Anti-Cinderella: What’S in a Dream?

By Ana?s Ajane Hawkins

A retelling of the worlds most classic fairytale. Anti-Cinderella starts as you would expect, but good intentions lead to deadly consequences. Now Anya must bear the choice of sacrificing someone close to her for her dream, or sacrificing her dream to save an entire kingdom. Either way, someone loses their happy ending, and their life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781503521353

Ana?s Ajane Hawkins

Ana?s Ajane Hawkins was raised as the eldest and only daughter in her family. She has a deep love for gardens, animals, and fantasy fiction. When she was younger her escape from reality was plunging into the worlds created by her favorite authors. Now, as an author herself, she hopes to do the same for her own readers and warmly welcomes you to her world.

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Anaїs Ajane Hawkins.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2014921410

ISBN:       Hardcover       978-1-5035-2133-9

                 Softcover         978-1-5035-2134-6

                 eBook               978-1-5035-2135-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 03/31/2016

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1   Anya

Chapter 2   Midnight’s Ball

Chapter 3   Deal

Chapter 4   Infiltration

Chapter 5   Recognition

Chapter 6   Bell Girl

Chapter 7   Hardships

Chapter 8   Doubt

Chapter 9   Beautiful Ball

Chapter 10   Fornicate

Chapter 11   Secrets

Chapter 12   What’s in a dream?

Epilogue

To my beloved Father,

I leave her in your capable hands

I suppose the Cinderella story is one of the most popular ones out there, but I can’t say it is much of a fairy tale. I’m sure that’s what everyone wants to believe. There was a prince, a kingdom, a clock that struck twelve, and an object lost and found. But the story is a little more complicated than that. And unfortunately, a bit darker. You see, I would know, I’m the one you all call Cinderella, but you can call me Anya.

CHAPTER 1

Anya

M y mother died from childbirth, years afterward, my father married a woman named Elaine. She brought her two daughters with her, my stepsisters, Irene and Catharine. We lived in a large house, large for the village anyway. I had always loved the house. It was made of brick, with a small farm on the side and, a bit further, maple trees all the way to the bridge and beyond until it met the grounds of the palace. The love for that house ended when my father’s life did, during a terrible accident on the castle grounds. After that, the house became empty to me and very lonely. Though my sisters and mother were considered family, I was as strange to them as they were to me. After father died, it was as if they took the house and I was nothing but a guest, a hardworking guest. With my father gone the money went as well, and the little farm we had on our land became our main source of income. From dusk until dawn I stayed on my knees; planting, pruning, watering, uprooting, cleaning, and packaging vegetables and fruits to be sold in the market. If it wasn’t for the nice weather and my love for the dirt and plants, I may have attempted to join Father, who knows. My sisters were given the cleaner job of selling the vegetables and fruits in the market. As my stepmother always said, They have the face for it.

Elaine opened the back door of the house and squinted her eyes in the sunlight, looking over the field. Anya! she called. Anya! I lay there buried with the wheat, my arms covering my eyes from the afternoon sun. Anya! I heard her call again.

I’m dead, leave me alone! I replied.

Elaine gave an irritable sigh. Anya, go to the market and get the money from your sisters. I have to do a count. I rose up on my elbows and looked out to where my mother stood out on the back door.

As usual, she was dressed sharply and neatly in a beautifully patterned afternoon dress. Her hair was always neatly curled and her cosmetics expertly applied. I had sometimes wondered where Elaine had gotten such a rich sense of style and, more importantly, how she could afford to keep such a look when all she did was complain about the money we didn’t have. There had been many marriage offers to Elaine, surprising enough since she would come with three children, daughters at that. But Elaine was not an ugly woman. She had the full figure of a wealthy woman: smooth skin unburnt by the sun, gray-free brown hair, a button nose, and a thin wide mouth with white teeth. She had a long narrow nose and dark hazel eyes. I wondered if it was her looks that my father fell for. I could hardly believe it was her personality. She was a very stiff, short-tempered, serious woman. She hardly smiled, though she would be radiant if she did. Irene and Catharine had once told me there had been a time when she smiled all the time, but it stopped once my father had died. They had not known their own. Anya!, my stepmother snapped, Now!

