Lavaliere gave a sigh of revulsion and resignation neatly tied together.
“She’s Earnest Coach’s daughter,” said Paisley. “You know. Practical Elegance?”
“The one who married that Gourd duchess from Yellow Country,” said Dimity.
“Yellow has no royals,” said Paisley with a rich snort. “Ella’s stepmother is only a governor’s cousin. She used to keep bees or something.”
Dash frowned. “Ella?”
“The girl with the smoking bag,” said Garb Garter, who was grinning. He had seemed to find the whole thing hilarious. “That Ubiquitous acorn must’ve sparked the fire. They’re definitely getting less reliable.”
Dash thought suddenly of his mother, who might be cracking Ubiquitous Instant Fog in order to escape. If all had gone well, she could be off the Coterie campus by now, and on her way to the docks. He wished he could know for sure.
Then he realized something. He peered down the table at Garb. “How do you know that a Ubiquitous acorn started that fire?”
Garb faltered slightly. “I — I heard the crack. Didn’t you? And I saw Oxford Truss put it in her bag. He was standing right in front of her. You saw him, didn’t you?” he demanded of Loom, who only gave a lazy shrug.
Perhaps it was true. But Dash wondered where Oxford had gotten the acorn and the idea in the first place. Ever since they’d been boys, Garb had thought that cruel practical jokes were funny, and the curse had made Dash laugh along jovially on more than one occasion.
Not anymore. He stared at Garb for another long minute and watched his face turn red, then very pale. His grin vanished. Dash turned away.
“I’m hungry,” he said.
Breakfast service commenced.
NOBODY followed her. She raced from the hall out onto the campus grounds, heading for the nearest edge of campus. When she came to the dormitories, she found herself enveloped in a dense, dark fog that made her cough so hard she nearly lost air, but she pulled her wet tunic up over her nose and mouth just in time, and soon she came out on the other side of the dark cloud. She barreled down one of the long, narrow, honeysuckle-covered walkways that separated Coterie from the rest of Quintessential, and flung herself toward the busy city street, where, fortunately, a public carriage had already pulled over to one side.
She threw open the carriage door and leapt in, only to discover that the carriage was already taken — by an aproned maidservant with dark curls who screamed and clapped a hand over her mouth at Ella’s abrupt entrance.
“Sorry!” gasped Ella, but she didn’t back out of the carriage. Just because no one had come after her yet didn’t mean that no one would. She had to get out of here. Now.
“Carriage is taken,” shouted the driver over his shoulder, peering at them through the little window in the carriage front. “Unless you’re headed south too.”
“South,” Ella agreed, her voice still raspy from coughing. She sat beside the dark-haired maid. “Please,” she said. “Could we share?”
The woman’s clear blue eyes traveled over Ella’s soaked tunic, lingering on the Coterie brooch that was still pinned to her chest. She nodded and turned her face away.
“To the docks, hey?” said the driver.
“Yes, please.” The maid kept her face to the window, though the curtain was drawn.
The horses clopped into motion, and the carriage drew away from C-Prep. Ella pulled her wet knapsack into her lap and opened the drawstring as wide as it would go to see just how much of her stuff was burned. She remembered the cracking noise that had come before the burning smell. It must have been a Ubiquitous acorn, which meant someone had done it on purpose.
Her eyes fell on her mum’s old knitting needles, and her heart squeezed. They weren’t destroyed, but they were badly charred. She withdrew them with a shaking hand and brushed flecks of ash from the long, scarred surfaces.
“Mum,” she whispered. She had so little left that had been her mum’s. Her mum had had so little to begin with. Ella hugged her belongings and started to cry. She tried to stop, but that only made it worse, and she ended up burying her face in the top of her open knapsack, which still smelled like burned wool and orange juice.
To her surprise, she felt a gentle hand on her back.
“What is it, hey?” In spite of her southern accent, the woman’s voice was soft. Upper class. She must’ve been a lady’s maid. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No,” Ella managed. “They burned my mum’s needles, and her wool, and I can’t fix any of it now.”
