A shadow hung over me and I wished I understood it. Food had no taste and all the simple things I'd found pleasurable now brought the opposite effect.

I loathed seeing Edmond each morning as he put out our food. Beyond words, I abhorred it. Now when he brushed by me, I wanted to either burst into tears, vomit, or both.

He'd been right about everything.

But what had I expected? My level head agreed with him. The day he presented a new young porter to work around the house, I knew his time of departure had come.

I suppose Cinderella noticed the change the morning she arrived late for breakfast to find no meal awaiting her.

She threw herself down into her chair and took pause at the well-eaten meal.

As usual, her big eyes trained on me. "I'm sorry I'm late. But I was working on my dress."

She waited for the praise I usually offered but I could muster up nothing, not with my heart slowly crumbling within itself.

Poppy and Piglet stood but that was unnecessary. They could bear witness to this very old rule, renewed.

Without a word, I rose to my feet and walked out.

Behind me, Poppy held Cinderella's shoulder, per her habit when delivering bad news. "We must always be on time for meals, Cinderella."

"What? But I was late with good reason. And I hadn't slept. I've been up. Are—are you saying I shan't have anything?"

Piglet asked her sister, "Perhaps we can find an apple tree. Would Mother mind that?"

The chair made a ruckus as Cinderella stood. "You needn't trouble yourselves."

She barreled out and I caught her by the arm, an action that made her wince.

When our eyes met, I told her, "You are the oldest girl in this house. You're sixteen and you'll be seventeen soon enough." I let her go with a shove. "Act like it and move like a woman and less so like a gazelle."

The admonishment left her stunned. Her eyes grew wider when she realized my seriousness.

"I—I suppose you're in a bad mood," was all she managed.

Perhaps I was. I stepped past her and waited in the hall for Piglet and Poppy to arrive. They took longer than I expected. Piglet spilled out of the dining room, an act I did not appreciate, with something behind her back.

Once all three of them stood before me, awaiting their orders for chores, I narrowed my eyes at my two youngest. Piglet nudged Cinderella who nearly looked at her but thought better of it. She received whatever it was in Piglet's hand, then dropped it.

"Oh no." Cinderella snatched up the bread roll then stood at attention again.

I pretended not to notice. She could pay for it in other ways.

"Very well," I told Piglet, "since you are so fond of stealing food, you can have double the chores this morning."

Piglet's posture sank but not for long. Finally, she drew herself up and nodded.

Poppy was in charge of the second floor. Piglet the first. Cinderella would get the windows, as usual. The meagerest of efforts.

But then Cinderella had the nerve to utter something to me that I found ignorant.

"Why don't we have the cook clean?"

Poppy and Piglet gave an audible gasp.

Per her habit, Poppy explained, "That isn't her job. And besides, we don't pay her enough to justify such work, Cinderella. People have certain jobs. People have certain stations. It's best not to abuse them."

Cinderella argued, "But Edmond does everything—"

"That's enough." I told them, "There's a new porter. He's young and he's inexperienced and he's, more importantly, male. Should you find yourself in his company alone, please seek out each other. A woman's reputation is the only thing she can control."

All eyes gravitated to Cinderella who took a step back.

"Oh, no. Do not look at me. Father'd have my head. He's already made that perfectly clear."

With that settled, they went to work. Usually, I'd leave them to it, but today I felt particularly bitter, so I changed my clothes into something simple, tied my hair up, and joined them in scrubbing the floors.

The hard work did me good. Instead of my heart aching, my body throbbed.

Once we were finished with the first floor, Piglet and I stood proud. A ruckus upstairs had us hurrying to see what caused it.

Cinderella stood with a now empty bucket in her hands, Poppy knelt down, hurrying to sop up the water with her cleaning rags.

"I'm very sorry."

"It's all right." Poppy said, "It was an accident. But perhaps you should employ walking."

What I beheld upset me for many reasons.

Poppy wasn't one for complaints, but this was ridiculous.

"Stand up," I told her.

Wet cloth still in hand, she obeyed.

"Is this how a woman runs her house?"

My words made her blink. "But—"

"She's ruined over an hours' worth of work and you say absolutely nothing in your defense? Do you know how foolish you look? Because she doesn't care. She doesn't care a lick."

Cinderella gasped. "But, of course, I cared."

"Enough to stand there like an imbecilic rather than help her clean?"

Her jaw snapped shut and I waited.

