“Through a vote. She wants the kingdom.”
“Would the Assembly really let her have it?”
Dash nodded.
“Then why?”
He looked at her in puzzlement. “Why what?”
“If she has that much power already, why doesn’t she leave you alone? Why does she care if Lavaliere has the crown?”
“It’s the ultimate accessory.” Dash made a guttural noise. “That’s all I am to them. To most people,” he added bitterly. “A fancy hat.”
“Not to me.”
Dash’s eyes softened. “I know,” he said. “You’re like my mother. No, not —” He tensed again. “Not like my mother — I mean — where you’re from. And where she’s from. And how you both —” He came to a full stop. He wouldn’t look at her now. “I used to be good. At talking. Like this. I’m sorry —”
“Don’t be,” she whispered.
He caught her hands and tugged her close. Closer even than when they’d danced. He was so tall that she only came up to his chin; his neck smelled of sweat and new-cut wood, and she could feel the frantic beating of his heart. This was happening. Real. She hoped she didn’t mess it up somehow — he had experience with this kind of thing, but she had none.
“Ella,” he said softly.
She tilted up her face. “Yeah?” she managed.
His mouth grazed hers, and the low noise that escaped him made her break out in gooseflesh all over. She pushed her chin closer for more. Threw her arms around his neck. His lips parted and she was gone.
HE couldn’t remember where to put his hands. He grabbed her shoulders and then her elbows — he tried to touch her hair, but his ring caught in it, and when he pulled away he yanked one of her curls so hard she gasped and broke from him.
“Sorry,” he rasped, cringing. He was destroying this. Really botching it. Telling her she was like his mother — and now he’d forgotten how to kiss.
Ella untangled her hair from his ring with one deft movement, and then she took his face in her hands, mumbled his name, and kissed him so completely that he forgot everything else too.
JASPER flew them both to Cardinal Park East, staying high above the lantern-lit streets since they could not be invisible. As they approached Ella’s house, they saw a pack of royal guards mounting their horses just outside the garden gate. The guards rode swiftly south along the park as Jasper landed on the roof of number 76. He and Serge peered over the side of the building. Ella’s father and stepmother were leaving the house in a great hurry, both looking terrified; they ran for the carriage that awaited them at the bottom of the stairs.
“Sharp Street,” Serge heard Lady Gourd-Coach say frantically. “It’s an emergency — drive as fast as you can.” Ella’s parents closed themselves in their carriage, and the driver took off.
“The king’s guards,” said Jasper. “Do you think they’re after Ella —” He gasped and stopped.
Serge put a hand to his heart, and so did Jasper, looking startled.
“What was that?” Jasper whispered.
Serge wasn’t sure. Ella wasn’t calling; he didn’t hear her in his head. He only felt a strange, warm pang within his chest — a swirl of emotions that he felt certain were hers, intense and tender together. No sense of fear or panic accompanied the sensation. Wherever she was — Sharp Street, he supposed — she did not realize she was in danger.
“We have to get to her before those guards,” he said. “Let’s go.”
THEY sat on the floor against a wall in the empty rehearsal space. A candle guttered atop a table on the far side of the room. Ella’s boots were slung across his legs; his head lay on her shoulder, and she moved her fingertips over his scalp, drawing patterns and making him shiver.
“And then?” she said, prodding him along in the story he’d been telling her. “When you reached the tower?”
“I spoke to the girl first,” he said. “Rapunzel.”
“Was her hair really a hundred feet long?”
“It was. I even cut a lock of it.”
“Why?”
Dash sighed. “Because the curse made me,” he said.
Ella was quiet a moment. “What was it really like?” she asked, and when he didn’t answer right away, she spoke again. “If I shouldn’t ask—”
“No. I want to tell you.” Many scribes had asked him to divulge his feelings about the curse, but he couldn’t bear to share the intimate details with the world. Ella was different. “It spoke for me,” he said. “It said things I’d never thought of.”