“Who did?”
“Those guildy quints at C-Prep,” Ella spat. She sat up and wiped her eyes. “You know how they are,” she said, turning to the maid, who drew back slightly. “You must work for one of those families. They don’t care about anyone who isn’t one of them.”
The maid glanced again at Ella’s brooch. “But you are one of them,” she said.
“No,” cried Ella. “I grew up down south, and now everything’s all changed and my dad has money, but I hate it and I just want to go home. …”
The maid heard all this with a look of some surprise, and Ella felt a swoop of sickening guilt.
“Skies, I sound as rotten as the rest of them,” she said. “Complaining about having money. But living at C-Prep is miserable, and now my stepmum’s moved into my dad’s house, so I can’t live there either.”
“You don’t get on with your stepmother?”
“My dad only pays attention to her, and she only pays attention to what people think. I don’t care what people think.”
The maid surveyed Ella’s outfit. “Where will you live?”
“Eel Grass.”
“Oh, Eel Grass.” The woman smiled. “Lovely people there.”
“Yeah.” Ella dabbed her cheeks with her sleeve. “There are. Grats.”
“But how will you earn your keep?”
“My friend Kit got me a job at the Corkscrew. You know, the big inn down in Salting? The one the queen’s sister runs?”
The maid started. “I may have heard of it,” she said, and she began to gnaw at a thumbnail.
“Yeah, well, I’m going to wait tables there and clean rooms.”
“Won’t your father want you to finish your education?”
“What education? How to kick your maid while she buttons your boots? How to dress up all plush for Prince Charming and then burn up people’s bags? They set me on fire today, in front of the prince and everything. He had to chuck his juice on me.”
The woman gaped at her. “Dash threw juice at you?”
“To put the fire out,” said Ella. “That’s why I’m soaked and I smell like breakfast.”
The carriage lurched as it turned right.
“Two minutes to the docks,” the driver shouted back, over the din of the streets.
The maid gathered her valise into her lap and clutched the handle. Ella couldn’t help noticing that a sapphire nearly the size of a quail’s egg glittered on one of the woman’s fingers.
“Wow,” she said, nodding at the ring. “That’s plush.”
The maid looked down at her hands. Her face went deathly pale. She worked the ring off at once and plumped it into Ella’s hand. “It’s not real,” she said, laughing breathlessly. “And I don’t care for it. Take it if you like it.”
“Is it Ubiquitous?”
“Just paste jewelry.” She refused Ella’s attempt to hand it back. “Please keep it. You’ve had such a wretched day.”
Ella shrugged and twirled the ring in her fingers as the carriage came to a stop.
“Docks,” the driver shouted back. “Five nauts for the ride so far.”
The maid fished the nauts out of a small purse, which was swollen with coin. Whoever she worked for, at least they paid her properly. She put her hand on the door, and then she turned back.
“I’ve been where you are,” she said to Ella. “And I have no right to tell you not to run away — but it isn’t going to work. Not forever. You’ll h
ave to come back.” She gave a wistful little smile. “We both will,” she said, and then she was gone, and the carriage door was shut.
“How far you going?” shouted the driver over his shoulder.
“Salting,” Ella shouted back.
All she wanted was home. Eel Grass. Kit. The old cott. It had been four months since she’d seen it, and suddenly she longed for it, mice and all — longed to set foot in the leaking rooms, longed to sleep on the hard, musty bed. She wanted to light a fire in the belly of the old stove; she wanted to drink water from the village well. She wanted to shut her eyes and feel her mum still sitting there beside her. It was so hard to feel her mum’s presence here in the city.
Feeling better for having had a cry, Ella tucked the ring and knitting needles into her knapsack. She leaned her temple against the cool carriage window as the driver steered them on toward Salting.
EVERYTHING in the Glass Slipper’s lobby was glass, from the welcome desk to the waiting-room chairs, and all of it glowed with cool white-blue light. Serge loved the look of it. There were many things he’d change about the Slipper when it was his, but the lobby could stay precisely as it was.
