Once Upon the End (Half Upon a Time) (2 page)

CHAPTER 2

T
he sun wasn’t even up when the birds began singing. Every. Morning. Birds would flock to the window, pushing against each other to all tweet as loudly as they could, all in harmony, practically fighting over each other to get space on the windowsill.

It was like something out of a horror movie.

The worst part, though, was that May couldn’t ever get their song out of her head.

Tweet tweet . . . tweettweettweet . . . tweet tweet tweet.

“I’m
not
going to Cinderella for you!” she shouted, holding her pillow over her head.

The birds could hear her, of course. Whenever she started yelling at them, they’d stop singing for a moment and begin tapping at the thin window glass, practically cracking it with every tap. She tried shutting the curtains, but the birds just flew around to the other window or sang down the chimney, following her wherever she went.

Only one thing ever scared them off.

The pirate monkey leapt at the window, shrieking his little monster head off. The birds exploded in every direction, now tweeting in terror instead of song, which always made May feel a little bad . . . until she remembered the horror they brought to her every morning.

Tweet tweet . . . tweettweettweet . . . tweet tweet tweet.

Every morning for three months.

When the birds had all flown, the monkey landed on May’s pillow and smacked it, letting her know it was time to get up. Or more likely that he was hungry. Or wanted to annoy her. There were plenty of options.

May shoved the monkey off her and sat up with a sigh. The sun had just risen outside, but as usual, clouds covered the Wicked Queen’s kingdoms, where her parents had lived before they’d both passed away. May yawned widely as she meandered over to the window, trying to get a look at what was happening before the birds came back.

Outside, people walked quickly through the town of Charm, hoods covering their faces, all careful not to look at each other. Between them roamed bands of goblin guards, pestering random people whenever they felt like it, shoving a piece of paper in their faces.

She shuddered a bit, knowing what was on that paper.

Just up the hill, a castle sat in quiet watch over the little town that May was meant to grow up in, over the once nice but now falling apart house that her father had bought for his new wife after May’s mother had died. And in that castle—

Someone screamed May’s name downstairs, her father’s now not-so-new bride. “We’re
waiting
!” her stepmother shouted.

The monkey shrieked in a very similar tone, and May gave him a dirty look, then started to close the shutters, only to stop abruptly. Off in the distance, in one of the castle’s windows . . . had something moved?

Everyone thought that the royal family had long since escaped the Wicked Queen’s rule, run off to wherever someone would take them in. Her stepsister Esmerelda, the younger of two, claimed the castle was haunted now, swearing she’d seen odd lights and a ghostly shape dancing on the roof beneath a full moon. Esmerelda’s sister, Constance, had then called Esmerelda a fool for believing in such things, followed by Esmerelda claiming Constance’s feet looked like they belonged to an unkempt giant.

Things had gone downhill after that.

May pulled on a dirt-and-stain covered frock that was longer than she was, sadly missing her jeans that were tucked in one of her dresser drawers. A ripped-off sleeve of a ratty dress worked as a belt and held up enough of the frock to let her walk, at least.

Cinderella’s working clothes. A costume she’d put on every morning to act like the dutiful stepdaughter, all to keep her safe. To keep everyone safe.

Sometimes she thought about going down in her jeans and T-shirt, letting her entire family know what she thought of them, and running out the door with a laugh. But that wasn’t happening any more than the birds were going to stop singing.

“May!” her stepmother screamed from downstairs. “Don’t make me come up there!”

“I’m hungry!” shouted Constance. “Make me breakfast already!”

“If you’re not down here this minute, I’m locking you in the attic for a week!” threatened Esmerelda.

“This is why they’re the villains in this story,” May told the monkey, who just shrieked back at her hungrily. Honestly, he was a close second.

Living a fairy tale sounded good, until you realized you were only getting the bad parts, and all the fairy godmothers and happily ever afters weren’t coming.

