“I’ve named her Paloma,” Queen Candace said.
“She’s precious,” I murmured. “I’m sure she’s destined to be a great queen.”
Paloma would grow up safe and secure, happy. All because the magic surrounded, shielded, and treasured her.
As long as the seals held. As long as the dragons were bound.
The wedding day arrived with a sweet-smelling breeze, a luscious lemon-colored sun, and a robin’s-egg-blue sky. Dew sparkled on the brilliant green lawns below. In short, it was a perfect spring day.
And yet I felt perfectly rotten.
I woke to find a parcel at the foot of my bed. When I opened it, I found a silk camisole and petticoat, trimmed with lace and pink silk ribbons. And a note:
Dear Darling,
We found a good use for that ripped petticoat!
Marci and Lindy
My eyes welled up.
“I don’t like wearing them either,” Dulcie said. “But that one is sort of pretty.”
Marci and Lindy had made them for me out of a petticoat of the Princess’s that Cherice had savaged. I, Darling Wray Fortune, Failure, was off to the royal wedding wearing the most luxurious, beautiful, and expensive clothes I’d ever owned. And I wasn’t enjoying any of it. The weight of the day hung around my neck. The ball was coming, the starlight was coming—disaster was coming! I had done nothing to stop it.
Once we had all tied on our lace pinafores and buckled our patent-leather shoes, Mrs. Pepperwhistle arrived, bearing a velvet-lined tray.
“Her Highness has a special gift for her Girls,” she said. “There’s one for each of you.” And she passed out little gold pins, each with a garnet heart glistening in the center.
We pinned them on under our collars. Ann beat everyone else to the mirror to admire hers. I helped Dulcie fasten her pin.
“You look beautiful,” I told her.
She did. Her red hair had been brushed until it shone. And free from its braids, it fell down her back in a gleaming ruby cascade. The sky blue suited her perfectly.
“You too,” I told Gillian.
Gillian looked almost like a fairy-tale princess, with her heart-shaped face, dark ringlets, dimple, and fancy clothes.
“You look nice,” Ann told me, overhearing. “Almost…cute,” she added. “Doesn’t she, Kate?”
“She does,” Kate agreed.
“You look wonderful,” Gloria said.
I glanced at the mirror; there I was, Darling Wray Fortune, Princess’s Girl. If I overlooked my stubby nose, I did look almost pretty. Spiffy, certainly. Like I belonged with the rest of them.
“Thank you,” I told Gloria.
“Breakfast time,” Francesca called as the Maids arrived with trays.
We weren’t served our usual breakfast. No sticky, gooey, jam-laden selections this morning. Breakfast consisted of bowls of thick oatmeal garnished with cream and strawberries. Mrs. Pepperwhistle insisted that we eat with napkins tied around our necks to protect our new clothes. Dulcie spooned up her oatmeal with a grim expression while Francesca kept an eye on her. Dulcie would arrive at the wedding spotless, whether she wanted to or not.
Then we all walked down to the stable yard for our wagon ride to the city. Jane and the Head Cook were waiting there to see us off.
“Darling,” Jane called.
“Here I am,” I said, walking over to her.
“Let me look at you,” she said, taking hold of my arms.
She smiled so proudly that it pained me, even though I knew she couldn’t see me properly. What she saw in her mind’s eye I couldn’t say, but that Darling was the apple of her eye.
“I always knew you’d grow up to be a beauty,” she said.
“Everyone looks good in fancy clothes,” I replied, embarrassed that the other Girls could hear.
“Don’t you believe it,” the Head Cook said. “Clothes don’t make the lady; it’s the other way around.”
“Load up, Girls,” the Stable Master called.
* * *
—
We Girls received special treatment. The wagon had been swept clean, and all the fittings shone. The benches that lined the sides were covered with clean blankets. A Groom drove the team of steady horses, and a Footman rode along—just to help us in and out of the wagon!
