Cinder X Bella ~ Twenty-Eight!

Bella listlessly cleaned the window, even as she wistfully stared through it, watching the birds fly south before the snow became too thick to find food.

She had passed most of the year in silence—even when she was alone. Far too many nights, she’d noticed that the lines of light coming into her room from above were… wrong. It had taken her several days of trying to figure out what was going on before she realized that one of her stepsisters had been positioned above her in order to see if she was singing or speaking after being locked in her room for the night.

 It wasn't every day, but sometimes, it was just too difficult to know if she was imagining their presence or if they were actually there. The terror had led Bella into silence, and as far as anyone knew, there she had stayed.

She glanced at her left arm, taking a deep, shuddering breath as she ignored the impulse to look at her class and skills, knowing nothing had changed. Nothing except her age. Now that she was seventeen, the clock was ticking down. If she turned eighteen without getting an Advanced Class, all she could ever get was her Full Class—wonderful on its own, but drastically weakened without the supporting skills she would’ve gained during her progression of an Advanced Class.

Sweeping her gaze around the room, Bella noticed Malvagio sitting on a couch with a sketch pad, turning away before her stepsister noticed her staring. If there was one thing that built a small scrap of dark satisfaction in her heart, it was that she wasn’t alone in this joyless environment. With no entertainment and almost no one to order around, true smiles had become more rare than mice in the manor—unless they were smug smirks or facsimiles generated by watching Bella suffer more than they did.

Bella got back to cleaning, as she didn’t want to be forced to find a way to steal enough food to eat today if she were caught being lost in her thoughts. Her stepfamily no longer put on a show of treating her with any sort of fairness or false kindness. No, that had been swept away the same day a letter had arrived at the end of summer, just before her birthday. 

This one, Matringa had not just allowed her to read, but had stood and waited as she did so.

Dear Vigatori family,

My name is Hugo Amatore, and I was the owner of the ship Triste Mietitore until a few weeks ago. Sadly, upon the return trip from Swarvittica, the whole ship fell victim to the plague as they were coming into harbor. As such, it was not allowed to dock while the sickness ran its course.

Unfortunately, on a ship, there is no reprieve from such an illness, it makes its rounds, and makes them again. As such, there were no survivors aboard the Triste Mietitore, and we were instructed by the harbormaster to burn the ship until it sank, along with whatever goods were aboard, to prevent the spread of disease.

As the owner of the ship, it fell to me to take down the words of the living at the time it was anchored a mile from the harbor, as the local doctor warned this outcome may indeed be the case. Alaric Vigatori was among the living at this time, and I will recount to you what he had to say. Please forgive any flaws in my rendering of said last words, as they were being shouted at me from ship to shore:

‘To my wife, I’m sorry I’ve failed you. 

To her girls, I wish I had more time to get to know you. 

To my daughter, you are a credit to both your parents.’

There is no doubt Signore Vigatori intended to say more, but he was wracked with coughing at this time and could yell no longer. I am told he succumbed to his illness only hours later.

I understand the position this puts you in both personally and financially, and all I can offer are my condolences. If it is any consolation, myself and my business partners are out thousands of gold but will not be coming to collect from your family. Signore Vigatori convinced several of us to invest in this venture of his, but his contract was airtight in the event of his death or a failed… 

Nothing else in the letter had mattered to Bella, which was good, as it had fallen from her nerveless fingers. Matringa had caught it then walked away without a word of either condemnation or condolence. It had been a breaking point for the young adult, and combined with watching her tiny trained friends be slaughtered for her escape attempts had completely smothered all shows of open defiance.

“Maybe I should have learned my lesson with what happened to Cook. Then again, even if she killed me and got away with it, who would clean up after them?” Bella froze in place, thinking over the last few seconds and wondering if she had spoken her thoughts aloud, and if so… had anyone heard them? She didn't look around, not wanting to appear nervous, as that would certainly be enough for the others to realize she’d broken their arbitrary rules. When no gleeful comments came, Bella relaxed fractionally and got back to work.

Though her hands were busy, the rote nature of the work allowed her to sink into her thoughts and daydreams. A small trill of fear wriggled through her as her thoughts turned once more to the rumors of plague creeping closer and closer to home. Though it had killed her father, Matringa seemed completely indifferent to the rising fear of what few acquaintances had bothered to continue writing after the passing of Alaric.

In fact, she openly mocked those fearful nobles by reading their letters aloud at dinner to amuse her children—the only reason Bella knew something was going on at all. Apparently, the symptoms involved fever and chills and dark spots creeping along the body. The mortality rate was astounding and brought low seven of every ten people it touched.

