Ella ran faster than she had ever run before. She ran up the ballroom steps and down the long hall. She ran past guests who’d stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. She dodged a small dog eating scraps but couldn’t avoid knocking over a tray of sweets as she passed a servant. She wanted to stop to help, but she knew she couldn’t. Not if she wanted to get back to the carriage in time.
Finally, she found herself at the top of the staircase leading down to the palace courtyard. She spotted her carriage nearby. With a sigh of relief, she ran down the stairs. Suddenly, she felt one of her glass slippers, the one that had flown off on the swing, slide off her foot once more. She was just about to fetch it when she saw a group of guards arrive at the top of the stairs. With one last sad look at her pretty shoe, Ella ran the rest of the way down the stairs.
One of the footmen leaned against the side of the carriage, trying to catch a fly. As soon as he spotted Ella, he frantically motioned to the coachman, the fly forgotten. With a snap of the reins, the coachman started moving the carriage and Ella slipped inside. Then the carriage was off, the four noble horses racing into the night.
Letting out a deep breath, Ella finally looked back. She could just make out the prince standing on the steps. In one hand, he held her glass slipper. But it wasn’t the loss of the shoe that hurt; it was the expression on his face that broke Ella’s heart. Kit looked confused and sad. And it was all her fault.
As the carriage sped out the palace gates, Ella heard the bells tolling the midnight hour. She also heard the sound of hoofbeats and knew that the guards were in pursuit. That meant Kit didn’t want her to go. But she couldn’t let him find her. Not now, not when the magic was about to end. Ella saw that her kind lizard footman had closed the gates behind them. As the guards reached them, they had to pull them open once more, giving Ella’s carriage the chance to travel farther ahead.
The bell tolled again. Ella leaned out the window and saw the horses’ tails begin to transform back into mouse tails. Around her, the walls of the carriage started to turn orange. As the persistent bell tolled loudly, the coachman’s nose grew back into a beak, and he let out an anxious honk.
A short distance behind, unaware of any of these odd changes, the guards continued their pursuit. Among them were the Grand Duke and the Captain. They both wanted to catch the mystery princess but for different reasons. The Grand Duke wanted to expose her for the fake he thought she was, while the Captain simply wanted to make Kit happy.
Inside the carriage, Ella listened to each toll of the bell with a growing sense of dread. They were running out of time and needed to get away from the guards before it was too late.
The horses’ ears became round, and their muzzles narrowed into snouts. Then the coachman transformed completely back into a goose, his uniform falling around his webbed feet. The carriage itself began to shake and the footmen became lizards once more.
As a cloud passed over the moon, Ella’s carriage clattered over a bridge, bringing them farther from their pursuers and closer to home. But they still had a ways to go, and as the ninth bell tolled, the carriage began to resemble a pumpkin, its elegant symmetry replaced with a bulbous shape and a wooden stub protruding from the top. At the tenth bell, the horses finally disappeared, replaced by the four mice, who let out frightened squeaks as the pumpkin carriage rolled on. The goose fell to the road, honking loudly before shaking himself off and flying the rest of the way home. And as the eleventh and twelfth bells tolled, the spell was broken.
With the sounds of the last bell fading away, Ella found herself sitting on the ground, the pumpkin cracked beside her. There was a slight whoosh as her jewels transformed back into fireflies, and then, last but not least, her beautiful gown became the torn and ragged dress from before. All that was left of the magic was a single glass slipper. Ella pushed herself to her feet and began to brush herself off. Then she heard hoofbeats. She looked up...right into the cold, calculating eyes of the Grand Duke.
“Identify yourself,” the Duke said.
For a moment, Ella was taken aback. He didn’t recognize her. But then again, why would he? All he probably saw was a grubby servant girl on the side of the road. “They call me Cinderella,” she replied, happy to keep her identity a secret. It seemed her stepfamily’s cruel nickname was coming in handy.
