“Yes, Cerené, what kind of name is that?” the Queen rolled her eyes. For some reason, Shew thought the Queen knew Cerené, but was pretending otherwise. It was that devious sparkle in her eyes.
Uncomfortable by Shew’s suspicious stare, the Queen’s face changed, now acting as if the name rang a bell in her mind. “Isn’t that an Italian name?” she said with a smirk.
Italian? Shew grimaced. Cerené is Italian?
“You ever heard of the Roman Empire, Tabula?” Carmilla said.
“I heard the king mentioning it,” Tabula said. “He said it ended up being something called Italy. What does it mean my majesty?”
“Italy is a shoe-looking island,” Carmilla brushed something off Shew’s mattress with the tips of her fingers. “There is a myth that says the Creators of the World shaped Italy after a glass shoe. A rather romantic notion, some would argue.”
Shew didn’t understand why Carmilla was glaring at her. It seemed like she wanted Shew to read between the lines she spoke.
Why does she know such things about a Slave Maiden, and what is so special about a foreign land shaped like a shoe?
“But why did the Creators of the World shape it like that?” Tabula asked. “That’s rather strange, shaping a kingdom after a shoe, not romantic at all.
Shew knew Tabula was an immigrant from exquisite lands in the Eastern Realm of the world where raising a shoe in someone’s face was considered an insult.
“Wrong question, Tabula,” Carmilla said. She was checking her fingernails, breaking her gaze with Shew. “The Creators are always right. They always have a reason for everything that happens, even our suffering.”
“Then what is the right question, if I may ask my majesty?” Tabula said.
“Why one shoe, not two, would be a good start,” Carmilla’s lips waved into a slow smile. “Didn’t you ever notice that most important things in life come in pairs?”
“What do you mean my majesty?” Tabula questioned cautiously, a little worried why the Queen was having an actual conversation with her. Carmilla rarely talked to her servants. Even today, she wasn’t actually conversing with Tabula. She was sending Shew a message through Tabula.
“Most things in life come in pairs,” Carmilla repeated. “Shoes, couples, eyes, night and day, sun and moon, and even good and evil come in pairs. I guess it is the universe’s mysterious way of trying to create balance. Why only one shoe then? Don’t you agree, Shew?” she gazed back at the Princess of Sorrow.
Shew said nothing. She quietly wished the Queen would leave so she could investigate this dream further, but no one had ever dared to leave when Carmilla was speaking.
“I’ll tell you why,” the Queen finally said. “There is an old story I was told when I was a kid in my father’s castle in Styria. It was a story of a poor girl who lived with her stepmother and stepsisters. Of course, like any other boring fairy tale, her stepsisters were evil and the poor girl was na?ve,” Carmilla rolled her eyes. “One day, the poor girl wanted to attend a ball to see a cute prince she had a crush on—remember the yummy prince, Shew?“ However, the evil stepmother and the two nasty sisters didn’t let her attend the ball. Do you know why? Because the poor girl was much more beautiful than her sisters were. The villainous stepsisters feared she would catch the attention of the prince, so they trapped her in a small, cramped room covered with cinders of its fireplace, and went to attend the ball. It’s no secret that the rest of the story is agonizingly predictable,” she sighed with one gloved hand on her heart. “A Godmother—there’s always a Godmother—” she leaned forward, whispering and winking at Shew, “the Godmother appeared and helped the poor girl with her dress and a coach so she could attend the ball. Of course, the prince fell madly in love with her without even asking her name. Love at first sight, you know. The girl had to get back home before midnight; afraid her stepmother would punish her and lock her inside the ash-covered room in their home again. And finally, we come to the most important part when she leaves a single shoe behind,” Carmilla’s eyes glittered, talking slower, and examining Shew’s face.
Shew thought it was amusing, compared to the way Carmilla had told the beginning of the tale. She’d been talking fast with no attention to details or passion in her voice, as if she were reading a grocery list.
“It was a single shoe that eventually led the prince to find his lost love. He walked around town, asking every girl he met to try on the shoe promising he’d marry her if it fit—some stupid prince, I must say.” Shew wondered why the Queen told this tale if she thought it was so predictable and hated it so much.
“Some stupid prince indeed,” Bloody Mary suddenly appeared in the mirror, growling in her gushy voice.
Shew leaned back in her bed and looked away. Bloody Mary was young, but genuinely ugly and scary.
“Shut up, Mary,” the Queen said firmly. “Go back to whatever hell you came from. You’re scaring my daughter.”