She walked back into the house and slammed the door. I sighed and slowly stood, brushing off the gleanings from my work clothes. I walked through the back door into the cool of the kitchen. Making my way into the hall, I looked into the mirror, and took out pieces of grass from my hair and brushed the dirt from my face. I cocked my head to the side and looked at myself. I wondered if I looked like my mother. My father had never really said so, but I certainly did not look like my father. My father had had thick black hair and dark eyes while I had long fine auburn hair and pale brown eyes, a bit unusual but still pretty. I had an oval face and short nose and full lips. There were a few features of my father in my face, like my high cheekbones and long neck. As for my body, I was two or three inches shorter than average and petite for a woman, as if I ate nothing, though if I were allowed to, I could eat more than my fill. Going into the living room, I took my purse from the table, and tying it to my belt, I left for the market.

The village I lived in was the perfect size—small enough that you knew everyone though large enough that you wouldn’t kill one another for a change of scenery. As the last village before reaching the castle and the only village that stood at the palace’s foot, the village, during certain times of the season, had various foreigners that would cross through. A stone wall was built around the village, with eight posted guards to close the gates at nightfall and to open them at sunrise. There were two posted to the west toward the open road with a two-man rotation and another two at the east gate that lead to the castle with another two-man rotation. These guards were actually hired strong men of the village, so they were well-known among the villagers and no more intimidating than the cat woman at the end of the road. Most of the houses were of sturdy wood and were gathered together in long bunches, each branching around from the center market where all the selling of products and open shops stood for business.

My family had their own kiosk that was set up every morning by the fountain in the center of town. I bobbed and weaved my way through the throng of people to see my sisters just up ahead talking to two men. Even before I could get a good look at them, I already knew who the boys were: Derick and Bentley—two of the more handsome boys of the village and completely taken with my sisters, just like the others. It was easy to see why. Irene and Catharine were similar in their height and curvy build, but there were differences. Irene easily tanned and so was a bit darker than her sister; however, she had beautiful dark blonde hair, a small nose and mouth, and a round face. Catharine was a beauty, with fair skin and dark brown hair and her mother’s hazel eyes. Their high voices and harmonious laugh made them well-loved in the town, and I suppose, it was the main reason everyone was so willing to overlook their ignorant speech and cocky behavior. Shouldn’t you both be working? I asked, approaching them.

Weren’t you taught it’s rude to interrupt conversation? Catharine asked irritably.

Only conversation that mattered, I replied wittily. Hi, boys.

Hey Anya, Derick and Bentley said, giving me a kind nod.

How are those famous pumpkins of yours? Derick asked. I’ve been craving some pie.

I gave him a small smile. Picking season is a little way away yet, but it looks like they’ll grow pretty big this year, I told him.

Excuse me, a woman said, haughtily approaching me, I’ve been waiting here for almost ten minutes! I cast my sisters a quick glare.

I’m so sorry, I told the woman sweetly. The woman stared at me. What were you looking for? I asked.

The—the green peppers, three of them, she replied, seemingly taken a bit back. I quickly took out the best green peppers I could find.

Here we go, I said offering them to her. Here is four for the trouble. Please come again.

The woman smiled kindly. Why, thank you, she said. Thankfully, her mood seemed to have changed for the better. Still smiling, she paid and left.

We’re not a charity, you know, Irene said after the woman had left. Mother will be mad to hear you’re giving away things. I wouldn’t have to if you both would do your jobs, I told her. Bad news is costlier than good news. You should stop flirting with them—I gestured to the departing boys— and do you jobs.

Catharine scoffed. "We do do our jobs; all you do is play in the dirt all day. What would you know?"

I glared at her. "I know that those boys you bring around aren’t paying for food and that the people who would are the ones you’re making wait. That’s bad business."

Ugh! All you ever do is complain, Anya! Irene exclaimed, exasperated. Give it a rest already!

Don’t give me anything to complain about! I retorted. I went to the strongbox, opened it, and then frowned.

Is this all? I asked.

Catharine shrugged. It’s been slow. No one has come to us.