The Grand Duke dismounted. As he began to walk around her, inspecting her like cattle, she slid the remaining slipper into a fold of her dress. “Cinderella?” the man repeated. “What sort of name is that? Who are you?”
“Me?” Ella replied. “I am no one.”
“You certainly don’t look like anyone,” the Duke replied, an expression of distaste on his face. “And yet...that dress looks familiar. Were you at the ball?”
“Who could wear these rags to the ball, sir?” Ella asked innocently.
The Grand Duke still looked suspicious. “There was a carriage on the road. With a princess inside...” His voice trailed off but his meaning was clear enough. He wanted to know if she had seen the carriage or, better yet, if she knew the princess inside.
“I don’t know any princesses, my lord,” Ella answered honestly.
“No,” the Duke said. “How could you? Yet...there is something about you...”
He leaned closer and Ella took an involuntary step back, shaken by his cold eyes. Luckily, the sound of more hoofsteps interrupted the Grand Duke. Ella saw that the guards had arrived, led by their captain. Moving away from Ella, the Grand Duke shook his head. “No, you do not look like her,” he said. “Only a servant girl after all. Filthy and quite rank. You smell like a rodent.” Turning, he nodded to the Captain of the Guard. “Escort this girl home.”
“That’s not necessary,” Ella said. “I know the way.” Then, before anyone could protest, she disappeared into the trees alongside the road.
When she was sure she wasn’t being followed, Ella let out a sigh. That had been too close for comfort. And she still had to get back to the house before her stepfamily returned. She ushered the mice into her remaining glass slipper so she could walk them the rest of the way.
A light rain began to fall. Ella cupped her hand over the slipper so the mice would not get wet and made her way back to the house. She heard the sound of a carriage approaching. Ducking to the side of the drive, she rushed through the pantry and into the kitchen just as she heard her stepsisters clatter through the front door. There was murmuring as the girls bickered, and then, much to Ella’s dismay, she heard their footsteps moving closer.
Acting quickly, she let her mice friends climb out of the glass slipper before putting the shoe into the hearth and covering it with ashes. Then she lay down beside the hearth and closed her eyes.
When Anastasia and Drisella entered the kitchen, they found their stepsister sleeping, covered in the ashes that had inspired her nickname.
“Look at that,” Anastasia sneered. “She fell asleep in that thing she was wearing.”
“She must be dreaming about going to the ball,” Drisella added. “Wake her up so we can tell her all about it.”
Anastasia shook her head. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
“I know! That’s why I want to wake her.” Drisella leaned down and shouted into Ella’s ear. “Get up, lazybones!”
Ella opened her eyes and then stretched, as if she had been asleep for hours.
“You missed it!” Drisella crowed.
“Oh? What happened?” Ella asked.
“You can’t even imagine,” Anastasia said as her sister ordered Ella to prepare a plate of biscuits and warm some tea.
As Ella started to prepare the snack, her sisters began to recount the events of the night. They were interrupted by their mother, who entered and immediately demanded that their treats be brought to the parlor. She wasn’t going to let them start eating in the kitchen like scullery maids...or Cinderella. Once she and her daughters were settled, the girls continued talking. As usual, they were talking more at Ella than to her.
“I thought his eye was more inclined towards me,” Drisella argued.
Ella couldn’t help herself. “What did he say to you?” she asked, knowing full well he hadn’t spoken a word.
There was a pause as the sisters looked at each other. “What do you mean, what did he say?” Anastasia finally said.
Drisella had an answer. “Don’t be so common, Cinderella,” she snapped. “We did not communicate with mere words. Our souls met.”
Lady Tremaine, who had been silent up until that point, finally seemed to lose her patience. “You didn’t speak to him, let alone dance!” she snapped.
“It was not our fault, Mother!” Anastasia whined. “It was that girl....”
“The mystery princess!” Drisella added.
