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“Jack! Gus!” She set the gown atop her pallet and scooped up a pearl and a length of pink ribbon. “Can you bring me more treasures like these?”
The magpies chirped as if they understood the mission and its urgency, and soared off from the windowsill in tandem.
Spirits buoyant, Cynthia hurried through the washing of hair, the serving of afternoon tea, and the five additional tasks her stepmother and stepsisters dreamt up before she could finally break away to take a moment for herself.
“Dawdle at your own risk,” Stasia warned her under her breath. “The ball begins promptly at nine, which means less than three hours until we join the queue!”
“We leave with or without you,” Dorothea called out as Cynthia barreled up the stairs on exhausted feet.
“Hopefully without,” Lady Tremaine added fretfully. “I know she’s your lady’s maid, but how fashionable will you two look if you’re seen towing a bedraggled scullion about like a pet?”
Cynthia ignored them all as she hurried back to the attic.
There, atop the smooth folds of her mother’s ivory gown, rose a mountain of colorful ribbons and sparkling baubles.
“Jack and Gus, you clever scamps!” she breathed in wonder, dropping to her knees to sift through the trove of pretty ornaments.
In no time, she had her sewing kit in hand, and briskly trimmed the sleeves and hem and bodice with bright pink ribbons, giving the ivory gown a gorgeous splash of color. She dotted the bodice with pearl buttons and added a faux diamond to the clip in her hair.
When she made her way down the stairs, her stepmother and stepsisters weren’t merely horrified at the sight of her.
They were furious.
Lady Tremaine pointed a knobby finger at Cynthia’s bodice. “So that’s where the ribbon of my riding bonnet went!”
“My missing pearl buttons,” Stasia gasped. “You have them.”
“Is that…” Dorothea dropped the black cat from her arms. “Is that the diamond from my lost earring?”
Oh, no. Oh, oh, oh no.
“You thief!” Lady Tremaine slapped Cynthia’s cheek. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice?”
“Rowr,” added Morningstar, racing up Cynthia’s legs, claws out, scratching her skin and shredding her mother’s gown. Her stepsisters joined in the fray.
“I… I didn’t…” she managed, but it was too late.
The dress was ruined. It didn’t matter whose fault it was. There was no time to make a new one.
Cynthia wouldn’t be going anywhere.
Chapter Four
Ammalia’s heart beat faster as the royal carriage drew up the cobblestone street. The parade had long since ended, though hours remained before the ball. All of the prior onlookers had returned to their homes to prepare. There were only a few souls in sight to give her curious glances. A street sweeper, a stray dog, a hunched woman carrying a basket of apples.
As usual, without Zurri by her side, Ammalia was of no interest. The woman with the apples didn’t spare her a second glance. Even the puppy had better sticks to chase. And the street sweeper simply sighed, as he waited for one of the eight white stallions to deposit a royal mess to be cleaned up.
She lowered herself from the carriage and accepted a pretty box from Fabrizio, one of the footmen.
“Stay here,” she told him. “I won’t be long.”
Fabrizio glanced askance at the humble houses before her. “And if you do not return swiftly?”
“Then you wait here until I appear,” she said firmly. “I trust you brought a book?”
He grinned and held up the volume Ammalia had loaned him. “I’m on chapter seven.”
“Good man.” She smiled back, then turned toward the row of residences, in the hope that her hunch was right, and the woman she had seen lived nearby.
