“It is an exact replica of the real one or as close as I could make it. Now, do we need to go over the plan again, the route you will take through the palace to get down to the king’s private treasure room?”
I shook my head. “We have been over it so many times, I feel like I have been walking those corridors in my sleep. Just as long as you are sure the information you have given me is accurate.”
“It is. I told you that my contact in the palace was a very clever young footman. He might have been able to help me get the orb except that—” Mal broke off, busying himself by closing up the boxes.
“Except what?” I prompted.
“His spying activities aroused suspicion and he had to flee for his life.”
When I groaned, Mal added hastily, “Nothing like that is going to happen to you. Once you have the orbs switched, no one will even notice the real one has gone missing. If eventually someone does, it still will not matter because nothing can be traced back to either of us. Your aura is unregistered, thanks to your father. I wish my grandfather had been as wise, but I have taken great care not to touch the fake orb. Now tuck that thing away in your hidden pocket.”
Delphine had done such a clever job of disguising the pocket in the folds of the silk, I had to grope along the skirt of my gown to find it. I located it on the left side and slipped the false orb inside. It was so light even I could hardly detect it was there, but I still expelled an uneasy sigh.
“Stop fretting,” Mal said. “This plan really is beautifully simple. It will all go as smooth as silk.”
“Oh, don’t say that. Do you have any idea how easily silk unravels?”
“The only difficult and dangerous part of this scheme is getting you in and out of the treasure chamber unseen and as I promised I have something that will help with that.” With a mysterious smile, Mal tore the lid from the last box. “You thought the dress was enchanting, but now let me show you the real magic.”
With a triumphant flourish, Mal produced the strangest-looking pair of shoes I had ever seen.
“Your dancing slippers, milady,” he said, presenting them to me with a deep bow.
I crept closer to inspect them. The shoes had a bit more of a heel than I was accustomed to, but that was not the disconcerting aspect. The slippers were completely transparent, appearing spun from fine crystal.
Cautiously, I tapped my fingernail against the heel. It pinged. “Mal, are these actually made of—”
“Glass.” He beamed at me. “Are they not extraordinary?”
“They certainly are quite beautiful, but is there any reason my shoes could not have been made of a nice soft, comfortable kid?”
“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to enchant leather?”
“And you are claiming that these shoes are—”
“Magic, yes. Didn’t I say so? Guess what they can do.”
“Give me blisters on my heels the size of the orb?”
“No! These shoes will”—Mal paused for dramatic effect—“render you invisible.”
“Oh.” I cocked one eyebrow, unable to conceal my skepticism. “Truly?”
Mal heaved a vexed sigh. I could tell my reaction was not the awe that he had hoped for. “Yes, all you have to do is slip the glass slippers on, click your toes together three times and you will completely vanish. When you want to reappear, just take off the shoes and the magic will end until the next time you don the slippers and click your toes again. The important thing to remember is that although you will be completely invisible, you will still be corporeal, so you will need to take care not to bump into anyone or brush up against…and I can tell from the look on your face you don’t believe a word I am saying.”
“Slippers made of glass possessing the power to turn you invisible? Even you have to realize how mad that sounds.” I hated to disappoint Mal or hurt his feelings by reminding him that the last bit of magic he had tried to perform resulted in him becoming completely bald. Invisibility shoes struck me as being an impossible feat for a man who could not even produce a successful hair-growth potion.
Mal thrust the shoes at me. “I will prove to you the shoes are magic. Just try them on.”
I reached for them when a brisk rap at the door startled me. I nearly dropped the shoes, but Mal caught them just in time.
“Careful,” he said. “The slippers are sturdier than you might think, but they are not unbreakable.”
“Ella?” my stepmother called out as she knocked again.
I held my finger to my lips, cautioning Mal to silence as I replied, “Yes?”
“I thought I heard Mr. Hawkridge’s voice. Did he finally arrive with your gown? Is he still here?”
