Willem walked to the first in line and offered his hand.
The tall, young blonde in a frilly yellow dress curtsied and placed her hand in his. She smiled and gazed at the prince with big blue eyes. Ella could easily imagine the woman being a princess someday, or even a queen.
Willem led the woman to the center of the floor and nodded to the orchestra. Immediately, they struck up a tune, and Willem whirled his partner around in a sequence of graceful patterns.
Ella watched, spellbound. The couple looked gorgeous together. They seemed to be having fun as they visited while they danced. Marveling at how two people could glide so gracefully, Ella studied their moves. She recalled dancing with her mother and father many years before. Now, as she studied and memorized the patterns, she imagined herself dancing with the prince.
After the song ended, Willem escorted his partner back to the crowd. He offered his hand to the next woman in line, a short, dark-haired girl with a gleaming, wide smile. At the center of the floor, Willem addressed the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, please join us.” Dozens of couples stepped onto the floor.
Willem danced with the brunette until the song ended and then changed partners again.
He danced with Claudia and later with Yvette, and Ella wondered if he could actually be interested in either of them. She marveled that he seemed tireless as he moved from partner to partner, dance after dance. Many of the women returned to the line for another dance with him.
A handsome young man with freckles approached Ella. He wore an expensive-looking suit that showed no sign of mending. Before she could ask him about that, he bowed slightly and said, “May I have this dance?”
Ella’s heart fluttered. She longed to dance, but she feared she would bring attention to herself, and that was the last thing she wanted. “Thank you for your kind offer, but I must decline.”
The young man looked disappointed, but he nodded and walked away. From time to time, other young men approached her, and she politely refused each invitation.
Hunger and thirst pulled Ella away from her view of the dance floor. She grabbed a plate and heaped it with cookies and pastries, and then she eased back to her spot along the wall. She basked in the glow of the chandeliers as dancers moved smoothly across the floor to the enchanting tunes played by the orchestra.
The evening had far exceeded her expectations. With a sigh, Ella realized that though her birthday had passed unremarkably, the ball had provided her with a party she would remember all of her life. She gazed around the room, soaking in the splendor of it all. But for her, the ball must soon come to an end, and she decided to leave. To avoid a beating, she should arrive home well before Irmgard and her daughters.
As Ella turned to depart, she stopped short. In front of her stepped Prince Willem. He stood several inches taller than her, and his smile warmed her. Up close, he was even more handsome than at a distance. His dark-brown eyes gazed into hers, and she felt as if she would melt.
He offered his hand.
To Ella, it seemed as if everyone in the room had turned toward them as she placed her hand in his. His palm was callused, but his fingers closed gently around hers, sending tingles up her arm.
Behind Willem and to his left stood Irmgard, and her gaze focused on Ella. Irmgard’s eyes opened wide in recognition, her jaw set, and she stepped forward.
Terrified, Ella stared straight at Irmgard. In her mind, Ella screamed No!
Irmgard stopped, winced, and grabbed her head with both hands. Her eyes rolled, and she collapsed onto the floor.
All around Irmgard, people gasped.
The prince rushed to Irmgard and knelt beside her.
What have I done? thought Ella. Have I killed her?
Ella’s mind swirled in confusion. The events of the last few days sped past her. The birds helping her sort lentils from ash. Her ability to read minds. The ants cleaning her. The dress and the slippers. The bees helping with her hair. Irmgard’s belief that Ella’s mother had been a witch. Irmgard’s fear that Ella might be a witch, too.
Horrified, Ella realized now that she had been denying what should have been obvious. She was, indeed, a witch.
She glanced around the crowd. Did anyone else know?
Everybody’s attention seemed focused on the prince and Irmgard.
As Ella glanced around the gathering, her gaze settled upon a familiar face. Claudia had sidled in close to her mother, but then Claudia grabbed Yvette and pointed toward Ella with a questioning look on her face.
No, no, no, thought Ella, careful not to scream the thought. Recognize me thou shall not.
After a moment, Claudia and Yvette turned again toward Irmgard.
Ella’s focus returned to the crowd. She feared that she would soon be found out, arrested, and then burned alive.
As calmly as she could, Ella edged toward the ballroom door. Please, please, please, she thought, that I was here remember thee not. She repeated the phrase in her mind several times as she worked her way through the crowd and out the door.
Ella ran all the way home. There, she started a fire in the kitchen hearth, slipped off her gown and shoes, and then tossed them into the blaze. She put on her old shift, messed her hair, and sprinkled ash all over herself. With sadness at the loss of such beautiful clothes, she watched until no trace of them remained.
Being safe at home, Ella felt a sense of relief. Better to be a lowly household drudge for the rest of her life, she figured, than to risk being burned alive. Exhausted, she curled up on the floor near the hearth and closed her eyes.
In the morning, she began her tasks as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred the previous evening. After she completed her duties in the kitchen, she climbed the stairs to the bedrooms, where she picked up the gowns Claudia and Yvette had left on the floor.