The mountain scenery rolled past us as we rode along. Dulcie was so eager to see everything that I had to keep a hand on her to stop her from tumbling over the side at every jolt.
I slumped in my seat; what had I been thinking when I tampered with those slippers?
“Cheer up,” Gillian said.
That was easy for her to say; the threat of impending disaster didn’t seem to trouble her a bit.
“Tell a story.” Gillian nudged me. “That one about the Heart of the Forest.”
“What story?” Francesca asked. “I’ve never heard about any heart in the forest.”
“Oh,” Gillian exclaimed, “Darling is the world’s best storyteller.”
Now every Girl stared at me, waiting.
“Prove it,” Kate said.
So I told them the story I had made up for Gillian over the winter. A tale about a great enchantress who pours her love for the Mountain King into an emerald. The Girls sat on the edge of their seats, drinking in every word. The wagon slowed as even the Groom and the Footman leaned back to hear my tale. It was such an exciting story—with a wonderful, happy ending when the little goat girl discovers the gem—that I forgot to be miserable.
And we had arrived at the tall, gleaming-white cathedral in the center of the city before we knew it. Men and women dressed in splendid clothes streamed up the front stair to the gold-bound, arched double doors. The Girls oohed and aahed over the sight.
“My great-great-grandfather built that,” I couldn’t resist telling them.
They eyed me with a new respect.
The Groom drove us around to the side of the building, where we were helped out and sent in through a side door. Lady Kaye, wearing royal-blue satin and a spectacular diamond necklace, was waiting for us.
“Girls,” she said, “pay strict attention to my instructions. You will take a basket, line up as the Footman directs you, and wait quietly until called for. Then you will proceed up the aisle in two lines, scattering your petals—on the floor, Girls, not on the guests. At the steps to the altar, you will divide, one group to the right and one to the left. You will walk along the side front, out into the transepts, where you will stand in complete silence and be permitted to view the wedding.”
The Girls buzzed with excitement.
“We get to watch!” Kate said, practically swooning.
“Is this all perfectly clear?” Lady Kaye demanded. “Are there any questions?”
We shook our heads in unison.
“Then fetch your baskets,” she said.
* * *
—
We clutched our ribbon-bedecked baskets and soaked in the scent of the rose petals. Behind us, two bridesmaids in ice-blue gowns and crowns woven of pink roses waited. I recognized one of them as Lady Teresa, who looked so frightened I thought she might be sick. In the back, Princess Mariposa glowed like a candle flame, from the twinkle of the jeweled lace butterfly in her dark hair, to the sapphire sparkle in her eyes, to the gleam of the white satin gown, to the shimmer of the starlight opals on her toes. In her hands, an enormous bouquet of white roses, gardenias, peonies, and lilies-of-the-valley quivered with her excitement.
Music swelled in the narthex, where we waited, and the Footman assigned to us signaled to us to begin. We walked down the aisle in two parallel rows; Francesca headed one, and Ann headed the other. There had been a bit of grousing over Ann’s being singled out, but it had died down when Lady Kaye glared at us.
Now we stepped out of
the shade of the narthex into the sanctuary. Every surface gleamed with marble, porcelain, and gold. A dazzling-bright light rained down from the stained-glass windows that rose to dizzying heights on either side. Overhead, an enormous vault floated, seemingly on air.
I thought about Lady Amber’s charcoal line that spilled off her father’s paper and took shape. This cathedral was my great-great-grandfather’s imagination brought to glass-and-stone reality. My heart throbbed with pride as I cast my petals along the main aisle of his great achievement.
A delighted gasp ran through the guests as the Princess appeared behind us. The scent of roses perfumed the air as the Princess trod on the petals. At the altar, which was piled high with flowers, Prince Sterling stood, smiling.
My heart skipped a beat; he was the picture of a storybook prince! Warm brown eyes. Wavy brown hair. Regal bearing. Blue velvet coat heavy with gold embroidery. Gold satin sash. Diamond buttons. Gleaming sword at his side. And underneath it all, a kind heart. I couldn’t help contrasting him with the phony Prince Baltazar the Princess had nearly married. The fake prince might have been taller, broader of shoulder, and blond, but he couldn’t compare with Prince Sterling.
