Disenchanted: The Trials of Cinderella

by Megan Morrison

  “Can’t you?” he managed.

  “ ’Course I can’t,” she said. “You’ve been amazing, don’t you know that?”

  Dash felt certain that he had been no such thing. “All I did was get the numbers.”

  “No, that’s not all.” She leaned toward him. “You’ve thought about the problem. You’ve admitted it exists, you’ve tried to imagine how to solve it. Now you just need to see the workshops.” Ella’s eyes darkened. “Are you ever allowed to go places on your own, or do those guards follow you everywhere?”

  “Everywhere.”

  “Well, if you ever get a chance, go to the garment district. East of the woods, over by the slums. Ragg Row. That’s where Jacquard is, and all the rest.”

  Ragg Row. He’d heard it mentioned. It wasn’t a place where decent people went. But thousands of citizens went there every day to work, of course. Children went there.

  “I’ll try,” he said.

  “Will you really?”

  He nodded.

  To his intense surprise, Ella grabbed one of his hands in both of hers. “You’re so good,” she said fervently. “You’ll be such a good king.”

  Dash flushed with pleasure. “It’s your influence,” he said, and when she shook her head, he tugged her hands to bring her closer. “Yes it is,” he whispered. “Ella —”

  The classroom door banged open, and they gasped. Ella snatched her hands away and Dash sat back, breathing hard as Spaulder and two other guards stomped into the chamber. “Your Royal Highness.” Spaulder folded his arms, resolute. “You’re running late, sir.”

  Dash let the guards steer him out. At least this time, with no Lavaliere to watch him, he had the luxury of looking back. Ella’s eyes were still on him.

  That night, his father visited his bedchamber.

  “You were alone with the Coach girl,” he said. “Getting quite cozy too, I’m told. Care to explain, son?”

  Dash turned from his desk, where he had been studying a map of Quintessential. East of Arras Wood, across the Thread River, lay an entire half of his home city that he knew nothing about. “Ella —” His voice cracked on her name. “She couldn’t — stay after school. And — we were behind.”

  “So you stayed after class instead? A flimsy excuse. When you tell Lavaliere, do try to sound less like a liar.”

  Dash gave his father a cutting look and turned back to the map. A moment later, the king was behind him, one hand on his shoulder. He bent until Dash could feel breath at his ear. “Do not risk the throne for that girl. I’ve never met a woman who didn’t have ulterior motives.”

  Except my mother. But Dash had no wish to prolong the conversation, so he said nothing, and his father left the room.

  LAVALIERE was back at Coterie the next morning. Everywhere Ella went, she saw Lavaliere’s head on Dash’s shoulder, her hand in his hand, her arm in his arm. Whenever he caught sight of Ella, she saw in his fixed and motionless expression that he was miserable. Trapped. She wanted to help him, but she didn’t know how.

  When she sat with him in class, she tried to focus on the business proposal. But when Dash leaned over to write figures in front of her, he was so close that she could feel the warmth of him and the dampness of his jacket from the rain. His knee brushed hers under the table — he quickly jerked it away. Then he leaned in again, deliberately.

  He was torture.

  Class was over. Lavaliere was coming. Dash wiped out his writing and turned his back on Ella, who gazed at the wet slate. Her knee burned. Her stomach ached.

  Even without that curse on him, he was going to break her heart.

  HE sat on the beach in the rain all night, and the next morning he could barely move.

  He went to the Slipper because he had never missed a single day of duty, but he didn’t even have the strength to change his clothes first. When Lebrine saw the state of him, all her mouths dropped open. By the time he reached his office, his head ached so viciously that he had to ask Carvel to handle his clients. Carvel didn’t protest, but he did want to know where Jasper was. So did Lebrine. And Thimble. Even Georgette asked after him. Nearly all Serge’s colleagues were concerned by Jasper’s absence. Serge didn’t remember when they’d had time to get to know him.

