The Starlight Slippers

by Susan Maupin Schmid

  Gillian snatched her hand back from the latch as if a monster lurked behind the door she’d just closed. Roger held his breath. Dulcie gripped my arm. The four of us stood there like statues for a long, long time before we gathered the courage to creep back down the stair.

  Hours later in bed, I still couldn’t shake the expression I’d glimpsed on Mrs. Pepperwhistle’s face. I’d glimpsed the same narrowing of the eyes and pressing together of the lips on Captain Bryce’s face when he sent his men to hunt for Cherice. It was a grimace that said, I’ll find you wherever you hide.

  First thing the next morning, Gillian and I headed to Queen Candace’s closet.

  “This is it! I just know it,” Gillian said, dancing with excitement.

  “Right here all along,” I said, snapping the key into the lock.

  I held my breath. My stomach churned. If the key opened the lock, then we’d have solved the mystery. But was this all there was to it? The closet was wonderful; the dresses were amazing. But deep down I knew this key opened an even greater treasure. A jewel that granted wishes or a talisman that transported one across the sea or a scepter that—

  Gillian nudged me. I turned my wrist, but the key refused to budge.

  “Maybe it’s stuck; jiggle it,” Gillian said.

  I twisted the key until I was afraid it would break. Nothing.

  Inside the closet, Lyric whistled sharply.

  “It’s the wrong one,” Gillian said with a sigh. “Again.”

  “Uh-huh.” The search would continue! I tucked the key back into my apron pocket.

  At that moment, Lindy walked into the wardrobe hall, humming.

  “Pack of work,” she said to Gillian.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Gillian replied with a face that said, Work never ends.

  I went inside the closet. Lyric sat on his perch, preening his tail feathers. I walked over, pulled out his food tray, and filled it.

  “Sir Goldie Sweetie, eh?” I said.

  Lyric eyed me like a flea infesting his plumage. I laughed at him.

  “Your secret is safe with me.” I slid the tray back into the cage. “And you, ladies,” I said to the dresses, “showing off for Her Highness?”

  The dresses sashayed on their hangers. An apricot gown gave me a saucy bounce to let me know they weren’t sorry for their behavior. A scarlet ribbon caught my hand and tugged longingly. It belonged to Sixty.

  “I can’t wear you right now,” I told the dress.

  But I wished I could. Between trying keyholes and searching for hidden passages, I hadn’t worn one of the dresses since I’d shown Gillian the closet, weeks before. And then I’d tried on Nine, Twenty-Six, and Fifty-Seven. Gillian had kept begging me to show her one more, just one more. It had been hard to stop at three.

  But the dresses weren’t playthings. They were endowed with the same magic that laced the castle walls—magic created from the distilled wisdom, courage, joy, and tenacity of the Wrays, my ancestors. Magnificent Wray had plundered them to fashion his great work—a magic that would bind the dragons to the roof and protect the castle.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about what Magnificent had done. Excited? Angry? Afraid?

  I felt the vibration of magic in the scarlet ribbon wound around my palm. For a moment, I closed my eyes and soaked it in. The magic in the dresses had a lighter, more playful note than that in the castle walls or the books in the King’s library. A trilling joy soared through my hand and tugged on my heart.

  The dresses danced on their hangers. Jewels flashing. Ruffles flailing. They wanted my company as much as I wanted theirs. The urge to try this one on grew until I could scarcely breathe.

  “I have to get to work,” I said with a sob.

  I unwound the ribbon, breaking the magic’s bond. The dresses deflated on their hangers. I left them, stifling the urge to glance back over my shoulder. I wasn’t sure I could resist a second time. I closed the closet door firmly behind me.

  And squeaked with surprise.

  A tall woman strolled about the wardrobe hall. She was handsome, from her lustrous brown eyes to her close-clipped hair to the color of her skin, dark like the Princess’s black pearls. She wore a fitted purple jacket and a lavender skirt, drawn up on one side to reveal an underskirt the color of a melting sunset. Yellow leather gloves covered her hands. A strand of pearls wound around her long neck and fell to her waist.