“That was no princess,” Lady Tremaine said, her eyes on Ella as she spoke. The girl seemed oddly lighthearted despite having been forced to stay home. It made Lady Tremaine suspicious. “It was a preening interloper who made a spectacle of herself. A vulgar young hussy marched into the ball and threw herself at the prince.”
“And he actually danced with the ugly thing,” Anastasia added.
Ella looked down, trying to hide the smile that threatened to spread across her face. Unaware that her stepmother was watching her, she hummed a few bars of the song she and Kit had danced to, lost in the memory of that perfect moment.
“Yes?” she said dreamily.
“Yes!” Drisella repeated. “It was pity. He was too polite to send her packing in front of everyone, you see. But not wanting to expose us to the presumptuous wench any further, he took her aside—”
Anastasia jumped in, interrupting her sister. “And told her off! But she refused to leave, and the palace guard had to chase her from the party.”
Ella could barely contain the laughter that bubbled up inside her. It was amazing how quickly her stepsisters could make themselves believe anything as long as it benefited them. Glancing at Lady Tremaine, she saw that the woman was watching her with narrowed eyes. Ella quickly looked back at the ground, worried she might have given herself away.
“It’s no matter,” Lady Tremaine finally said. “The ball was a mere diversion. The prince is promised to Princess Chelina of Zaragosa. The Grand Duke told me as much himself.” Then she turned and spoke the next words right to Ella. “He’s not allowed to marry for love.”
Ella sat in her drafty attic room, staring at the glass slipper she held in her hand. Her mind kept replaying moments from the ball: seeing Kit for the first time; feeling his hand in hers; swinging in the wild garden. The memories flashed through her mind, each one vivid and perfect. Yet her stepmother had said the prince could not marry for love. If that was true, she and Kit could never have a future. Not that she was sure he would want a future with her, or her with him. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.
Sighing, Ella stood up and walked to the far corner of the attic. She kneeled down and lifted up a loose floorboard. Inside was the beautiful toy butterfly her father had given to her many years earlier. She gently placed the slipper next to it and then put the board back in place. Noticing that Jacqueline, Gus, and their children were watching from nearby, Ella smiled. She hadn’t seen them since the magical transformation.
“Thank you for your help,” she said. “It really was like a dream. Better than a dream.” Then she squared her shoulders. “But now it’s done.”
Jacqueline and Gus rose on their hind legs and attempted to imitate dancing. Ella laughed, amused by her friends’ efforts. But they had made a point. The ball hadn’t been a dream. It had been real. And the way she felt when she was around Kit? That was real, too.
She thought about his spirit, his courage, his kindness. She thought about the way she had felt dancing in his arms. She loved talking to him; she loved being silent with him. He was one of those rare souls who made one feel comfortable no matter what.
And now he was promised to another. It made Ella’s heart hurt to think he did not have control over such an important decision. She wished she could do something to help him.
Sighing once more, Ella smoothed the front of her apron. At least they would forever have the fond memory of the perfect night at the ball.
Kit entered his father’s bedroom. His heart pounded in his ears, and his vision blurred as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. The curtains had been drawn on the windows of the round chamber. The royal physician was kneeling by the king’s bed, finishing his examination. Hearing Kit, the doctor stood up and moved toward the door. Kit saw the expression on the doctor’s face, and he knew what it meant: the king had little time left.
When they were alone, Kit strode to his father’s bedside. The older man struggled to open his eyes. Upon seeing Kit, King Frederick smiled. “You’ve come,” he said weakly. “Good.”
Kit gulped. He had known his father was ill, but he had never allowed himself to believe that their time together would be so limited. “Father,” Kit started, sounding like a young boy. “What’s happened?”
“What happens to us all in time, my boy,” King Frederick replied.
“Not to you,” Kit said, trying to boost his father’s spirits, even though they both knew it was futile. “Not to my king. Not to my father. You will recover.”
The king smiled. “You must learn to lie better than that if you will be a good statesman.”
