Page 3 of Charmless
But perhaps I should give the glass slippers another try. I was desperate enough for anything. I opened my wardrobe and drew forth the shoes, wincing as I eased my feet inside the cold glass. Taking a deep breath, I recalled the instructions Mal had given me.
Click your toes together three times and you will completely vanish.
I clicked and clicked… and clicked. The results were just the same as last night. I held up one hand and waggled my fingers, every digit still as visible as the rest of me. Had I truly expected anything different to happen? Heaving a disgruntled sigh, I removed the shoes and hid them back in my wardrobe just in time.
My bedchamber door burst open, and my stepsisters rushed inside. Netta’s dark hair tumbled about her face, her eyes rimmed with exhaustion from the ball, but she did not look nearly as bad as Amy. My younger stepsister’s disheveled ebony curls accented the pallor of her complexion.
The girls were in their nightgowns and Amy had a strip of linen knotted around her head, holding some sort of compress in place. She had behaved disgracefully at the ball, getting drunk and nearly being seduced by one of Prince Florian’s roguish twin brothers. Amy was obviously feeling the effects of all that wine she had swilled last night. The tie ends of her makeshift compress flopped down, giving her the appearance of a bedraggled rabbit.
“Ella, I thought I heard trumpets,” Netta cried. “Whatever is going on?”
“Have they no compassion for a dying girl?” Amy moaned.
Before I could explain, Netta darted over to my bedroom window and glanced down into the street.
“Oh, it’s Ned.” She blushed. “I mean Sergeant Wharton and Baxter.”
“Baxter?” I echoed.
“His aura cat. He is so handsome.” Netta sighed.
“That hideous cat?”
“No!” Netta rolled her eyes at me. “Sergeant Wharton. He has such a noble brow and a lovely smile and he is wonderfully tall.”
This last point would have been of great importance to my sister. Netta was as self-conscious of her height as Amy was of her weight. I have often tried to convince my stepsisters that they are lovely girls even if they do not conform to the current fashion for sylph-like petite figures.
Amy stumbled after Netta. Shielding her eyes from the sunlight, she stole a look out the window as well. She drew back with a gasp.
“The royal carriage! Can it possibly be? Has my beloved Prince Dashiel come for me?”
Amy pulled the linen bandage off her head. She perked up, looking as though she had decided she might live after all. I hated to be the one to disillusion her about the arrival of her prince. She was unlikely to ever see that young scoundrel again.
My bedroom door burst open for a second time. Why had I not thought to lock it? My stepmother rushed inside, so excited, she could hardly speak.
“Girls,” she squeaked. “You must all get dressed at once. The most wonderful thing has happened.”
“Prince Dashiel is here, and he has come to ask for my hand in marriage?” Amy asked breathlessly.
“No, my dear. It is the heir to the throne himself who has come to call. Prince Florian.”
Amy’s face fell. “Oh. Whatever ishedoing here?”
Em sighed. “It is so romantic. The prince fell in love with some mysterious beauty at the ball last night and vows he willhave no other for his bride. From the prince’s description, he must be talking about our Ella.”
I shook my head in a weak attempt at denial, but Em beamed at me. “You foolish child! Why did you run off without making sure the prince knew your name? If you had not lost your shoe, he might never have found you again.”
My stepmother’s nose crinkled. “It is a little embarrassing, Ella. Could you find nothing better to wear to the ball than those scuffed up old dancing slippers?”
“They were my most comfortable pair,” I said. “I never expected one of them to end up paraded all over Midtown on a silken pillow.
“I am glad the prince found your shoe,” Amy chimed in. “Those slippers were always my favorite as well.”
I turned away from Em to stare at my youngest sister, a dreadful suspicion forming in my mind. “What do you mean,yours?”
“Um, I may have just borrowed your shoes a few times when I went to the Baftons to practice my dancing with Fortescue.”
That explained how my dancing slippers had gotten stretched and how the shoes had been traced to my door. Amy’s aura had to be all over them. I had to grip my hands together to keep from strangling my little sister.