  The next day was worse. He tried to dredge up his dust, but none came. Not even enough to make himself invisible. If Ella called for him, he wouldn’t be able to respond. He tried to focus on her, hoping that thoughts of a worthy godchild would restore some of his better feelings, but instead he felt ashamed, and his palms felt strangely numb, as though some of Lavaliere’s pain cream had wormed its way into them.

  He hid in his office, slumped over at his desk with his head on his arms, barely able to flick his wings. When Thimble stopped by with scrolls for his signature, he heard himself say the words that had been said to him so many, many times.

  “I have a headache.”

  Looking grave, Thimble left him.

  Maybe Jules really did have headaches. Maybe, when fairy dust ran out for good, that was the result. A permanent pounding grief in the middle of the brain, reminding him of every wrong he’d ever done in the name of the Glass Slipper.

  His pocket watch grew hot.

  COME BACK UP. REMEMBERED SOMETHING.

  How satisfying it would be — how freeing — to take the watch and throw it out the window, right into the sea. Jasper would tell him to do it. Jasper had told him to do it.

  Serge willed himself to his feet and made his way to the penthouse.

  THE week at Coterie ended with buckets of cold rain and Lavaliere’s head affixed to his shoulder.

  “My mother wants to throw a party,” she said at the end of the day when they walked together to the carriage. She tucked herself very close to him under his umbrella. “Dinner just for us first, and then a gathering afterward for all our friends. Your father already agreed,” she said before Dash could have an opinion. “Do you like Pulse for the dancing?”

  “I like the Current.”

  Lavaliere gave him a sidelong look. “I doubt Mother will invite that family.”

  Dash pretended he didn’t know what she meant.

  When they reached the Jacquard Estate, scribes enveloped them at once. Lavaliere put out a hand to let them know she would not speak. She did, however, turn to Dash, close her eyes, and put up her face.

  Dash kissed her, thinking of Ella. Her accent. Her curls. The slight roughness of her cool hand in his. He kissed her harder.

  “Dash,” she murmured in surprise.

  “Ell —”

  His stomach turned to ice. Panicked, he opened his eyes. There was no fatal scribbling around them. The scribes hadn’t heard him — he’d only just breathed it.

  But Lavaliere’s expression was brittle. She pivoted and stalked into her home, leaving Dash alone among the scribes.

  “Something wrong, Your Royal Highness?”

  He shut himself up in the carriage and pulled the curtains.

  He was done for.

  SHE was in her bedroom, putting final touches on the speech she and Dash had outlined together for their presentation when there came a tremendous slam from downstairs. Ella stuck her head out into the hall. Down at the other end, Clover and Linden stuck their heads out too.

  “What did you do now?” asked Linden, pushing up his glasses.

  “Nothing,” said Ella. For once, it was true.

  “Ma’s had a bad day, then,” said Clover. “Let’s go down and give her some good news.”

  They went downstairs, and Ella followed at a distance, curious.

  “Hey, Ma,” said Linden, as they entered the office. “That hour at the palace set us up. The bookings keep coming in.”

  “We’re busy every weekend for the next three months,” said his sister. “Up in Port Urbane and Tarnish on the Sea, and out in Fetchington — and two private parties right here in town.”

  “We’ll be able to move out soon, at this rate.”

  “Excellent,” Sh
arlyn muttered, though she didn’t seem to hear a word of it. She wore her pince-nez and bent over papers at a desk in the corner, scratching so violently with her pen that it was a wonder the nib didn’t break.

  Ella looked at her dad, who sat at his own desk, looking wan and grim.

  “What is it?” Ella asked, coming to stand by him.

  “Lady Jacquard has stopped the supply of silk to Practical Elegance,” he said slowly.

  “We’ve just had a letter from her — not even a meeting.” Sharlyn turned her chair fully toward Ella. “What happened? Did you insult Lavaliere up at school?”

  “Ell?” said her dad.

  “I haven’t done anything,” said Ella. “Not since the ball. Nothing, I swear.” She fidgeted. “I guess there was a rumor….”

  Her dad and Sharlyn waited.

  “Just, you know, after the ball. People at school started saying I was a traitor.”