  A mouselike girl dressed entirely in brown tottered after her, weighed down by an enormous yellow portfolio.

  “What bones!” the lady exclaimed, sweeping forward to grab my chin.

  She turned my face this way and that, studying me.

  “You can always see a woman’s beauty in her bones,” she told me. “You’ll grow up to be very attractive.” She released my face and stepped back, frowning. She ran a gloved hand over my dandelion-fluff hair. “Grow this out. Shoulder length at least.”

  “Why shoulder length?” I asked. She spoke so authoritatively that I didn’t stop to question her right to order me about.

  “Because,” she said, pulling off her gloves, “hair like yours requires weight; grow it out, and this”—she flicked her dark fingers at my head—“flyaway nonsense will be tamed.”

  “Oh,” I said, touching my hair involuntarily. I imagined it replaced with disciplined tresses.

  “Now then, tell Her Highness that Madame Zerlina has arrived!” She gestured grandly at herself.

  Then she snapped her fingers and pointed. The girl scurried forward, plopped the portfolio down on Marci’s desk, and proceeded to pull out a series of sketches and spread them across the surface.

  I slipped inside the lavender dressing room with its white-and-gold trim. Princess Mariposa stood before her mirror, admiring her newest gown, a shimmering jade satin. Marci stood behind the Princess, lacing her up. Lady Kaye, Baroness Azure, sat in her accustomed chair, gripping the silver knob of the cane I was pretty sure she didn’t need. Her upswept white-streaked dark hair sparkled with diamond clips.

  “I’m more than happy to help with all the little details, my dear,” Lady Kaye said in a tone that implied there was no such thing as a little detail.

  “Thank you,” Princess Mariposa said. “I’ve a great deal of correspondence to answer and a number of petitions to review.”

  I curtsied.

  “Yes, Darling?” Marci said.

  “Madame Zerlina is here,” I announced.

  “Tell her I’ll be out in a moment,” Princess Mariposa said.

  “I’ll entertain her until you are ready,” Lady Kaye offered, rising. “Come along, Darling,” she added, motioning with her cane.

  I jumped aside as she sailed out the door. The Princess was stepping into a pair of embroidered slippers as I hurried to catch up. The Baroness was already greeting the Royal Dress Designer when the dressing room door swung shut behind me.

  “Madame Zerlina Trinket,” Lady Kaye said. “Here you are! Early.”

  Madame Zerlina stared at her as if it were not possible that she could be early. The mousy girl had taken up a position in a corner, standing with her hands folded and her head bowed. But I noticed that her cheek twitched at the Baroness’s comment, as if she were fighting off the urge to smile.

  “I see you’ve brought drawings of your wonderful creations,” the Baroness continued.

  She advanced to the desk and selected a drawing to examine. The designs were all wedding gowns, elaborate symphonies of bows, ruffles, lace, and ribbons. Except for one simple gown that drew my eye. Before I had a chance to study it, Princess Mariposa arrived with Marci.

  At the Princess’s appearance, Madame Zerlina swooned into a curtsy so low her nose nearly scraped the carpet. Then, just as quickly, she rose.

  “Your Highness! You glow! You sparkle! And with my creations you will shine on your day of d
ays!” Madame Zerlina exclaimed, holding out her hands.

  “I have no doubt that one of your gowns will accomplish just that,” Princess Mariposa said, squeezing her hands. “I can’t wait to see.”

  The Royal Dress Designer gestured at the desk.

  “This one,” she said, scooping up a sketch to show the Princess, “is a special favorite of mine.”

  The dress featured a fitted bodice caught up on the shoulder in an enormous bow. The overskirt puffed up, held by more bows, over a tulle underskirt. A tiny crease formed in the Princess’s brow.

  “This might be a bit…” Princess Mariposa paused as if hunting for just the right word.

  “Overwhelming,” Lady Kaye supplied, holding out the sketch she had. “This is interesting.”

  This gown had big puffed sleeves and a slender skirt with a long train.

  “There are so many to choose from,” Princess Mariposa said, eyeing the desk.

  “There is this,” Madame Zerlina said, flourishing another sketch.

