What caught Elaina’s attention, however, were the countless paintings hung on every available inch of the walls. Each painting featured the same girl. In some pictures, she sat quietly with a book or examining a flower. In others, she danced or ran or waited on a dock as she looked out over the ocean. Sometimes she was laughing, pouting, or crying, or wearing a huge toothless grin. But in every single painting, the girl’s face was the same.
It was the same face that gazed out from a large painting hanging in the grand entrance of her manor.
It was Elaina’s.
A fireplace sat in the far corner of the room, and before it stood a petite woman with her back to the bed. She stirred a large pot over the fire, and Elaina was tempted to ask what was in it. Instead, however, she simply watched and waited, fear and angst and stupid, stupid hope making it hard to breathe.
Then the woman turned around.
“Mama?” Elaina nearly fell out of the bed.
In a moment, Elaina was wrapped in the woman’s arms in the tightest embrace she could remember. The woman wept as she touched Elaina’s hair, neck, and face over and over again, but all Elaina could do was hold on and remind herself to drink in the almost forgotten scent of apple blossoms and lavender.
“I didn’t think you would remember me.” The woman pulled back and gave her a trembling smile, her face red from the tears that continued to stream down.
Elaina gingerly lifted her fingers to the woman’s face. The shape was familiar. Elaina distinctly remembered having her mother’s chin. Gray now streaked through the light brown hair and wrinkles edged her large brown eyes. Still, the longer Elaina stared into the woman’s heart-shaped face, the more she knew that her mother was indeed alive.
“But how?” she whispered.
“Didn’t your father tell you?” When Elaina shook her head no, the woman’s smile fled. “I thought perhaps that was how you had found me . . .”
Elaina’s stomach dropped. “Mother . . . Mama, Father’s ship disappeared over two years ago. Just after he left me in the capital.”
Elaina hated herself as her mother’s face paled.
She stood and began to pace about the small room, wringing her hands. “He was supposed to tell you on your eighteenth birthday,” she muttered while she walked. “But when you never appeared, I feared something had happened to you both.” She looked at Elaina in amazement. “But if your father didn’t tell you, how did you find me?”
“The stars brought me here after I was abducted.”
“After what?” Her mother’s eyes narrowed.
Elaina blanched, not sure even where to begin. But before she could try, her mother rubbed her temples and walked back to the little table where she had prepared the evening meal. “Wait for a moment. I get the feeling I am going to need a bit of wine for this.”
Once the wine was poured and her mother was sitting on the edge of her bed again, Elaina took a deep breath and dove into her tale, starting with Davies Tanner announcing her gift in the tavern to advising the king about the rebellion to her enslavement. She chose to skip over certain unnecessary parts, such as Nicholas’s constant interference and the way it had felt when they’d danced, but it was still a good hour before she finished to her mother’s satisfaction.
They were silent for a long time after Elaina was done. Her mother took Elaina’s hand and ran her fingers over Elaina’s knuckles, and Elaina closed her eyes, soaking up the love she had yearned for for so long.
“When we staged my death,” her mother finally said in a soft voice, “we only wanted to keep you safe. I never thought it would bring you further harm. I just . . . I cannot believe we were in the same city all this time. I could have saved you without a second thought.”
Elaina moved until she was snuggled against her mother’s side. “How?” she asked, closing her eyes and basking in the moment. It was as if she were five years old again.
“I’ll show you later. For now, you need to rest.”
Elaina wanted to point out that she had just awakened, but as soon as her head hit the bed, she was unable to argue. Instead, she let herself slip back into the arms of sleep, for arms of love held her tightly as well.
I’m so confused, she thought to the Maker. But . . . thank you.
“I thought you were tired.” Elaina’s mother yawned as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Why are you up so early?”
“I was tired.” Elaina drew her borrowed shawl closer around her body to keep out the night’s chill. “Unfortunately, the stars had other plans.” How did sleeping for a whole day still leave one tired?
“What are they saying?”
“Nothing that cannot wait.” Elaina turned away from the window and padded back to the bed, but before she could again bury herself in the blankets beside her mother, her mother sat up and shook her head.
“Every time they spoke to you as a child, something important was imminent. Like the time you saved your father’s ship from that summer squall. What are they saying this time?”
Elaina rubbed her eyes. “They want me to go to the prince’s ball.” Even as she uttered the words, she could hear the stars through the open window once again.
Go, Elaina, they whispered. You must go to the ball.
“I just got here. I am not leaving my mother. Not now, at least.” After two years of slavery and before that, twelve years of thinking her mother dead, Elaina deserved a few days with her mother. Or at the very least, a single night of happy, contented, uninterrupted sleep.
People will die, Elaina.
Elaina groaned and glared up at the fading stars. “Fine then. Suppose I do go. Have you forgotten that I’ve been exiled, and return is punishable by death? Or that Matilda will be there?” She looked down at the shredded, threadbare gown that had once been blue. “Besides, what would I wear?”
“If your wardrobe and being recognized are what you’re concerned about,” her mother said, “I can help you there.” Even in the light of the dimming moon, her brown eyes sparkled and her mouth was curved into a mischievous smile.
