Ash & Bramble

  But this might be my one chance to escape from the city. I can’t risk it on a mere glimpse. And despite our attraction to each other, he doesn’t know me—not really. “He has no idea who I am,” I tell Stepmama. I don’t mention that I don’t know who I am, either.

  I can see her calculating whether that means she can lock me up in the attic again.

  I slide my hand into my pocket and feel the reassuring warmth of my thimble. “I’m leaving,” I say, before Stepmama can decide what to do with me.

  “What?”

  “I’m packing some things in a knapsack, and I am leaving. Not just the house, but the city. You’ll probably never see me again.”

  “But Pen—” Dulcet puts in.

  “I’ll need a warm coat,” I interrupt. “I think there’s one in the attic. Can you find it for me, Precious?”

  My stepsister nods dumbly.

  “And some boots.” I slide my stockinged foot from under the table and waggle it at them. “Somehow I’ve lost all my shoes.”

  “But—” Stepmama puts in. Her face is starting to turn an alarming red. She wants to protest.

  “Mama,” Dulcet hisses. Then she gives me a false smile.

  Precious is more blunt. “Mama, if she is gone the prince will still be available.”

  The red recedes. My stepmama draws herself up. “Well then!” She looks around for a servant to give orders to. “You, boy,” she snaps at a footman who has just come into the room.

  His eyes are wide. “He’s here,” he blurts out. “The prince, ma’am. He’s asked to see all the ladies of the house. He’s in the blue drawing room.”

  Stepmama surges to her feet. “You say he doesn’t know your name or where you live?” she asks me.

  I nod and eat a bite of bacon. I slide my other hand into my pocket and grip my thimble—for strength. I can feel an urgency, the larger force trying to bring me and Prince Cornelius together. The wheels must be turning. Instead of responding to the pull, I distract myself by thinking about bacon. Mmm. Nice and crispy, just the way I like it.

  “Dulcet, Precious,” Stepmama says. “That means he’s here for one of you. Come along, girls.” Daintily Dulcet wipes butter off her fingers and gets to her feet as Precious stands and primps the lace at her collar. “If you are leaving, Penelope,” Stepmama says grandly, “then you had better go.”

  “Good-bye,” I say, giving her a wicked grin.

  With a sniff, Stepmama sails out the door. Dulcet and Precious pause in the doorway. “You’re really going away, Pen?” Dulcet asks.

  “Yes, I am,” I say. If I’m caught up in something, the only thing to do is escape it, and that means leaving the city. My thimble will help me avoid Lady Faye’s footmen, I hope.

  “Well, good-bye,” Precious says.

  “Good-bye,” Dulcet echoes.

  We regard one another for a moment, awkwardly silent.

  “We wish . . . ,” Dulcet begins.

  “We wish we could have been better sisters to you,” Precious finishes.

  I pause, then give them a wry smile. “I wish everyone could hear you sing, Dulcie,” I say, “and that you could dress every woman in the city, Precious. But I don’t think you’ve had much of a choice.”

  “Girls!” comes Stepmama’s shrill voice.

  Dulcet gives me a quick smile in return, and Precious shakes her head, and they hurry out.

  I stay and finish my breakfast quickly. The prince doesn’t know I’m here, so I don’t need to run off without any shoes on. Maybe Dulcet has a pair of boots I can borrow. They might fit if I wore two pairs of socks.

  The footman appears at the door again. “I’m sorry, Lady Pen,” he says with a bow. “The prince asks for you especially. You’re to come to the blue drawing room at once.”

  My bite of toast and jam turns to ashes in my mouth. Caught up again. I ponder the possibility of making a run for it. But no. Lady Faye will have planned for that. Slowly I stand and brush the toast crumbs from the front of my dress, check my pocket for my thimble, and follow the footman upstairs. Four big men in red uniforms are waiting outside the drawing room door. The prince’s bodyguards, I guess.

  I give them a nod and walk into the room.

  The first person I notice is Shoe—turning up again where he shouldn’t be. I catch him casting me one quick glance, and then staring down at the floor with his hands shoved in his pockets. Maybe he thinks I won’t pay him any attention if he keeps quiet.

  Stepmama, looking blotchy, is sitting on a spindly chair almost hidden by the spread of her wide skirts. Dulcet stands at her shoulder, Precious next to her.

  The prince is standing in the middle of the room holding a box. His long-eared, sad-eyed dogs are lying on the floor by his feet. His curly black hair is neatly combed and he is wearing practical riding clothes, a sheathed knife at his belt, and a long leather coat lined with fleece that makes his shoulders look very broad.

  Beside him, Shoe, still in the dark clothes he was wearing the night before, with the same pack on his back, looks rumpled and a little tired.

