by Allie Burton
I raced down the electronic ladder leading from the attic to the second floor. The flat black boots were good for going fast, much easier than the high heels everyone else would be wearing.
The ultra-modern décor on the second floor clashed with my father’s ancestral portraits in gilt frames. My stepmother Sybil told people they were her relatives, which was ridiculous. She was only trying to increase her standing with the nobility. My dad had been a respected member of the court until he’d withdrawn upon his marriage to my mother. I had to wonder if he was trying to hide what she was.
Running past my old bedroom, I glanced through the open doorway. The room was a disaster with shoes and material and jewelry spread across the floor. No wonder Ilana had needed her own space. She and Ingrid had shared a room while my father was alive.
The carpeted floor swallowed the noise of my hurrying steps. Sybil had re-carpeted the entire house in the ghastly chartreuse color.
Pivoting at the metal bannister, I headed down the wide, clear steps leading to the main living area. I couldn’t stop the internal squeal. I’d win a wish and never be visited by my fairy godmother again. Catching a glimpse of my odd dress, my squeal skid to a stop at the landing and I peered over the balustrade.
The pink carpeting continued throughout the main room. The gigantic vid screen sat above the fluorescent flame fireplace where my parents’ wedding photo used to take the place of honor. Now, it held a portrait of Sybil and her two daughters. The chrome and acrylic furniture aligned in too-straight angles. And Sybil had recently purchased the most hideous pumpkin-colored chair.
My stepmother and stepsisters headed toward the open front door. Their hair was coiffed in similar updos with feathers and jewels sticking out.
“Wait for me!” I continued my flight down the stairs.
The three of them turned toward me. Their expressions went from surprise to shock to amusement.
Ilana lifted her yellow silk skirt displaying the matching high-heeled pumps. The beauty mark above her lip distorted when she smirked. “What are you wearing?”
The distaste in her tone caused me to survey the dress wondering if it had re-shrunk. It hadn’t. Even though the gown wasn’t the most beautiful or stylish, it would get me in the palace.
“Who did your hair?” Ingrid patted her red locks before squinting at the ever-present celltab in her hand. She sounded more surprised than cruel. “Where are your eyelashes and lip cover?”
I patted my own hair. Both Arbor and I had thought it beautiful. I didn’t own make-up. Forcing my chin to a proud angle, I knew I wasn’t glamorous. That’s not what mattered.
Sybil took a dramatic step toward me causing her breasts to almost burst from the tight bodice of her purple gown. Her lips pinched, and her gaze narrowed into a glare of disapproval. “Where do you think you’re going looking so ridiculous?”
Chapter Four
The shock of the question slapped. I was going to the ball, of course. Then, the word ridiculous slapped my other cheek. My face burned with the insult. Sybil had no right to criticize my mom’s dress.
“I’m going to the ball.” I tried to sound confident even though a slight tremble edged my voice. It didn’t matter that the dress was ugly. I stuck my chin up. What mattered was to be included, and to prove to Gardenia I was attending.
Ilana guffawed in a cruel, high-pitched sound. The yellow feather in her hair wiggled with the movement of her body.
Ingrid joined in with a shakier and more unsure giggle. Her baby pink dress and feathers matched the flush of her cheeks.
Sybil’s expression didn’t change. “You are?”
“You said if I finished my chores and had a gown I could go.” I tugged at my flopping collar.
Fairy godmother’s warning shrilled in my head.
My stepmother stalked around, inspecting me. She hadn’t expected me to get a dress. I could tell by the sharp gleam in her eyes. Her gaze raked sending shivers across my body.
Like a BarbBob Doll, I forced myself to stand still and not express anxiety.
Sybil stopped in front of me and ran a final survey from my booted feet barely covered by the too-long material, the sagging waistline at the middle, and the wide sleeves from another decade. Her nose crinkled. “Your gown is not fit for the royal ball.”
The burning in my cheeks dropped to my midsection, churning with each word she spat.
She’d gone back on her word before. Yet, this time I thought things would be different because there’d been a royal decree that girls above the age of sixteen must attend.
