My heart sank.
I knew before I opened it that my shoes, my glorious creation, the glass slippers that had taken two years to perfect, were gone.
Tears crowded my eyelids, and I tossed the empty box aside. It clattered on the floor and the lid fell aside, only rubbing in the truth as the box lay gaping and empty on the ground.
My dreams shattered, every single one of them. Decorative plates and bowls had only ever been a means to an end. The shoes had been my real prize, the beautiful creation that would have become synonymous with my name. The shoes that would have launched my career.
Now the shoes were going to be famous, all right. And every glassblower in the kingdom was going to have a head start on recreating them.
I could practically hear the glass melting all around the kingdom, the glassblowers who’d been at work since before I sat down for breakfast.
The door creaked, and I bolted to my feet.
My mother’s voice whispered through the room. “Ellie? There are people here to see you.”
I squinted the tears from my eyes. “People? Who…?”
My mother stepped into the workshop, the rising sun silhouetting her sturdy frame. She creased her eyebrows as I wiped the dirt from my morning robe. “What’s wrong, Elynore?”
I swallowed the burning lump in my throat. “It’s nothing.”
I crossed the room and went to sidestep her, but she blocked my path and set that familiar glare on me. “Don’t insult me. I’m your mother. I know when my child is hurting.”
My mother had a sense for these sorts of things, it was true. She’d probably even guessed that I’d been working on something special, but she hadn’t pressed me about it. I almost never showed my creations to my parents until they were finished, and even then, there was a proper way to present art.
The crimson satin cushion I’d bought for showcasing the shoes wasn’t finished yet. I was supposed to pick it up from the seamstress tomorrow.
A tear slid down my cheek, and her face softened as she wrapped me in a hug. “Tell you about it later?”
She kissed my forehead and nodded before releasing me from her embrace. Then she wiped the tears from my cheek with her thumb, rough from all her gardening, cooking, and tending the chickens.
She scrutinized my robe, specifically my sleeves, the edges singed from years of forgetting to roll them up as I brought my projects to the fire. Her nose turned upward, a smile curving at her full lips. “You might consider changing for our guests.”
CHAPTER 2
ELLIE
I’d had to dab paint on the skin beneath my blotchy eyelids to hide the swelling my tears had caused. By the time the redness in the whites of my eyes had faded and I’d changed into an outfit more suitable for company—an ivy-green house dress with a flaring skirt and a cinched waist, I was fairly certain our guests, whoever they were, had been waiting at least half an hour.
It didn’t matter, though. I could only hope the delay would serve to shorten our visit. After all, I had much to do today, including submitting a petition to the Palace Guard to open an investigation regarding my stolen property. Unlikely as it was that the Guard would agree that my property was valuable enough to lift a pen, much less open up a proper investigation, I had to do something. I had to try.
I took one last glance in the mirror, less than satisfied with my paint, which was doing a poor job of obscuring my distress, but pleased with my appearance all the same. My mother had gifted me her beauty—brown eyes, wide but sharp; strong cheekbones that paired well with my curved jaw; and her warm, deep brown complexion.
I applied another coat of paint under my eyes, all the same.
My heels clanked down our glazed cherry wood stairway as I descended into the parlor.
I came to a stop when my heels clicked against checkered tile.
“Ah, Miss Payne.”
The bored voice sounded familiar, though I didn’t think it was one of our neighbors. When I turned the curve of our winding staircase, I realized why.
It was the same courier who had delivered my invitation to the ball. The same who I was fairly certain heard me burst into a fit of unrestrained giggles as soon as I’d shut the door. Two soldiers accompanied him, each in a royal indigo uniform bedecked with large silver buttons.
The courier wore similar colors, but on a velvet robe that ballooned out at his feet and sleeves. I wondered if he recognized how ridiculous he looked. Even felt a twinge of pity for the faerie. His skin was pale as eggshells and thinner than a human’s, so much so that I would have been able to tell he was faerie even if the pointed tips of his ears hadn’t protruded from underneath his velvet cap. My parents stood on either side of the guards, amused expressions tempered under solemnly tight lips. I wondered what was so funny, yet inappropriate to express.
“Welcome.” I curtsied as I reached the bottom of the stairs. “Might I ask what brings you to—” All sense of propriety fled me as my gaze halted on the object in the courier’s hand. He held a box made of dark chestnut wood. There was no lid, leaving the contents visible. Inside was a red velvet cushion, atop which sat a shoe.
My shoe.
Light danced in the intricate heel of the glass slipper, as if to taunt me. Like it was bragging that it had been out dancing without me, and this was what I got for trapping it inside a dark metal box.
“Where did you get that?” Fire rushed to my cheeks as I reached for the glittering slipper. The courier yanked it back just before my fingertips could graze the clear glass.
“Miss Payne, this is a possession of the Prince of Dwellen and is not to be handled lightly.”
“That’s not the prince’s. It’s mine,” I snapped. The courier and the guards tensed, even as I drew my hand back. Confusion flickered over my father’s face, and my mother’s for a moment, before her perceptive eyes scanned the familiar pattern in the heel and widened in realization.
“Ah, yes. As it was Miss Lightfoot’s next door, and Miss Balfour’s next door to her.” The courier rolled his eyes, and the two guards fought back snickers. “Let us simply pray that you are the unique one among them and that you refrain from wasting our time and the precious skin on your feet by attempting to shove them into this poor, abused slipper.”
“Fine.” I shrugged. “Let me try it on. Unless the criminal who stole them from me stretched out the glass, I imagine it still fits. Considering I made them from a mold of my foot.” I sauntered over to a woven chair in the parlor and whipped my skirts up, tossing my house shoes across the room with a flick of my ankles.
Exasperation flooded my mother’s face at the unladylike gesture, but my father had to clamp a hand over his mouth to suppress his laughter. Clearly he thought my antics were just that, an attempt to get a good laugh out of him at the expense of the courier’s embarrassment. I could only imagine the anger that would flood his face once he realized I wasn’t bluffing. That someone really had broken in and stolen years’ worth of work, just to leave one of my precious shoes at that stupid ball—in an attempt to run away from a prince who apparently couldn’t take no for an answer.
The courier sighed. “Very well.” He kneeled and placed the wooden box gently on the black-checkered tile next to my feet. When he pulled the shoe from the box, the heel sparkled in the chandelier light above us, and my eyes met my father’s. The sight of the intricate pattern on the shoe wiped the amusement from his face, and this time he stifled a gasp rather than a chuckle.
My mother clamped a hand around his wrist and squeezed, no doubt a warning for him to keep calm.