See? The stars sounded smug. Everything will work out.
Elaina looked back and forth between the stars and her mother. How could she tell them? How could she voice the fear that drowned out nearly all the rest? Exile and ball gowns were worked around easily enough, it seemed. But no amount of money or power would be able to fix the broken rhythm in her heart that somehow still threatened to overwhelm her.
“Look.” Her mother took Elaina by the shoulders and turned her so that they were facing one another. “I’ve known Nicholas’s mother since we were girls, younger than you. And I knew Nicholas long enough in his boyhood to know that while he may be a bit . . .” She looked as though she were suppressing a smile.
“Arrogant? Fickle? Pompous?”
“I was going to say flighty,” her mother finished with a shake of the head. “He was never unjust, even as a boy. And I know that his mother would never have allowed him to grow up as such. If we can convince him of the truth . . . if you can prove to him that this Alastair betrayed you, then I’m convinced that you will be acquitted of all charges.”
Elaina sighed and looked out the window again. The stars had disappeared completely, and the sun was preparing to crest the line of neat little cottages that made up her mother’s street. She would never admit it, of course, but her mother was right. Nicholas was many things, but he had never been unjust.
Well, except for that time when he exiled her for a crime she didn’t commit.
“If I did go then, how would you get me into the palace without being seen? And where would we get a dress so late? The ball is in three days.”
Her mother’s face lit up again. “We’ll have our morning meal first. You’re too thin and you need to eat. Then,” her eyes sparkled, “I will show you my gift.”
Elaina couldn’t turn down the offer of food, so she nodded and followed her mother to the little corner where her mother began to stoke the fireplace embers
.
“I don’t remember you cooking at home,” Elaina said as she pulled up a stool.
Her mother laughed. “You should have seen me when I first moved here. Your father took a week away from work to bury me. We found this darling little cottage and he made sure I had all of the necessary items before returning to you. But being a noblewoman by birth, I had absolutely no homemaking skills. Thank the Maker, my neighbors were curious but also kind, and over the years I’ve learned to keep myself decently, if I do say so myself.”
Soon bread and little pats of butter had been served, and Elaina and her mother sat down to eat.
“How did you earn enough to keep so comfortable?” Elaina wondered aloud as they ate.
Her mother leaned back and looked around the cottage. “Well, your father made sure I had a regular sum sent to me every month. But after the money stopped coming . . .” Her mother grew quiet, and Elaina felt her own chest tighten.
“I don’t know if you remember,” she continued after a moment, “but I had always loved to paint.”
“I vaguely remember you trying to teach me.”
“One of my favorite memories. I think you got more paint on your face than on the canvas. But anyhow, I learned that people would pay a good deal of money for likenesses to be made of themselves and their loved ones. It’s kept me nicely, even with the war going on. People liked to have images of their fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons before they went off to war.”
The room grew quiet again, and Elaina couldn’t help studying the dozens of pictures on the walls. There was, of course, the innate desire to be angry with her parents. How many times had she come to port in Solwhind and not known that her most beloved soul in the world was only a few miles inland? But as she studied the portraits, she could see the longing painted into every canvas, no matter what its subject was doing.
“Elaina,” her mother said, taking her hand and squeezing it. Her large brown eyes were wide and pleading. “I cannot even begin to describe the agony my soul has suffered every day since leaving you. You won’t understand until you’re a mother, which I pray one day is your privilege. But once you have a child, your world becomes theirs. Your purpose is to comfort them, to care for them, and to give them everything they might ever need. But the attack changed everything.”
“How did you survive?”
Her mother shrugged. “I honestly can’t say. A miracle. A gift of the Maker. I recall my attacker standing over me and holding something to my head, and I could feel the power draining from me as he held me there against the ground. Then he slipped. Just slipped without a reason. When he fell, he dropped a little jar he was holding, and it broke. He fled after that, and someone found me and brought me home.”
“But if he left, why did you have to leave?”
“Your father and I knew that you wouldn’t be safe. We were sure he would return to finish what he’d started. My gift had already been diminished, and we didn’t want anything so horrible happening to you.” She shuddered. “There are no words for the evil blackness that fills you as he draws the gift out. The best way we could think of to protect you was to send me away and stage my death. It wasn’t hard. I was close to death when they found me. If my attacker caught wind of my death, he would not come for me again, which meant he wouldn’t see you or the gift that you were beginning to show.” She reached out and touched Elaina’s face, a sad smile on her own.
“Why can’t we stay here?” Elaina whispered. “Why can’t we just stay and be happy?”
“Because you have a destiny, my darling. From the first day you told me the stars had spoken to you, I believed your gift was a miracle. And I believe that no less now than I ever did.” She stood and brushed the crumbs off her lap. “So if the stars have told you to go to the ball, then go to the ball you shall. And I will do everything in my power to make sure you do.”
Elaina frowned. “I’ve already told you I have nothing to wear.”
“And I have already told you that it’s time you see my gift. Stand up.”
Elaina did as she was told. Her mother directed her to the middle of the room where there was no furniture. Then she reached into her long sleeve and pulled out a smooth wooden stick.