Cautiously, Ella probed Irmgard’s mind and sensed that her stepmother was relieved that Ella had apparently given up on any hope of attending the balls. Such notions would spoil Ella into thinking she could ever be something more than a slave. Irmgard congratulated herself on having successfully destroyed Ella’s spirit. She must continue to promptly snuff out any hope of life beyond servitude.
Neither Yvette nor Claudia showed any sign they recalled that Ella had been at the ball.
Feeling more confident, and a little mischievous, Ella asked, “How was the ball?”
“The strangest thing happened last night,” said Irmgard. “I just blacked out. I have no idea what came over me. I’ve never experienced anything quite like that.”
Claudia and Yvette jabbered about how, after Irmgard recovered, Prince Willem had spent more time with them.
“I can still feel his arm around my waist.”
“Just think what beautiful babies we will make!”
“Princess Claudia has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“I like Queen Yvette even better.” She gasped. “All my children will be princes and princesses!”
Yvette and Claudia glanced at each other and burst out laughing.
Ella helped all three dress for the second ball.
After Irmgard, Claudia, and Yvette left for the evening, Ella wandered to the garden, where she plopped down on the grass in front of her mother’s grave. The events of the previous day flooded her mind. With a sad sense of wonder, she realized that Irmgard had been right. Apparently, Ella’s mother had, indeed, been a witch.
Ella shuddered, remembering the tales of the terrible deeds committed by witches. But then she reminded herself that most of what she had heard about witches she had learned from Irmgard. Now she wondered how much of it was really true.
Ella could recall nothing that hinted that her mother had been evil. Her father had seemed totally devoted to her. If her mother had been a witch, Ella decided, she must have been a good one.
“I’m a witch, too,” Ella remi
nded herself, still not quite believing it. She realized, with a little embarrassment, that she should have suspected something was different about her when she received help from the doves and other birds to separate the lentils from the ash. She resolved to be more observant in the future.
If I’m a witch, I’m a witch, Ella decided. I might as well accept that fact and try to be a good one. Still, she wasn’t exactly sure what being a witch entailed. What powers did she possess? Would her powers grow over time?
Recalling how her thoughts had dropped Irmgard to her knees, Ella realized that she must be careful not to hurt anyone. Furthermore, whatever powers she developed she must be careful to use in a positive way, certainly, not by tossing children into a stew pot for the evening meal. Or casting evil spells that turned people into frogs. She resolved to be a nice witch, like her mother.
Could she be a witch and still become a princess? Maybe even queen someday? She thought about how she could read a person’s mind. And how she had been able to make people forget that she’d been at the ball. Maybe she could use her new powers to hide her witchery and still fulfill her dream of becoming a princess.
Her thoughts returning to the ball, she imagined dancing with Willem, as Claudia and Yvette had the previous evening. She danced by herself around the garden, picturing each step with Willem as her partner. Did she dare go again? If she were ever going to become a princess, this was likely her only opportunity.
Her mother had advised her to be kind, but she’d also admonished her to be brave. To have even a small chance with the prince, Ella realized she must go back to the ball. If she had even a slight possibility of fulfilling her childhood fantasy, she should give it a try.
Her decision made, Ella knelt in front of her mother’s grave and asked for help.
Ella entered the ballroom, her silvery gown and slippers shimmering under the light of the chandeliers. She could see that the dancing had already begun.
The man in the red sash looked her way. “Your name, please.”
Ella’s heart pounded. She wished she had arrived earlier so she could mingle with the other guests and discreetly sneak off to the side. If she gave the man her name, he would announce her arrival, and she feared the attention that might draw. Fighting an urge to turn and run, her mind raced to consider options. After a moment, she focused on him. My name needeth thee not. Let me pass shall thee.
The man winced and reached toward his forehead. After a moment, he bowed and, with a sweep of his arm, indicated that she might proceed.
Relieved to have avoided an embarrassing moment, Ella walked toward the center of the room. There, Prince Willem danced with a brunette in a rust-colored gown with a low-cut neckline that framed a sparkling necklace. To Ella’s left, three young women waited to dance with the prince. Ella eased her way through the crowd and took her place at the back of the line.
She watched as the prince finished the dance and escorted the young woman to the edge of the dance floor. He returned to the line, where he greeted the next woman, a heavyset freckled redhead in a forest-green gown.
Ella’s nerves tingled with anticipation, and she realized that after a couple of more tunes, she would be fulfilling her dream of dancing with a prince. Her excitement felt almost unbearable. To distract herself, she studied the other guests standing around the ballroom.
She noticed a squat young man with a thick neck and a nose mashed as if broken. In uniform with a sword hanging at his side, he glanced across the room, scanning the crowd from left to right and then back again. Curious, Ella focused on him and discovered that his name was Wolfgang and that he held the rank of lieutenant in the king’s small army. He had been a childhood friend of the prince, and he feared that someone might spring from the crowd and attack Willem. The young lieutenant had vowed to risk his own life, if necessary, to protect his friend.
Surprised that anyone here might wish the prince harm, Ella studied the guests with renewed interest. Sensing no imminent danger, she figured the lieutenant was just being cautious.
