The Magestaff Page 3

  “If I ever get control of the Manor, I’ll force her to cut the grass with a blunt table knife before throwing her out,” Rilla muttered.

  A bluebird tweeted from an overhead branch. It might have been Rilla’s imagination, but the bird seemed to agree with her. Snorting, she headed towards the gardener’s hut. Heatstroke was known to cause people to see things that didn’t exist.

  * * *

  After getting cleaned up, Rilla set off down the driveway toward the center of town. At this time of day, the trees lining the country lane provided much-needed shade. Her stomach growled, and it occurred to her that she hadn’t eaten all day. No wonder she felt so unsteady.

  A carriage slowed down next to her. Rilla glanced at the driver, a gray-haired man with a young face. He tipped his hat at her. She nodded back and continued walking toward the town center.

  “Cendrilla,” said a deep, male voice from within the carriage.

  Rilla turned to find the glinting, sapphire eyes of Lord Bluebeard glaring back at her. Her heart exploded into action, pumping blood to her limbs, urging her to flee. Black spots appeared before her eyes, and her head spun. How had the man even remembered her name? She bobbed into a shaky curtsey and continued walking.

  He opened the door. “May I offer you a ride into town?”

  “Um… no thank yo—”

  His massive hand grabbed her around the arm, yanked her into the carriage, and deposited her on the seat. Rilla’s insides trembled.

  “I am curious,” he said.

  “My Lord?”

  “Why do you call Candide ‘Mother’, when you are a mere servant?”

  Rilla swallowed. It was something that she had also wondered. When she was old enough to notice her status, she had started calling Mother ‘Madame’ to mimic those of her station. However, Mother’s punishments soon put an end to the formal address. And Rilla wasn’t stupid enough to risk being locked in a cupboard to ask questions. She glanced up at Lord Bluebeard.

  His scowl deepened. “I await a reply.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that, My Lord. You will have to ask Mother.”

  Lord Bluebeard harrumphed.

  Rilla suppressed the urge to ask Lord Bluebeard about his wives. Nobody, apart from the man’s driver, had seen her enter the carriage. Lord Bluebeard could crush her with one of those mighty fists, throw her into a ditch, and no one would suspect him. Instead, she placed her hands on her knees, trying to stop them from trembling.

  “Is Candide your guardian or employer?”

  She swallowed. “I cannot say she is my employer, as she has never paid me.”

  “Hmmmm.” The noise sounded like the rumble of a hungry tiger.

  Rilla shrank into herself and stole a glance at the man sitting opposite. He stared at her with the intensity of a predator waiting for its prey to make a false move. She flinched under his unmoving gaze. Was he planning on kicking her out after marrying Mother? A man like him didn’t seem like he would respect the rulings of the probate courts.

  “So you serve tea?” he asked.

  Rilla nodded. “And scrub floors, clean clothing, and tend to the garden.”

  “A general lackey.” His voice was flat.

  Despite her fear, she bristled. “I don’t know how I ended up in the Perrault household, but it was certainly not by choice.” She lifted herself off the seat, heading for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have shopping to complete.”

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the seat. Rilla yelped.

  “You will stay and answer my questions,” he growled.

  Quaking, she nodded, gulping lungfuls of stifling air. Her pulse pounded in her ears, screaming at her to jump out of the window. But the heat of his inexplicable anger rooted her to her seat. The black spots returned, dancing before her eyes, and a scream stuck in her throat.

  “You do not wish to speak to me?” he snarled.

  She drew her elbows into her sides, making her body as small as possible, and lowered her neck. Peeping at the man through her eyelashes, she shook her head.

  He bared his massive teeth. “Go, then!”

  Without waiting for the carriage to stop, Rilla turned the handle and stumbled out, not stopping to see if he was looking at her. Regardless of whether or not he was a wife-killer, the man was a brute, and she wasn’t sure if she would be able to stay in the Perrault Manor if he married Mother.

  * * *

  After sprinting through farmland to get away from the carriage, Rilla finally made it to the center of Moissan. She spent several minutes composing herself before stepping inside Beaufort Fromager. Pungent smells, more like rotten feet than exotic dairy products, assaulted her nostrils, and all traces of hunger vanished. Behind the counter sat dozens of cheese rounds, presented on wooden blocks.

