The Truth About Cinder Read online

  The Truth About Cinder

  Alta Hensley

  Copyright © 2019 by Alta Hensley

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Thank you to Jay Aheer for the amazing cover! Also a big thanks to Maggie Ryan for editing and helping my book turn to magic! I also can’t forget my amazing betas! You all know who you are, and I love you. And of course all the readers that have supported me along the way. I have the best team in the world.

  To my daughters.

  Always believe in the classic saying:

  Once Upon A Time…

  They Lived Happily Ever After.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  About the Author

  Also by Alta Hensley

  1

  Once Upon A Time…

  The world dried up, leaving nothing but barren, infinite, monotonous desert. Desolate land with little vegetation except for the endless sagebrush and greasewood that spattered the horizon. No shade, nothing to offer refuge from the burning rays of the sun. Cinder stopped to listen to the deep, dead stillness of the sandy hills and valleys. No running water, no chirping of birds, no buzzing hum of life—not a single sound but her own ragged breathing. The desert had engulfed the globe.

  The limitless sand ahead of her seemed to stretch to infinity. The enormity of the crossing became more and more obvious with every step she took. As Cinder plodded westward, doubt of survival congested her mind. Would she die before she reached her destination? Would the vast desert be her lonely grave?

  She began the journey with as many provisions as she could carry, but she had no way of knowing if they would last. Collecting enough supplies in a commune, with very little to begin with, proved almost as difficult as trekking across the cruel wilderness to her destination. She was full of strength and fortitude, but was that enough to battle the ruthless land?

  Nothing stood before her but the wasteland of the burning sands. She traveled days, weeks, she really wasn't sure anymore. Endless steps, agonizing climbs of ridged dunes that tormented every muscle in her body.

  One step… two, was her mantra.

  Cinder's core melted into the ground with every step. With her brown hair and sun-baked skin, she blended with the earth.

  Brown, brown, brown—everywhere she looked—brown.

  She marched forward hoping that any minute she would reach the Palace of Lazar. She'd soon see shimmering blue water, palm trees swaying in a delightful wafting breeze—the commune of dreams, and her ultimate destination.

  The desert was made up of small communes scattered throughout the world. Pods of civilization on small acres of precious, fertile land. For decades the people of this world survived off a wasteland of dried up lake beds, desiccated rivers and what little water the world still possessed. Communes formed around the few remaining water resources. Desert inhabitants lived in these communes, surviving off whatever resources the small community possessed—each commune being a tiny oasis overcrowded with people.

  No one understood what had caused the massive disruption, but all suffered the consequences. Without water, civilization fell into anarchy. Droves of people combed the desert of death, seeking fertile land in the hopes of survival. Some communes thrived, while others eventually succumbed to the sun.

  But no commune could measure to the Palace of Lazar. Some believed the palace was no more than a figment of the imagination. Nothing more than a fairytale told to children. But Cinder believed that this palace would soon be her home. This part of the desert was uncharted. Of all the explorers who had embarked this way before, none had ever returned to tell the tale of such a place.

  But Cinder continued on.

  She would make it, or die amongst the ones who’d tried.

  By the time the sun plunged toward the horizon, her shadow became the only sign of life. It was a strange and unnerving feeling being so alone. Surviving in communes meant overcrowding. Everywhere she turned, someone would be there to meet her gaze. Shoulder to shoulder with strangers. The suffocating population of the communes caused many to flee in search of a better one. The desert nomads wandered the dried terrain in search of fertile land yet untouched by man.

  Cinder was now among them—a lonely drifter with no home.

  Walking alone in the endless, arid land, she watched the fading colors of the sun streak the sky with the palest gold to the richest reds. Magnificent hues reminded Cinder of the breathtaking space around her. A desert so deadly, but at times, so awe-inspiring.

  The burning heat of the day dissipated a little, which allowed Cinder to pick up her pace. For days she’d camped at dusk, eaten a meager meal, and sipped at her treasured water supply before trying to sleep on her worn blanket. Now she had to change her routine. Cinder had used the last of her matches for fire lighting the night before, so stopping to make camp seemed pointless. When her hunger pains became unbearable, she ate what was left of her dried meat as she hiked forward.

  Time was running out.

  Stumbling over her own feet, Cinder had no choice but to stop for a quick rest. Exhaustion had won this battle. She was glad to spread her blanket down for a couple of hours' sleep.

  Sweet dreams of the palace.

  Sweet dreams of a prince who would swoop her up and save her from her harsh existence.

  Sweet dreams of a fairytale.

  Anything but the nightmare she was living now.

