All the way home, my head was full of the prince. When I got to the front door of Cinderella’s house, I looked behind me. I could see smoke rising from town, and then there was an explosion of fire crystals in the sky over the factory. The prince had made his point.
My heart beat faster in my chest. I told myself it was the effect of the explosion, not the prince. My heart was the most honest part of me.
I realized that I had worried in vain. The house was dark, and no one was stirring. My sisters were still asleep in their beds, no doubt waiting for Cinderella to wake them with breakfast. South snored softly in the barn. I wasn’t sure if his sleep was real or had been induced by Galatea. I hoped it was the former.
When I got back to my room, I was surprised to hear the telltale rustling in the chimney, which could only mean one thing.
“Cinderella?” I whispered as she tumbled into the room, covered in ash.
It appeared we had both been out late.
“You know, you really should wish for me to clean the chimney,” I suggested, reaching for my wand.
“Did it . . . are you okay?” she whispered.
I couldn’t keep everything in. I let the whole story out of me. Every moment I had spent with the prince. His noble attempts to destroy all the Black Glass. And in doing so, I realized something.
I remembered how my disguise shifted away for a few seconds when I was close to the hot glass in the factory. I recalled in vivid horror the moment that Iolanta was struck by the arrow the day of the Becoming. She’d put up a fight and pushed the Black Fire through the hallway. The arrow must have gone through that fire. When the Black Glass was hot, it was deadly. Otherwise Iolanta would have done what she and the other Soeurs had done before: heal herself.
“That’s it! Of course that’s it. The Black Glass was hot. That’s when it affects us,” I whispered. The discovery had come too late for Iolanta. If only I had figured it out sooner. Perhaps my sisters could have reversed the damage with a different spell. If only, if only, if only . . .
“What on earth are you talking about?” Cinderella asked.
“Nothing! Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” But it did. How had the Queen figured out the secret of the Black Glass? Had Fate suddenly chosen her side over the Entente’s? Or did she not even know what she had?
The morning light shifted into my window, illuminating Cinderella’s face. There were tears running down her ash-covered cheeks.
I realized I had been insensitive. I should never have worn her mother’s face, no matter what she said.
“Is it the face? I am so sorry; I shouldn’t have borrowed it,” I began.
“It’s not the face.”
“Then what? I can see that you’re upset. What happened?” Had her friends gone on a looting spree again?
“The guards took my friend Maggie.”
“For stealing?” I assumed. I was in no position to admonish her for the company she kept. She was clearly lonely.
“For being a witch. I have to do something. They think that she’s Entente. I’ve known her my whole life. She’s not the least bit magical.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again, and I meant it.
“What if they burn her or drown her? I have to do something. When we saw the guards coming, we ran. We all ran. But we realized too late that they’d snatched Maggie up.”
“Did you see him?”
“Who?”
“The Witch Finder.”
“All the soldiers looked the same. If he or she was there, there was no way of knowing.
I cursed the Witch Finder under my breath. Cinderella continued, defending her need to act.
“You don’t understand how urgent this is. The guards took my friend Rebecca a few years ago. She found her way back to us. But she hasn’t been the same since. That—or worse—can’t happen to Maggie. I know one of the dungeon guards . . . I think he can get me in . . . I just have to figure a way out . . .”
“Wish it so. Just like you wished me to town. Wish her here,” I offered with a confidence I did not entirely feel. Her eyes widened with hope.
She closed her eyes, Please bring Maggie back to me.
I closed my eyes too. I concentrated as hard as I could, but I did not see the girl. I could not find her. I could not bring her home.
I opened them.
“I am sorry, Cinderella.”
“You tried. Now it’s my turn.”
I was surprised. Cinderella was human. But she was willing to risk herself for someone else. Did she really think that she was going to storm the palace? One girl, all alone, I thought. But wasn’t that what I was going to do before I got reunited with the Entente? Who was I to dissuade her? Still, patience had served me well. Perhaps it would do the same for Cinderella.
“Haste is not your friend. Give it today.” I thought about what the prince had told me about the girl the Queen had drowned. “The Queen believes that no death goes forth without gain.”
“What do you mean?” Cinderella asked.
“Magrit wants a show. That way, she gets more out of it. She gets the fear out of everyone who sees it. Or she gets the fear out of all of you. I think your friend will be home by dinner.”
I would somehow make it so.
Cinderella rocked back on her heels, absorbing my advice.
“Give it today,” I repeated.
“Cinderella. Promise me. I’ll keep you safe. If they don’t let her out by tomorrow morning, I’ll help you myself. You have a full day of chores. Galatea won’t notice that you’re gone at night, but she certainly will notice if her eggs aren’t perfectly herbed in a few minutes.”
“I don’t care about her eggs. I care about Maggie.”
“Just one day,” I persisted.
“What if she dies today?”
“I promise you she won’t.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Cinderella said.
“I never do.”
“Ella!” Galatea squawked from down the hall.
Cinderella moved for the door.
“Wait,” I said. “Wish yourself clean,” I ordered gently.
I tapped my wand on the hem of her soot-covered dress and Cinderella was perfection again. She tottered off.
I slipped out of the room and made a beeline for the barn and South. A plan that involved today, despite what I’d told Cinderella, bloomed in my mind. But seeing him, I realized we hadn’t seen each other since the kiss and so much had happened since then—the animals, the prince, and now this . . .
South looked up, not at all surprised when I entered. He was already pulling on his jacket. He knew I needed his help.
“South . . .”
“I was just about to come and tell you about the Reverie. I went last night to see if Iolanta’s walls had any more clues about the Rooks . . .”
“And did they?”
“It can wait. Those girls can’t.”
I nodded and reached for his hand, ready to travel.
My plan had to work. Our Fates depended on it.