  Madame Beaufort stood by the cash box, speaking in low murmurs with an elderly woman. Rilla peered at the labels, feigning interest. Everyone knew to allow the shopkeeper enough time to both gather and issue information, so Rilla kept her distance.

  In time, the customer left with her purchases, and Madame Beaufort gave Rilla a toothy smile. “Ah, Cendrilla, how long it has been since I have seen you. What news do you have from Perrault Manor?”

  “Good morning, Madame.” Rilla curtseyed. “I wanted to ask you about a guest who visited earlier today.”

  “A gentleman?” the shopkeeper raised her eyebrows.

  Rilla nodded. “Lord Bluebeard.”

  Madame Beaufort’s face fell. She walked out from behind the counter, bustled past Rilla and turned the open sign to closed. She stood with her back against the door, her face slack and pale and stricken.

  Sweat broke out on Rilla’s palms.

  “What did he want?” Madame Beaufort’s voice was hoarse.

  “That’s the thing, I don’t know.”

  The shopkeeper scratched her chin, her gaze fixed on the floor. “Only one of the servants at Maison Bluebeard will speak to outsiders. A boy not much older than you.”

  Rilla nodded, too shaken to speak.

  “Two years ago, he told Farmer Gascon that Lord Bluebeard was searching for a wife.”

  Rilla clapped her hands over her mouth. “So do you think he wants to marry Mother?”

  Madame Beaufort nodded. “It would not surprise me that Madame Perrault is looking for another husband. Lord Bluebeard is exceptionally rich, and Madame has no visible source of income.” She scratched her head. “No, that cannot be right.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Word has it that Lord Bluebeard only marries women with significant dowries. I doubt whether Madame could scrape together enough money to entice him to propose.”

  Rilla exhaled, and her shoulders relaxed. “So, what do you think he wants?”

  “Whatever it is, it cannot be good. The servant told Madame Gascon that Lord Bluebeard was an ogre.”

  Rilla clutched her chest. “Aren’t they eight feet tall? I thought the Anti-Magic Army had wiped them all out of the Seven Kingdoms.”

  “As did I. Perhaps the boy meant it as a figure of speech, but one thing is true.” She stepped forward, terror in her eyes. “Lord Bluebeard is a violent man. Beats his servant bloody. The Gascons always see the bruises on that boy when he comes to visit the cows.”

  Rilla thought about the rough handling she’d experienced a mere hour ago, and a cry escaped her throat. While things were bad at the Perrault Manor, Mother did not have the physical strength to beat Rilla… unlike Lord Bluebeard.

  Madame Beaufort turned the closed sign back to open. “Warn that mother of yours to cut off her connection with Lord Bluebeard. Nothing good ever came of consorting with a creature who killed six wives.”

  “Thank you.” Rilla curtseyed and opened the door.

  “And tell no one where you got the information,” said Madame Beaufort.

  “Yes, Madame.” Rilla ran all the way through the village, dodging shoppers and passersby. She raced down the
country lane which led to the Manor, ran around the building and through the servants’ entrance. Pushing aside the irritation about being forbidden to use her own front door, she clenched her fists. As much as she disliked Mother, Rilla had to act fast, as her association with Lord Bluebeard would bring them all to ruin.

  Mother sat alone in the parlor, enjoying a cup of Earl Fae. Rilla relayed everything she had heard about Lord Bluebeard, not leaving out her bizarre encounter with the man. She made sure to include his tendency to both marry and kill women for their dowries.

  Although Mother stared ahead, she appeared to be listening, as a trace of a frown marred her pretty features. “We must not make an enemy of Lord Bluebeard. He’s a man of great influence and power.”

  “What should we do?” asked Rilla.

  Mother raised a shoulder. “I’m sure he will bore of us in time.”

  Rilla hoped for all of their sakes Mother was right.