On the opposite side of the dance floor, another young man in uniform bore remarkable resemblance to Wolfgang, except for an unbroken nose. Ella quickly learned that his name was Eric and that the two young officers were twins.
Her gaze continued around the room and settled upon a gray-haired man standing to the left and slightly behind the king’s throne. A jagged scar ran diagonally across his face from high on his forehead to one side of his chin. He, too, wore a uniform and constantly studied the crowd. Ella was pleased that even though the man was at the far end of the dance floor, she could read his mind. His name was Rolf, and he had been the king’s squire when both were young men. Now he was the king’s military commander and personal confidant. Ella sensed that Rolf was worried. Curious, she focused more intensely on him. But before she could determine what was bothering him, the music stopped.
Behind her, a man cleared his throat. Ella felt a tingle run down her spine as she turned toward the dance floor.
Prince Willem faced her. He smiled and offered his hand. As she placed her hand in his, her skin prickled with goose bumps from head to toe. Realizing that the entire crowd now focused on her, Ella blushed.
Willem led her to the center of the dance floor. As they danced, he asked her questions, and she answered as best she could without revealing much about herself.
Sensing that their relationship was going nowhere, she focused on his mind and discovered that Willem was unhappy being at the ball. He considered the events a waste of time, pulling him away from his duties as a prince.
Surprised, Ella probed deeper and discovered that the king seemed obsessed with finding a bride for Willem, but after the recent plagues, kingdoms throughout the region refused to travel to Bechenborg and even refused to let representatives of Bechenborg travel to their kingdoms, lest the contagion spread.
Willem understood his father’s desire for him to marry and eventually produce future heirs to the throne and how that might suggest long-term stability, but the king’s solution had shocked his son. Citing the unlikelihood that potential brides with aristocratic bloodlines would travel to the kingdom anytime in the near future, the king ordered him to choose a bride from within the kingdom.
Willem had always assumed, Ella discovered, that he would have an arranged marriage to a woman of royal blood from another kingdom. Instead of a princess, he wondered, was he to select the daughter of some humble farmer, shopkeeper, or banker? Has the kingdom been reduced to such a low state, he worried, that the crown prince must marry a commoner? Although Willem didn’t agree with the need for such haste, his father seemed determined to push ahead with this idea.
Ella realized that her fantasy dance with a real prince was almost over and that she had better make the most of it while she could. She smiled at Willem. “To be a prince must truly be wonderful,” she said. “Is there any part of your life you wish you could change?”
He looked at her with an expression that suggested he was surprised. “Life as a prince, especially the heir-apparent to the crown, can be quite lonely.”
“Lonely?” asked Ella. “I would think you would be surrounded by admirers and servants.”
“Quite so,” said Willem, “but you never know if anyone is a true friend—someone whom you can really trust.”
She focused on Willem’s mind again and learned that he was confused. He had met so many young women that he couldn’t possibly pick one in a short time. He resented his father for putting him in such an awkward situation.
The music stopped. Willem slipped her arm around the crook of his elbow and escorted her to the edge of the dance floor. He thanked her for the dance and then walked away.
Ella stood bewildered. Just as he had with each of the other young women, Willem had moved on to find another dance partner. Why was she disappointed? Had she really expected him to be smitten with her after a single da
nce?
And really, who was she compared to the other young maidens? She was, after all, just a household drudge. How silly to expect the crown prince to fall in love with her, marry her, and make her a queen someday. How silly of her to think that her childhood fantasy would actually come true. She felt her face grow warm, and she was sure that it had turned red.
The events of recent days swirled through her mind, especially the realization that she was, indeed, a witch. Scanning the thoughts of those around her, she hoped that no one had discovered her secret. Suddenly, she longed for the familiarity and security of her kitchen.
As she turned to leave, Willem approached the maidens waiting their turn to dance with him. Next in line was Yvette.
No, no, no, thought Ella. Reject all others thou must. To me thy heart belongs!
Willem had just reached out to Yvette, but he stopped and turned back toward Ella. He seemed to look at her anew. His expression changed, and he smiled. She was sure that he had fallen in love with her.
He stepped toward her.
“No-o-o!” a mature woman’s voice screamed. Irmgard stepped in front of Ella. “I knew it.” Almost spitting out the words, she said. “Just like your mother, you’re a temptress!”
Ella froze.
Irmgard turned to Willem. “Your Highness,” she said, “this woman is a witch!”
Willem glanced from Irmgard to Ella.
To the crowd, Irmgard yelled, “I know this young woman. She’s a witch!”
Ella turned, pushing a man aside, and ran. As she approached the ballroom door, she turned and looked back. The entire crowd stared at her.
Fighting a surging sense of panic, Ella screamed her thoughts at them all. Forget me thou shall!
Around her, people moaned and grabbed their head. The man in the red sash dropped to one knee.
Hoping she hadn’t hurt anyone, she toned down her intensity. Forget me thou shall! She studied the crowd, wondering whether her command had worked. Thee I beg, she pleaded, remember me not.
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