“Er—no, he had to leave, but he did bring the gown.”
“Oh, let me see it!” The doorknob turned and then rattled. “Ella, why is your door locked? Please let me in, dear.”
I cast Mal a panicked look. He merely gave a fatalistic shrug. “I suppose you had better let her in.”
“Are you insane?” I hissed. “Do you ever want to be allowed across the threshold of this house again?”
“What do you expect me to do? Hide under the bed?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’d never fit.” I looked about frantically for another hiding spot, but there was none, even my wardrobe too small.
The doorknob rattled again. “Ella?”
“Coming, Em,” I sang out as I propelled Mal across the room. I whispered to him, “You’ll have to climb out the window.”
Mal balked. “What? Do you want me to break my neck?”
“You used to manage well enough when you were a boy.”
“I was much lighter then. Do you think those vines will still hold me?”
“Yes! There are a lot more of them now.” I eased up the sash as quietly as I could and pointed outward. “Go.”
Mal gave me a disgruntled look, but he said, “Fine! I need to be going anyway.”
He handed me the glass slippers again and this time I clutched them to my bosom.
“Just don’t forget to test the shoes until you are certain you know how to work them.”
I nodded as Imelda’s voice came again, sounding even more anxious. “Ella? Is someone in there with you?”
“No, just me, Em.”
“Then is everything all right? Why won’t you open the door?”
“I am just finishing…um…scrubbing my teeth. I will be right there,” I called.
Mal swung one leg over the sill and paused. “Now, you do remember where and when you are supposed to meet me to give me the orb?”
“Yes, yes! Go through the back gate in the palace gardens and head toward the abandoned cottage at the edge of the woods.”
“Midnight. Do not forget. If you are not there at the rendezvous, I will assume something has gone wrong and come looking for you.”
“And walk straight into the arms of the palace guard? Don’t be ridiculous, Mal. Just be patient and wait for me. I will be there.”
Mal wriggled the rest of his body through the window. “And, Ella?”
“Yes?”
“Try to enjoy yourself tonight.” He grinned.
I glared at him. I swear I would have given him a shove if he had not already found purchase among the vines and started his scramble downward. I hurried away from the window and set the shoes down carefully beside the bed. I took a deep breath to compose myself before I unlocked the door and opened it.
Imelda burst over the threshold, her satin ball gown rustling as she darted suspicious glances about the room. “Ella, please tell me that you never allowed that wicked young man to—” My stepmother broke off as she got her first good look at me.
Her stern demeanor melted at once. “Oh, Ella!” she breathed.
I fanned out my skirts, displaying the shimmering fabric.
“Oh, Ella!” she squeaked again, clapping her hands together in an expression of wonder and delight.
“Then you approve of the gown Mal gave me?
”
“Approve? Oh, Ella! That wicked young man. That wonderful wicked young man!” Imelda inspected me from every angle. “The gown is stunning. You are stunning.”
She pressed her fingers to her lips, her eyes welling with sentimental tears. “You are every bit as beautiful as I imagined you would be.”
Imelda flew at me and I thought she meant to embrace me in a huge hug. She contented herself with touching my cheek and then carefully smoothed out a stray curl. “You will break hearts tonight. I know you will.”
“I suppose it will be better if I break hearts instead of my shoes,” I muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I smiled at her. “I only remarked how beautiful you look, Em. You will put all of us in the shade.”
“Oh, well.” Imelda preened a bit, patting the feathered headdress that confined her dark hair. “You must not talk nonsense, dear. My day is long past,” she added somewhat wistfully. “Tonight is all for my three lovely daughters.”
“Are the girls ready yet?”
“Almost.”
“You had better hurry them along, Em. I believe our coach will arrive at any moment.”
Imelda nodded, took one more look at me, sighed and kissed me on the cheek. As soon as she had bustled out of the room, I closed the door. I was relieved that Imelda had been so distracted by my gown, she had never thought to ask how I had managed to do up the hooks and eyes by myself. Explaining that would have required more ingenuity than even I possessed.