Why, if I’d been a princess, I’d have married Prince Sterling myself!
As it was, I followed Lady Kaye’s instructions exactly, and ended up—in all too brief a time—out in the transept on the side of the cathedral. There, we Girls watched breathlessly as Princess Mariposa arrived at the altar, the lace butterflies on her dress and in her hair fluttering delicately.
The ceremony began, and after the choir sang and the priest droned on and on, my attention began to wander. The transept was lined with great wood doors. I noticed that the door closest to us had a sheaf of wheat carved on it and a plaque that read CHAPEL OF THE SMALLHOLDERS. What were smallholders? Very tiny pockets? As Ann, Gillian, and the others in my group hovered closer to the sanctuary to catch every word, I wandered down the transept.
I saw chapels dedicated to Glaziers, Wheelwrights, and Carpenters. And then I found a door with an anchor on it and a plaque: MARITIME CHAPEL. I turned the doorknob, and the heavy door creaked open.
Inside, a room lined in sea-green tiles and decorated with painted porcelain fish awaited me. Brass tablets covered the walls. A podium with a big brassbound book stood in the center. I glanced in the book; lists of ships and names filled the pages. I quickly realized that the lists were alphabetical, and I flipped to the Fs. There, on the thin onionskin page, was this inscription:
FORTUNE’S FOLLY; CAPTAIN JAMES FORTUNE G47
I put a finger on the inked writing, the only proof I had that my father had existed as more than a story told to me by Jane. As I studied the wall, I saw that the tablets were labeled. In a matter of minutes, I located G47. It was the only tombstone my lost-at-sea father would ever have. I gazed it at for a long time, trying to feel something.
A lingering emptiness was all I felt.
I left the chapel to return to the Girls, and as I did, a heavy iron gate caught my eye. It sat at the end of the transept, hunkered in a dark corner, with a great iron lock clutching its center. I went over to it, wondering what required such a lock.
I peered through the iron bars. Worn steps melted down into a deeper darkness. Whatever was down there was lost in shadows. I stepped back and saw the starburst engraved in the iron.
My hand darted to my pocket before I remembered that I’d left the key back at the castle with Roger.
“Psst,” Gillian hissed. She waved at me from down the way. Get back here, before you get caught, she mouthed, pointing at Ann, who had her back to us.
I patted my empty lace pocket and went back to watch the wedding.
A flash of gold shone as the Prince held out his hand. The wedding ring! The Princess presented her hand to receive it—and just as she did, a bright blue butterfly floated down to perch on her wrist. I’d never been one to set much store in signs, but this had to be an omen! The Princess and her Prince would live happily ever after for sure.
Well, I thought miserably, at least they would until the ball.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. As a special treat, we Girls were taken to an inn and fed an enormous lunch. Then our Footman took us on a walking tour of the city, pointing out houses and buildings he thought would interest us. Lady Kaye’s stately beige town house was among these. We visited a park and fed the birds. Finally, footsore but happy, we piled into our wagon for the ride home.
It was suppertime when we arrived back at the castle. The kitchens broiled with activity while we ate; the wedding feast was under way, and a squadron of Footmen dashed in and out, ferrying platters to and from the banquet hall.
I had forgotten my troubles over the course of the afternoon, but they came crashing back now. I nibbled on cold chicken and stewed on the inside. Once the feast ended, the court would withdraw to change into their evening clothes and attend the ball. Only a handful of starlight-free hours remained. Soon starlight would strike the opals and rock the castle’s foundations.
And it would all be my fault!
There was nothing else left to do; I’d have to attend the ball.
“Are you okay?” Gillian asked after dinner.
“No,” I said.
“What’s wrong?” Dulcie asked, tagging along. The day’s excitement had been too much for her hair, which frizzed out behind her like a red comet. “Is it your tummy?”