Overwhelmed, Kit sank down on the bed, taking his father’s hand in his. The hand he held was frail, the fingers thin and trembling. This was the hand that had held him when he was little. The hand that had signed peace treaties and the hand that had carried a sword. And now...“Father,” Kit pleaded, tears welling in his eyes, “don’t go.”
“I must,” the king said. “But you needn’t be alone. Take a bride.” When Kit began to shake his head, the king went on. “What if I commanded you to do so?”
That is unfair, Kit thought. But he had no desire to argue with his father on the man’s deathbed. “I know that you want me to marry for advantage,” Kit began.
“And...?” his father said.
“And I will not.” The words came out in a rush. “I’m sorry. I love and respect you, but I won’t. I believe we need not look outside of our borders for strength or guidance. What we need is right before us. We need only...” He paused, remembering what the mystery princess had said to him when they first met. “We need only have courage and be kind to see it.”
Silence filled the chamber. King Frederick closed his eyes, and for one moment of panic, Kit worried he had said too much. Then King Frederick’s eyes opened again. And to Kit’s surprise, he nodded. “Just so,” the king said, pride in his voice. “You have become your own man. Good. And perhaps, in the little time left to me, I can become the father you deserve.”
This was not what Kit had expected. What did his father mean, become the father he deserved? While they didn’t always see eye to eye, the king had been a loving and good father.
“You must not marry for advantage,” the king said. “You must marry for love. Find that girl they are all talking about. The forgetful one who loses her shoes.”
Kit broke into a sad smile. “But the Grand Duke...”
“He will never rule so long as you are not mastered by him,” King Frederick said, his voice growing weaker. “Be cheerful, my boy. Have courage, and be kind.”
Kit smiled at the familiar words. He had just been given the greatest gift—freedom. Freedom to choose and freedom to love. He didn’t know what to say except “Thank you, Father.”
With great effort, King Frederick pushed himself up on the bed so he could look his son in the eye. “I love you.”
As night fell beyond the curtains, father and son, king and prince, sat together in silence, happy to have this moment and aware they needed to cherish it for as long as they both could.
For a month after King Frederick’s death, black funeral bunting hung acr
oss shop fronts, and a general sadness hung over the kingdom. But after a while, the time for mourning came to an end. And when it did, a proclamation from the palace was sent out.
It happened by chance while Ella was in the market, where she had first heard news of the ball. Now she was with her stepsisters, helping them shop, which entailed carrying their bags. Ella drifted toward a commotion in the town square, her sisters following.
The royal crier was once again standing on the edge of the fountain, reading from a large scroll. “Hear ye! Hear ye!” he cried. “Know that our new king hereby declares his love for the mysterious princess who wore glass slippers to the ball, and requests she present herself at the palace, whereupon, if she be willing, he will forthwith marry her, with all due ceremony.”
For Ella, it was as if time had stopped. The prince loved the mystery princess? Kit loved her? After believing that the magical night at the ball would be the last time she ever saw Kit, Ella’s hope sprung anew. Kit was declaring his love for her. A blush crept up Ella’s cheeks, and she felt her heart come alive.
Without a word to her stepsisters, she turned and raced back toward the house. She needed to get to the palace as soon as possible. There was no way she was going to be able to present herself in the beautiful gown she had worn to the ball, but she did have one thing that would help her prove her identity—the glass slipper. Ella laughed, thinking about what her fairy godmother had said that magical night: “You really never do know when a little thing like shoes will matter a great deal.” Oh, how right she had been.
(See, loyal reader? Didn’t I tell you fairy godmothers are always right?)
But when she rushed into her room and pried the floorboard loose, she let out a cry. The only thing in her hiding spot was the toy butterfly. And its wings had been ripped off.
“Are you looking for this?”
Ella whipped around. Her stepmother was sitting in a chair, her face half shadowed, her eyes gleaming. She held Ella’s glass slipper.
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