The Starlight Slippers

by Susan Maupin Schmid

  Bonbon scooped up a button and threw it. It bounced off my arm and rolled off the desk.

  “Nice,” I said. “Go pick that up!”

  Bonbon shook her head and went back to the other five buttons. She picked each one up and set it down deliberately. One big button and four little—

  “That’s your family,” I said, suddenly understanding. “Your dad,” I said, pointing to the big button and then the smaller buttons, “and you, Éclair, Flan, and Anise!”

  Bonbon clapped her paws together. Her tiny blue eyes swam with tears.

  I looked at the button on the carpet beneath me.

  “That’s your mother,” I whispered, remembering the five holes in the frieze. “That’s why you four don’t stay in the box; you’re trying to get her back.”

  Bonbon sniffled, curling her tail and wiggling her ears.

  “She’s still in the wall, isn’t she?” I said. “And you want me to rescue her?”

  Relief broke out on Bonbon’s furry face.

  “Okay,” I said. “I will. But,” I said, holding up a hand to stop a celebrating Bonbon from dancing her way off the edge of the desk, “I’ll have to do it later today.”

  Bonbon stopped in mid-waltz and assumed a dejected air.

  “Right now I have to work,” I told her. “But later I will. I promise.”

  Bonbon squeaked excitedly. Then she pirouetted across the desktop, vanishing over the edge with a farewell flick of her tail.

  After lunch, I found several Guards lugging pasteboard boxes into the wardrobe hall. Princess Mariposa, Madame Zerlina Trinket, and Marci were gathered together at Marci’s desk, examining a lace butterfly in the Princess’s hand.

  “See,” Madame Zerlina instructed, “underneath, there are very thin wires sewn into the wings. That way each butterfly can be shaped and positioned on your dress so that we will give the illusion that they have just landed.” She clapped her gloved hands together. “Perfection!”

  “How clever,” Marci said.

  “Marvelous,” Princess Mariposa told Madame Zerlina. And then she turned to the Guards, who’d set the boxes on the carpet. “That will be all for now.”

  The men bowed and left.

  “Is the wedding dress done?” I asked, surveying the boxes.

  “Done?” Madame Zerlina Trinket exclaimed. “My dear child, one does not rush great art!”

  She flung her arms wide as if she were the work of art in question. She wore rose-colored leather gloves and an avocado-green dress with a narrow skirt tucked up in the back with jeweled clips. An ostrich feather curled over one eyebrow.

  “No, one can’t,” Princess Mariposa replied for me. “But one can nudge it along a bit.”

  Madame Zerlina laughed in a full-throated manner. “Feast your eyes, ladies, on a masterpiece of fashion,” she said.

  She ripped open one of the boxes and brought out a white satin skirt with jewels scattered across the front and a ripple of lace around the hem. The waist of the skirt was ragged and unfinished.

  “Oh my,” Princess Mariposa breathed. “It’s stunning.”

  “I am so glad you are pleased, Your Highness,” Madame Zerlina replied.

  “Is the rest in pieces?” I asked. There were a lot of boxes.

  “Each portion of the gown is complete: skirt, bodice, sleeves, train, underskirt, petticoat,” Madame Zerlina explained. “But they must all fit perfectly. So we will adjust and then assemble.” She flashed a wide smile. “Then we add the crowning touch—our butterflies!”

  “That’s a lot of sewing,” I said.

  “So it is.” Madame Zerlina laughed. “I will unpack and make ready. I am at your disposal, Your Highness, all day.”

  “I’ll go change,” Princess Mariposa said, handing the lace butterfly over to Madame Zerlina as if reluctant to relinquish it.

  Then the Princess and Marci went into the dressing room.

  “You,” Madame Zerlina said to me after they left, “may assist.” She pointed to a box. “Unpack that one first.” Madame Zerlina settled on Marci’s chair as if she meant to stay.

