Disenchanted: The Trials of Cinderella

by Megan Morrison

  “How can I? There are guards watching her window.”

  “I’ll make you invisible, and you can stay that way until I come back again.”

  “Back from where?”

  “The Slipper.”

  “But,” said Jasper uncertainly, “I thought …”

  “I have unfinished business,” said Serge. “The betrothal party.”

  Jasper stared. “You’re not seriously going to help with that.”

  Serge shut his fingers over his palms, which oozed, quickly and thickly, with the dust that had just hours ago been impossible for him. He flexed his wings, which were no longer heavy or sore. He knew the right course — it stretched before him, clear and simple. He would go to the Jacquard Estate, and he would do what he should have done months ago. Years ago.

  “When I’m through at the Jacquards’, I’ll be done with the Slipper — and I’ll be in trouble,” he said. “Big trouble. I’ll come and find you, but then we’ll have to hide. Tell me now if you don’t want to be involved.”

  “Then you’re really quitting?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you prepared?” said Jasper anxiously. “Because it’s going to get ugly. I never told you how my grandmother reacted when I left her. She tracked me everywhere I went, and she sent waves of enemies to try to recapture me —”

  “Are you trying to talk me out of this?”

  “No!”

  “Good,” said Serge, feeling more confident every moment. It had been ages since he’d felt this certain. “The next time I see you, I’ll be … well.” He wasn’t sure what he would be. He had never envisioned his future without the Slipper in it. “Perhaps we’ll do that thing you mentioned when we were down in Eel Grass,” he mused. “Go from cottage to cottage, helping those in need.”

  “That would be lovely,” said Jasper, who still appeared distressed. “Be careful.”

  “I’ll see you in a few days. Watch over Ella.” Serge paused. “Was it true what you said on Sharp Street?” he asked. “Could you really feel that I still had magic?”

  “No,” Jasper admitted. “I just knew that you needed to hear it.”

  Serge nodded. He made Jasper invisible and left the fairywood.

  At dawn on the day of the betrothal, an army of Blue fairies arrived at the Jacquard Estate. By midafternoon, it was a world of beauty only magic could make real, its balconies bedecked in twinkling fairy lights, its windows spilling over with waterfalls of ripened flowers in every shade of blue, its grounds aglow with thousands of tiny lanterns that hung in midair.

  Serge dismissed the Slipper staff and went up to Lavaliere’s chamber. He found Lariat sitting with her daughter on a chaise as they reviewed the guest list together.

  “Fortunately,” Lariat was saying, “the Shantungs have declined.”

  “Why did you even send them an invitation?”

  “Because it would have looked spiteful not to — it doesn’t matter. Cameo Shantung has finally realized that her place in society isn’t at its height.” Lariat shot Serge a white smile. “Everything is perfect,” she said. “Beyond lovely. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Serge permitted himself a little smile. “What’s happening with Cameo?” he asked, curious.

  “You didn’t see this morning’s Crier?”

  She handed him a copy and tapped a fingernail against the headline: SHANTUNGS TO VACATE ANCESTRAL ESTATE.

  “Cameo Shantung and Maud Poplin, both out of my sight in the same month,” Lariat said with a sigh. She pushed back her sharp, dark fringe. “Finally, luck is with me. Of course it wasn’t all luck.” She returned to sit beside her daughter. “You remember, Serge.”

  “I’m sure I do. What are you thinking of?”

  “Ten years ago or so, Cameo wanted to start using gnomish devices to unroll the silk cocoons,” said Lariat. “I went to the gnomes myself to get the same deal, but they’re such a strange lot. They said they’d made their arrangements with Shantung, and they didn’t want to trade with anybody else.” She snorted. “Not very business minded of them, but you know how unreasonable magical creatures can be. Not you, of course.”

  Serge frowned. “That deal with the gnomes never went through,” he said. “Did it?”