"That’s why you call out to them," I explained with a sigh, filling the purse with the money. From the corner of my eye, I spotted a woman eyeing our fruits. I gave a sharp whistle to Irene. Irene looked at me, perplexed. I motioned to the woman. Irene looked at her and then back at me.

She hasn’t asked for anything yet. I looked at my sister in disbelief, and with a roll of my eyes, I stood up and approached the woman.

Good afternoon, I said warmly. The woman looked up surprised and smiled. Is there anything I can help you with?

The woman looked back at the shelf of fruit. I’m not sure, she admitted. I was thinking of what to make for dinner. Things are getting pretty tight.

I nodded, giving her a sympathetic look. I understand. When my dad was alive, he used to always buy sweet potatoes. We would make it into soups or desserts, all kinds of things, and it was so filling. I picked up the sweet potatoes with a nostalgic look. We never got tired of it. There were always so many things you could do with it. I grew quiet. Both my sisters and the woman stared at me, completely engrossed in my story.

I looked back at the woman with a kind smile. I’m sorry, I’ve gotten carried away.

No, the woman said quickly, no, it’s quite okay.

I nodded. The squash may be good to have or the tomatoes, I suggested. But it’s up to you.

Actually, the woman said slowly, looking at the sweet potatoes, my father use to grow sweet potatoes, I haven’t had them in such a long time. She looked at me. I’ll take six of them. I smiled at her brightly, taking her money, and put the vegetables in her basket.

Thank you.

Thank you! the woman called back, leaving. I looked at my sisters who met my look with sly expressions.

What? I asked innocently.

Was any of that even real? Irene laughed. About your dad and such, or were you just trying to get her to buy them?

I shook my head. No, it was actually true, so much so it’s why I don’t eat them anymore.

Uh–huh, Catharine replied with a sly smile. And the fact that the sweet potatoes were the most expensive had nothing to do with it?

I shrugged. I don’t cheat people, she’ll really get her money’s worth buying sweet potatoes, but I don’t think she would have bought six if it wasn’t for the story, I added with a wink. I gave a sigh and said casually, Who knows, maybe if I work with the people here, I’ll become more popular than you all. I walked away easygoing, and glancing back, I smiled to see my sisters calling out to passersby, selling the product.

Why are you back so late? Elaine asked as I came in. All I asked was for you to go to the market and come back. I handed her the purse of money and followed Elaine into the kitchen where she added it to the sad little pile she already had waiting.

I’m sorry, I answered, I was distracted.

Elaine gave me a serious look. Excuses are not acceptable, she replied curtly. You will be making dinner tonight, Anya. I nodded, silently watching as Elaine took the rest of the money and left for the private room. I never understood why Elaine told me I would make dinner when it was not as if I did not make it every day. There was always some excuse why I had to make dinner, but I didn’t mind. I knew the real reason I was to make dinner was no one else had the skill. In fact, they were far from it, and so, I was only too willing to make dinner myself knowing that when I cooked, it would at least be something edible. Taking a bucket, I left for the well, filled it with water, and then began to fill it with the vegetables I would be cooking for dinner. I left it on the kitchen table and then went down to the cellar.

The cellar was at the very back of the house, six steps deep where there was a short flat and then the old iron doors of the cellar. The door had been there for as long as I could remember, and to open it would be to wake God himself from his cloud pillow slumber. It made it impossible for anyone to sneak food out, which was probably the reason it was never replaced. It reminded me of a prison door with its thick and rusting small square window. Already one bar was missing, and the rest looked like they would soon follow. I pulled the cellar door open, wincing at its loud screeches. It was not heavy at all; in fact, despite the loud noise, it swung open and closed rather quickly. I filled the leather pouch with the cooking wine I needed and gathered the good cheeses and dried fruits. Going up the stairs, I took the bread I had made the night before. I took a seat at the table and began to wash and slice the vegetables and sauté them in the wine. By the time Irene and Catharine had come back, the house was filled with the smell of toasted bread, sautéed vegetables, and cured meat soup.

Everyone went into the kitchen to grab food and set it up on the table. With the sky darkening, I brought more candelabras into the dining room and proceeded to light them.

How do you do this? Catharine asked. I turned to see her looking at the vegetables and bread with a frown.

