“She had dark hair,” Ava whispered, “nearly black. And ...” she frowned as she tried to remember. “Pale skin that was so perfect, it glowed. Her cheeks were flushed with health, and her eyes were large; almond shaped, I think.”
I made an impressed face at the wall. Ava was more observant than I'd thought.
“Very good,” her mother purred. “We shall purchase some dye today.”
I glanced back at Kaylee and Hazel. They were both wearing horrified expressions. Kaylee had platinum blonde hair, and Hazel had golden brown. They both loved their hair and spent hours washing, brushing, and braiding it every day. I turned away to hide my smile.
“And we shall rub a mixture of lemon and salt into your skin,” Stepmother went on. “That will lighten your complexions.”
“Mother,” Kaylee whined. “We'd have to sit with that gunk on us for hours for it to have an affect.”
She was right; my stepsisters had olive complexions like their mother. Lightening their skin was nearly impossible.
“And your eyes”–Stepmother tapped her finger on the table–“easily altered with kohl. We shall have you mimicking this mystery woman in no time.”
“But I don't want to dye my hair,” Hazel said.
“Do you want brown hair or do you want to be queen?” Stepmother asked.
The girls shut up.
“Madelyn,” Stepmother called to me, “go and make a paste of salt and lemon juice.” She looked over her daughters critically. “Several jars worth. Then help my daughters apply it until it begins to lighten their skin.”
“Yes, Ma'am,” I said brightly, and then rushed into the kitchen.
The act of torturing my stepsisters, alone, made everything worthwhile.
Chapter Eight
I was taking a break from bleaching my stepsisters when I heard hoof beats. I looked up from the bucket of water I'd just drawn from the well and saw Prince Weston riding his horse into the courtyard. He dismounted with a jump and came striding over to me. I dipped my clay cup into the bucket of water and took a long sip as I surveyed him.
Weston was the most devilishly handsome of the brothers. His raven hair brought out the emerald of his eyes while the golden tan of his skin kept him from looking unhealthy. He was the most fit of the brothers too, with muscles that went on for days and a rugged jawline. I had sex with that man. A shiver rushed through me.
I took another sip.
“Madelyn,” Weston said with a voice reserved for bedrooms, “it's good to see you again.”
“Is it?” I asked him. “Would you like a drink?” I offered him my cup.
“I ...” Weston looked as if he'd refuse at first, but then a softness infused his features, and he reached for the cup. “Yes; it's been a hot ride.”
“I'll bet,” I huffed.
“Excuse me?” He asked after he took a long gulp.
“I said 'I'll bet,'” I repeated. “It's a warm day, and you're wearing velvet.” I motioned to his tunic. “Don't you have anything in linen?”
“Ah.” Weston looked himself over. “I suppose I'm unaccustomed to riding long hours in the sun. It never occurred to me to dress more appropriately.”
“Must be nice.” I chuckled.
“You know, now that you mention it, it is,” he said with amusement. “I haven't appreciated my life as I should.”
“That sounded like an epiphany,” I noted. “You get all that from a drink of water?”
“I got all that from a few words exchanged with you.” He blinked in surprise. “You're very easy to talk to.”
“You're the first person to say so.”