  “Oh no. I made sure that the Assembly outlawed that little bit of horror. Those devices might have doubled Shantung’s business — can you imagine? Disastrous.” Lariat laid a jeweled hand upon her daughter’s shoulder. “Every careful move has been worth it,” she said. “Finally, we’ll have a Jacquard queen, and the Gourd-Coaches will be out of this city in a matter of weeks. You’ve won.” She leaned in to kiss Lavaliere’s cheek, but her lips did not touch the girl. “Be good tonight,” she said softly. “Get his promise. No mistakes.”

  Lavaliere nodded.

  Lariat went for the door. Serge spoke, because he had promised himself he would speak. He would try first. One last time.

  “Your daughter’s condition is worse, Lady Jacquard,” he said.

  Lariat stopped moving. Her fingers curled like claws.

  “Much worse,” Serge pressed. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s the truth. Lavaliere needs real treatment soon, or her infection could be fatal.”

  Lariat glanced back over her shoulder with eyes as cold as stone. “I told you I didn’t want to hear this again,” she said. “Did I not communicate clearly?”

  “You did.”

  “Then spare me your opinion. Do your job.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Serge quietly. “I will.”

  She left the chamber. Twill took out the pain cream and glove, but Serge motioned her away. “Leave us a while,” he said. “I want to speak with Lavaliere in private.”

  “I know what you’ll say,” said Lavaliere when the door fell shut. “But I don’t care. You heard my mother. Do your job.”

  “My job is to help you.”

  “Then take the illusion off, make the pain go away, and let me get betrothed.”

  “Lavaliere.”

  “Shut up,” she said, and she got to her feet, but she swayed and fell back down again. She shut her eyes and slumped back — for a moment, she fell unconscious. Serge flew to her at once and grabbed her shoulders.

  Her eyes fluttered open. They were bleary. “What happened?” she murmured.

  “You fainted.” He felt her throat. “Your heart is racing. Are you dizzy?”

  She shook her head very slowly, as though to move it caused her great distress.

  “Just do my face,” she whispered.

  “You need a Hipocrath.”

  Lavaliere winced, and her head fell against Serge’s shoulder. “As soon as I’m married.”

  “The wedding won’t happen for years!”

  “Mother says it will be soon,” she said. “I’m so close.”

  “You need help now. Tonight. Don’t you want to live?”

  “I want … to be betrothed.”

  “Your mother wants that, not you.”

  “I do want it.” Lavaliere sat up suddenly. Her voice was rough, unlike herself. “I want the crown. She couldn’t get it — she missed. I won’t miss.”

  “Do you really hate your mother that much?”

  Lavaliere looked at him with eyes that did not belong to a young girl.

  “Then don’t die for her,” said Serge. “Listen to me. You don’t have to go to Port Urbane. I can find somewhere in Lilac. Somewhere secret and private. There are so many lakes up there — so many little islands — you could be completely hidden. Let me take you.”

  “What, now?”

  “Yes.”

  “But what would you tell my mother?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’d kidnap me?” Lavaliere whispered. Her eyes were bright. Full of fear — and hope.

  “I’ll spread a rumor that you’re deathly ill and had to be taken away for special treatment by the Exalted Council,” said Serge. “It’s practically the truth. Once the rumor is out there,
your mother will have to play along or risk exposure. You’ll be able to take off the illusion and recover. When you reappear in Quintessential in a few years, you can tell all your friends how you barely escaped death. They’ll hang on every word.”

  Lavaliere’s head tilted slightly. She was listening. “What about Dash?”

  “You don’t even like him.”

  She played with the tie of her Prism silk dressing gown. “And my mother?” she said.

  “There will be nothing she can do. She won’t disinherit you, if that’s what you’re worried about — you’re her only child.”

  Lavaliere laughed under her breath.

  “Even if she does,” said Serge. “You’ll be far from her. You’ll be alive, you’ll be strong, you’ll get to make all your own choices, and I won’t turn my back on you. I’ll help you all the way to the end, I swear on my wings I will. Please, Lavaliere.” He took her hand in his. “I’m your fairy godfather. This is my job. Let me rescue you.”

  For one beautiful second, she seemed a breath away from saying yes. She opened her mouth and leaned toward him.

