Tarnished Embers: A Dark Stepbrother Fairytale Retelling (Dark Retellings)

After Odette leaves, I feel deflated and wrung out, and I’ve got the rest of the day to face yet. I don’t even have the energy to move right now as I lean against Prince and let him hold me up.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, still pressed against Prince, the others hovering around us.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Sugar,” Prince growls, pulling me away from him enough so that he can stare into my eyes. His swirl with emerald fire, the sight captivating and lending me strength. “She had no fucking right to slap you.” His nostrils flare, his jaw tight under the stubble, and I reach up to cup his face.

“But what I said, it was uncalled for. People grieve differently, and perhaps her way is to dress normally, act normally.” He doesn’t look convinced, his brows dipped low, and my gut swirls with unease. Why would he think that she’s being false in her grief, just like I accused her of? Maybe I was right, maybe she is faking it? “I should probably say sorry to her.”

“Why don’t you give it a bit of time for you both to calm down?” Cas suggests, pressing a kiss to my temple. My eyelids close briefly as I absorb the gesture, my lungs taking a deep inhale, their mixed scents calming me further.

“But there are things that need organising, and I’ve spent too long already hiding from the world,” I tell him, taking another deep inhale before stepping away from them. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course, little sis,” Oct says, grasping my hand. “We will always have your back.” Warmth fills me up, and I manage a smile, wincing as my cheek aches.

“We should get something cold on your cheek, Cinders,” Cas chides, stepping towards me, but I’m shaking my head.

“It’s fine, Cas. Let’s find Odette and clear the air.” I hate the bad feeling that covers my skin, sticking to me like those muggy days when we’re due a thunderstorm that just won’t come.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

We leave the dining room, and after asking Reginald if he’s seen Odette, he takes us to my father’s office. What was his office, I guess. A lump forms in my throat as we stand outside, the door slightly ajar. Taking a deep breath and blinking back tears, I push the door open the rest of the way and stride inside.

“Ember,” Odette utters, rising from behind my father’s desk, papers strewn across the surface. Her eyes are wide, like she didn’t expect to see me so soon, and the way she steps in front of the desk, blocking my view of what the papers might say, has alarm bells ringing in my head. Regardless, I should at least try to make amends, out of respect for my father, if nothing else. He did marry her after all.

“I’m sorry I spoke out of turn, Odette. We all deal with grief differently, it wasn’t my place to judge.” Her features soften as she comes towards me, her arms out. My heart races, but I’m determined to become the girl I’d always wanted to be but was too scared to embrace. If nothing else, my father’s death has taught me that life is too short to be anything other than your truest self. “But you shouldn’t have hit me, that wasn’t okay.”

Her arms drop just as she reaches me, the side of her face twitching, and I wonder if anyone has ever stood up to her before. Taking another deep inhale, and trying not to focus on the woodsy smell that reminds me of my dad, I step closer to her, taking her hands in mine. They’re cold, and something about holding them makes my teeth want to grind together, but I ignore it in a bid to settle the bad air.

“I’m sorry I struck out, Ember, honey,” she says after a moment, squeezing my hands in hers, exactly like she did that day not so long ago when I first met her. “It’s just been so hard, what with the accident and then having to deal with getting him flown back over.”

Tears make my vision swim, and I lick my lips, attempting to hold them back. I don’t want to cry in front of her, something telling me to save it for when I’m with the guys.

“I–I get that, and I’m here t–to help with any preparations,” I stutter, the presence at my back from my stepbrothers giving me strength.

“Oh, that’s all been taken care of, honey. The funeral is tomorrow. He’ll be buried next to your mother, as per his wishes.” Her lips twist slightly at the last part, like she’s annoyed by that, but it’s gone too quickly for me to digest it.

“T–tomorrow?” I swallow hard, the action painful as I fight against the lump that’s getting bigger, threatening to cut off my air supply. She gives my hands a final squeeze before letting go, and instead of being reassuring, the gesture makes me wince as pain shoots up my arms.

