It wasn't until I was eighteen years old that I considered magic as evil. Before then, I thought magic was incredible; it could always solve your problems. It could've saved Mama. It could've helped us out of debt. It could've stopped our kingdom's war before it started. I didn't think it could've destroyed the kingdom. I didn't think it could have caused more problems.
The king discouraged belief in magic. He claimed that if magic were real, then it would be unnatural and it would be outlawed. Magic would be dangerous if it were real. Plus, he had other matters to worry about. We were at war with the kingdom of Ramia. The war—called the Eternal Fight—had been going on for hundreds of years. We didn't even know what it was about anymore. That must've been another reason the king discouraged the belief in magic: if magic were real, the war wouldn't be happening. Still, some people in our kingdom of Lamont did believe in it. Not many, but some. Most people just didn't talk about it.
None of my family ever believed in magic, except for Mama. She believed in it to her dying day. I can still remember that day, eight years ago. Mama was on her bed, coughing violently. Every time she'd cough into the handkerchief, more blood would appear on it. I didn't know that she was dying. She'd been sick before, so I assumed she would be better by morning.
I was sitting on Papa's lap, my head resting on his shoulder. I was tired, but I wanted to stay with Mama.
My father held onto her hand, talking to her in a calm voice. "You should go to bed, Rella," he said to me, stroking my hair gently, but never taking his eyes off Mama.
I hesitated for a moment, but I was so very tired. "Okay," I said quietly, "Good night, Mama." I went to kiss her on the cheek, but she had another coughing fit, and Papa held me back.
"Good night, my dear Rella," Mama said.
"Will magic make you feel better, Mama?" I asked.
She smiled, even though she was in pain, "Magic could make me feel better dear. But, there's no need for it. I'll be better by the morning."
"Okay," I said, happily believing her.
Those were the last words we spoke to each other. I suppose that's why I'd always believed in magic. I wanted to honor Mama by believing that it was real and good, just like she had.
Papa never believed that magic existed, but he did respect that Mama and I believed in it. My stepmother, who Papa married when I was eleven, hated the idea of magic. She said I was a fool to believe in it, and that I should get my head out of the clouds and into reality. Her daughters, who were everything she thought young ladies should be, said magic was a ridiculous idea, and that I was an idiot to believe in it.
Even my best friend Rory didn't believe in magic. She said it wasn't practical. "Give me proof of magic, and then I'll believe in it," she told me once. I wasn't surprised when I found out she didn't believe in it. When she was little, she'd say that, if there was magic, there would be no suffering. Now, she said she didn't have time for believing in magic, because she had too much work to do. This was believable, since she had to run her family bakery all by herself, so I didn't press her into believing in magic.
But, I'd always known magic is real. I just didn't know it could do such horrible things.
Barely six months after Mama's death, my father remarried. He didn't ask me permission, he didn't tell me he was courting her, he didn't even let me meet my new mother until the day of the wedding. He had me dressed in a burnt-orange dress that my new mother had picked out. It was bulky, with huge puffed sleeves and countless bows on the skirt. My golden hair, which I had wanted to wear down, was kept back in an ugly brown net. I also found out that day that, not only was I getting a new mother, but two new sisters, too.
I was standing in the back of the church, waiting. Papa was in the front of the church already, but I didn't see my new mama yet. With me was a girl who looked about eleven years old, my own age. She had thin reddish-brown hair caught back in a net like mine. Her dress was in the same style as mine, except pea-green. "You must be Rella," she said in a loud voice that probably carried across the whole church.
"Yes, that's right."
She looked me up and down, as if deciding if I was worth her trouble. Apparently, I was. She gave me a toothy grin and curtsied, "I just know we're going to be best friends."
"Yes, I'm sure of it," I said in a hushed tone so my voice didn't carry. She smiled toothily at me again.
"I'm sure you already know, but my name is Jezebel. I will be your new older sister." She spoke so loudly that several people turned around.