As May tromped down the spiral staircase outside her attic bedroom, the monkey running in front of her and almost tripping her several times, she ran one hand down the brick walls of the house, wondering not for the first time if she could feel the magic that the fairy queens had placed there. Phillip hadn’t wanted her to stay, not without some protection, so his family had begged Merriweather for one last favor: As long as May remained in her stepmother’s house, only a fairy queen could find her.

Even Phillip had forgotten the house’s location as soon as May had forced him to leave. And she’d forced him to pretty fast. After Ja—after
someone’s
betrayal and the Wicked Queen’s promise that between . . .
someone
. . . and Phillip, one would betray her and one would die, well, May wasn’t taking chances. She’d made Phillip promise to never come anywhere near her ever again, as long as she was safe.

And with the fairy queen’s magic, he didn’t have a choice. That meant all she had to do was stay hidden, stay in her family’s home with her, uh, loving family, and Phillip wouldn’t be hurt. And neither would . . . anyone else.

The prince had fought it, of course. May secretly suspected he was more nervous about leaving with Penelope than he was about May’s safety, but that was his problem.

Hers was making sure that no one else suffered because of the Wicked Queen.

As she continued down the long spiral staircase, her hands ran over first one picture frame, then another, then a third. All hidden on the stairs leading up to the attic were portraits of her father, her grandfather, and her great-grandfather. Her father’s eyes seemed kind, though haunted, while her grandfather and great-grandfather stared disapprovingly at the painter, not the most pleasant reminder of anything. Both looked gaunt with black hair, something her father had somehow avoided with the same blond hair she had. Recessive genes or something.

The hall had become something of a memorial, given that all three men had passed on without leaving much behind. Her father, attacked on the road, out trying to sell his goods to keep up with his demanding new wife and two new stepchildren at home; her grandfather, killed by an Eye, if the stories were true. And her great-grandfather . . . well, there were dragons involved, according to her stepsisters, but while her sisters had continued in horrible detail, May had tuned them out.

There was no picture of her mother. Her stepmother had removed all traces. At least she had passed away relatively peacefully from sickness shortly after May was born.

Cinderella’s life. All the bad parts, and none of the fairy godmother coming to save her. Not after May had traded that away for being saved from a genie six months ago.

“Morning, ladies!” May said as brightly as she could, giving the monkey a push with her foot out into the room, maybe a bit too hard. The monkey shrieked, and all three women screamed, despite this same thing happening every day for three months.

“Kill it!” Esmerelda said, and May noticed that both sisters had already dressed up like they were going to some sort of fancy-dress ball. Sadly, without any money coming in, their fancy dresses were falling apart, and no one could afford to repair them. May had been given the job shortly after arriving. Having never sewn anything in her life, she’d quickly had the job taken away from her as well. That was the first time her sisters locked her in the attic.

Fortunately, the monkey had his ways in and out, and had snuck them both food. Or, more accurately, had snuck himself food, and May had fought him for it.

Constance swatted at the monkey with a broom but was far too slow, and the little monster escaped back upstairs with an armful of fruit that had been sitting on the side table.

May flashed a smile at the three glaring women. “So, what’ll it be this morning?”

“Something edible this time?” her stepmother said, her tone icy.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, mother,” said Esmerelda, her tone even colder than icy. Like an absolute zero sort of colder.

“Just try not to poison us this time,” Constance said, not even bothering to make her tone cold, she cared so little.

“I will,” May said, starting to leave.

“Wait, you will try, or you will
poison
us?” Esmerelda asked.

“No, of course I will!” May said, flashing an entirely much too innocent look.

Her stepsisters glared at her, while her stepmother didn’t even look up. “By the by,” the woman said. “Some gentleman came by earlier looking for you.” She held up a familiar-looking piece of paper.

The paper, ripped and frayed at the edges, had
wanted
written in large black letters, with a drawing of May on it.
by order of the queen
, it went on,
for inciting rebellious activities
.