I crossed the room and stared down at my glass slippers. I regarded them dubiously for a moment. Clutching the bedpost for support, I eased my feet into them. They were about as stiff and uncomfortable as one would expect shoes spun from glass to be. I wobbled a little as I accustomed myself to the feel of them.
I minced over to the looking glass.
“Well, here goes,” I said as I clicked the toes together three times. I held my breath, waiting. My image in the mirror did not even waver. Had I rightly recalled what Mal had told me to do? I was certain that I had, his instructions were simple and clear.
All you have to do is slip the glass slippers on, click your toes together three times and you will completely vanish.
I braced myself, this time making each tap slower and more deliberate. Still nothing. I tried clicking very fast and then slower again. I tried tapping softly, then harder, and finally so forcefully I feared the shoes would crack.
Throughout each attempt, my reflection peered stubbornly back at me, a look of disgust on her face as though she wondered how big of an idiot I could be.
“Oh, Mal,” I groaned. His magic shoes did not work. Had I ever truly believed that they would? A foolish part of me had hoped that for once Mal might have succeeded with one of his enchantments. If I could have turned invisible, it would have made the daunting task that lay ahead of me so much easier. Now I would have to rely on my own wits.
I lifted the hem of my gown, peering glumly down at the shoes. I had to admit the glass slippers made the perfect complement to my extraordinary gown, but they were so transparent, I could see the hole in the toe of my left stocking.
I tried to imagine dancing in them, but I had this dreadful vision of Horatio making a misstep and treading down hard on my toes. The horrible crunch, the warm spurt of blood, my pain-filled shriek as the shards of glass embedded in the tender skin of my foot.
I shuddered and divested myself of the shoes. I carried the glass slippers over to my wardrobe. Shoving clothes aside, I hid them at the far back of the wardrobe. Then I located my old dancing slippers. They were more scuffed than I remembered, but considering the length of my gown’s hem and how crowded the ballroom would be, I doubted anyone would notice.
I eased into my old shoes, reveling in the feel of soft, well-worn leather embracing my feet. “Ah,” I breathed. At least now, I would be able to move quickly, even outrun the palace guards if it became necessary.
A commotion outside my window, the clatter of wheels and horses’ hooves on the street below alerted me that Long Louie had returned with the carriage. I grabbed up my fan and cloak and bolted from my bedchamber to herd my stepmother and sisters downstairs to the waiting coach.
Chapter 12
Our coach lumbered through the night, creaking and lurching whenever we hit a rut. The old carriage was not as well-sprung as newer vehicles, the blue velvet cushions a little faded. But the interior was spacious, allowing Imelda and me to sit comfortably side by side without crushing voluminous gowns billowing over hoops. Amy and Netta were seated opposite us, both girls unusually silent, a fact that surprised me. I had expected to be inundated by breathless chatter during the entire ride to the palace. Even Imelda said little beyond admonishing Netta to sit up straight and ordering Amy not to dare nibble at her nails.
Moonlight filtered through the coach windows and revealed my sisters’ faces flushed with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Imelda looked subdued as she stared out the window at the changing landscape as we left Midtown far behind.
Our modest lanes disappeared, widening into the broad boulevards of the Heights. The district was lit by glowing streetlamps, as ornately carved as the wrought iron gates and fences that enclosed the great estates. Beyond stately elms and oak trees, we caught glimpses of imposing manors the size of small palaces.
My sisters gaped and uttered awed exclamations. Even I was impressed. But there was a wistfulness clouding Imelda’s eyes. Although she spoke little of her life before she married my father, I realized how familiar all of this must be to my stepmother.
The Heights had been her world before her first husband’s fall from grace. Imelda would have passed her girlhood here among this grandeur, fallen in love, married, given birth to her two daughters, and been widowed. I wondered which one of these great houses might have been hers, before her property had been seized by the king. Could one of these gates we passed have been where Imelda had been turned out to fend for herself, with her two small daughters and a few modest belongings?