"Uh huh," I said, standing on my tiptoes trying to see what was going on at the alter.
"You should look at me when I'm talking to you," Jezebel said noisily, "It's rude to ignore people."
"Shhh!" said a little girl who was sitting in the back. She was wearing a dark hooded cloak, which covered her hair. She looked about nine. I'd never seen her before. I thought I'd know all of the people at Papa's wedding.
Jezebel gasped loudly and said in shock and said to the little girl, "You can't talk to me like that! I am your elder!"
The girl stuck her tongue out and turned back around. Her mother scolded her quietly.
"Mama! Mama!" Jezebel shrieked, "MAMA!"
A woman who looked like an older version of Jezebel rushed over from a room behind us. She was wearing a white dress and a long veil, "Oh, my sweet girl," she said, "Whatever is the matter?"
Jezebel, with tears streaming down her face, pointed to the little girl, "Rory was being mean to me."
The woman allowed Jezebel to bury her face in her sleeve as she patted her head, "There, there, darling," she said. Her voice was louder than her daughter's, "After this, you can have all the cake you want. Would you like that?"
Jezebel sniffed, but most of her tears had been wiped away on her mother's dress "And…cookies?" Jezebel said.
"Oh, yes," said her mother, "and éclairs, and pies, and anything you could possibly want."
"Will you make Rory apologize?"
"No!" Rory whispered from her seat.
"Yes," Jezebel's mother said, "Absolutely, my love. She will apologize for disrespecting you. Now, where is your sister?"
Jezebel pointed at me and wrinkled her nose, "You mean her?"
So much for being friends I thought.
"No, dear," said her mother, barely giving me a glance, "I mean your real sister.
"Persephone? She's…she's…there she is!"
Another little girl, about ten years old, was sitting crossed-legged by the church door. She was crying, although much more quietly than Jezebel.
"Persephone! Dear heart, what is the matter?"
"I'm tired!" Persephone complained. She was wearing a dress just like mine and Jezebel's, except mustard-yellow.
"Just a little while longer, dear. Then we can go."
"We're supposed to walk down the aisle now," I whispered.
My almost-mother gave me a withering look. "Do my daughters look like they take orders from a scrawny little child?" She said to me.
Then, turning toward Jezebel and Persephone, she said, "Now, darlings. Be good girls and walk down the aisle."
"Yes, Mama," said Persephone with a sniff.
Jezebel sighed loudly and said, "I suppose since it is your wedding day, I'll hold in my pain and do as I'm told."
"That's very kind of you dear! What sweet girls I have!"
"Hey!" Rory whispered furiously from her seat, "Everyone's waiting for you!"
I grabbed my basket of flowers and headed down the aisle, Persephone and Jezebel behind me.
In the banquet hall was commotion. Papa and my new mother were walking arm in arm, and everyone around them was cheering and throwing rice. In all the commotion, I found myself pushed to the back wall. I didn't mind. I wasn't too eager to see my Papa with that horrible woman. So, I just pulled up a seat from the nearest table, and sat down. Sitting next to me was the little girl who had shushed Jezebel.
"Hi," I said.
"Hi," she said, fiddling with the pin that kept her cloak around her shoulders. She accidentally undid the pin, and the hood fell off her head, revealing her dark brown hair pulled neatly into a knot atop her head.
"I'm Rella," I said, "You're Rory, right?"
Rory glanced up at me. Her eyes were as dark as her hair. "You were a flower girl today," she said.
"Yes," I agreed.
"You should've been paying more attention to the wedding," she said, "and your dress looks ridiculous."
"That's rude!" I scolded.
She tilted her head sideways and raised her eyebrows at me. She was wearing a simple but nice brown dress under her cloak. "Do you like your dress?" she asked.
"No."
"Do you think your dress looks ridiculous?"
"Well…yes, a bit."
"Then I'm not being rude, I'm just telling the truth."
She was a strange little girl. Mama had always taught me to always be polite. This girl didn't seem to know the meaning of the word.
