Cinderella Spell - Laurie Lee Page 0,13

lighter. Imagining Lady DeGanne’s face made his lips twitch.

Marissa pulled her legs beneath her and leaned against the arm rest. “Stepfather is a reasonable man. Try to consider his proposal. I’m certain, in the end, he will accept whatever choice you make.”

“I know what choice you will make.” Cinderella brushed her finger over the image of Robert that appeared in the mirror. The surface shimmered. For a moment, a different image appeared behind that of Robert lounging in front of the fire. Dry twisted limbs and oceans of sand caused her to jerk her hand away. “I don’t like your alien landscapes,” Cinderella hissed. The mirror turned gray, then faded into a real reflection. Though Cinderella stood in her own home, she’d reverted to her masquerade of a young woman. The curls and youthful facade pleased her for the moment. Darkness in the reflection of her eyes did not. She turned away, leaving the great hall and the magic mirror. She opened a small door hidden in paneling at the top of the main stairs. The servant steps looped around and down to the old kitchen. Before reaching the kitchen, she entered into a butler’s pantry, passing cabinets filled with china. The open door on the far side led into a workroom. High windows let in plenty of light. Shelves filled with jars and canisters were arranged in four rows on two walls. On the counter beneath them, among other items, stood a smoky jug, the inside of which crawled with spiders. An invitation to the ball leaned against a shallow bowl where crow feathers curled into ashes. “I have set the stage, my prince.” Cinderella admired all she had done in preparation.

With no other preparations needed, she wanted to leave. A sparkle gleamed in a shard of glass. As she looked, the reflection grew, and she recognized a dusty attic. She frowned. Why did it seem familiar? Before she could pull herself from the mirror’s control, she plunged back in time.

7

Ella stood in the attic of the old manor house. Rafters and tresses crisscrossed the angled roofline. Light from windows and broken boards in the roof shed beams of light across the floor. Tiny bits of dust kicked up by her movement sparkled, not usually worth her attention, but there was also something silver glinting from a deserted corner as she turned to leave the attic. A drop of blood from the spider she’d pinned to the wooden rafter poised on her finger. Her small feet took another step, and then slowed. She turned her head. A ratted quilt covering an object near a dark corner had slipped. The afternoon sun streaming through a round window nearby highlighted the shimmering surface. Ella raised her long skirt with one hand, sucked the blood from her finger on the other hand and turned. The quilt covered something twice her height. She tilted her head. An unfamiliar thump in her chest made her pause. Run. Turn. But Ella ignored the voices in her head and reached with her left hand to pull the covering away. The shower of dust that flowed around her didn’t matter. The quilt fell to the floor, revealing an ornate silver mirror.

The eyes of the little girl staring back at her widened. Ella stretched her hand and touched her reflection. The wavy brown hair of the girl in the mirror had been braided. Her serviceable dress was too dull and dark. She should be brighter, softer. Something that could turn heads. She touched the mirror, tracing her fingers along the edge where glass melded into the frame.

But the image changed in an instant, from a young girl in an attic to a harsh sandstorm blowing around twisting bare branches of a half-buried tree. Her heart thumped again. Ella jerked her hand away from the mirror and ran from the room, sown the stairs, and through the battered door. Even after she returned to the carpeted hallway lit with sunlight streaming through the windows of the manor, fear shivered her skin.

“A spell is not child’s play,” Grandmother slapped the spider from Ella’s hand.

“I’m not playing. You said we can make spells for protection.”

“From what?” Grandmother scoffed.

Ella didn’t want to share her secret from the attic. She ran, and pouted, and waited for another day.

The air turned cold as the season changed. Workers went to the attic to prep fireplaces for winter’s use. She hovered in the hallway, hiding behind curtains, as they came down. They spoke in hushed voices