I told Poppy a hard truth, "You are being made fun of. I refuse to believe that someone this old is always this clumsy unless she's spilling it on purpose so that she can watch you clean it. Stop being stupid."

Poppy stared past me but managed to nod. Cinderella's face was crimson.

"Clean it all again," I ordered.

I walked away to the sound of Cinderella whispering, "I really am sorry."

"It's—" Poppy pause part way then fell to her knees and continued cleaning. "Please, just stay out of the way."

Cinderella was on time for lunch at least.

But supper was something else. She was late. We waited a full five minutes, Piglet looking rather worried, before I announced, "Let's eat."

Poppy and Piglet traded a glance. But once I started, they did as well.

Their paces were slow, and I noticed the trick right away—they intended to drag this out for Cinderella's sake.

A thundering rush of footsteps had me closing my eyes. Until now, they'd never bothered me. In this instance, I couldn't stand them.

I stood and turned the key in the dining room door before she could reach it. After that, I sauntered to my seat and returned to my meal.

The feet pounded down the hall, out the door, and in through the kitchen.

Cinderella's flushed face came as the door opened. Finally, she sat, farthest from me, I noticed.

She had no plate, so she panicked. Piglet nudged her own soup bowl toward her.

At first, Cinderella ignored it, but a growling stomach won out and she took it with a nod. Poppy was discrete in putting her own bread plate in the center of the table. Piglet pulled it close and inched it towards Cinderella again.

Cinderella, without offering a word of gratitude, snatched up the roll and used it to sop up her soup.

The way she ate made me grit my teeth to keep my thoughts to myself. It ran down her chin.

As I stared at the ghastly display, something about my expression made all three of them slow. Piglet offered Cinderella a serviette while whispering, "Slow down. We've saved you plenty."

"Look at her," I told them. "Do you think for a moment, a slight instance, that she cares that you'll be hungry on her behalf? Not even a thank you. But people like her are the ones who benefit off the backs of others. And was she deserving of your meal?"

For the first time, their forgiving nature angered me. It wasn't virtuous but rather a failing. My two girls weren't ones to hold grudges, but others were. Not once. Never had Cinderella apologized for her behavior. And even now, when Piglet and Poppy were coming to her aid despite their differences, she appreciated nothing.

Piglet faced forward. Poppy didn't move. It was in this instance that I'd seen it. They knew this was coming. Somehow, something about me told my two daughters that my patience had all but worn thin. And much like I softened the blows to Cinderella in an effort to spare her feelings, now, too, they did the same for her.

But it was easy for people like Cinderella to get away with such nonsense. Big doe eyes, and a simpleton's disposition. The same way Arabella could throw her problems and expectations around at the expense of others, so did Cinderella. And I hated her for it.

"I think, perhaps, none of you should have supper."

Poppy's lips parted. Piglet seemed ready to defend them all, but eventually they both shut up.

With a bow, my two youngest stood, but not Cinderella. Instead, she answered her hunger by digging deeper into her meal. As I rose from my chair, she worked faster, no longer wasting time on utensils.

I reached her but waited for her to sit up and peer at me with those big eyes yet again. And then I slapped her so hard the food fell from her mouth. Blood collected at the corner of her lips.

The silence after that came with a grinding of my teeth as I seethed, "I cannot abide this anymore. Act your age. Act your station. Bear the consequences. Bear them before others bear them on your behalf! If you want a civilized meal, it's not too much to ask that you yourself behave civilized.

Tears welled in her eyes, an act that had Piglet muttering, "Oh no."

She looped her arm around Cinderella's and hefted her up. Poppy had the door opened by the time Piglet led the sniveling child away.

They were up the stairs in record time and in the family room by the sounds of it.

Poppy hurried around.

Anger drove me into the hall, but I could get no further than the steps.

"I do not understand. It's well past the date. Has something else happened?" Piglet insisted.

Cinderella bawled but was comforted enough to calm.

"Listen," Poppy said, perhaps crouching to look up at her. "Every year in winter, Mother...changes. She takes it very hard and she's awful. But it doesn't last for long. This bout won't last long either. You simply have to be more careful. Come. Stop weeping. You see how nice she is usually. She's really pleasant once that week passes."

"But it's fall," Cinderella cried.

"I know. I don't understand but it's...it's the same behavior. We must weather it. But it'll pass."

Piglet sighed. "Hopefully, after the royal ball."