Wiping my damp hands down the skirt of the dress, I tried to reign in my antagonism. Getting my stepmother mad would get me nowhere. “It was the best I could do with no creds.”
“You will disgrace the entire family.” She spoke down at me as she always did, believing she was superior.
My shoulders straightened and I stuck my nose higher. I was the one with the noble Milford blood. Those ancestors hanging on the wall were related to me. My fairy blood might be considered lower quality, but my father’s Milford heritage gave me a very indirect line to the throne. Pinching my lips, I forced myself to stay quiet.
She twisted toward her daughters waiting at the open door. “What do you girls think?”
I scowled at Ilana and Ingrid. Their gowns must’ve cost a fortune. The fine silk and detailed lace. The sewn-on jewels. The layer upon layer of flounces. If they’d donated one flounce each, I could’ve made a simple yet elegant dress. My blood pressure rose. It was my father’s money they were spending. My inheritance. I tapped my boot on the floor and repeated the mantra.
A few more months and I’d be free.
Ilana’s colorful-shadowed eyes widened in a false expression of surprise. “That’s my ribbon!” She dashed toward me and tugged at the bow holding the dress up around my waist. The ribbon tore, and she tossed the pieces to the ground. “Mother! She ruined my ribbon.”
I didn’t have time to react. One second, I was standing there in a passable dress, and now I wore a flowered sack. Without the ribbon, the dress was too long and had no shape. Even the sleeves slipped off, baring my shoulders.
Sybil’s expression flashed with glee, before flattening her smile into a frown. “Stealing Ilana’s ribbon?”
I couldn’t defend myself. I had no idea where Arbor had gotten the ribbon, and I wouldn’t squeal on my friend. Better to take the lumps than involve her. Who knew what punishment my stepmother would give to a smoke sprite who shouldn’t even be in the house?
“I don’t know where it came from.” Weak excuse, I know.
“Lying.” Sybil’s second accusation blasted me.
I was a liar. My entire life was a lie. I was a half-fairy pretending to be human. Attending school with humans, living in a noble human household, planning to achieve Continuum and attend technical college.
“Now, you’re definitely not going to the ball.” Sybil patted the poof of her hair finding justification for breaking her promise.
Because my father hadn’t registered me as majik, people thought I was human. “I’m of eligible age to attend. I’m expected to attend.”
“You are.” She slinked toward the sideboard and waved her hand for the top drawer to open.
Every drawer and cabinet in the house were equipped with a skin print sensor. Sybil had access to all of them. I only had access to the ones I needed for cleaning supplies.
“If I don’t go people will notice. Our neighbors will notice.”
It was one of the reasons she let me go to school. I hoped adopting the same philosophy would work now.
She rummaged in the drawer. Grinning, she took out what appeared to be a fairy wand, only it was slightly thicker. A red electronic light sat at the tip. She whipped it toward me.
I jerked back. “What’s that?”
Her smug expression told me I wasn’t going to enjoy the answer. “Magic detector.”
I’d heard of the equipment, knew they employed som
e at school when kids got in trouble, but never had been subjected to a search. I’d never feared the detectors before because I’d only recently received my magic.
“You know I don’t use magic. I don’t know how to use magic.” I scrubbed every surface of the kitchen and bathrooms. I cooked every meal. If I knew how to use my magic, would I do each and every chore by hand?
She came closer and held up the detector.
My gaze darted to my dress. I gulped. Except by accident, I’d never used magic until today.
Maybe the spell I’d used to fix the dress wasn’t strong enough to be detected. If I had used stronger magic, the dress would look a lot better. Surely, I wouldn’t get caught for this one indiscretion. I held my breath.
Beep. Beep. The detector swept from the neckline to my waist.
So far so good.
Beep. Beep. The detector swung low on the skirt.
Beeeeeep. Whir-whir-whir-whir.
A siren. The irritating noise scraped against the inside of my skull. The one time I use magic on purpose, the one time it actually worked, and I got caught.