“Why are you in here?” Matringa’s voice made Bella flinch, and she whirled around as if she’d been caught smashing glass instead of cleaning it. “Malvagio, why is she in your room?”

“Oh, I don't know, Mother.” Malvagio let out a huff of annoyance at being interrupted in her sketching. “Maybe it's because, no matter how many times I clean my windows, the birds keep fouling it? Or perhaps it's because I'm not a chimney sweep?”

“I told you both she was to stay off this floor.” Matringa continued speaking to her daughter, completely ignoring the fact that Bella was still in the room with them. “Figure it out. Isabella, leave. No, go back to your room. I told you not to come to this floor; you will listen to me over other people. Even my daughters.”

Bella didn't bother to fight, instead she simply bowed her head, trudging out of the room, down the hall, the stairs, outside, finally closing the cellar door behind her and stepping on to her woven, straw flooring. With a soft sigh, she sat down on her bed and shook her head, “I can't believe…” 

“…how easy they’re making it for me.” 

She began tapping on the straw next to her, and three dozen mice rushed into the area. These were no longer the fluffy, cheerful, pristine creatures Bella had trained over the last few years. Instead, they bore the marks of survival: scars across their bodies where fur no longer grew, some limping along, while many of the rest were missing entire limbs. Those weren't even the worst of them; that unfortunate title went to those who didn't answer the call, the mice who were even now filling the bellies of Matringa’s vile cats.

Still, their eyes were sharp, even sharper than their predecessors, as her current vermin had a glint of battle-hardened resolve showing as they waited for Bella's commands. “Mert the Third, Gus Junior, Suzy… I know it's been hard, and we've all lost someone important to us. But we're running out of time. I know it's not fair of me to ask this, but… I used to tell your parents or grandparents not to take risks. Not to be seen. Well, that time has passed. Now all I can ask of you is… don't get caught. I need you to delve deeper and find me the proof I need, before I need it. The first chance I get, I need to run. The only way I'm coming back is if I can be at the front of an entire platoon of soldiers.”

Mert nodded his tiny head solemnly, being much less vocal than his predecessors, thanks to Bella's example of silence at all hours. As the mice scampered off, Bella reached out and picked up Suzy before she could go too far. “Wait for a few moments, would you?”

Suzy let out a soft sigh, ears drooping as she nodded. Bella sucked in a breath, “So you know what this is about, then. I'm sorry, but you're getting old. The average lifespan of your kind is only two years, and these cats are lowering that even further. I need you to select one of your litter who will be in charge after you are gone. A clear line of succession would help me greatly if the worst came to pass.”

Once more, the mouse gave a small nod, before hopping to the ground and scampering off. With that unpleasant task taken care of, Bella turned to look at a group of small animals which had gathered behind her bed, and she began tapping her foot with a regular beat as she began working on their regular training schedule. 

“Raccoons, we're going to start with you tonight; you're almost too big for me to directly control.” Bella spoke in the softest of whispers. “But we don't really need that, do we? So long as I train you right… you'll be ready when the command comes.”

The furry bandits bobbed their heads, showing their sharp teeth in response to her internal, constant anger, though her expression remained placid. “After that, I'll need the moles to get ready; we're going to need another storage area for non-perishables. Has anyone seen the shrews? I need them to be able to distinguish between female guests and the people who live in the house. We almost had an unfortunate incident the other day when our supplies were dropped off.”

Even if there weren't dozens and dozens of these creatures, as they didn't reproduce and grow as quickly as the mice, Bella knew that all she needed was time. Each of these critters had been trapped on the estate when Matringa expanded her foul hedges and likely would’ve already died out if it hadn't been for the Beast Singer’s training, as well as impressing upon all the birds of prey in the area to leave the land-locked creatures alone.

“Wait a second… where's Stella?” Of all the animals she smuggled into and out of the house, Stella was the most worrying. Depending on what she had managed to eat that day, the skunk either would or would not be influenced by Bella's Minor Creature Control. 

Just moments before Bella began to panic, the black and white creature she could just barely influence poked her head up through a small pile of straw that had been collecting at the corner of the room. “Oh, there you are! Don't scare me like that, Stella, you’re far too important to the plan for you to get caught this early.” 

*Hiss.* Stella’s mouth went wide, and she whipped around, lifting her tail threateningly. 

“That's right, Stella.” Bella's eyes twinkled with dark delight. “Exactly like that. Your training is almost complete.”