“Serge,” said the receptionist warmly from a deep, crystal-walled pool of salt water set into the center of the floor. Lebrine was a five-headed, many tentacled woman who turned only one of her heads toward him; the other four were engaged in consulting with other godparents. “Is this your new boy? A Crimson? Unusual …”
“Lebrine,” he said, “this is Jasper. Jasper, Lebrine. Don’t mind the fangs, she’s delightful.”
“Do you have a minute?” Lebrine asked, batting her eyelashes. “Because I have a problem. That mermaid, Nerissa, is demanding a Split. She’s chained herself to the mer-window in protest, and Carvel’s having quite a time getting her to see reason.”
“If she wants to be human, she’ll just have to wait until she’s eighteen, and then she’ll have to go through the usual processes. Nothing we can do about that. It’s in the contract.”
“But there must be exceptions!” said Jasper. “If she truly knows what she wants, then it’s cruel to make her wait — how old is she?”
“Sixteen,” said Lebrine. “Two years won’t kill her.” She patted Jasper’s cheek with her tentacle. “You’re a little softie, aren’t you? Toughen up, or you’ll be as miserable as Gossamer over there.” She jabbed her tentacle toward the other side of the reception pool, where a dark blue fairy with quivering wings wept as she pleaded with one of Lebrine’s other heads.
“Serge!”
Gossamer had spotted him. She ran toward him, hands clasped, tears streaming, and he pulled a handkerchief from his velvet breast pocket. “Gossamer,” he said as she snatched the handkerchief. “Meet my new apprentice. Jasper, meet one of our most committed godmothers.”
“Jules won’t even meet with me,” Gossamer sobbed. “Duna’s ill, Serge. She needs more than glass slippers and gowns, she needs help. Her contract’s up tomorrow, but I need more time.”
“We can’t give anyone extra attention or we’d have to give everyone extra attention, and we’d never get to the rest of the List.” Serge recited the words, but they were not his. They belonged to Jules.
“Pure nonsense!” cried Gossamer. “Plenty of clients get extra attention — they just have to pay. I Listed Duna with my own money, and it cost me every naut I had. I can’t give Jules another fortune, but I won’t leave my goddaughter. She’ll suffer if you take me away from her!”
He knew it was true. But Jules had no interest in this kind of appeal, and one of his roles as Executive Godfather was to handle such denials himself.
Jasper’s crimson eyes watched him.
“Jules listens to you,” said Gossamer. “Please.”
Serge hardened himself. One day, he would not have to say no. One day, he’d have the power to give all the contract extensions that anyone could want. One day, he’d be able to purge the List of privileged clients and fill it up again with the children who really needed godparents.
Just not yet.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “The List is what it is.”
Gossamer laughed wetly. “It is what it is?” she said. “A girl is going to die without my attention and ‘It is what it is’? There you have it, Jasper. You came here thinking you were going to save lives, didn’t you?” She shot Serge a swift, cold look. “Get ready to be disappointed.”
She fled across the lobby.
“It’s always emotional when contracts expire,” Serge said to Jasper, watching Gossamer vanish into the Slingshot. “We get attached to the children in our care.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been really attached to a client, but that was beside the point.
“What about the mermaid?” said Jasper. “Nerissa. Her contract’s not up, is it? Couldn’t we help her? Why does she want to be human so badly?”
“Because she wants to marry Prince Dash, of course,” Lebrine replied.
“Most of our goddaughters and several of our godsons have the prince on their wish lists,” Serge explained. “But he’s only one person.”
“Did Serge tell you he knows the royal family?” Lebrine said to Jasper. “He’s the one who located Prince Dash down in the Redlands after that witch turned him to stone. You’re in the presence of the savior of our sovereign-to-be.”
“Rapunzel told me where he was,” said Serge, putting up a hand. “All I did was fetch him.”
“Rapunzel!” said Jasper with an admiring look at Serge. “I read about her in the Criers! You gave her the brilliant boots that helped her on her journey.”