  So, despite her announcement that she would unpack, I did. Not that it wasn’t fun. Each piece of the gown was beautiful, even the petticoat, which was a delicate, shimmering mist of tulle and lace. One box held lace butterflies, which Madame Zerlina instructed me to leave alone. And lastly, I opened a box that held a simple mauve gown with a cream lace jabot and a mauve leather belt. It looked too short and too wide to fit the Princess, but I set it out just the same.

  By the time I was finished, Marci returned to announce that the Princess was ready.

  Madame Zerlina swept off her chair and fetched the petticoat.

  “We shall start with this,” she said, and whirled away.

  I went back to darning stockings while all the excitement happened in the next room. Occasionally, Madame Zerlina would return for another piece. And when she carried it into the dressing room, the Princess would admire it profusely.

  I craned my neck to catch a glimpse, but each time the door swung shut before I could.

  When Madame Zerlina retrieved the last piece, the train, she gestured to the slippers.

  “We’ll want those in a few minutes,” she said. “Perhaps when you have completed your current task, you can bring them in for me.”

  “Sure,” I said uneasily. “I’d be glad to.” It hadn’t occurred to me that the Princess would wear them before the wedding.

  “Thank you,” Madame Zerlina said, and left.

  I stared at the shimmering starlight opals. I knew that if I touched them, I’d feel the surge of magic within them. What would happen when the Princess put them on? Would she change in some fashion? Grow? Shrink? Turn into somebody else? What?

  And could I risk finding out?

  I grabbed the slippers, cringing at the magical furor beneath my hands. Then I dashed into the closet, shut the door, and set the shoes on the carpet. Lyric whistled sharply as if he didn’t approve of my bringing the slippers in there. The dresses arched in my direction as I plopped on the floor and hurriedly untied my boots. I yanked them off, took a deep breath, and shoved my feet into the slippers.

  I held my breath and waited.

  A nearby dress fluttered at me. I ignored it as the rising tide of magic beneath my feet rippled up over my toes and lapped at my ankles. Unlike the pleasant sensation in the dresses, this felt like pins and needles stinging me. I gritted my teeth as the magic enveloped me, gushing upward until it sizzled in the roots of my hair.

  Then I looked in the mirror. I had no idea what I’d see, but I had to know.

  The only reflection I saw in the mirror was my own.

  Me, Darling Wray Fortune, Under-assistant to the Wardrobe Mistress, looking odd in a silver-gray dress, a white apron, and a pair of lace shoes sparkling with opals.

  With a sigh of relief, I kicked off the slippers and dived back into my boots. There. I’d worn the slippers, and nothing had happened to me. So it was probably safe to take them to the Princess. The opals might sparkle more than normal, but with all the excitement over the wedding gown, no one would notice.

  I tied my boots, gathered up the slippers, and, still simmering with magic, trotted out to fetch the satin pillow. I set the slippers on the pillow and walked over to the dressing room door.

  “No nonsense now,” I told them, and opened the door.

  Princess Mariposa radiated joy in her pinned-together wedding gown. It suited her exactly, from the lace over the bodice to the sprinkling of jewels to the butterfly alit at her waist.

  Madame Zerlina knelt at the train, delicately creasing a lace butterfly’s wing before placing it on the train. Marci handed her a long, straight pin to fasten it in place.

  I set the pillow down on a nearby chair.

  “What do
you think, Darling?” Princess Mariposa asked, eyes sparkling.

  “It’s almost as gorgeous as you are!” I breathed.

  The Princess laughed.

  “And you need a butterfly for your hair,” I added. “I can picture your curls piled on your head with a butterfly on one side.” I pulled my dandelion-fluff hair up to demonstrate.

  Madame Zerlina stopped what she was doing and stared at me.

  “That is exactly right, Your Highness,” Madame Zerlina said. “I can make a special butterfly just for your hair—jeweled, of course!”

  “Hadn’t you planned to wear a tiara and a veil?” Marci asked.

  “I had,” Princess Mariposa admitted, “but Darling’s butterfly sounds much more romantic.”