  And then she shrank, and her eyes clouded as though she’d seen some future before her that she could not bear. “Stop talking to me!” She pushed Serge away from her with both hands. “Don’t you ever dare speak like this again, do you understand? Fix my face — and do it now, or I’ll tell my mother everything you said!”

  He had done everything in his power. Offered her everything he possibly could.

  “It was your choice,” he said. “Remember that.”

  Lavaliere turned up her face and shut her eyes, and Serge tore the illusion from her.

  Her face was as horrific as he feared. The sores covered her mouth now. And her eyelids. She was so disfigured that no one would ever recognize her.

  “Get Twill back here,” Lavaliere commanded, but Serge did not go to the bell.

  Instead, he took her hand and kissed the back of it.

  “Good-bye, Lavaliere,” he said.

  Her eyes snapped open. “What?”

  “I won’t come back,” Serge said gently. “I can’t hurt you any longer.”

  “But you can’t go!”

  Serge went to the balcony. He heard Lavaliere’s footsteps chasing him across the carpet — heard her gag as she caught sight of herself in one of the many mirrors around the room.

  “Wait,” she moaned. “At least cover me back up first —”

  “If I do that, you won’t be able to numb the pain. I won’t trap you in that agony.”

  He leapt up onto the wide, white balcony railing. Below him, fairy lanterns illuminated the lawns, awaiting Prince Charming and his proposal.

  “My mother will ruin you,” cried Lavaliere. “She’ll destroy you in this city — in every city!”

  He knew it. Just as he knew that Lariat would find someone else to cast the illusion. His departure wouldn’t end this abuse. One or two of the other fairies at the Slipper could step in for him and cover Lavaliere’s face, but none of them knew her looks like Serge did, and none of them were as talented as he. The differences would show. There would be rumors.

  “Don’t leave me,” Lavaliere shouted as Serge flew from the balcony, out toward the sea. “Mother! Mother!”

  He flew to the Slipper. When he arrived, he went to the penthouse and withdrew from his pocket the letter he had already prepared. He knew that Jasper would tell him that this part was unnecessary and that he should simply turn his back. But he was a professional.

  “Serge,” Jules said when he entered. She laid down her Crier. “I thought you’d be with Lariat. How’s the estate? Ready for royalty?”

  “Breathtaking,” said Serge. He took his pocket watch out and laid it on her desk, along with his bluebell chime and his letter. He drew breath, and for one second — just one — he nearly reconsidered. The Slipper was so beautiful at sunset. In a moment, all he had worked for would be lost to him.

  He thought of Lavaliere’s face, and he shuddered.

  “I resign,” he said.

  Jules’s eyebrows flew up. She laughed her husky laugh. “Oh dear,” she said. “Rough day with the human elite? Sit down and tell me. I’m sure we can fix it.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Babe.” She smiled at him. “We’ve been together a long time. More than half your life.”

  “Two-thirds of it.”

  “See? I know you. You love this Slipper. You’d never abandon it.”

  “I cleared out my office.”

  “Relax. I’ll call Thimble. She’ll get you a nice glass of gold tea.”

  “I filed my severance papers with Lebrine.”

  Jules’s eyes narrowed. “She didn’t say anything to me.”

  “I just handed them to her,” said Serge. “No one knew this was coming. Don’t take it out on anyone but me.”

  “Take it out?” Jules laughed again, but this time the sound was cautious. “What kind of monster am I all of a sudden? You want to quit? Quit. It’s a free shoe.”

  “Thank you.” Serge went to the door.

  “Serge. Get back here. We obviously need to talk.”

  “I’ll talk, but only for a moment,” he said. “I have an ultimatum, and you’re not going to agree to it. When you don’t, I’m going to leave.”

  Jules came out from behind her glass desk and stalked toward him, her eyes glittering.

  “An ultimatum?” she said. “What in Geguul is wrong with you?”

  “Lariat Jacquard is killing her daughter,” said Serge. “I won’t be her accomplice any longer.”