“For a short interview, she talked an awful lot about those boots,” Lebrine agreed.
“It was nothing,” said Serge, who could not think back on Rapunzel without guilt. He’d abandoned her in Commonwealth Green, with Envearia still alive, to go instantly after Prince Dash. He tried telling himself that it had been his duty to help the crown prince of Blue, but his conscience wasn’t buying the excuse.
“He didn’t tell any of us about how he’d helped her, not even Jules.” Lebrine snaked a tentacle around Serge’s shoulders and squeezed.
“Don’t get the velvet wet,” he warned.
“It reminded me of the old days.” Lebrine sighed. “Remember, Serge? You used to take care of kids like Rapunzel all the time.”
He shrugged off Lebrine’s coil, slipped one hand into his pocket, and withdrew his watch. It was warm, so he flicked it open. Inside, there was no timepiece but a pool of glowing blue light. Written in this light, in silvery script, was NEED YOU. COME TO THE OFFICE.
“I think it’s time we paid a visit to the woman at the top of the shoe,” he said.
“You mean,” Jasper breathed. “You mean …”
“I mean it’s time to meet Jules,” said Serge, and he put out a hand to catch Jasper, who fainted beside the reception pool.
IT wasn’t quite lunch when his father’s guards dragged him into Charming Palace. The servants furtively watched his progress. They looked tense, Dash thought. Frightened, even.
“Your Royal Highness,” murmured the chamberlain outside the throne room. His face was grave. “His Majesty awaits you in your quarters, sir.”
Two guards bore Dash up the grand stairs and into his bedchamber, where they deposited him in a chair by the fire. King Clement lay on Dash’s bed. In his hands he held a blue glass slipper that belonged to Queen Maud.
“Very good,” he said. His voice was groggy. Slurred. “Did he tell you anything?”
“Nothing, Your Majesty,” said Spaulder, the head guard. “The prince says he has no idea where she’s gone.”
“You searched his dormitory room?”
“Yes, sir. We found Her Majesty’s clothes and jewels packed in one of the prince’s trunks. There was also this.” Spaulder set down a large piece of brown paper. “An empty parcel sealed with the prince’s ring. The servants in the boys’ dormitory also saw a strange woman with dark hair, dressed in se
rvant’s clothes, running from the dormitory. A gardener saw her vanish into a cloud of Ubiquitous Instant Fog. They reported her, but by then she was gone.”
“I see.” King Clement flipped the glass shoe by its heel and caught it again. He sat up, and Dash was shocked at the state of him. His tunic was unlaced at the throat and stained down the front with ale, and his eyes were rimmed bright red, making their piercing blue irises even more dazzling. “Go down to Salting. Arrest my sister-in-law and shut down the Corkscrew. Tallith Poplin will know where Maud is hiding.”
The king’s men left Dash’s chamber, and he was almost sorry to see their backs. He’d never seen his father in this state and didn’t know what to expect. Spaulder pulled the heavy door shut, and the chamber was silent except for the ticking of the tall clock and the sound of the sea beyond the palace walls.
King Clement hurled the glass slipper at the mantelpiece with sudden force, making Dash jump. The sapphire shoe smacked against the stones, but magic kept it intact; it fell safely onto a thick carpet, and the king flopped onto his back again. From his pocket he pulled a crumpled paper ball, which he tossed into the air and caught.
“Maud wouldn’t really run to Tallith,” said the king. “It’s too obvious. So she’s in Orange, I suppose?” He tossed the paper up again. “Or did she go east? I can’t imagine she would, it’s rather difficult to picture your mother roughing it in the Redlands, and she’s not fond of Grey — the Silver Citadel depresses her.” He gave an unpleasant laugh. “It must have been a marvelous adventure, smuggling her away from me. Where is she?”
Dash stood silent.
His father tossed the paper ball up again. “Your aunt will be stoic too, I imagine,” he said. “She’ll take her whipping like a hero. Good.”
Disenchanted: The Trials of Cinderella Page 3