  “There,” Madame Zerlina said. “The fitting is all done. Now we can check the length. If you’d like to put on the slippers—”

  Marci grimaced as I picked up the pillow and held it out. I gave her a reassuring nod. She took the slippers and walked over to the dais, where the Princess waited before the mirror. My grip on the pillow tightened as she bent down and helped the Princess into the shoes.

  “Oh!” the Princess cried.

  I nearly dropped the pillow.

  “They are perfect!” Princess Mariposa held the skirt up to reveal the opals. “See!”

  Marci sagged in relief.

  “Your Highness, they are!” Madame Zerlina exclaimed, as if wearing the slippers had been her idea. “When His Highness sees you at the wedding, he will be overcome with your beauty.”

  The Princess laughed. “I hope not. I’m expecting him to dance at the ball afterward!”

  * * *

  —

  I forgot about mending as Madame Zerlina wrapped the pinned-together gown and its petticoat in white cloth. Then she packed away her packet of pins and assorted sewing supplies, chatting with Marci as she worked.

  “I prefer to take things back to my salon for the finishing touches,” she said.

  “I thought Rose did the sewing,” I said.

  “Oh, she does sometimes, for some of my designs for Her Highness,” Madame Zerlina said. “But certain gowns I must see to personally. I have the best seamstresses in all the land!”

  “But if Rose is the Head Seamstress for Princess Mariposa, isn’t she the best?” I asked.

  “She is one of the best,” Marci said.

  “Oh, indeed she is!” Madame Zerlina cried. “And I know Rose. I will leave the final sewing to her; I can trust her to wear gloves.”

  “Gloves? To sew in? Why?” I asked.

  “To protect the satin from the oils in the hand!” Madame Zerlina answered, holding out her hand in its rose-colored leather glove. “See, I do not wear this for the fashion! I wear it to protect the fabric!”

  “Oh.”

  “Not that my hands aren’t spotlessly clean,” she added sternly. “Because they are.”

  “Darling doesn’t mean anything by her questions,” Marci said. “She’s just curious.”

  “Hmm,” Madame Zerlina replied.

  “And I admit to being a little curious about this mauve dress,” Marci said. “I don’t remember the Princess ordering one.”

  “She did not,” Madame Zerlina said. “I have made this just for you!”

  “For m-me!” Marci stuttered. “Oh, Madame Zerlina, I could never afford—”

  “Tut-tut,” Madame Zerlina said. “Afford! The idea! This, my dear, is a gift, a small gesture of appreciation. It’s just your color; in this dress, you will glow like the last kiss of the sunset!”

  “Oh,” Marci breathed, fingering the rich fabric.

  I couldn’t imagine Marci ever glowing like the last kiss of the sunset.

  “Thank you!” Marci exclaimed. “Thank you so much!”

  Madame Zerlina patted her shoulder. “You should slip away and try it on.”

  “Now?” Marci said.

  “But of course now! What better time?”

  “Well.” Marci giggled, tugging on the mauve scarf she wore knotted under her collar. “It is my shade.”

  I stared at her in disbelief. She was acting like a Kitchen Maid with a new beau!

  “Go!” Madame Zerlina shooed her.

  Marci melted, gathering up the dress and scooting out the door.

  “My work here,” Madame Zerlina said, “is done!”

  And with that, she swept out of the wardrobe hall.

  Father watched as the goldsmith released the metal from the molds. Beyond them, a furnace raged behind iron bars. The goldsmith’s workshop gleamed with gold and sizzled with heat. The smith wore a heavy leather apron and gloves, and he’d handled the molten metal with iron tongs when he’d poured it the day before.

  “It must still be polished,” the goldsmith warned, holding the large studded collar up for Father’s approval.

  “You followed my specifications exactly?” Father asked.

  “Weigh and measure it yourself,” the goldsmith replied.

  Father caressed the collar. “Oh, I shall,” he murmured, studying his reflection.

  I crouched at the intersection of two corridors in the west wing, listening for footsteps. I had the tail end of the afternoon to myself. Marci had not only tried on her new dress but planted herself before the closet mirror to admire her reflection. And when I’d mentioned an errand I needed to run, she’d waved me off without stopping to question me.