“What is that?”
“This is a little tool that I’ve found helps me control my gift since part of it was stolen.”
“But what does it do?”
Her mother beamed. “Watch.” With that, she raised the stick in the air, pointed it at Elaina, and flicked it with her wrist.
Elaina jumped when a small spark popped in the air. Her mother didn’t stop, though. She continued to twirl the stick until Elaina felt a cold breeze rushing around her ankles. Then, as the popping grew louder and faster, the tattered hem of her gown began to grow. As it swelled, its holes and tears disappeared, and the color changed from a gray-blue to violet. The violet raced up her skirts, through her bodice, up her shoulders, and down her sleeves.
And everywhere that the color changed, so did the material itself. Violet gossamer and silk of the purest kinds soon covered her body. The gown no longer reached just below her knees but rippled all the way down to her feet. And when she pushed the full skirts out of the way, lovely golden slippers peeked out from underneath. Her arms were draped with gems of all sorts, and her neck hung heavy with amethyst stones of every size and shape.
“How?” Elaina gasped as she lifted one arm and then the other.
“How do you talk to the stars?” Then her mother gave a wistful sigh. “The change used to be permanent, but now it only lasts until midnight of the day I alter it.”
“You can do this to any dress?”
“Oh, more than dresses. I can do anything. I could make a squash turn into a carriage. I could make rats turn into steeds. All you need to do is ask.”
“So I could wear this to the ball?” Elaina asked.
“As long as you’re back by midnight.”
Elaina chewed on her cheek thoughtfully as she fingered the airy material. “If I was able to hide from Matilda and Alastair . . .”
“Consider it done.” Her mother pulled her in for a tight hug.
“But what about you?” Elaina pulled out of the hug to look her mother in the eye. “You can’t go back there. What if Alastair recognizes you? I can’t let you do that. Not after I just got you back.”
“Now listen here, Elaina Starke.” Her mother put her hands on her hips and fixed Elaina with a reproachful stare. “I did not move away and have sailors raise my daughter just to watch you fall into danger because I was afraid.”
“But—”
“Not buts. I am finished with hiding. If the Maker wants you to go to the ball, then that means that He has a plan. And that is good enough for me. Besides,” she gave Elaina a hard smile, “I am your mother, and now that we’re together again, I hardly intend to send you into the lions’ den alone. You’re getting my help whether you want it or not.”
51
Getting to Work
“Can’t we just stay at an inn?” Elaina asked as the driver loaded their things from the ship onto their hired carriage. “We’ll be less conspicuous that way.”
“The inns in Kaylem will all be filled by now.” Her mother pulled on the makeshift leash for Dog and handed Barker’s rope to Elaina. “Besides, what would we do with these two? No inn would let us keep them.”
As it was, the carriage driver was giving Barker a suspicious look and muttering about never having transported a blooming goat before.
“Why are you suddenly so insistent on avoiding your aunt and cousin?” Her mother studied more her closely.
“Because I spoke to the stars again last night, and if I absolutely must attend this ball, I cannot have Lydia interfering. They may or may not be back from the summer manor in time for the ball, but I don’t wish to take the chance of them seeing me.”
Instead of answering, her mother pursed her lips and gave Elaina a warning glance. They said nothing more until the driv
er had helped them into their seats and the carriage was bumping down the road.
“I know you’re not keen on attending the ball with the prince,” her mother finally spoke again in a low voice, “but what does this reluctance have to do with Lydia?”
Elaina watched the countryside pass by through the window but saw nothing. What she wouldn’t give to forget that awful day. “I wasn’t named a traitor without witnesses.”
Her mother frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Alastair’s assistant planted the coins and acted as a witness himself, but the other witness . . .” She faltered, knowing that her next words would bring her mother pain.
“Elaina, who was the second witness?”
“Lydia.”
For a moment, her mother looked as though she might faint. “Oh. Oh my. But . . . how?”
Elaina shrugged. “There wasn’t much to her witness statement really. She spent the whole time weeping.”
“Then I would suppose she at least felt guilty about being called.”
“I don’t know, but I really don’t care to know. She was jealous when—” Elaina caught herself. There was very little that her mother needed to know about him, and even less that Elaina wanted her to know.
“When you took your place in the court?” her mother finished.
“I suppose you could say that.”
Her mother stared sadly out the window. “One of the hardest parts of our society is the preference given to the eldest. Should Charlotte have been born before me, it would be Lydia who was to inherit the title instead of you. Did your father explain to you that we’re one of the few families where women legally hold the title themselves? It must have been so hard for Lydia to give up that rank when you arrived.” She leaned back in her seat and played with her earring thoughtfully. “I suppose she would have become used to the position the title gave while they were keeping it ready for you.”
Elaina had wondered about this many times before. But when she remembered how excited Lydia had been at her arrival, she was convinced that title had nothing to do with her cousin’s jealousy. The jealousy had been all for Nicholas. Still, the drama of her reunion with Lydia paled in comparison with what Elaina had been tasked to do.
Cinders, Stars, and Glass Slippers: A Retelling of Cinderella (The Classical Kingdoms Collection Book 6) Page 35