Cinderella gasped. "What? We have to endure it that long? How is that good?"

"It's good," Piglet told her, "because with her on the warpath, we wouldn't dare make a mistake."

"Come. Clean off your face." Poppy moved around but I couldn't imagine how. "It's very easy once you know what to look out for. Perhaps she's just nervous about the ball."

I descended the steps to find Edmond standing before the dining room door, a stern look of disapproval etched into his face.

My intent was to march past him, but he caught me by the arm and dragged me down the hall.

More and more, I grew tired of the manhandling. The cellar could fit us only one at a time and he shoved me forward. Once I was at the bottom of the steps and he latched the door and descended, I geared for a fight.

He took one look at my clenched fist then met eyes with me and said, "I'm not afraid of you."

I hated him. Though I was no match for a man his size—few would be, man or woman—I longed for the power needed to strike that admonishing gaze off his face.

"What business do you have with me and my house and how I choose to run it?"

He reached for my cheek and I boxed his hand down. The second time he grabbed me, slipping his fingers into my hair until he used the grip to pull me closer, I could do nothing but huff and puff.

The kiss caught me off guard and ignited my fury even more.

"You're better than this," he said against my lips. "You need not direct your anger for me at others. Direct it at me then and don't be a coward about it."

"The only coward is you—"

At the next kiss, I struggled. His body was like a rock. When our foreheads met, a sob left me. I couldn't say why at first.

I could make no sense of it.

Finally, the words, "I want to love you like that. I'd meant to," left my lips.

He nodded and answered, "I know."

Hands at his collar, I tore his shirt open and was both surprised and pleased when he rooted up my dress.

This was foolish and dangerous, but it might be the last physical encounter and I wanted time to accept things.

Despite being forced to couple in quiet, it lasted much longer than I'd anticipated. It felt like a goodbye. One I could find peace with.

Knowing he did not blame me for my rational feelings nor expect something unconditional from me, of which I was incapable, put me at ease. Arabella would have described me as cold while I saw logic. Living as fantastical as she'd attempted was far beyond me and I did not want to dream like her. The grounding nature of Edmond's and my personalities was something I'd thought connected us. So, with his acceptance that I was a mother with responsibilities which I could not put above him, I could accept his decision to leave as well. It was rational. It was reasonable and I would respect it.

This time he led our pace and I was grateful. I felt cherished, though I knew that wasn't a reasonable conclusion to have.

We finished long before we left each other's embrace. I was in tears, even during the fact, but a calm came over me.

And to my surprise, I was at peace. I could let him go.

"I will give you some money," I insisted, lying atop him.

He shook his head. "No. I have money. I've been saving for years. It's enough."

I looked up at him and he looked down at me and the anguish there alleviated my anger. He wanted me.

But this wasn't a storybook or a fairy tale and we had limits. We had strict limitations to our capabilities.

Till now, I'd compared our love to that of Arabella's and Raphael's. They'd been willing to, and had died for it.

I didn't want Edmond dead, nor did I want death myself.

In his expression, I saw the same desire reflected. He and I were alike, and we were kindred in this way because we took on the responsibilities and consequences of those who threw caution to the wind.

In this regard, it was us mopping up the messes of others who ran our lives ragged.

We came to an understanding as we gazed at one another. In a different world, in a different time, we would have been grand.

"I need you to do something for me," I begged, "and it's the last favor I'll ever ask."

Edmond answered, "I'm leaving in six days."

"Good, because the ball is merely one week away."

"What is it you need from me?"

"To help me pull off a miracle. I'm getting Poppy her prince and her happy ending."

Edmond looked pleased. Never had I seen him so peaceful. He left kisses on my body before we dressed and surprised me by standing first to put on his clothes despite the sunlight beyond the single window.

What I beheld hurt my heart. There was no end to the scarring. More than once, I forced myself not to look away. This was what I'd wanted, longed for. There was no sense in not honoring my wish.

Two buttons on his shirt did not survive my assault.

He found them and shoved them in his pocket before exiting first. I...needed a moment.

When I scanned the bare cellar, neat yet inhumane, I decided that what I'd decided to do next was what was best for all of us. And I'd come to my decision because of Edmond.

Therefore, an hour later when I lowered Poppy's beautiful blue wedding dress on the desk, Edmond's muted response surprised me.

He could do nothing but stare at it as I relayed my plan.

