Ella, by Jessica E. Kaiser, 8/9
I ask you to forgive me if this part of the tale is hard in the telling, if I weep now while I tell you of how it all ended. My sister and my mother are dead now. I am alone, left by myself, from the matched set of the three of us. I miss them desperately, even now, and I miss my forest nearly as much.
But crippled and now old, I cannot make my way there, if I could even remember where my onetime home lies.
They came to Durren's home, the earl and his son, accompanied by the soldiers and heralds that important people always have. Ella was waiting for them, in front of the fire, as she always was. Gerthe and I came into the room with her. I do not know why, except that both of us wanted to see the earl's son again, and with the haze of misery in which Mother's death had left us, it seemed to be the only thing in all the world that would make life worth living.
The green eyes of the earl's son had the same blankness that Durren's did.
I will tell this quickly now, for I cannot bear to dwell on it. I thought that the pain would fade over the years. Perhaps it has, and this is what is left.
The herald announced that the shoe would be tried upon the foot of every female of marriageable age within the household. I expected Ella to protest, but she did not. She stood in front of the fire, nearly in the hearth, with her black hair dark as cinders, and gave Gerthe and me a small smug smile.
Holding up the slipper, the herald asked which of us would go first.
"I shall be last," Ella said softly.
Gerthe and I exchanged glances, and she said to the herald, "I will be first, if you could only give me a moment."
Then she went into the kitchen. I do not think that anyone else heard the muffled cry of pain, or the sharp thud. The earl's son was staring at Ella, as he had been since he entered. The earl himself was also staring at Ella. In contrast to the expressionless, dazed face of his son, the earl's countenance was entirely self-possessed. Ella looked up from inspecting her fingernails, and the look that passed between her and the earl was one I could only have described as hungry.
From the kitchen, Gerthe called, "I'm ready now."
We went in for the endeavor we all knew was pointless. Even a quick glance at the slipper, and it was obvious that neither Gerthe nor I would ever succeed in getting a foot into it. I was the last person to enter the kitchen. To my initial surprise, Gerthe had almost gotten her foot into the glass slipper being held for her by the herald on his knees.
I blinked, and looked again. Then I understood what she had done, and more, I understood why. There was blood seeping out of her stockings, and her feet were much shorter than they had been. The smell of burning flesh came from the hearth in front of which Ella stood. Nearly gagging at the idea that my sister had done this to herself, maimed herself for a goal that we both knew Ella would never let someone else achieve, I nonetheless smiled at her as she tried to put her foot into the slipper. Then I picked up the knife, and went outside. It was fruitless, and I knew that, but something in me would not let Ella have her victory unchallenged.
The slipper would not go on her foot, of course. Neither did it go on mine, when I tried next, putting my bleeding foot into the slipper filled with my sister's blood. When I finally gave up--conceding only because Gerthe had fainted in the corner, and she was losing blood at an alarming rate--Ella, without moving from her place in front of the fire, simply crooked a finger at the earl's son.
He knelt in front of her, and she easily slid her foot into the slipper. The blood poured out over his hands. No one seemed to notice or care, as she produced the other slipper from her sleeve and put it on, too. Without a word to either of us or her father, she walked out the door, one hand on the arm of the earl and the other on the arm of his son, her glass slippers leaving bloody footprints all the while.
Gerthe died that night from blood loss, or perhaps she died from a broken heart, as Durren did the next day. Alone, I bandaged my feet and wept.
The earl's wife died less than a week after Ella wed the earl's son.
What did I do? What do you mean, what did I do? I have told you what happened, told you the way it ended.
Almost.