail-safe for me ended up being a curse.
“Bernice, you will take care of my daughter and stand by her side upon my death. You will guide her into becoming a strong woman until she is married.”
But something had gone wrong. His spell had bound me to the hag, cursed me never to be apart from my stepmother for more than a day. If either of us were to split, we would experience excruciating pain until once again reunited.
Once, I rebelled and thought I could handle it. After twenty-four hours, I had collapsed into a fit of painful tremors. It felt as though my whole body was being stabbed and squeezed internally. Local enforcement found me and dropped me off at the townhouse later that same day. Bernice had experienced the same pain, which at first I thought was a consolation. Until Victor, Bernice’s mage partner, punished me with twenty-four lashings. If I fail to complete chores? More lashings. Scars that remain on my back as a reminder of my place in life.
If I married, my curse would disappear. But love and marriage aren’t on the cards. Because, really, nothing good can come from being in love. Bernice doesn’t know, but I intercepted a box of memories of my parents she was going to toss away. It had the blackmail agreement (their marriage certificate), many of my mother’s baking recipes, and photos of the two of thembefore I was born. In love. What good is love when you lose your other half? It becomes a tragedy. My father was broken and fell into the spider’s web. Scratch that; spiders are too good to be compared with Bernice.
So here I am, scrubbing shit stains from their porcelain thrones while they spend what’s left of my father’s money. Or as Bernice would say, ‘An investment to secure her daughters’ deserved station in life.’ Cue eye-roll.
From spas, to cosmetic surgeries, to clothes, my stepmother spares no expense for the Quadias. Whereas I receive a meager ten gold coins in allowance per full moon turn. Heck, hired servants make more and are more respected than myself.
That’s whereThe Shadowcomes in; my alter ego. She is everything I wish I could be. Free, strong, and independent. An outlaw who sneaks in the dark, stealing from the rich while giving back to the poor, with perhaps a little skimming off the top. I need a plan for once I break the curse and escape Bernice’s clutches after all.
The Shadowdoesn’t need a man, nor does she bend to society’s propaganda that you can only be happy with a pregnant belly and serving your husband. Marriage would just be another prison.
Abandoning my bucket in the supply closet, I reach for my hidden clothes.
As I change into my gear, black leather pants and corset with a black hooded long-sleeved undershirt, I call upon my animal companions.
My stepfamily doesn’t know my magic. They think I am a Null, a person with no magic. Little do they know I have been connecting and communicating with animals since I was ten.
Six raccoons, twelve birds, a mangy fox, and fifty-five mice scurry in as I mentally send a warm greeting within our bond.
“Good afternoon, Arabelly!”They all sing in greeting in my head.
Yes, I get my animal friends to do my bidding. Now don’t judge a girl! It would be impossible to finish all these chores whilst also beingThe Shadow. I pay them well, mostly in food and shelter. The occasional cuddle in exchange, which is rare, to my disappointment.
“I got the bathrooms sorted this morning, though they may need to be tidied up a bit from the Quadias pre-dinner beauty session. It’s just their rooms and the kitchen that need to be tended to tonight.”
As soon as I set the tasks, I quickly go to each stepsister’s room to color organize their dresses as requested. My animal companions are quite adept at most of my chores and cleaning. But organizing? Not so much—especially since some can’t even see most colors.