  “You want me to assign someone else to that job?” said Jules angrily. “You’re putting me in an impossible position, and you know it. Lariat will put up a fight —”

  “I’m not asking you to put someone else on the job,” said Serge, and Jules’s wings relaxed. “I’m asking you to cut ties with the Jacquards. Completely. It’s Lariat or me.”

  Jules’s mouth dropped open. “What did Lariat say to you?” she demanded. “What do you think you know?”

  “I know that I was almost lost,” said Serge. “But I don’t blame you for that. Much as you contributed, it was entirely my own fault. I should have resisted.”

  “Serge. Listen to me.”

  On Jules’s desk, Serge’s pocket watch had grown so hot that it was smoking.

  “That’ll be the Jacquards,” he said, pointing over her shoulder.

  Jules ran to her desk, teetering on her heels as she went. She snapped up the watch and clicked it open. “What did you do,” she breathed, turning on him.

  “My job.”

  “If you jeopardized this betrothal, I’ll ruin you,” Jules hissed. “I’ll crush you. Your reputation in this town will be destroyed — and not just in this town. All over Tyme.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Get back there now.”

  “Good-bye, Jules. Don’t waste your time threatening me; there’s nothing you can say, and I imagine the Charmings are already on their way to the party.”

  Jules was at her desk, ringing her chime, shouting for Thimble, and trying to read the pocket watch all at the same time. Serge pressed the button for the Slingshot, and the door slid open.

  “Best wishes to you in making wishes come true,” he said.

  He stepped into the Slingshot, and the door slid shut.

  AT number 76, the week passed in relative quiet. Clover and Linden traveled out of Quintessential with the band to play at parties in other towns. Sharlyn visited Coterie Preparatory School to protest Ella’s punishment, but Madam Wellington would not budge. Not only did Ella have to serve out her full suspension; at the end of it, she would be subjected to a disciplinary hearing, with the Jacquards and several other donors present.

  “She thinks she can expel you,” said Sharlyn when she relayed the information to Ella. Her eyes were flint. “But I’ll be prepared. That woman doesn’t know who she’s dealing with.”

  Ella had a f
eeling she didn’t mean Madam Wellington.

  She spent her nights knitting, attacking one project after another. She started a floor-length rope vest for Clover, because it was similar to something she’d heard her stepsister admire once. She finished a tunic for Linden, and into its one sleeve she knitted a long, skinny pocket where he could stow away his drumsticks. She even started a skirt for Chemise Shantung, whose family was apparently leaving Quintessential. The one decent girl her age she’d met in this city, and now she’d be gone.

  She visited Chemise that weekend, with her own knitting in hand as well as extra needles and wool. A maid brought her into the parlor, where Chemise sat in a wheelchair, her feet wrapped in thick bandages and propped up before her. In her lap was a skein of lavender wool. In her hands, crochet hooks. She looked up at Ella and smiled. “I’m so glad you came,” she said. “How have you been?”

  “How have you been?” Ella replied. “You remembered how to crochet?”

  “I needed a project.” Chemise glanced at her feet. “So I asked my mother to remind me how it’s done.”

  Ella sat beside her. “Your mum crochets?”

  “Mother can do all sorts of things. She can even spin silk.”

  “Really!”

  “So can my sister,” said Chemise proudly. “I’m expected to learn too. Shantung has a history of artisanship, you know. It’s important to understand the things you sell …” She faltered. “Not that we’re selling much anymore,” she said. “It’s so strange. I can’t believe we’re truly leaving Quintessential after seven centuries.”

  “Then there’s no chance of saving the company?”

  “Shantung isn’t closing completely. We’re keeping one workshop to take care of the few clients we still have.” She looked warmly at Ella. “Like Practical Elegance,” she said. “Your family’s contract with us makes a great difference.”

  “I’m glad,” said Ella, and she honestly was. “I brought wool to show you how to knit,” she said, holding up her offering. “But you look busy enough.”

  “If you know how to spin silk, I’d like to start learning that,” said Chemise, laying aside her crocheting.

  “I didn’t bring my drop spindles, or I’d teach you.”