“Let me know if I should run to find him,” her stepmother said, giving her a sideways look. While she stayed in the house, the fairy queen’s magic protected anyone but her family from seeing her. But May knew that if she took one step outside, her stepmother would be first in line for any reward.

May took the paper from her, hopefully keeping any of her stepmother’s ideas in check, and went into the kitchen to give breakfast a try. She honestly had poisoned the women a few times when trying to make the meals at the beginning of her stay here. But now she’d gotten cooking down to the point that at least it didn’t make anyone sick. And some things even tasted almost not bad.

As she cooked, she glanced at the paper every so often, each time getting a chill down to her toes. The goblins could knock all they wanted. They could even search the house. But the fairy queen’s magic would ensure they’d never find her here.

But one step outside . . .

A scream outside caught May’s attention, and she looked out the window. Across the street, four goblins were dragging a girl about May’s age out of her house.

“It’s not her!” a man shouted at them. “She doesn’t even look anything
like
her!”

He was right. Whoever the girl was, she didn’t look anything like May. That wasn’t stopping the goblins, though.

One of the goblins held up the paper to the girl’s head. “It’s not that close, sir,” he said to a goblin sitting on a horse.

“I, for one, am not going back to Her Majesty empty-handed again,” the goblin on the horse said. “This one is close enough. Take her.”

“Hey!” May shouted, throwing open the window. “It’s the girl! The one the goblins are looking for! She’s making a run for it!”

The goblin on the horse bolted upright, looking all around him, but couldn’t find the source of the voice, as May was still inside her house and therefore invisible to him, despite being just a few feet away. “After her!” he shouted at the others, and the four goblins went running off in four directions, releasing the girl.

The man grabbed his daughter and pulled her back inside, while the goblin on the horse just laughed. “Better hope we find her, or we’ll be back,” he told the man before riding off.

May slammed the window, not able to look at her neighbor anymore. Hopefully, he’d take his daughter and run. But where? The Queen controlled these lands for hundreds of miles in every direction. Where could he go?

He was as stuck as she was.

Breakfast and some more insults done, May went to work on the laundry, hearing the girl’s terrified shouts in her head. Would the goblins come back? Would they find some other girl May’s age and just take her?

Washing the windows, she thought she saw the man and his daughter ride off, but it could have been anyone, really. And when making lunch, May heard the monsters come back. From the sounds of it, they found an empty house, but May couldn’t
bear to look.

“I miss the dances,” Esmerelda said at teatime, which May hadn’t even known existed but now was a separate meal every day.

“Me too,” Constance said. “Mother, if we give May up to the goblins, do you think the Queen will grant us our own kingdom?”

May froze. “You couldn’t,” she said. “They wouldn’t see me, even if you brought them here. The magic makes sure of it.”

Her stepmother nodded. “The girl has it right. Otherwise, I’d have given her up right after she arrived.” She held up the cup of tea. “All this trouble for a weak cup of tea? It’s just about unbearable!”

“Can’t we just
carry
her outside or something?” Esmerelda asked. “Wouldn’t that break the magic?”

Her stepmother gave May a steady look. “I enquired about that when the fairy queen cast her spell. She claimed that May can only leave under her own power. Maybe that is something to test out, though. Perhaps another day.” She stirred her tea, then sipped at it again, making a face. “Or perhaps sooner.”

Cleaning their rooms came next, followed by dusting and dinner. Finally, the sun went down, and May was allowed free time to sit in her bedroom, as long as she didn’t come out.

It was the best part of each day.

As the monkey picked at the bread she’d brought him, May sat with her arms crossed on her windowsill, the shudders open again, the night air playing through her hair. The castle on the hill was dark, just like every other night, but every so often, whether she imagined it or not, May thought she saw a light in it.

A light meaning someone lived there. Her “prince.” Some guy who looked like Phillip and couldn’t use contractions.

She uncrumpled the paper beside her, looking at the picture of herself.
by order of the queen
.