Cursed Beauty (A Fairy Retelling #1) by Dorian Tsukioka

said.
    “Please. It’s after midnight. If what Celeste has told us is true, and Merelyn is doomed to a similar fate, then it’s my fault. I gave her the glass slippers. It was I who persuaded her to wear them. I am responsible.”
    “No,” said softly. “You were deceived. You cannot be faulted for that.”
    She caught his hand in hers. His heart beat increased a little faster. “Julian,” she said his name. “Please.”
    He couldn’t bear the desperation in her voice. “Alright, but only if I come as well. If Merelyn has changed, there is no telling what she might do. She may have gone mad with hatred, and she may blame you.”
    Adelaide agreed, and the Prince relayed a new destination to the driver. The journey was short.  Merelyn’s home was in the center of the village, and they reached it quickly. Adelaide tried to walk, but the pain was still excruciating. Julian put his arm around Adelaide’s waist, and her arm around his shoulders. He felt the warmth of her body so close to his, and found it difficult to concentrate on the task ahead.
    Merelyn’s home was completely dark. How much time had passed so far since the midnight bells had chimed? Thirty minutes? More? “We should check the back,” Celeste suggested. They walked through the narrow alley to back of the home and found Merelyn there, sitting alone on the ground. She was rocking back and forth with her arms wrapped around her as if she were trying to physically keep herself from falling apart.
    “Merelyn!” Adelaide called her friend’s name with relief, but Merelyn did not answer, look up, or stir in any way other than to continue rocking back and forth. Adelaide called her name again. Merelyn did not respond. She seemed lost within herself.
    Adelaide sat down beside her friend, and held her, rocking back and forth together in silence. Julian awoke Merelyn’s parents and told them what the witch had done. Adelaide couldn’t bear their looks of despair. Would their daughter ever be the same?
    As soon as Adelaide entered the carriage for the ride home, the weight of her friend’s fate pressed down, suffocating her. She couldn’t stop the steady stream of tears running down her face, nor did she really want to. Celeste looked as distraught as Adelaide felt, but could offer no comfort. Julian pulled her into his arms, making soothing noises as he stroked her hair.
    “It’s alright. It’s going to be alright.”
    Adelaide knew that wasn’t true, but didn’t have the strength left to argue.
     
    * * * * *
     
    “You do realize that we want that bread to rise when you’re done punishing it, don’t you?”
    Mistress Gretyl’s rough voice retrieved Julian from his memories of the night before. He pulled his fists out of the mounds of sticky dough. “My apologies Mistress.”
    “Is something vexing you boy?” His silence affirmed the cook’s guess. “Well, then,” she said, “punch away.”
    Julian did so. Gladly.
     
    Adelaide didn’t remember falling asleep. She hadn’t thought it would be possible to do so with so much anguish in her heart. Merelyn was trapped in a shell of her former self, and it was her fault.
    When they arrived home, Adelaide couldn’t bear to sleep, or even sit in her room alone. She decided to stay in the kitchen, where memories of Merelyn were clearly everywhere. Sometime during the night, she finally cried herself to sleep in front of the fire. She awoke covered in cinders.
    Adelaide stretched out her legs, and pulled her body against the kinks in her back caused by sleeping on the cold, hard floor. Though her ankle was still sore and swollen, she was able to walk on it. She staggered over to her bedroom door. She stepped one foot in the room, and stopped cold. In the middle of the floor sat a pair of shimmering, glass slippers.
    Fear seized her heart. Her head whipped around, scanning the room for the witch, but it was empty. The old woman was nowhere to be found, but Adelaide knew she wasn’t free.