  “What?” cried Sharlyn. “Ella, that’s extremely serious. Why didn’t you say something? Earnest, I was afraid of exactly this. People think she’s disloyal —”

  “No they don’t!” said Ella.

  “Then why did the Jacquards break from us, Ell?” asked her dad. “Can you explain it?”

  “No,” said Ella, folding her arms. “Unless Lavaliere’s all twisted up because Dash — Prince Dash, I mean — he’s my partner in business class.”

  Her stepsiblings’ mouths both opened. Her dad’s face turned sharply toward her. “Prince Dash?” he said. “The two of you —”

  “We’re friends.”

  Clover and Linden looked archly at each other while Sharlyn tapped her pen against the desk. “So this is how Lady Jacquard plays the game,” she said. “I knew I didn’t like that woman. I should have trusted my first instinct. Well, if she thinks we’re that easy to shut down, she’s going to be disappointed. Practical Elegance can stay on schedule without Jacquard Silks.”

  “How?” asked Ella’s dad.

  “Shantung,” said Sharlyn and Ella at the same time.

  Sharlyn looked startled.

  “They’re more expensive,” said Ella. “But if we budget elsewhere, then we can take the hit.”

  Now everyone was staring at her like she’d turned into a mermaid, but she kept going anyway. It was too good an opportunity to miss.

  “Shantung’s worth the extra money,” said Ella. “They don’t hire young children, for one thing. And more of their profits go to providing their employees with proper pay — which is why their stuff’s higher quality. But it’s also why they’re going bankrupt,” she said. “If people don’t start buying Shantung soon, they’ll shut down, and there’ll only be Jacquard left. And now you see how important it is that there’s an alternative, hey? If it’s just Jacquard, then they get to decide who’s in business and who’s not.”

  She was stealing from her own proposal, but the timing was right, and she was glad to be prepared.

  “We have lots of ideas for Practical Elegance,” she said. “We’re almost done with our business plan for class, and then I want to share it with you both.”

  “We?” said her dad. “You and Prince Dash?”

  “It’s a good thing, Earnest,” said Sharlyn. “If he likes her, we’ll be fine. We just need to move quickly. In fact, I should finish this letter to Cameo Shantung and get it off tonight. If I could have some peace and quiet?”

  Ella went upstairs with Clover and Linden right behind her. They followed her all the way to her room.

  Clover smirked. “Caught yourself a royal ally, did you?”

  “It’s a business project.”

  “You’re awfully passionate about it. Sounds like you’ve been putting in extra hours.”

  “Oh, Dash,” said Linden in a high-pitched voice. He turned away and hugged himself, moving his own hands up and down his back. “You’re so businesslike.”

  Ella’s cheeks burned. “We never —”

  “Deny nothing, temptress,” said Clover.

  “Hold me,” piped Linden. “Whisper sweet words of labor reform …”

  Ella locked herself in her room, and Clover and Linden burst out laughing.

  HE waited for the hammer to fall.

  At supper with his father, he expected to be upbraided for his stupidity, but nothing happened. The king spoke only once. “I sent your mother’s letters by Relay,” he said, pushing back his chair. “I wanted her to hear me immediately. I don’t care that this makes the Exalted Council privy to my business. I don’t care if the Criers publish every word.” He laid down his knife and fork and left the dining room.

  The next morning, Dash scanned the Town Crier, looking for a story with his name in it. Something about how the Jacquards were offended and the monarchy was in peril. But there was no story. The Jacquards didn’t even send a private letter to the palace.

  When the school week began and the royal carriage reached the Jacquard Estate, he braced himself for retribution. But Lariat only smiled and waved, and Lavaliere melted against him, overflowing with affection. She kissed his cheek and twined her hands with his before letting him help her into the carriage. Even once the door was closed and they were alone, she was unusually friendly. She spoke of nothing but the party her mother was going to throw, and how lovely it would be to have a bit of relaxed fun with all their friends. By the time they reached C-Prep, Dash was almost convinced that she hadn’t heard his mistake.