Sybil’s expression brightened. “You used magic to make this…dress.”
“A little. To make it longer.” I needed to explain. “I wasn’t trying to get away with anything. It was the only way—”
“The palace magic detectors are stronger than this one.” She tapped the detector against her thigh. “You’ll get caught. You can’t go.”
I couldn’t not go. I’d worked so hard to get my chores done. I’d told Olivia and Jade I’d be there. Come Monday if I didn’t go the kids would make fun of me more than usual. And I had a bet with my fairy godmother. “I’ll find another gown. One that will fit without a spell.”
“Mother.” Ilana waved at the transport pod waiting by the open door. “We’re going to be late.”
The girl couldn’t wait five minutes for me to change. I didn’t care if the dress was pretty or even fit. Anything would do. “I could wear one of Ilana’s or Ingrid’s old dresses.”
Even one of the sleek, short dresses they wore to school. The ones with the built-in calculators hidden from the teachers.
“Not mine.” Ilana pulled back her shoulders and glared down her nose.
I regarded Ingrid and put my hands together in an old-fashioned prayer position. “Please.”
“I…I…” She gaped back and forth from me to her mother.
I saw the niceness, or Ilana would say weakness, in Ingrid’s eyes. Hope squirmed. Please, please, please.
Sybil’s gaze narrowed at her youngest daughter and me. “I was told the palace employs zauber detectors at the entrance.”
I flinched at the cruel word, especially since she used it to describe me.
Majik detectors weren’t about magic being used like Sybil’s detector or the ones at school. The palace’s type of detector signaled when a fairytale creature tried to enter the royal hall. Alarms, louder than the beeping I just heard, would warn everyone in the palace and the vicinity a majik was present. The palace guards, and the SCUM, would surround the poor majik. There’d be no questions or trial. The majik would be thrown into the infamous palace dungeon.
I shuddered. “My half-human blood should get me past those detectors.”
“Will it?” Sybil pinched her lips, causing the bright red of her lip color to crack.
“Unless she used the servants’ entrance.” Ingrid played with a feather sticking out of her hair. She’d been unwittingly helpful.
“Yes. I could use—”
“Impossible.” Sybil cut off hope at my knees. “We couldn’t explain Ellery’s need to use the side entrance, the servants’ entrance, even in a not-so-nice dress. She wouldn’t slip in unnoticed.”
“Or the back entrance.” Ilana visibly shivered.
The back entrance was where they took the majik prisoners.
Each slight poked and prodded. The teasing would get worse in class. Poke. The embarrassment of not attending the ball, being the only girl at school not there. Poke. Gardenia would gloat and pester me and demand a favor. Poke.
The unfairness had me tossing my normal restraint to the curb. “Why do you even keep me around?”
I slapped a hand over my mouth. Sybil kept me here to be her slave. If she kicked me out of the house, there was nothing I could do. I’d get kicked out of school and never advance. Never take my place in society. It didn’t matter why she kept me around, I needed to stay strong for a few more months.
Her thick eyebrows flew into a defensive arch. “Good question. Something I’ll be reevaluating this weekend.”
The threat sent a chill down my spine. A false threat. I did the work around the house. Since father died the finances had been getting worse. I didn’t know the details because Sybil didn’t share, but she’d gone from extravagant everything with the remodel of the house and hosting lavish dinner parties, to firing the rest of the staff and scrimping creds. She complained about everything from the cost of the upkeep of the house, to paying for cleaning supplies. The pantry was always empty. She’d never get rid of me. Was she going to have her darling daughters clean the toilets?
She strutted toward the door signaling the girls to continue forward.
They were leaving without me. Leaving me behind. Which wasn’t anything unusual.
Tonight, I thought would be different. I’d bragged to my fairy godmother about being allowed to go. “Won’t anyone notice I’m not there?”
The other noble households knew me, had known my father. Surely, my stepmother’s pride would force her to take me.
“Why would they?” She tutted. “And if they do, I’ll explain you’re sick.”