“Yes, well, it’s best to get these sorts of things out the way, don’t you think?” She looks at me with raised brows, her eyes saying that I’m making something out of nothing.

“O–of course,” I reply, my mind spinning with this new bombshell. “Where is the w–wake?”

“We’re having that here, honey, and the chef has his instructions. I’ve got everything sorted so you don’t need to worry about a thing.”

It’s fucking freezing when we leave for the funeral the next morning, and as I glance up at the sky, there’s something about it that feels like snow is coming, even though it is technically spring. English weather at its finest, I suppose. I quite like it, as I feel maybe it would be harder to bury him if it was bright and sunny outside.

The drive to the church is quiet, Odette having taken her own car and the guys coming with me in the Bentley. She frowned when they told her they weren’t leaving me, but said nothing.

All too soon the door is being opened, letting in a blast of cold air that has my skin breaking out into goosebumps underneath my black dress and coat.

“It’s time, Sugar,” Prince tells me quietly from his seat next to mine, and I blink, having lost the time it took to get here, stuck in thoughts of what I have to face today.

Cas is standing at the open door, holding his hand out, and I take it, grateful for the warm touch. I’m so cold, so numb, like this isn’t happening to me at all. Like today isn’t the day I bury my father.

“Just breathe, Cinders,” Cas whispers, his face filling my watery vision, and I take a huge, gasping inhale, the freezing air filling my lungs. “That’s it. We’re here, you are not alone.”

I can’t speak, can’t get my mouth to form words, so I nod, wrapping my arm around his firm bicep and letting him lead me into the old church. I’m not sure why we’re holding a service here. Dad wasn’t religious at all, but I guess Odette thought it was the right thing to do, and by the way the place is already three-quarters filled, it seems that it was a good call.

I avoid everyone’s eyes, recognising a few faces as my father’s business associates, but I soon stare straight ahead, at the gleaming wooden coffin with white lilies resting on the top. My nose wrinkles with the pungent scent of them. I’ve always hated lilies.

My breath catches when a large photograph of him catches my eye, his face creased in a smile, a beaming Odette on his arm. I wonder briefly why she chose that picture and not one of him alone, but then Cas leads me into the front pew, Prince at my back and the twins following us in.

Odette sits on the other side of Cas, looking every inch the glamorous widow. A fitted black jacket showcases her generous curves, with a calf-length skirt, her hair perfectly coiled with a small black hat perched on top, a piece of black net covering her face.

She knows how to put on a show.

The bitchy thought floats through my mind, especially when she dabs at the corner of her eye with a small white handkerchief, though not a tear is in sight.

The ceremony passes by in a blur, various people who seemed to know my father extolling his virtues, and soon we’re standing at the doorway, accepting people’s condolences and handshakes.

The woodland burial site is a short drive away, and it feels as though I’m blinking and then I’m standing in front of that same oak tree I stood under five years ago, the soil exposed in a tear in the earth that matches that of my heart. My mum’s headstone sits to the right of the gaping hole, looking weathered and with snowdrops growing at its base.

Others file in around us, the vicar saying more words that fly through my mind as I watch them lower his coffin into the ground.

At least he’s next to her.

Tears fill my eyes when we’re called to put a handful of soil on the coffin. Mine lands with a thud, sounding like a door slamming shut, leaving me out, lost in the wilderness.

Then I’m standing there with my guys, snowflakes drifting around us.

“We should get back, Sugar,” Prince murmurs in my ear as a warm coat is draped over my shoulders, engulfing me in his spiced rum and leather scent. “You’re freezing.”

I didn’t realise how cold I was until that moment, my body relaxing with the heat from his body lingering in the garment.

“Let’s go home, little sis,” Oct adds, placing a kiss on the top of my head before taking my frozen hand in his and rubbing it. Warmth emanates from his touch, breathing life back into my limbs.

My eyelids drift shut, the tears frozen on my cheeks.

Goodbye, Dad.

Then I open my eyes, curling my fingers around Oct’s and letting them lead me away, the snow continuing to drift around us before settling on the ground and covering my heartache in shades of white.