  At lunch, Lavaliere did not come to the dining room. Since he was untethered, Dash went to the business classroom early and found Ella already in it, alone.

  “Are you by yourself?” she asked in surprise.

  He nodded and sat beside her. They might only have half a minute, but at least it was theirs.

  “Jacquard Silks pulled out of Practical Elegance,” said Ella in a rush, keeping her voice low and her eyes on the open classroom door. The guards were watching them. “All of a sudden they won’t supply us. I don’t know what I did.”

  So Lavaliere had heard his mistake after all.

  “I — said your name.” His whole body throbbed with embarrassment. “While I was —” He could not say this part of it. How could he say this part of it?

  Ella frowned at him, waiting.

  “Kissing her.”

  Ella looked confused — and then she didn’t.

  The classroom door swung open. Lavaliere walked in looking triumphant, with Dimity and Paisley and several other girls behind her. Every one of them but Lavaliere glanced at Ella, and most of them smirked. They dispersed to their tables, and Lavaliere floated to the front of the room.

  Dash’s stomach sank. Five minutes after class began, the hammer dropped at last.

  “Elegant Coach,” announced an office messenger who appeared at the door. “Madam Wellington wants you at once. Bring your things.”

  The classroom fell silent. Every head turned. Lavaliere gave Ella a brief, triumphant smile.

  Ella’s expression hardened. She threw off her smock, snatched up her belongings, and left the classroom.

  Lavaliere let out a brief sigh. “I feel so much safer now,” she said, and this was enough to set the rest of the room talking. Professor Linsey-Woolsey could not quell the raucous chatter, and Dash heard snippets of heated conversation all around him:

  “— deserves what she gets.”

  “— actually bleeding.”

  Garb Garter snorted richly. “What did anyone expect?” he said. “She’s a danger to decent people.” A chorus of agreement greeted this statement.

  Dash looked over at Kente. “What’s going on?”

  Kente looked reluctant to speak.

  “Ella attacked Lavaliere in the changing room during archery,” said Chelsea, turning around at the table in front of him. “Ella came out last, except Lavaliere never came out at all, and then Dimity went back and found Lavaliere bleeding, lying on the floor. Ella ripped up her arm and knocked her down, and Lavaliere hit her head and blacked out.” Chelsea shuddered. “I hope they
expel her.”

  Dash looked in disbelief at the front of the room, where Lavaliere sat twirling her hair tie of Prism silk around one finger. Her arm was viciously scratched, from wrist to inner elbow; Dash could see the bloody red stripes from where he sat. That she’d scratched it herself, he was certain.

  He got up and went to Lavaliere’s table. “Your poor arm,” he announced, loudly enough to be heard by his classmates. “I’m furious.”

  Lavaliere gave him a look of simmering dislike, but he had done his job. He left the classroom and ran to the front of the school with the guards close behind him. The door to Admissions burst open when he reached it, and Ella stormed out in tears, clutching a letter written in red ink.

  “Suspended,” she said before he could speak. “Lavaliere said I attacked her.” She laughed roughly. “Madam Wellington wouldn’t even listen to my side. I’m dismissed from campus, and I can’t come back for a month.” She hiccupped and swiped under her eyes.

  It was his fault. If he hadn’t made a mistake … “I did this,” he said. “I’m sorry —”

  “She did this,” said Ella. “And I don’t care. I never wanted to be here anyway.” She hiccupped again. “Until you showed up,” she mumbled. Then she whirled and ran to her carriage.

  Dash pursued her.

  “Will you still meet me?” he whispered when he caught her at the carriage door. His father’s guards were closing in — he had only two seconds.

  “How?”

  “I don’t know — I’ll send a message.”

  She nodded and he stepped back, to return to class and Lavaliere.

  IT was almost six o’clock before Dash’s messenger came to the house. Ella had been watching for him, and she raced to the front door and flung it open to prevent Sharlyn’s butler from answering. The messenger was a boy her age, wearing no livery, but she recognized him from the kitchen of the Corkscrew.