You put the sautéed vegetables on the toasted bread and take the shredded cheese and put it on the vegetables, I instructed, demonstrating.

Catharine frowned following her sister’s example. Why is it so complicated? she asked. Couldn’t you have just prepared it already like that for us?

I swallowed my food and said, I would, but then the bread would be soggy. Eat the soup if you don’t want it, Catharine.

Honestly, Anya, I don’t know where you get these ideas, Irene said, eating her flatbread. All these steps and toasted bread nonsense. You call it being creative, but it shows you’re just bored.

I’ll take that offensively when you yourself learn how to cook, I said coolly, eating my food. Catharine chuckled.

Shut up, Catharine, Irene muttered.

Girls, Elaine warned, eating her soup. Instead of going at each other’s throats, you should all use that energy to make more money at the market. We were low again this week. She looked at me.

It’s not my fault.

And you’re not taking anything? Elaine asked suspiciously.

I met her eyes fearlessly. If had been stealing money, I would have taken enough to have left here by now. I told her truthfully. Elaine sighed. You should talk to Irene and Catharine, I added. They’re too busy flirting to sell anything.

Irene sucked in her teeth. There she goes again blaming us! she exclaimed. It’s not our fault no one wants to buy any of your crap, maybe it’s you. You should stop daydreaming and do more work. I ate my food silently. There! Silent. I guess we know whose fault it is then.

I glared at her. I’ve been working the fields the same way Father used to, there’s nothing wrong with the vegetables. It’s just that you draw people in with you looks, and then they run as soon as you open your mouth.

Irene sucked in her teeth, a sign of her rage. She had the same temper as her mother, who looked as if she would explode next. You’re so damn arrogant! she snapped, standing from the table

Irene! Elaine cut in. I looked up at my sister. I could feel my irritation beginning to grow, but I did my best to control my tone.

No, not arrogant, I replied, but more useful than you.

Yeah, she sneered, I bet Dad found you real useful when we buried him. The room was quiet. Catharine stared at her, shocked; even Irene seemed to be surprised at her own cruel words.

I looked at my plate.

Irene, Elaine hissed, peeved. Before she could let out another word, I stood and left for my room. I lived in the attic. It stretched the entire span on the house; however, it had a very low ceiling and even colder winters and hotter summers than the rest of the rooms. But that wasn’t the room where I spent my time. In fact, it wasn’t inside the house at all but on top of it. Slipping through the small attic window into the flat-topped roof, I found myself far from the ground and the troubles it held. All there was to see was the village behind me and the road ahead of me, one that led to the palace that stood not so far off in the distance.

Here, I’ll help, Irene said, taking the other side of the crate. Both Irene and I lifted it, placing it at the back of the shop as a backup. It was early in the morning, a little too early for there to be customers. All through that early morning, as we girls set up shop, Irene had been unusually quiet and helpful to me, and I accepted her help without hostility or grudge. Catharine watched us with a small smile. Irene had always been quick to say things, even if she didn’t mean them. I had one of the sharpest tongues on a woman—or man—which meant that the arguments between Irene and I were ones’ no one wanted to interfere in. But I knew I had always been a forgiving girl who had a firm hold on her temper, unlike Irene. Even with blows like the one Irene had delivered the night before, I would leave for my rooftop, and when I came down, all was forgiven. Maybe the wind took all my anger when I was up there on the roof, maybe I was close enough to the heavens to snatch up God’s answered prayers of peace. Whatever it was, it was calming to be up there, and on that next day, the three of us worked smoothly together.

Irene! Catharine! Anya! a voice cried in the crowd of customers.

Please come again! Catharine waved to a customer, then a head popped up in front of her.

You won’t believe it! Irene looked over to see our friend Bell. She looked to have been running; her face was flushed and her hair in disarray. She was a heavyset girl who never ran, so even I was interested enough to come over and listen to what she had to say that would cause her to do anything more than a quick pace. The king is crowning a prince! she exclaimed. We looked at her. Bell nodded eagerly though we had not said anything yet. His grandsons Archduke Thomas and Archduke Holden are coming. King El is going to heir one of them as prince and throw a ball! Both she and Catharine squealed. Irene laughed, waving her hand. Whoa, whoa, how do you know that’s true?