I finished by saying, "The friend to send the letter on Raphael's behalf, is it right to assume that was the crown prince? The current king?"

Edmond's gaze never left the dress. His jaw clenched.

In an effort to provoke a response, I affirmed, "The higher one climbs in nobility, the more marriages are pacts, things of treaties and strengthening ties. The king has girls; he will understand. Surely, he owes Raphael a boon. Simply use that to arrange a marriage with someone of a lesser title. It's more than enough."

For ages, Edmond could not speak. His jaw worked but words didn't come out.

The moment his gaze met mine, I froze at the fury behind those dark eyes.

"You wish..." he said, with as much composure as he could manage, "to elevate one child, by maiming the other."

Despite the truth in those words, I could not care at this moment.

"She will recover."

"You will use one child to harm another. Woman, have you gone mad!"

His disgust did little to move me. I refused to back down. "With or without your help, I am doing this."

The shimmer in his eyes meant this bothered him greatly. It bothered me as well. I took no pleasure in what I had planned, but I had no choice.

"She's strong. She'll recover—"

"Oh? Like you'd recovered?"

A direct attack was unlike him. He was always so reasonable. Vague memories came to me of leaving Edmond's hut seventeen years ago. I witnessed Raphael's departure, only to enter the house to the sight of Gareth, sitting down to dinner before announcing his engagement to Arabella.

Having my younger sister marry first was a crime in my eyes. Her entitlement superseding mine because of it was unfair, but to wind up pregnant and unmarried felt like a cosmic injustice.

And no, I'd never fully recovered, but now that I was a parent, I understood what must have happened. Mother, well aware of Arabella and Raphael, caught hold of Gareth and convinced him that only one of us would inherit the estate and he proposed to the one they wanted him to with the expectation that I keep courting. Perhaps mother hadn't anticipated my stupid mishap.

But even after she found out, she switched our children because she knew Arabella's love for Raphael would be a lost cause. My sister would have no baby and no Raphael, so Mother tried to give her something solid to hold on to.

It didn't take.

Was it right or wrong.... Despite how gutted it had left me, this was the first time in my life I didn't have an immediate answer. I no longer thought I knew.

No. Arabella did not die of her illness. She did not even die of the poison, not if the root of her problem were analyzed. She'd died of a broken heart.

I was determined to see my plan through. Yes. One would suffer but she'd survive. Of that, I was certain. Because I'd survived.

Edmond needed convincing and nothing more.

"This will work. And it's the only way," I told him.

Silently, he reached for the dress and took care with folding it. He was giving in, I'd thought, but then his eyes met mine and the hate within it told me otherwise.

"Am I being ordered to do this?" he asked.

Though I opened my mouth to tell him no, the word, "Yes," came.

His anger petered down to disappointment and he turned to walk out, the frock still in his grip.

My body provoked a start. "Edmond?"

His strides failed me; he was too fast.

"Edmond!"

Before he reached the main door, he turned and waited, daring me to challenge his reaction.

His expression said it all: lovers didn't order one another to do anything.

But who was he to make such demands on me? I required his help to achieve this, and this was my decision. He'd leave. He'd board a ship and never look back. This was my life and my safety. This was for my children. And if I had to choose between them or love, I'd sacrifice, no matter how painful the decision. This was what we all needed.

The moment I hesitated, he was out the door. What made me lose power? Because I stood there, dumbfounded as I watched him enter his hut and close the door.

From the manor, I gazed at his home for ages. Once the lamp light dimmed, I found the strength to return to my own place.

I'd make this up to him. Somehow.

And it did not matter how he felt about my request, so long as he carried it out.

But in the morning when I awoke, I hurried to dress well. The cook served us for breakfast, her eyes red and raw.

Her forlorn expression was what fueled my rushing out of that house and to Edmond's hut.

I held up my hand to knock but, in a flash, it occurred to me that there was no need. Somehow, I knew.

And so, I opened the door unprompted. It was bare save for some linens. All of his personal possessions were gone. He left no letter, no notice...no goodbye.

He was gone. There was no reason to look for his horse.

He was gone.

A thought entered my head and I rushed in, uprooting all the folded sheets.

"No," I moaned. "No!"

The dress....

It was irrational to race out and stare at the gate, but I did just that.

Not only had he left with his personal effects but also with Poppy's dress.

And he did it to spite me. He did it for my hypocrisy's sake, perhaps.

In doing so, he took everything with him, even my gamble.