“Couldn’t you ever speak for yourself?”
“Sometimes,” said Dash. “Like with my mother. Other times …” He took Ella’s hand and played with her fingers while he spoke. “The first time it happened, I was eleven,” he said. “We were at the horse races with the Shantungs. I was talking with Chemise. And then suddenly I wasn’t talking anymore. I mean — I was. My voice was still going. But it wasn’t my voice. Not my words. It was like there was this — this hand inside my head. Moving my mouth. I started saying things to her — things that were so embarrassing, I couldn’t —” Just the memory of it made Dash hot with shame. “I tried to stop,” he said. “So many times, I tried to fight. But I lost. I always lost.”
Ella sat back. “That’s sick,” she whispered. “I’m glad that witch is dead. How did you ever stand it?”
“I couldn’t. That’s why I went to the Redlands to find the witch. I was desperate — and I got it into my head that maybe the Charming Curse could help me for once. Maybe, if I was so good at charming everyone, then I could charm Envearia into setting me free. But then I met her.” His stomach turned at the memory of her predatory eyes, her malicious laughter. “I was stupid to try.”
“You were brave.”
“I didn’t feel brave when she turned me to stone.”
“What did it feel like?”
“Like filling up with sand,” said Dash, shuddering at the memory. “Warm, heavy sand. I have nightmares, sometimes, where it’s pouring into me and I can’t move.”
Ella put her arms around him.
“I don’t remember anything after that. A month later, I woke up, because the witch was dead — Rapunzel killed her, my mother said. I sent Rapunzel an invitation to the palace so I could thank her. She never came, though.” He tugged at one of Ella’s bootlaces. “The Criers would pay you a fortune for that information,” he said. “They’re dying to hear about the curse and the witch.”
“I wouldn’t tell them.”
“I know.” Dash leaned against her. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What’s one of your stories?”
“I don’t have stories.” Ella shifted. “Not like yours.”
“Your father is an inventor — that has to be interesting. I use some of his products myself.”
“Seriously?”
“The waterproof trousers are good for sailing. I’ve had the same pair of Cinder Stoppers on my riding boots for over a year, and they haven’t worn down at all. Your father is talented.”
“Yeah.” Ella didn’t look happy about it. “He is. He’s always caught up in his next idea. He sketches, and he experiments. Even when he’s home, he’s working.” She leaned her cheek against him. “He’s never been around all that much, is the thing,” she said. “He used to be a traveling inventor, peddling all over Blue, and even in Yellow and Orange sometimes — but he couldn’t get anyone’s attention. Then my mum died, and your mum wore the Cinder Stoppers, and the Criers made lots of noise, and everybody wanted to buy his stuff suddenly. That’s when Sharlyn showed up, saying she had the right connections to turn my dad’s good luck into a lasting business.” Ella sighed. “And then he married her.”
“You don’t like her?”
She gave half a shrug. “I embarrass her. She thinks I act coarse on purpose, to aggravate the world.”
“Don’t you?”
The words were out. He felt Ella stiffen. “I mean,
” he fumbled. “She—”
“You meant it. Don’t try to coat it.”
He went quiet.
“Maybe I do,” she said after a long moment had passed. “Maybe sometimes I act rougher than I really am — but I didn’t start that way. When we first moved here, Dad made me go to C-Prep because Sharlyn said I had to. My first week up there, I was just being me. I wasn’t wearing fishing boots to irritate anyone. I just didn’t have anything else.”
“But you had money.”
“I didn’t know what to do with it.” Ella squirmed a little. “The things people said — not to me, you know. But about me. Just loud enough. And the way they looked at me. Like I was so low I ought to be dead.”
Dash could well imagine it.
“At the ball, Dimity called me a dog.” Ella looked away from him. “Garb said my mother was too. That’s what set me off.”
If Garb or Dimity had been in the room, he would have flattened them.