  Of course, she was in the closet at the time, which made it impossible to use a dress without explaining myself. I couldn’t very well tell her, Oh, Marci, nothing to worry about. I’m just off to let another mouse loose in the castle.

  But I’d promised Bonbon, so there I was.

  It was still early enough that most of the courtiers were too occupied with their various activities and amusements to think of dressing for dinner. But it was an hour when servants were apt to be about, fetching and carrying whatever Lady Such-and-Such might soon require. I’d cooked up an excuse for myself—a mysterious note that must be delivered; I’d even brought along a folded leaf of Marci’s stationery as a prop—but I preferred not to use it. I planned to behave just like Iago and Bonbon—scurrying in and out without being seen.

  I peeked around the corner; the corridor was empty. Holding my note out conspicuously as if I were engaged in urgent business, I trotted down the hall. Plaster mice cavorted along the frieze at my side. The break where the mice were missing was about halfway between the Baroness’s door and the end of the hall.

  I found it quickly and glanced up and down the corridor to be sure no one was coming. Then I reached a finger out and stopped.

  Which mouse was Bonbon’s mother? The missing stretch began and ended with two mice very similar in size and posture. I dithered for a moment. I could release them all, but the frieze lined the corridor on either side. There were dozens—or even hundreds—of plaster mice capering along its length. I needed to find the right mouse. And quickly.

  I put the tip of my finger on the mouse to the right. A tiny bit of magic bubbled under my touch. I felt a curious sensation as if I were the mouse in the frieze. An anxious pattering around as if I were frantically searching. That’s how the mice in the frieze saw their captivity. In the past when I’d touched the magic and felt the creatures trapped in its web, they’d been happy. But now they were desperately searching for a mousehole to crawl through to freedom.

  My heart ached for the mice. I’d felt birds caught in the castle’s magic, and they were jollier about their circumstances. Not exactly happy to be stuck, but…hopeful, that was the word. They felt hopeful that one day they’d soar again. But not the mice; they’d become worried, fearful, and dejected. I wanted so badly to release them all that I almost did.

  Until I sensed the dragons’ low growl behind the mice’s panic. Lik
e the rumble of distant thunder, they warned of the storm to come. Naturally eager for shelter, the tiny mice hearts raced with the need to flee to safety.

  “You’d be no safer out here than you are in there,” I told the mice.

  But they didn’t believe me. Not for a second.

  “I need Bonbon’s mother,” I said, forming a picture in my thoughts of Iago and his four children. “Which one of you is she?”

  Like a magnet, the mouse on the left drew my finger, and there I felt the keen longing of a mother’s concern. The magic word that unlocked the enchantment burned on the end of my tongue. Carefully, I latched on to the thought of the mouse under my hand. And with a heavy heart, I pushed the fretful clamoring of the others aside.

  “Sarvinder,” I whispered.

  The magic rippled under my hand, and a solid mouse popped out. Startled, I caught her, squeezing her so tightly she squeaked.

  “Sorry,” I said, loosening my hold. “I didn’t want to drop you.”

  She sat up on my palm, grooming her long, curly whiskers with her paws. She had large blue eyes and unusually long lashes. These she batted at me in surprise.

  “I’m a friend of your husband, Iago,” I told her.

  Her long nose quivered suspiciously.

  “Your family misses you,” I said. “I’ll take you to them.”

  When I went to slip her into my pocket for the journey, she squeaked angrily and darted out of my hand. She fell, head over tail, and landed with a plop on the floor.

  “Just a minute,” I said. “I can help you.”

  She flipped over on all fours, shook herself, and raced down the corridor.

  “Wait!” I cried.

  I took off after her, bounding along the hall and around the corner.

  But she was gone. There was no sight of her in either direction.

  I walked slowly down the hallway, looking for cracks or holes that she might have crawled through. But it was no use. She was gone, and I had no way to find her.

  * * *