One Night At The Ball: A Sisters of the Curse Novella by Lisa Manifold

Author:Lisa Manifold [Manifold, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: OTI Press
Published: 2015-08-18T04:00:00+00:00

***

“What—what is that?” She backed away from the mirror, one hand to her cheek. In the mirror, the woman also held a hand to her cheek—but it wasn’t her. It wasn’t her.

“What do you mean, my lady?” Tatiana hurried to her.

“Look in the mirror! Who, or what is that?” She pointed at the small mirror that was tucked between two stands of flowering pots.

Tatiana slowed and approached the mirror. “What do you see, my lady?” Her voice was calm, unnaturally so.

“I see a woman who is not me!” Catrin struggled to keep from screaming at the maid.

Tatiana’s head fell. “My lady, I think you should retire for the evening and I shall send word to your parents of what has occurred.”

“Why? Why would you do such a thing? The ball has barely begun, and it’s my ball!” This was so beyond any response Catrin expected that she was taken by surprise. What new mischief was this?

“This has been a shock,” Tatiana said, almost absently. “Let me take you to your rooms, my lady. The other guests will understand.”

“Tatiana, are you well? I do not understand why I should go to my room!” The face in the mirror had been horrifying, but Tatiana’s reaction scared her. Her heart raced, and Catrin knew, just knew, that as bad as this was, there was more. She took a few steps closer to the mirror wanting to see the image again.

“My lady, no!” The movement stirred Tatiana out of her odd behavior. She held out a hand to bar Catrin from the mirror. Catrin put her hand on Tatiana’s arm and moved it aside gently, yet firmly.

“Please do not impede me,” Catrin said. And stood in front of the little mirror again with her eyes closed and took a breath. She opened them and leaned forward. She had to cover her mouth to stop the scream.

There she was again. A woman of Catrin’s age with brown, dull hair. Her eyes were also a dull brown, and her skin was nearly sallow. Not the golden glow of her skin. This woman shared similarities to Catrin—as a portrait that had been tossed in the mud and smeared. Catrin raised her hand to her cheek, and the woman in the mirror did as well. Brushed her hand against the necklace she was wearing; so did the woman in the mirror. Tears began to spill, and Catrin was horrified to see that the woman in the mirror was crying as well.

She whirled to face Tatiana. “What is this?”

Tatiana didn’t answer immediately, and Catrin was struck at how very sad and old she looked. She was looking down, and Catrin moved close to her and took her hand.

“What is this?” Her voice was low, but in truth, she was barely hanging on. “What is this trick? This is some sort of cruel joke, and I will not have it, Tati.” This had to be some sort of joke—something to go along with the game that had made fun of her all week from people who supposedly cared for her.

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