  The next few hours passed all too quickly. The morning heat grew unbearable, burning through the blanket and making sleep impossible. Her lips were cracked and dry, her skin burned, and her eyes were gritty with sand. Struggling to lift her head, Cinder couldn't help but wonder if today would be the day she died. With her food now gone and only enough water to last the day, Cinder struggled to her feet to continue on. She would die fighting.

  She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, one step at a time as she focused on breathing in and out in a soothing pattern. The need for water overwhelmed her until she had no choice but to take the last gulp she'd been attempting to save. As she took the final sip, she closed her eyes and tried to relish the pleasure of having something so cool against her tongue. If she were going to die, she wanted to remember the joy of something as simple as taking a drink.

  She didn't want to die, but accepted that the outcome pointed in that direction. People had called her a fool for believing she could make this journey. Others questioned why she wanted to reach the palace to begin with. Stories of sex, lust, forbidden acts, and a society wrapped around taboo steered many away. The prince who ruled the commune was known for his insatiable tastes and the women who catered to it all. The Palace of Lazar was not just a commune. />
  It was a harem.

  Unlike most communes, women were welcomed. Tales of jewels, satin, silk, and plentiful food drew the adventurous soul. But for Cinder, the palace offered more. The curiosity of what went on behind those walls pushed her through the desert day after day, night after night. The wonder of the harem and the prince haunted her dreams. Cinder wanted to see it, live it, and feel it. It was worth risking her life and succumbing to the desert for even a chance.

  The sand in front of her began to fade in and out. The ringing in her ears only intensified as her vision dimmed. She couldn't decide if she was going to faint or vomit, now convinced that her last moments were near. Everything started to recede as the darkness deepened until there was nothing but a hot, thick, encompassing, blackness.

  2

  She coughed frenziedly, gasping for air. The surprising coldness of something pushed hard against her lips, the action making her chapped skin crack even more in the corners of her mouth. She was vaguely aware that someone, or something, was trying to push liquid down her throat. As much as she wanted the cool fluid, her mouth and throat seemed to close shut. She realized that someone's finger pried her lips apart. She tried to open her eyes, but the weight of near death kept them shut. The trickling water down her throat seemed unreal.

  Water.

  She finally had water.

  Someone was trying to make her drink water. She wasn't dead. She was indoors… somewhere.

  Strident footsteps entered the room, stopping near her head. Cinder managed to slowly open her eyes and attempted to lift her body to a sitting position, failing miserably. Her blurred vision made it almost impossible to take in her surroundings. Colors—all she could see was an array of colors. She wiped at her eyes, trying to clear the sand from her travels as she tried to sit up again. A firm grasp on her shoulder pushed her back down.

  There stood a man with eyes the color of the sea. Taller than most, dressed in all black, he exuded power. His shoulder-length, ebony hair merged with his collar. His superior appearance was flawless all the way to his meticulously groomed facial hair over his enticing mouth. His skin was so much darker than her own.

  Mysterious, exotic, even frightening.

  A deep, soothing voice boomed over her. "What is your name, girl?" His voice oozed with an intoxicating accent she hadn't heard before.

  "Cinder." Her voice cracked, the dryness of her throat making it difficult to speak. She didn't recognize her raspy words.

  "Cinder what? What is your last name?"

  Cinder hated declaring her last name. It reminded her of her past. A past she tried so desperately to forget. "My name is Cinder Briar."

  One of his eyebrows rose. "From the Briar commune?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Everyone's last name was the name of the commune in which they originated. It was a way to distinguish one's heritage. In Cinder's case, a heritage she wanted to forget.

  "Briar Lake is a far journey. How did you get here?"

  "I've lived in several communes since I left there. I’ve bounced from one failing one to another. I haven't inhabited Briar for over ten years in hope of finding… well, finding something better."

  "Do you know where you are now?" he asked, taking a few steps so he stood directly in front of her.

  "No, sir."

  "You are inside the Palace of Lazar."

  Cinder closed her eyes briefly as the very breath seemed to be knocked out of her. The overwhelming need to cry almost suffocated what air she had left. She had finally reached her destination. The desert wouldn't be her grave after all.

  Was this real?

  Had her fairytale finally come true?

  The Palace of Lazar. She had finally arrived.

  "Do you know what that is?"

  "Yes, sir. I've been traveling for what feels like a lifetime to get here."

  "For what reason?" His question was direct and sharp in tone.

  "To be part of the harem." Saying the words out loud sent a quiver through her body. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so direct, but she didn’t know how to be anything but.