"Are you friends with Jezebel and Persephone?" I asked.
She shook her head, "We're neighbors. And, since you'll be moving in with them, I suppose I'll be your neighbor, too."
"Why do you say you aren't friends with Jezebel and Persephone?"
"Because we aren't. I don't like them, and they don't like me. Jezebel is too bossy and Persephone is too lazy. Jezebel and I used to be friends, but then she tried to cut my hair."
"Cut you hair? Why?"
"She wanted to make it into a wig,"
I looked over at Jezebel's hair. It was very thin. I laughed at the thought of her trying to make a wig.
"So that's why you don't like Jezebel?" I asked. Rory nodded. "Do you like me?" I asked hopefully. I didn't want to move into a new place and not have any friends.
Rory shrugged, "I don't dislike you. And you're certainly not like Jezebel or Persephone. So…yeah, I suppose I like you."
"A toast!" Papa said suddenly, standing and lifting his glass, "To my true love, Madge. May our love for each other be everlasting." He smiled at my new mother, and she smiled right back. The other adults in the room lifted their glasses as well.
"As if Madge could ever love someone," Rory muttered.
I suppose I should give Madge some credit. She really did love her daughters. That is, her real daughters. Jezebel could have anything she possibly wanted, and Persephone didn't have to lift a finger unless she wanted to. I didn't understand how she could just do nothing all day long. It was boring just thinking about it.
Our new house was much bigger than our old one. I know Papa only married Madge because of her wealth. "Love may come later on," he told me. After all, when Mama and Papa's marriage had been arranged, but in the end they turned out loving each other very much. Maybe Papa thought the same thing could happen with him and Madge.
Madge only married Papa because of his work. Since he's a merchant, she thought that it meant that she could have all sorts of lovely goods from foreign places. Apparently, she didn't understand that Papa only exported things. He took things from Lamont and sold them to other countries (not Ramia, of course). Occasionally, he'd bring back a dress or some spices or some cloth, but most of the time he didn't.
I remember when Madge found out Papa wasn't rich. It was a month after the wedding, late at night. I was lying awake in my bed, thinking, when I heard someone come into my room. "Rella! Wake up!" Jezebel said, throwing my covers off me.
"Why?" I complained.
"Come here!" Jezebel grabbed my arm and dragged me along. She brought me into her room and opened the closet door. Persephone was already sitting on the ground of Jezebel's closet, yawning. The closet was bigger than I thought it would be, with dozens of dresses, and a small door to the rear.
"Get up, Persephone!" Jezebel ordered.
She hauled Persephone and me to the small door in the closet and opened it up. She shoved the two of us inside and squeezed in after us. We were in a little room that was barely big enough for the three of us.
"What are we doing here?" I asked.
"Shhh!" Jezebel said, "Listen!"
I did, and I could hear yelling.
"We're right by our parent's bedroom," Jezebel said.
I could hear Madge shouting, "I don't care what you think, Arthur! I'll just pack up and leave now!"
"You and I both know that won't happen!" Papa shouted.
"We should leave," I whispered to Jezebel.
"No. We're going to stay."
"And tell me, dear," Madge said, "why do you think I'll stay?"
"Because you won't be able to stand the humility," Papa said, "If people think you've left another husband, they'll start to gossip about you. Pretty soon you and your daughters will be the laughing stock of the entire town."
Jezebel gasped, "How could he say that! Mama only left our father because he was a lazy bum who didn't know the meaning of work!"
That explains Persephone, I thought.
"We should leave now!" Jezebel demanded, pushing a complaining Persephone through the little door and into her closet.
Once we were in her room, I asked her, "Why did you want me to hear that?"
She smiled sweetly, "So you know that we do not now, nor will we ever, have any loyalty to each other. We may be stepsisters, but your father and my mother do not love each other, so we don't have to treat each other like sisters. So, you won't be getting any special treatment from me."
"I wasn't counting on it."