My sister is a servant in the palace! Bell cried defensively. And besides, it would have to happen anyway. Both the king’s sons are dead, he has to name one of his grandsons eventually! As she spoke, I was beginning to feel my heartbeat speed and my body grow numb.

Archduke Holden is coming here? I gasped. Bell stared at me fearfully. Catharine laughed, Don’t worry, Bell. Anya’s just been in love with Lord Holden since she was three.

She’s convinced they were meant to marry, Irene added.

I blushed. It’s true! I told Bell. Did you know we grew up together as children?

Bell’s eyes grew wide. Really?

I nodded. My father used to always take me to the palace gardens when I was little. He, Thomas, and I always played together. He gave me a purple chrysanthemum once; I’ve been fond of them ever since. Bell smiled.

And that’s when she fell in love, Irene said flatly.

You act as if I can’t love a prince, I said defensively.

Irene shrugged. That’s not it. You can definitely love him. Just don’t expect there to be a future out of it. If there is a ball, then there will be wealthy men.

Then I’m definitely going! Catharine said ecstatically. Bella giggled, What happened to Bentley and Derick? They’re a backup, Irene explained. The girls laughed.

Anya will get to see her Prince Charming, Catharine said, teasing. I smiled shyly.

That night there was a strange silence during dinner. Elaine looked between her three daughters suspiciously. We silently ate our food, looking at nothing but our plates. Eventually, the sound of clinking silverware became too much for her. What is it? Elaine demanded, sitting back in her chair. The three of us looked up at her innocently. What is going on? she repeated.

What do mean? Irene asked.

Elaine gave her an irritable look. Don’t give me that. Sitting here quietly, no arguments in over five minutes. What is it you three are hiding?

We’re not hiding anything, Catharine objected. We were just thinking of a way to ask, she said slowly. Elaine’s brow rose, her eyes narrowing.

Ask what? she ventured. We looked at one another. I felt the nervousness grow in the pit of my stomach. At the back of my head, I could already hear her answer of rejection and could feel a sense of dismay.

If we could go out and buy dresses, Irene said.

Elaine frowned and looked at the girls. Why? Before anyone could explain, Elaine said curtly, No. Absolutely not.

We stared at her. My heart, floating a bit by chance, now fully sank to the bottom. You’d say no without knowing why? I asked.

Oh, I do know why, Elaine argued. Your friend Bell is as silent as fighting cats. The king will be throwing a ball in celebration of the new prince, whoever it will be. The town White-Hill is invited, but you three will not be going. Why not? Irene shouted.

Because I said so! Elaine snapped. The palace is filled with nothing but liars, cheats, adulterers and—

And wealthy men who, if impressed, would be willing to marry us! Catharine interrupted.

Bed you, but not wed you! Elaine snapped angrily. "There are plenty of respectable and wealthy men in White-Hill who do not live in the palace. Married to one of those men, you’ll be nothing but a blanket." The room looked at her.

I frowned. Blanket? I asked.

Elaine looked flustered. Your father lived in the palace, she said suddenly. I sighed and looked out the room, saying nothing. Days before he was to marry me, he went out riding with the king, and his horse ended up falling on him. He could have been saved, but those nobles would rather let him die than marry me. They didn’t know that we already were!

I had heard the story of how my father had died every time the palace court was mentioned in front of Elaine. I never had needed the story though. I remembered everything myself. I was six. It had been thirteen years since then. My father lived in the palace, but I lived with my attendant in the apartments on its grounds. When I asked why I couldn’t live in the castle rooms, Father had always said it was because I was too much of a princess. My attendant told me it was to keep me safe— whatever that meant.

He was home in the mornings and there to put me to sleep at night, and when he married Elaine, everyone lived together in the house in the village. But Father still traveled across the bridge to attend court. He and the king were rumored to be extremely close, like brothers, so much so that the king was to throw a celebration for his friend and make him a lord and give him land and people to rule over.

The day before the celebration, he went riding with the king into the woods on a hunt after the bear they had been tracking. During the attack, Father’s horse had fallen back and landed on him, cracking his ribs. I had been told the men had rushed him to the palace and the doctors had done everything they could.

I remembered riding in