  This one featured an elegant gown made entirely of lace.

  “Very beautiful,” the Princess said, “but I couldn’t wear lace…again.” She blushed.

  She’d worn a lace dress when she almost married that imposter Dudley the previous fall.

  “We shall not speak of that!” Madame Zerlina tore the paper in two and threw it aside.

  “Actually, Madame Zerlina,” Princess Mariposa said, “I was hoping to find something that would match the starlight slippers.”

  “What slippers?” Madame Zerlina asked.

  “Darling, fetch that letter from my bedside table,” Princess Mariposa told me.

  I hurried to the Princess’s bedroom as she explained to Madame Zerlina about her search for the perfect shoes. I ducked through the dressing room, pausing a minute to glance at the walls. There were three doors in the room: one led back to the wardrobe hall, one led to the pressing room, and one went into the Princess’s bedroom. The doorway to the bedroom appeared to be no wider than the others. I couldn’t see how the hidden passage sat where it did, until I walked into the bedroom. And there, beyond the Princess’s massive canopied bed, the curve in the exterior was visible.

  The Princess’s suite sat next to the wardrobe hall in the western tower. From the inside, most of the rooms appeared square or rectangular, but the tower was not. It was a semicircle. And the dressing room had been set at an angle to the bedroom, creating an open wedge between them. You didn’t notice from the doorway because there you were standing at the point of the hidden triangle. Clever.

  Satisfied, I hurried to the bedside table and picked up the folded letter. It flopped open in my hand. And then I did something I knew I shouldn’t. I read the letter.

  Dearest Candace, Princess (Most) Royal,

  It has been my honor to serve you as my Sovereign! Ever I have endeavored to create greater works on your behalf. And now I have fostered a new kind of work, one of which I am sure you will approve, for the occasion of your marriage to Prince Richard. Wedding slippers crafted of leather and lace and bejeweled with starlight opals. Slippers that reflect the starlight itself. Memorable shoes for an unforgettable evening.

  Shoes, my most treasured Princess, created by the Royal Cobbler that embody something new, different, strange, and wonderful. Shoes that can truly be appreciated only when seen by starlight. I am having them sent directly from the city to you. It will be my great pleasure to explain more fully when I arrive.

  Your Most Humble, Obedient Servant, M

  Prince Richard! I’d always thought that Richard was a mighty king who married a beautiful princess named Candace. But it was the other way around. No wonder the hidden passageway went to the Queen’s suite! This entire castle had been built for her. Everything Magnificent Wray had done to create the magic, he’d done for her.

  I tucked the letter into my pocket and walked back to the wardrobe hall, where Princess Mariposa, Lady Kaye, Marci, and Madame Zerlina were still examining sketches.

  “Note the details. Exquisite embroidery. Chiffon sleeves.” Madame Zerlina pointed to the sketch in the Princess’s hands.

  “The neckline is rather low,” Lady Kaye replied.

  “A trifle, perhaps, but that can be adjusted,” Madame Zerlina said.

  “That is true of any design,” Marci said, gesturing to the pile. “If something isn’t exactly what you’re looking for, I’m sure Madame Zerlina can make changes.”

  “True, Your Highness! So true,” Madame Zerlina agreed.

  As Princess Mariposa considered this, I picked up the sketch that had caught my eye earlier. It was a simple gown with a lace-trimmed bodice and a full skirt. Scattered jewels sparkled across the front, and lace rippled along the skirt’s hem. Lace butterflies graced the waist and settled along the train. I could picture Princess Mariposa wearing this dress and kissing Prince Sterling.

  “This is perfect,” I exclaimed.

  A startled Madame Zerlina grabbed the paper from me. “All my designs are perfect!” She gave me an assessing glance. “That one especially so. You have a good eye.”

  “Darling, what have you found?” Princess Mariposa asked.

  “This is something I think you will like,” Madame Zerlina said, presenting the design.

  I rolled my eyes, but Princess Mariposa squeezed my shoulder as she admired the dress.

  “This is perfect. I shall wear this and the starlight slippers!” she said, holding out her hand for the letter. And she proceeded to read the description she’d read to us the day before.