  * * *

  Later that evening during dinner, the doorbell rang. Rilla put the ladle into the soup tureen and wiped her hands on an apron. Cook and Benoit had gone to their homes on the other side of Moissan, and footman duties were now Rilla’s responsibility.

  The hulking figure of Lord Bluebeard stood at the doorstep, glowering down at her. He held a ring box, and Rilla’s heart dropped. The scent of camphor wafted inside, making her flesh crawl. A whimper escaped her throat.

  “I-I’ll tell Mother you’re here,” she whispered.

  He inclined his head, waiting to be invited inside. Rilla sprinted through the hallway into the dining room. “I-i-it’s him!”

  Angelique tilted her head. “Who?”

  “L-Lord Bluebeard.”

  The twins’ eyes widened, and Mother stood. “Bring him into the parlor and serve tea.”

  “But we’re in the middle of dinner,” cried Gabrielle.

  Rilla nodded. Couldn’t Mother just send him away? Mother narrowed her eyes. “Well, Cendrilla. Show our guest inside.”

  Rilla jolted into action, ushering Lord Bluebeard into the parlor. She didn’t wait for him to comment on what had happened in his carriage, but instead, sprinted downstairs to the kitchen. Somehow, she managed to make a tea service without smashing any of the cups, and she headed back up the stairs.

  Gabrielle and Angelique stood to attention behind Mother’s chair, clutching each other’s hands. Rilla retreated to the doorway, her pulse pounding in her throat. Lord Bluebeard sat opposite, holding the ring box in his massive hand. Despite her apprehension, a small wave of relief swept over her. Because Rilla towered over other women and most men, she deemed herself unsuitable for marriage. She would never have to deal with murderous husbands, and she could focus on her dream of opening an orphanage.

  A worry flashed through her mind: If Lord Bluebeard became her stepfather, it might affect her inheritance. But she brushed the thought away. This was no time to be selfish.

  Lord Bluebeard turned to Mother. “You know why I’m here.”

  “I do, but I must be frank, My Lord. My daughters have no dowries. If you wish to marry either of them, I require a bride price.”

  Shock cannonballed through Rilla’s chest. After hearing those awful rumors, she wouldn’t wish Lord Bluebeard on Mother, let alone either of the twins. She glanced at her sisters, whose slack faces had turned ashen.

  Lord Bluebeard blinked, and a muscle twitched in his cheek, but he maintained his composure. Rilla remained at the doorway, holding her breath and wringing her hands.

  “How much do you demand?” he growled.

  Mother lifted her chin, and her eyes gleamed. “Her weight in gold.”

  Rilla exhaled, and her spine slumped. Her stepsisters were safe. No one, not even a Prince, would pay so high a bride price.

  “Fine,” he spat.

  Rilla frowned and turned to the twins. Sweat ran down Gabrielle’s face. Angelique’s gaze became glassy, and she clutched at her sister. Rilla’s eyes filled with tears. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. Her stepsisters were shallow, vain and cruel, but neither of them deserved to be married to a murdering brute like Lord Bluebeard.

  Gabrielle gasped, and Angelique squeaked. Rilla opened her eyes and lifted her gaze from her own ample décolletage.

  Kneeling in front of her, holding aloft a diamond ring in an open box, was Lord Bluebeard.

  Rilla’s heart stopped, and blood drained from her face. It took every ounce of her composure not to scream herself hoarse.

  “Her weight in gold crowns will be enough to settle your financial needs, yes? And to provide dowries for those empty-headed dolls of yours?”

  Rilla’s head whirled. Her bodice tightened, and every breath became more and more shallow, as her panic picked up speed like a hurricane.

  The last words she heard before succumbing to her terror was Mother saying, “If that is your wish, My Lord, so be it. Cendrilla shall be yours.”

  * * *

  Dear Reader

  Thanks for reading my sample of The Magestaff.

  Although Rilla has fainted, the story continues in the full version of the book.

  When she wakes, she’ll find herself betrothed to Lord Bluebeard…

  …And she’ll discover the truth behind the rumors of his six dead wives.

  Join Rilla as she contends with her murderous fiancé and a host of equally nefarious fairytale villains.

  Grab your copy now.

  Take care,

  Cordelia

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