  The corner of his mouth lifted into a small smile which disappeared as quickly as it came. He took a few steps closer to her. "You need to get some rest." His dark brow rose as his eyes narrowed to examine her tattered clothing and dehydrated body. "It took a lot of bravery to make the crossing here by yourself." He turned to leave the room.

  "I didn't catch your name, sir?"

  He glanced over his shoulder. "Donte. I am the person in charge of this harem. We’ll discuss this further in the morning. Rest now." He paused to speak to a woman standing in the corner with the glass of water in her hand. "Clean her up, get her fresh clothing, and feed her some light broth. Her stomach won't accept food easily."

  Even if Cinder had the strength to do so, she wouldn't dare argue with the man. His tone left her with no doubt that his orders were clearly expected to be followed without question.

  The sound of boots pounding against the marble slab of the room awoke Cinder from her sleep. She wasn't sure if she had dreamt it, or if she truly was inside the Palace of Lazar. A quick glance around proved her dream a reality.

  Cinder watched Donte walk over to a round table with two chairs in the corner. He sat down without saying a word. The same woman who had cleaned and cared for Cinder the night before followed with a tray of tea and biscuits. She quickly left as soon as she placed the tray on the table.

  "Good morning. I hope you slept well. Please come and join me." He motioned at the seat across from him.

  Cinder stood up, slightly self-conscious of her appearance. She wore a white silk nightgown that covered the majority of her body. She had no doubt her hair was a mess, but there was nothing she could do about it at this point. Pulling the blankets back, she padded her bare feet across the floor to do as he asked. As she approached the chair, he stood and pulled it out for her. No one had ever done such a thing before.

  Cinder stared at the austere man, intrigued. "Thank you."

  He placed a biscuit on a plate, poured some tea into a delicate cup, and set it in front of her. "Please, help yourself to the butter and jelly. There’s sugar for the tea, if you like."

  She gratefully accepted as her mouth watered. The spread before her was unlike anything she had ever experienced. She felt like a princess grabbing the sugar. She did the best she could to control herself as she reveled in the exquisite taste of the first real, solid food she'd eaten in days. Her hand shook as she brought the fine china cup to her lips. Although attempting to be graceful, Cinder knew she looked out of her element.

  "If you want to be part of the harem, there are expectations," Donte stated in a businesslike tone. "You’ll have to pass an inspection since we only accept virgins. After that, you’ll have to go through extensive training. There are expectations and extremely high standards the harem will meet."

  He leaned back in his lavishly carved chair. The dark wood table and chairs had men and women in sexual positions carved into the arms and legs. She couldn't keep her eyes from the delicate design. He noted her fascination.

  "The wood was imported from a commune that harvests trees of all kinds. It is very rare, but endures well, and the artisan who created the furniture did an exquisite job, do you not agree?" He smoothed his palm over the armrest with a look of admiration and pride etched on his face. "I love when time is taken to make something perfect. Mediocrity should never be accepted. Craftsmanship is a dying art… much like our world today." His stormy blue eyes met Cinder's. "My expectations are high. In all regards."

  She swallowed a bite of biscuit before speaking. "Yes, sir. I understand." Even though she said the words, she wasn't really sure she did, however. "I want to assure you that I am a virgin, and I'd be willing to go through whatever training you have in mind. I'm aware of what's expected."

  His brow rose with interest. "You are?"

  "I believe so. If I were part of the harem, my duties would be pleasuring the
prince in any way he wishes. Though I have no experience, I'm willing to learn."

  He smiled, continuing to rub his palm over the wood. Cinder noted his hands—big, capable, firm. Cinder needed to sip her tea to calm her growing nerves. She worried that if she came across too willing, he would think she was a woman of loose morals, but she also needed to make sure he was aware just how badly she wanted to be accepted. She was desperate and would beg if she had to.

  "We have strict rules," he added, with a slight lift to his mouth. "You’ll be expected to do as you’re asked. In return, you’ll be treated like royalty. If you disobey or act out, you’ll be punished accordingly."

  Cinder's heart skipped. "Punished? Like prison?" She didn’t even want to think that death by execution would be an option here. She knew of many communes where torturous acts were performed on people every day where the victim ended up begging for death.

  Donte gave a slight smile. "No, not prison. The girls of the harem are no strangers to severe discipline in a multitude of ways when deserved. But no prison, no permanent harm, and no death." He must have been reading her thoughts.

  He paused, examining Cinder's face. She did everything she could to not appear shocked, concerned or upset by his statement. She wanted to appear sexually sophisticated, as well as worldly, even though she had no idea how to achieve it.

  Donte continued on. "There are many versions of punishments, but all with the purpose to keep the harem submissive. Every man has different desires. Different cravings. But each one demands submission at some level."