  “They sound exquisite,” Lady Kaye said.

  “Hmm.” Madame Zerlina’s brow furrowed. “May I see these slippers?”

  “We haven’t found them yet,” Princess Mariposa admitted.

  “I cannot match a dress with shoes I have not seen!” Madame Zerlina said. She gestured to the letter. “Are there instructions for their manufacture? Perhaps the Royal Cobbler can copy them.”

  “No,” the Princess said. “There aren’t, and I’ve never seen the slippers. I just want my wedding to be special.” She handed the letter to Marci with an air of regret.

  “In that case, my dear,” Lady Kaye said, taking hold of the Princess’s arm, “let’s go see these slippers. Queen Candace’s wedding portrait hangs in the green salon. That’s the first place to look.”

  Marci skimmed the letter as Lady Kaye escorted Princess Mariposa out of the wardrobe hall. Madame Zerlina trailed behind them, exclaiming about her designs. The mousy girl stuffed the sketches back into the portfolio and tottered after them.

  Marci chewed her lower lip, thinking. I got out my sewing basket.

  “Darling,” Marci said, “these slippers sound like trouble.”

  “They do?” I set the basket down. “I thought they sounded pretty.”

  “Get a dress and follow them. Find out what’s going on,” she said, folding the letter.

  I blinked in surprise. Was Marci ordering me to wear one of the dresses?

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “My grandmother, the Wardrobe Mistress, talked about something that Queen Candace had,” Marci began uncertainly. “Something that Grandmother believed lured the dragons out of the mountains.”

  “She probably meant one of the tiaras,” I replied. “Dragons love gold and jewels.”

  Marci shook her head. “No, it was something else. Grandmother described it as something strange and different….” Marci paused. “And these slippers fit that description.”

  “Surely dragons aren’t attracted to shoes?” I scoffed. Not the castle’s dragons. They were murdering, pilfering agents of evil, intent on wreaking havoc. I couldn’t believe they’d waste their time on slippers, no matter how sparkly. Besides, dragons couldn’t even wear shoes.

  “They might be if the shoes were filled with
magic!” Marci waved the letter under my nose. “Read!”

  But I didn’t have to. I remembered reading the words in the letter: new, different, strange, and wonderful. The starlight slippers had been cobbled before the old castle burned down and the dragons were captured. Were the starlight slippers magic?

  I shivered at the possibility.

  “Hurry up,” Marci roared. “Take the back stairs so you can reach the green salon before they do. Run!”

  Startled, I raced into the closet. Lyric trilled happily at me. The dresses shivered with excitement. I grabbed Sixty.

  “I’m wearing you after all,” I told the dress as I shimmied into it. “I need to go to the green salon.”

  The gold chiffon bodice squeezed me. The rippling gold skirt swirled about me. The trailing scarlet ribbons danced as the dress instantly conformed to my size. In the mirror on the back of the closet door, I saw a lady in a blue-and-white-striped gown. Stripes were all the rage at court that spring. Everyone wore them except Lady Kaye; she sneered at stripes. The lady in the mirror had dazzling blue eyes, chestnut-brown hair, and an hourglass figure. Stripes suited her.

  I dashed off, through the wardrobe hall, along the corridor, and down the back stair. The Princess used the wide marble stairs that wound down the center of the castle and up and down all four corners. Servants had several back stairs, concealed by walls, which allowed them to move quickly from place to place.

  Halfway down, I realized I didn’t know where I was going and stopped short. A Footman passed, tray in hand, studiously avoiding me. Of course, he didn’t see me, Darling Wray Fortune, at all. He saw the lady from the mirror. Ladies ought not to use the servants’ stair. But the Footman was too well trained to take notice. I smiled sheepishly and waited for him to disappear from view.

  “Where is the green salon?” I whispered to Sixty.

  Sixty whirled around me, pulling me forward. The ruby ribbons strained, guiding me. I raced down stairs and along corridors, leaving a startled gaggle of Dusters and Sweepers in my wake. No doubt this lady’s unseemly behavior would be the talk of the kitchens later.