Neither Imogen nor Blaise was here to help me undress, I realized—though the perfume Blaise had borrowed from Imogen still lingered in the room, and now that I stopped to pay attention, it really was a bit strong. But I was eager to get out of this gown and into some more comfortable sleepwear. I remembered I’d given them the night off without considering how I would get undressed, but I figured it wouldn’t be too difficult. After all, I’d never had a lady’s maid back home, and I’d gotten dressed and undressed just fine.

Of course, I hadn’t had a dress as fancy as this one either.

Besides. If I could get out of that suit of armor, I could get out of anything.

It took me quite a bit of stretching, groping, and hopping, but I finally managed to pull my dress over my head. The problem was the cinched waist. It was too small for my ribcage. Much too small.

I hopped around in the dark, trying to wiggle myself out of my trap without ripping the undoubtedly expensive dress.

“Need some help?”

The quiet voice made me jump. “Imogen, you scared me,” I said, trying to regain my breath. “Can you help me get out of this?”

“Imogen?” the sultry voice purred.

My heart turned to ice as I recognized the voice, as her last words to me rang through my head.

You weren’t supposed to wake up.

Cinderella.

I opened my mouth to scream, but not before a hand clamped over my mouth, already stifled by my gown. “Scream, and this knife goes straight through your ribcage. And I won’t miss this time. Do you understand?”

I nodded. I wanted to fight back, but there was no way I was making it out of here alive when I couldn’t see and my arms were stuck, pinned upright by my gown.

“Now, you were saying you needed help out of that.”

I bit back a gasp as pain sliced down my side. The ripping of fabric yelped in my ears. Fingernails dug into my ribcage, and the fabric split.

As it fell off me, the room became visible again.

“You’re welcome,” the woman smirked. Her almost-white hair had been braided into a crown atop her head. She wore a dazzling blue dress that reminded me of the one Evander had originally made for his mystery woman. The red paint on her lips and the kohl on her eyelids made her look older, but I still remembered what she’d looked like the night she stabbed me. Underneath all that paint, she couldn’t have been more than a year older than me.

“What do you want?”

Cinderella traced my body, now clothed only in my undergarments, with a cool, calculating stare that made me feel extremely violated.

“I want you to put these on,” she said, sauntering over to my dressing wall and pulling out a bag. She reached into it and tossed me a raggedy set of men’s trousers and a tunic.

“I thought you were planning on killing me,” I said.

She flashed me a bloodthirsty smile with those painted red lips of hers. “I am. But when the prince finds your dead body, I’d rather him not see you in your undergarments.”

I might have laughed, had my life not been in the hands of this psycho lunatic. “Jealous, are we?” I rolled my eyes as I pulled on the smelly pants and trousers.

Her eyes bounced over my body again. Was I imagining it, or did her sharp gaze linger on every curve, every stretch mark I’d ever thought to be self-conscious about? She grinned. “There’s no need.”

I suppose the words were meant to cut, but I was having a hard time being too rattled by jabs at my appearance when she sported a knife glittering with my blood.

“I wouldn’t stab me if I were you.”

“Oh, no?” she purred, lightly tracing the edge of the blade with the tip of her finger, staining her fingertips crimson. “And why not?”

“Because I don’t know that it’s going to win Evander’s heart over like you think it is.”

Pain cut through my left bicep as she sliced at my arm. I stumbled back, but she turned the bloodied knife on me as I gripped the bed to stable myself. “Don’t you dare call him by his given name. As if. As if…”

It was like she couldn’t bear the thought of it, much less the words.

I couldn’t help myself. “As if I know him better than you do?”

Cinderella lunged, but I was ready for it this time. I launched myself to the side, and she plummeted onto the bed.

“Help!” I screamed. “Help me! Guards! Anybody!”

I whirled just in time to dodge the knife again as the woman slashed at my chest.

This time when she threw herself at me, I didn’t dodge quite fast enough. The blade sliced through the tunic and between the edges of my ribcage. I gasped in pain as the weight of her slamming into me sent me to the floor. When I looked up, her arms were raised above her head, the tip of the dagger pointed at my chest.

A knock rapped at my door. “Ellie?”

Evander’s voice froze both of us. “Shh,” the woman said, moonlight seeping through the window, casting shadows dark as bruises under her cheeks.

“Ellie, I have to say, as proud as I was for being a little tease tonight, I got back to my room and couldn’t get over the fact I hadn’t given you a goodnight kiss. I know what I said, but I’m afraid one kiss isn’t going to be enough for me after all.”

I stared up at the woman with pleading in my eyes. She cocked her head to the side, as if she was trying to figure out a way she’d misheard that word.

Kiss.

She placed a finger on my mouth before whispering, “Go to the door and tell him not to come in. That you’re tired and don’t want to see him tonight.” She climbed off of me and I eased toward the door.

I fought the urge to remind Cinderella it didn’t matter whether Evander walked in on her murdering me. He was still going to know it was her when my body turned up with stab wounds all in it. But clearly this girl was delusional anyway, so I figured there was no need to argue with a plan that might extend my life by only a few minutes.

I couldn’t help but notice that she kept the knife dangling close to my back.

“Evander,” I called through the door. “I don’t think you should come in.”

The girl hissed. “Are you always that meek sounding?” The point of the knife punctured my tunic, scraping my skin.

“Are you feeling alright?” Evander asked, his flirtation faltering, probably at my unconventionally not-snappy tone.

I took a glance at the woman, who nodded her head for me to respond.

“No, I’m feeling quite ill, actually.” My head spun. Could he guess by my voice that something was wrong, or had that one kiss destroyed every bit of expectation he had about my willingness to show my vulnerabilities? Would he fall for the lies, thinking the sweetness in my voice was just a byproduct of a reformed personality, a byproduct of my feelings for him?

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice muffled by the door. “Can I get you something?”

So quietly I doubted even Evander could hear her with those fae ears of his, Cinderella whispered, “Tell him your monthly bleeding has come upon you.”