“As you wish, my Queen,” Bloody Mary vanished from the mirror and Carmilla checked her beauty in it once more.
“So where was I?” she questioned, adjusting her crown.
“Stupid Prince, my majesty,” Tabula said. “I assume he found the poor girl eventually.”
“Ah, yes. One of the evil stepsisters, being unable to accept the fact that the prince liked her stepsister better, cut her toe off. Can you believe that? The little brat cut her toe off so the prince would choose her. I am always incredulous about the way girls are portrayed in these tales, helpless, disadvantaged, and afraid to be alone and never married.”
“You’re right, my majesty,” Tabula commented. “Women should be much stronger. What a horrible thing this stepsister did.”
“Well, let’s not be too harsh on the little brat,” Carmilla waved a hand in the air. “I did worse than cutting someone’s toe off for Angel—I’ve given him my flesh and blood. Right, Shew?"
Shew nodded, worried about the Queen’s suggestive implications.
Of course, you’ve done worse, you child killer!
“So where was I again?” Carmilla wondered.
“The girl cutting her toe off,” Bloody Mary snickered from inside the mirror without showing herself.
“I know you love this part, Mary,” Carmilla said. “So although the world conspired against the prince and the poor girl’s pure, puppy, pitiful love, he finally found her in the home of her stepmother.”
“Didn’t the shoe fit her stepsister?” Shew finally interacted.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Pigeons warned the prince about the stepsister and urged him to look at her foot after she had tried the shoe on. The prince saw that the stepsister was bleeding from the cut, and immediately knew the girl was an imposter.”
“She got what she deserved, my majesty,” Tabula said.
“Yes, she did, but we’re not talking about the stepsister. She is by no means the main character here,” Carmilla said. So, in the end, love, in its most clichéd state, finally prevailed in this little Italian bedtime story. And the Creators clapped their hands, applauding the girl who went from rags to riches and won the prince’s heart,” Carmilla clapped her gloved hands elegantly, her palms barely touching.
“So what’s the point of this boring story, mother?” Shew dared to ask.
“I’ve always loved how impatient you are, Shew. You know impatient girls always get what they want, don’t you?” Carmilla said. “Here is the point of this glass shoe story—I told you the Godmother had given her a pair of glass shoes, didn’t I? Long boring story short, the love between the prince and the girl made the Creators cry,” she pretended to wipe tears from her eyes, the way pantomime actresses did in old black and white movies. “So the Creators decided that to honor their love, they’d redesign the landscape of Italy into a shoe, an epitaph to the single shoe that saved the love of the shoe-crossed—I mean star-crossed—lovers.”
“So this is basically the story of how Italy came to be,” Tabula said. “I understand now.”
Shew wondered if Carmilla was talking about Cerené. But how was that possible? This story happened centuries ago. Maybe she was talking about Bianca, or Cerené’s ancestors.
“So back to that Slave Maiden,” the Queen said. “Her name means ashes in Italian. Suits her fine, actually,” Carmilla said. “She is a low life, will live a low life, and will die an even lower life. I’m only telling you this story so you’ll know the only thing she wants is to meet a prince. She wants to get rich without deserving it. Her friendship with you isn’t real. She’s playing with you. I won’t allow you to be fooled by a Slave Maiden like her.”
Shew wasn’t going to argue. She was now even more curious about Cerené.
“I don’t want to hear that you’re talking to her again, understood?” Carmilla said.
“Of course, mother,” Shew finally said, wondering where Cerené was at the moment.
“Hmm,” Carmilla leaned slightly forward, looking in Shew’s eyes as if trying to see behind them. “Politeness is not one of your virtues, princess. I wonder if you’re trying to fool me. You know the consequences will be dire if you don’t do as I wish,” she patted Shew’s cheeks.
Carmilla’s words left Shew confused. Carmilla was putting on some kind of show, the same way she warned her about Cerené’s fake act of friendship. She knew Shew as stubborn, and that warning her would only encourage her to break the rule and meet Cerené again. Why would Carmilla do that?
“You know I make sure you feed, so you don’t want to keep away from me, believe me,” Carmilla said then showed her a small liver-shaped box. “Look what your mother brought you,” she said, opening the box.
Shew looked inside the box and felt dazed; her body leaned forward against her will, her fangs drawing out.
She was staring at a fresh liver.