“That’s who Sharlyn wants me to socialize with,” Ella went on. “Why should I play along? I’ve got nothing to say to quints who look down on the people who serve them, like they have a right to judge when they don’t have any skills themselves except for sitting around looking pretty —”
Dash flinched, and Ella stopped short.
“I didn’t mean you,” she said.
“Didn’t you just describe me?”
“I only meant —”
“Don’t coat it,” said Dash, using Ella’s words. “It’s true. I wouldn’t know the first thing about making a living. The day we made that list in class, and I saw how skilled you are …” He groped for the right words. “It was embarrassing,” he said. “Jousting and sailing? That’s what I’m good for? I’m no better than Garb Garter.”
“You’re nothing like him,” Ella said vehemently. “You’re not cruel. You don’t mock people.”
“My mother wouldn’t stand for that kind of behavior,” said Dash. “She never laughed about people behind their backs. She’s the only reason I’m not insufferable.”
Ella was quiet a moment. “You miss her, hey?” she asked.
Dash nodded. “I wish I could make sure she’s all right,” he said. “But if I write, my father will know where she is. I don’t even know when she plans to come back — or if she will.”
Ella squeezed his hand. “She’ll be back. She said so.”
Dash stared at her. “When did she say that?”
“In the carriage. She told me that running away wouldn’t work forever, and that I’d have to come back — and so would she.” Ella studied his face. “Do you want her to come back?”
“I don’t know. She might be better off away.”
“Because of your dad and …” Ella bit her lip. “Sorry.”
“You can ask.”
“Is it true, then? Did he and Nexus Maven … you know …”
“They had an affair.”
She made a noise of contempt. “Dads are so useless sometimes,” she muttered. “Not — not that I’m saying His Majesty is useless — I only meant that both our dads —”
“It’s fine.” Dash tucked his arm around her. “He is useless.” He’d never spoken so honestly to anyone but his mother. He kissed Ella’s forehead and she sighed, very quietly.
“What are we going to do?” she said.
He shook his head. Not this conversation — not yet. It had been the best night Dash had ever known. He could not accept that it must have an end. He wouldn’t go home or back to school. He’d just live here, in this musty room, with Ella.
“I like you.” Ella’s voice was faint. “So much. I just want to know you better all the time.”
“Then meet me again.”
“But … someone will catch us. Your guards, or —”
“You don’t want to?”
“I don’t want Lady Jacquard to get the country.”
“She won’t. I won’t let her.” He faced Ella, and the trust in her expression made his chest tighten. She believed in him. She was counting on him. For a moment, his voice would not come. “I’m going to do things better than my father,” he finally said. “Things that should have been done a long time ago. I’ll fight them — the Guild and the Jacquards. I will. I promise.”
“I know.” Ella cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. Dash’s stomach swooped. He caught her by the arms to steady himself and kissed her back.
JASPER pulled Serge with him over the glittering, lantern-lit streets of Quintessential. “Southeast,” Serge directed him. “Cut straight across Harbor Street — there, I see them!”
The guards were directly below them, riding hard. They’d reach their destination in a quarter of an hour. Maybe less.
“Can’t you go any faster?” Serge demanded.
“I think the words you’re looking for are thank you,” Jasper retorted, but he sped up, cutting south toward the arts district. “Where now?” he shouted over the noise of wind in their ears.
“Further south — past Snapping Square.”
Jasper had them there in minutes, and he dove lower so that Serge could see the street names. They found Sharp Street where it crossed East Taping Road. They were possibly five minutes ahead of the guards — possibly less.
“Where is she?” Jasper cried, careening over rooftops with dizzying speed.
“Land!” said Serge. “I can’t concentrate.”
Jasper alighted on a sooty rooftop and released Serge from his grip. Serge clasped both hands to his chest. When Ella called him by name, he was drawn toward her by the magic string that connected her heart to his, pulling him to the place where she was. But she wasn’t calling now. All he felt was a faint throb of residual emotion, and he wasn’t sure how to follow it. Perhaps if he weren’t so weak …
“Trust yourself,” said Jasper.