“I’m not sick.” I never got sick. “I want people to see me there. To dance with the prince as expected.”
I didn’t stalk Prince Zacharye like most of the girls and hadn’t seen a recent vid of him during the year he’d been away. I didn’t care what the neighbors thought, and my pride about being there with all the other kids from school had slipped in importance. Mostly, I needed to prove to my fairy godmother that she was wrong and win the bet. I wanted her to stop bothering me about fairy academy, and my fairy heritage. I would never acknowledge the half-fairy blood inside me.
“Do you really think Prince Zacharye would dance with you?” Sybil’s laughter vibrated spiteful and mean.
My stepsisters joined in. The mingling of my stepmother’s low laugh combined with Ilana and Ingrid’s higher, more jealous giggles scratched through my ears and mixed in my mind in an off-key music track. The noise spun around and around in my head and ignited my anger. A rush of power charged through me and sparks shot from my fingertips.
I curled my hands into fists trying to control the uncurbed magic, wanting to prove to them I wasn’t different. I might have fairy in my blood, but I looked and acted like them.
Well, not like them. I wouldn’t want to be anything like my cruel stepmother and stepsisters.
“Imagine the prince dancing with a half-fairy,” Ilana squealed louder.
I tensed hoping the pod driver or anyone nearby wouldn’t hear. The door was open, and the streets were quiet.
“Now, now girls.” Sybil shushed both girls. “We mustn’t tell on Ellery. Not unless she does something really stupid.”
I hung my head. Guess I could use the sick excuse at school, hamming it up by adding a cough.
But Gardenia would know, and she’d be back.
“I’ve left a list of chores to keep you occupied tonight.” Sybil stood outside the door and pointed a finger. “Make sure you get everything completed.”
So much for being sick. She didn’t want my secret out because she’d lose her slave. That’s what my fairy godmother had once called me. And she’d be right.
Imagined metal shackles circled my throat and choked. From the doorway, I watched the three of them get in the transport pod. They were all smiles, while I was distraught.
No ball. No fun. No winning the bet.
>
My eyes burned, and I dashed my hand at my face. I wouldn’t let them see me cry. My father never made me feel bad about being half fairy. Only since he’d died, and I’d become Sybil’s ward, had I felt the sting of being different. Inferior.
Other transport pods headed in the same direction, toward the palace. Toward a night of dancing and food and laughter.
“It’s only a ball.” I slammed the door closed with a bang.
Arbor flew down from the upper balcony. She puffed up her hair to resemble Sybil’s and pointed her finger. “Make sure you get everything completed.”
I couldn’t stop my harsh chortle. Arbor sounded exactly like my stepmother. She must’ve heard everything. “Too bad with your identical voice you couldn’t give me permission to attend the ball.”
The laughter distracted. I didn’t want to think about my stepsisters’ arrival at the palace, at the sights they’d see, at dancing with the prince. Dancing with anyone. Being seen and being accepted.
Arbor lost the bouffant and flew in front of my face. “We can have our own ball right here.”
My friend was trying to cheer me up. I didn’t want to be. I wanted to sulk and revel in my hurt. “There’s no prince.”
“You can pretend.” She tugged my fingers.
“I really don’t care about dancing with the prince.” My heart protested, and I pulled my hand away. “I’d dance with anyone, but there’s no one to dance with here.”
“What am I? A foul ogre?” Increasing the smoke surrounding her, she stretched the smoky fog to about the size of a teenage guy.
Shaking my head, I couldn’t help a short smile. I needed to make the best of things. I had the house to myself for the entire evening. Sure, there were chores to be done. I had time. I had an excuse set for school. At least I appeared human and would achieve Continuum soon. And my best friend was trying to make me feel better.
“There’s no music,” I grumped.
“Try your powers.” Arbor nudged me with her smoke. “The more you practice, the more control you’ll have.”
Rebellion sparked and tingled. I was being punished for being majik, why not use what little power I had? Concentrating, I focused on the music vid and waved my hand. Music blasted from the hidden surround speakers in the room.