“It’s worse than that,” I said.
Dulcie frowned as if trying to decide what could be worse than a stomachache.
“Is it a headache?” she wondered. “Do you need some chamomile tea?”
“No,” I said. “There’s only one cure for what ails me.”
“Does it lie in a closet?” Gillian asked archly.
“Nope,” I said. “It’s Marci.”
Gillian blinked in surprise.
“Do you think it’s that desperate?” she asked.
“Yes. Are you in?” I asked her. “Or are you out?”
She hesitated for a moment, and then she nodded. “I’m in,” she said.
“Me too!” Dulcie said, without any idea of what she was agreeing to.
* * *
—
I told Marci what I’d done with the slippers; Gillian and Dulcie went along for moral support.
“You did what?” Marci cried, aghast. “Darling, what were you thinking?”
“Never mind that now,” Gillian said. “She knows it was really, really stupid, but she can’t undo it.”
I frowned at Gillian; stupid was a strong word. I preferred misguided.
“Yeah,” Dulcie said. “Stupid.”
“We have to keep those slippers out of the starlight,” I said. “Whatever it takes.”
“And what exactly might it take?” Marci demanded.
I told her my plan. She didn’t like any part of it, but lacking any better plan of her own, she agreed to help me. Not happily. Not eagerly. Not even sympathetically, as she explained. Because she didn’t feel one little bit sorry for me. But if that’s what was needed to protect the Princess, she’d do it.
We’d talk about my punishment later.
* * *
—
Outside the great peaked-arch window, night fell over the castle.
“The fate of the kingdom is at stake,” I told the dresses. “I am going to the ball!”
The dresses roiled in excitement, jangling their hangers and swaying as if they moved in time with music. One Hundred alone hung like a glittering icicle in its dark corner. Lyric stirred on his perch, chirruping. He flicked his tail; his tiny black eyes shone. Do it, they seemed to say; go to the ball.
“I need to protect the Princess,” I said. “Who’s going with me?”
Twenty, a black gown twinkling with jewels caught in sheer b
lack net and trimmed in gold lace, dipped a shoulder at me.
“It could be dangerous,” I warned it. “We could get caught; you might not make it back to the closet.”
Twenty shook out its skirts as if preparing for battle.
“That’s the stuff I need,” I said, pulling the dress off the hanger. “The rest of you, stand by. There’s a long night ahead of us. I might have to change. So be ready.”
The dresses shivered in a tizzy of delight as I stepped into Twenty. Their enthusiasm warmed my heart; at least they were behind me, even if One Hundred wasn’t.
Twenty embraced me, leaving me momentarily breathless, and then it settled around me like a shield. In the mirror, a pretty brown-haired lady wearing a diamond-and-topaz necklace and an armful of diamond, topaz, and gold bracelets greeted me. From her jewels and apparel, she was obviously someone important. Her smile was kind, if uncertain, as though her stunning dark topaz gown with its turquoise ribbons and snowdrift’s worth of lace was grand even for her.
“Wonderful,” I said, clapping my hands. “She’ll be perfect.”
There was no time to waste. I turned to leave, but Twenty held me back.
A pair of brocade shoes sat under its hanger.
“Well, okay,” I said, untying my boots. I wasn’t eager to experience the weird stretchy feeling that occupied the last dress-and-shoes combination, but I trusted Twenty. It acted like a dress that knew its mettle.
I pulled off my boots, held my breath, and stepped into the shoes. This time when my ears rang, my vision blurred, and I felt myself thinning and stretching, it was less unsettling because I was prepared for it. But it took me a moment to adjust.
And then I was off and out the door.
* * *
—
“Darling, those jewels!” Gillian said. She’d planted herself at Marci’s desk with a fistful of toffees and a book, ready to stand guard in the wardrobe hall. “Who are you?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “but she’s off to the ball.”
The Starlight Slippers Page 18