“I can’t —”
“Don’t waste time with that. Give me a direction.”
“You do it,” said Serge in frustration. “She’s your goddaughter too — you sense her.”
Jasper shook his head. “Whatever we felt earlier is gone,” he said. “It only lasted a second for me. It’s Blue magic — it works better for you — you have to find her.”
Serge shut his eyes and strained, desperate for any hint. From below, he heard the raucous laughter of tavern goers. He also heard the sound of a fiddle and somebody singing. The music was coming from directly underfoot.
Ella’s stepsiblings. Their band. And Ella too — she was right below him. He could feel it now, the quiet tug at his heart pulling him not east or west but down. Relief flooded him.
“We’re there,” gasped Serge. “You brought us right to her.” Without thinking about it, he lifted off with his own wings. He didn’t have time to be surprised. He leapt from the building and fluttered to the street below.
SHE held Dash tight. They couldn’t stay forever, but the idea of parting made her stomach hurt. It might be days before they found a way to meet again. Weeks, even. She buried her face in his chest.
“How long can we stay?” she said. “When do we have to go?”
“Not yet.” His voice was muffled in her hair. “A little longer.”
The front door slammed open, and they flung themselves in either direction as two dark silhouettes flew into the room.
Flew.
“Ella.” She recognized Serge’s voice. “Is that you? Is the prince with you?”
“Yes,” she managed, her heart pounding. “Why are you here? How did you find us?”
“Who are they?” Dash demanded.
“My fairy godfathers.”
“Your — but you never —”
“No time,” said Serge, crouching in front of them. “Your father’s guards will be here any moment,” he said to Dash. “We have to get you out. Jasper will take you to the rooftop, and I’ll take Ella with me —” He stopped short, and then she heard it too: the sound of horses swiftly approaching on the cobblestones outside. Jasper barred the door.
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Dash struggled to get to his feet. “My ankle,” he groaned, and Ella scrambled to help him.
At the top of the steps where Clover and Linden had disappeared earlier, the door banged open. Fiery sparks shot down the stairs.
“They’re here,” breathed Ella. “That’s Linden’s signal. Serge, please — make us invisible.”
Serge stared at his hands. Even by candlelight, Ella could see him sweating.
“Yes you can,” said Jasper, though no one had spoken.
Hoofbeats clattered to a stop outside the door. There were jangling thuds as men dismounted and boots struck ground. Serge clenched his fists and made a noise as if he was trying to lift something that was much too heavy for him.
“Open up, by order of His Majesty the King!”
The guards began to strike at the door.
ELLA’S fear was palpable. She needed him. The prince needed him too. The bangs at the door were heavy and insistent — any moment, the king’s guards would be through. “I’m so sorry,” he gasped. “Forgive me.”
Jasper laid a hand on his arm. “You are her godfather,” he said quietly.
Serge cringed, despairing. He knew what he was supposed to be. But how could he summon what was no longer there?
“And I can tell you absolutely,” said Jasper, “that you are not out of magic.”
Serge blinked at him. “That’s impossible, you can’t know —”
“But I do.” Jasper leaned close and whispered to him. “I feel it as clearly as any emotion. Your magic is there, right where it’s always been — use it.”
Serge clenched his fingers tight. He shut his eyes. He felt the tingle of something deep in his gut. Something bright and old and familiar. In a moment, he felt the tingle in his palms too.
Jasper was right. He could do this. He was not dry — he still had power.
The wooden door cracked down the middle.
“Now,” gasped Jasper, squeezing Serge’s arm tight.
Serge opened his hands. He flung dust into the air, and it settled on all four of them as the king’s guards kicked the door in. They stomped into the barely furnished room, swinging lanterns ahead of them and staring around, but they could see neither the two humans nor the two fairies who huddled against the wall.
Disenchanted: The Trials of Cinderella Page 24
