I think my power is back,” I blurted. Galatea’s spell had worked, after all. My magic had been late once again. This time it came with the rise of the sun. Why it took so long I did not yet know. I barely cared. All that mattered was that what was lost had been found. I was fully Entente again.
“You said you didn’t have any. You said you weren’t Entente,” Cinderella said, sounding wounded.
For a second I had forgotten her. I refocused on her now as she sat there, clearly having the complete opposite reaction to my gift’s return. She assumed I’d had it all along.
“I am. I lied. But I’m telling the truth now.”
Cinderella got up and recoiled from me. “You’re the same as Galatea and Amantha and Bari . . . ,” she said in an angry whisper.
“I’m not . . . I promise you. Just let me explain,” I said.
But Cinderella was already back at her broom. She shoved it across the floor, making a din as it swept the porcelain.
“What are you doing?” I asked, confused.
“I’m cleaning up . . . Galatea and the others will kill me if they see the kitchen.”
Please let them not see it like this, I heard Cinderella think.
I could feel her fear of my sisters and her desire to put the room right again.
I concentrated on the shards of china. And as I did, they rose in the air. The pieces came back together and became whole. A second later they floated back to their rightful places in the cabinets. The dish Cinderella had been holding floated down in front of her and rested on the countertop.
I could control it. The magic. I looked at Cinderella. Instead of sharing my sense of wonder at what I had just done, I felt her fear cement.
“You’re just like them,” she said, her voice cold. Cinderella considered a beat, her bottom lip trembling.
She picked up the dish from the counter and inspected it as she spoke.
“It’s whole again. If only you could do that to my parents,” she said, her voice full of pain and something else I couldn’t place.
She put the dish down and returned to the dough she had made for the honeybread. I could feel her frustration rising. Her fear of my sisters had robbed her of the ability to give in to her desire to stomp out of the room.
I wish I didn’t have to do this, so I could get away from you.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on what Cinderella wanted. Then I opened my eyes to take the rolling pin from her hand. The pin began rolling the dough on its own. It rose into the air as the stove door opened. The dough placed itself on the oven rack.
Cinderella watched in wonder for a few seconds, and then walked away without saying a word.