Amy and Netta would have been far too young to remember much of this, but Imelda must be flooded with painful and poignant memories. When I noticed her eyes well with tears, I reached across the seat and quietly pressed her hand.
She dragged her gaze from the window and squeezed my fingers, her mouth crooked in a sad smile. She released me abruptly, sitting upright. Her gaze homed in upon her daughters.
“Amy, what was that?”
Amy stiffened. “What was what, Mama?” she replied in that airy voice she used when she was trying too hard to appear innocent.
“That thing I just saw you pass to Netta.”
“I am sure I don’t know what you mean, Mama.”
“Yes, you do, Amethyst! It looked like some sort of flask. Garnet, hand it over at once.”
Amy gave her sister a warning nudge. I am sure she would have attempted to brazen it out. Stricken with guilt, Netta meekly handed a small blue bottle to her mother.
I sucked in my breath sharply because I recognized what it was at once.
Blast you, Malcolm Hawkridge, I thought.
Imelda looked puzzled as she inspected the bottle and then she scowled. “You girls have sought to steady your nerves by imbibing spirits? Never did I think to see the day when a daughter of mine would—”
“It is not spirits, Mama,” Netta interrupted. “It is a magic potion.”
“A what?”
“I believe it is called the Elixir of Love,” I said with a disgruntled sigh.
Imelda gave me an astonished look. “You knew about this?”
“I certainly did not or I would have put a stop to it. Mal has been peddling this elixir to half of Midtown, but I never dreamed he would sell a bottle to my own sisters.”
“No! He gave it to us,” Netta said.
“Because he is our fairy godfather and he promised us if we drank this we would be the belles of the ball,” Amy added.
“What utter nonsense,” Imelda
said sternly. “I am not at all pleased that Mr. Hawkridge should practice such deception upon you girls.”
“It is not nonsense, Mama,” Amy said. “Mal’s grandfather was a brilliant mage. At one time, he was even the chief wizard to the king and Mal has inherited all of his grandpapa’s magical abilities.”
Imelda turned uncertainly toward me. “Is that true?”
“Er…well,” I stalled as I struggled with my answer. I did not wish to lie to my stepmother, but on the other hand, I hated exposing Mal’s failures. I recollected what he had told me about his potion. He admitted himself that it was a harmless concoction, designed merely to enhance a woman’s belief in her own charms. My nervous young sisters clearly needed a large dose of confidence. Mal had probably thought he was doing Amy and Netta a favor, but I still wished he had consulted me before giving them the potion.
I finally temporized, “Yes, it is true that Mal’s grandfather Hiriam was indeed a great wizard.”
The carriage hit a rut, jarring all of us. When the vehicle resumed its steady motion, Imelda uncorked the bottle and took a cautious sniff. “What exactly does Mr. Hawkridge’s potion do?”
“It renders a woman so completely desirable that any man, even a prince, will be dazzled by her charms and fall helplessly in love with her,” Amy recited.
I was certain that she was directly quoting Mal. “You and Netta are both lovely, charming girls. Neither of you have need of a love potion.”
My sisters stared blankly back at me, clearly unconvinced. I expected Imelda to second my opinion and dispose of the elixir at once. To my utter shock, she raised the bottle and took a swig.
“It tastes rather…flowery,” she pronounced.
“That would be Mal’s secret ingredient, the magical blue rose hips,” Amy said.
“Can’t be much of a secret if Mal told you,” I replied drily.
Amy pulled a face at me. Looking a trifle sheepish, Imelda offered the bottle to me, but before I could decline, Amy snatched the bottle away.
“Ella certainly has no need of this.” She took another swallow and passed the elixir to Netta. Netta took a sip and handed it back to Amy, who tipped the bottle up and chugged.
Disenchanted Page 20
