“That’s enough, Raella.” Mother had walked to the far side of the carriage, now she rounded it to face us. “Of course you’re proud of your invention, but we can’t possibly consider driving it to Prince Hendrick’s ball. What if it breaks down on the way, or starts a fire that ruins other carriages? No, Dagen will hitch up Dolly this instant, and we’ll be on our way. I presume it still functions as a horse-drawn carriage?”
I dragged the toe of my boot across the dirt. “Not exactly. I’m still trying to sort out . . .”
Dianthe whimpered.
Mother’s exaggerated sigh could have emanated from a steamship. “Then we’ll go on the cart. Dagen, I want it ready in five minutes.”
“Y-yes, ma’am.” He shot me a sympathetic glance as he scurried to the barn.
“Girls, let’s return to the house before our dresses get covered in dirt.” Mother stalked past me up the porch stairs.
Herra lifted her skirt, the buckles of her knee-high boots glinting in the moonlight. “I thought it was a neat idea.” Her voice barely reached me as she shuffled by.
Dianthe’s stiff posture mimicked Mother’s. “When will you learn your tinkering is a useless, unladylike waste of time?”
I glanced up from where I’d crumpled onto the front porch. The cart was no longer in sight, only a trail of dust left in its wake. My hands returned to my face. How had I fooled myself into thinking they’d understand this time? That they might even appreciate my efforts? A stream of tears escaped between my fingers, and I didn’t bother to stop them. No one was here to see.
A point of pink light flickered, followed by a buzz. I swiped my sleeve across my eyes. Farther in the distance, a green twinkle of light hovered in the air. I might have guessed the fairies would be out the night of a ball, but why so far from the palace? The tiny creatures attended to the queen and other noblewomen, but no one of such rank lived this far from the center of town.
I pushed off from the porch’s splintering wood and stretched my legs. Might as well return the carriage to the barn for the night. A yellow light blinked to my right, then pale blue to my left. How many fairies were here? Maybe they weren’t allowed in the palace during events as grand as Prince Hendrick’s ball. Shaking my head, I started for the carriage.
A woman clad in shimmering white materialized before me.
I lurched back with a screech. “Who are you? And how—?”
“My apologies; I suppose that was a bit startling.” Her voice had the resonance of a bell, vibrant and commanding. “They told me you were on the porch, but, well, I guess now you’re not.”
“I was just . . .” Wait. I didn’t owe any explanations to this bizarre apparition. “What is your purpose here?”
“Ah, a practical girl. Well, I might as well share the good news right at the start. You’ve been chosen to attend the ball.”
“Excuse me?”
More tiny lights glimmered around her shoulders, appearing and disappearing so quickly I couldn’t keep track of them all. The buzzing in the air grew to a hum. “I am Louvaine, mistress of fairies, and if you must know, I have come under a bit of criticism lately. Something about magic misuse. It’s all nonsense, of course, but I thought Prince Hendrick’s ball was the ideal opportunity to clear my name with a good deed. So, I sent out my fairies. ‘Ladies,’ I told them, ‘Find a girl who’s miserable about not going to the ball. One with the potential to be a true belle.’ And of all the crying girls in town, they chose you. We’ll get you looking like a princess, and to the ball you shall go!”
This cannot be happening . “That is very kind of you, but I have no desire to go to the ball. My crying was about something else.”
“Nonsense. You’re a young, pretty girl”—she stepped back to appraise my attire—“who only needs some assistance with her wardrobe to be presentable. The perfect recipient of our help.”
“No, I mean it. I’m sure another one of the crying girls would be much more appreciative of such an opportunity.”
She released a weary sigh. “I know your kind, dear girl. The martyrs who never want anything for themselves, who claim they don’t mind slaving their lives away without any frivolity, then cry about it in secret. You will go to the ball, and you will look spectacular. Ladies.” She snapped her fingers, and every light blinked on in a dizzying assortment of colors. “Escort Miss—”
Her brows raised expectantly.
“Raella.”
“Escort Miss Raella inside, get her bathed, if necessary, and into one of your finest gowns.” She pointed toward the house, and the fairies swarmed like a colony of tunnel bees. “And do something about that hair!”
My feet rooted to the ground as I squinted against the roiling lights. Had I fallen asleep while sitting on the porch? Or had my loneliness since Daddy’s death finally driven me mad?
Gentle pressure on my back inched me forward. Whether dream or reality, apparently it was time for me to get dressed.
I sat, transfixed, as the tiny fairies swirled around my head, twisting my hair this way and that. Up close, each was about the size of a large dragonfly. Only in rare moments of stillness were their faces and figures discernible. The so-called mistress of fairies had yet to make a reappearance.
“So, your mistress—she gives you orders but doesn’t stay to help?” I didn’t know if the fairies were capable of speech, but any sound other than the humming of their wings was a welcome change.
Several paused long enough to bow at the waist. Comparable to a nod, perhaps?
“That doesn’t seem fair. Do you like working for her? Do you even have a choice?”
The buzz in the air seemed to reach a higher pitch. Not one fairy bowed.
“I see.” If the faster movements indicated fear, I’d best not proceed with that line of inquiry. “Has she always been the mistress of fairies?”
Lights whizzed before my face in a muddle of color. Had I angered them?
“Please, I’m sorry. I’ll stop—”
The lights converged into the silhouette of a woman, much shorter and plumper than their current mistress, and with a more kindly air.
At some point my mouth had fallen open. I clamped my jaw shut as the image dispersed. “Then she—she was your prior mistress?”
A few more bows as they resumed work on my hair. Maybe this other woman had been nicer to them. How does one become the mistress of fairies, anyway?
Tugs at my elbows coaxed me to rise from my chair. Streaks of light flitted toward the vanity mirror. I turned and caught my reflection, ducking my head so the painted gears in the upper corners didn’t obscure my view. “It’s beautiful.” My dark hair cascaded over one shoulder in a mass of perfect curls. Was all that hair even mine? I bent to look closer, but pressure on my shoulders kept me upright.
“I’ll admire it later, then. What’s next?” Currently, I stood in my underclothes. The mistress of fairies had said something about a dress, but no such garment had entered the house with us. I mentally sifted through the few frocks hanging in my closet. Nothing half as expensive or stylish as what Dianthe and Herra had worn.
I’d become so used to the fairies’ movements, I hadn’t noticed they’d begun spiraling around my neck. Glancing at the mirror again, my breath hitched in my throat. Glossy pink fabric was now draped over my shoulders, dipping slightly in the center of my chest. Not the color I would have chosen, but it somehow softened the sharp angles of my face and the hard lines of my lips. I had assumed the “belle” comment was meant to be a joke, but now . . .
Something tapped my upper arms. “Oh, sorry. I suppose you need to get under there.” I cautiously raised my arms, and a group of fairies began a new circle around my rib cage.