  I narrow my eyes. “You again,” I say to Shoe.

  For some reason it makes me happy to see him flush. “Me again,” he mumbles.

  Then I realize what must have happened. “You told the prince where to find me,” I accuse.

  Shoe’s face goes even redder, with shame, I assume. Even his ears, from what I can see of them through his shaggy hair, are red. He stares stubbornly down at the carpet.

  “He had to do it,” the prince interrupts. He gives me his most charming smile. “Good morning, Lady Penelope.” From their spots on the floor by his feet, his dogs wag their tails.

  “Yes, good morning,” I snap back. He should know better than to try that smile on me.

  “I believe you lost something last night.” The prince opens the box and pulls out a shoe studded with jewels, the one that twisted from my foot as I was fleeing the castle.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lie. I’m not going to make this easy for him.

  “I think you do. Will you try it on?” He gives a little bow and gestures toward a chair that faces him.

  I think about saying no, but there isn’t any point. Now that it’s started, the scene will play out, no matter how hard I struggle. “If I have to,” I mutter. I go to the chair, sit gracelessly down, and stick out my foot.

  “It is the only way I can be certain you are Lady Ash,” the prince says.

  “You know very well that I am,” I say.

  He is about to go to his knees before me, when Shoe stops him. “Cor,” he says firmly, and that surprises me, that Shoe knows to call Prince Cornelius by the name his friends use. “Let me do it.”

  The prince blinks. “What?”

  “I’m a shoemaker,” Shoe says. “I can see if the shoe really fits her.”

  “Oh. Yes,” the prince says blankly, and I wonder if he can feel the sudden halt and stutter of the thing we are caught up in. He shakes his head, refocusing. “Yes, of course,” he says, and hands the shoe to Shoe. “If you will.”

  Setting down his pack, Shoe comes to me and kneels before my chair. He keeps his head lowered so I can’t see his face, just the top of his hair. “I shouldn’t have told him your name,” he whispers.

  “It was a snaky thing to do, Shoe,” I tell him.

  He nods. “I know it was.” He looks up, and his eyes are very green in the blue room. “I’m sorry, Pin.”

  I shrug. “Prince Cornelius would have found me anyway. One way or another.”

  He nods. “Give me your foot.”

  I stick my foot out and he takes it. His voice was gruff, but his hands are gentle. As he is sliding on the shoe, there is a flurry at the door. It is behind me, so I don’t see who it is, but I see Shoe look up and past me. His face goes deathly pale.

  I turn to look, and Lady Faye sweeps triumphantly into the room. She takes in the scene—me in the chair, Shoe on his knees holding my foot and the shoe. He
r eyes turn the incandescent blue of the coldest ice, and she stares furiously at Shoe. “You,” she hisses. “You are not supposed to be here.”

  Shoe looks frozen in place. I shove my foot the rest of the way into the shoe and stand up, steadying myself on his shoulder. “Yes,” I say. “He does keep turning up in the strangest places, doesn’t he?” With my knee I nudge Shoe’s arm, and he climbs stiffly to his feet so that we are standing shoulder to shoulder.

  “Lady Faye! How lovely to see you!” Precious says suddenly, and elbows Stepmama, who surges from her chair and turns the invasion into a drawing room visit, performing the social necessities flanked by my stepsisters and assisted by the prince, who is giving Lady Faye a warm smile and coming forward to greet her. Their combined force of personality is sufficient to the task; they draw Lady Faye farther into the room.

  As she passes I can feel the tension in Shoe’s body, and it’s clear from her fury and his reaction to it that they have some history together. It’s likely Shoe hasn’t come off the better for it, either. It all has something to do with this huge, relentless thing that has ensnared me. Story is what Shoe called it. This is the thing that I must thwart. I know that Lady Faye is the Godmother and is involved in it somehow, and it’s obvious that Shoe is too, and the prince. And though I don’t know their roles exactly, I do know that, despite everything, Shoe is not my enemy.

  I brush the back of my hand against Shoe’s and feel him flinch. I put my other hand into my pocket. My mother’s thimble is there, and it warms at my touch; I slide my first finger into it.

  “Don’t worry, Shoe,” I breathe.

  He glances aside at me. I give him a quick grin, and his eyes widen.

  In the center of the room, Lady Faye is glaring at us, ignoring Stepmama’s polite entreaties—Tea? A chair by the fire? Perhaps a bite to eat?

  “Never mind all that,” Lady Faye says, and waves a hand at Stepmama as if brushing away a fly. She takes a step toward me and Shoe. She has her other hand clenched, and I see a bit of frozen light leaking out from between her fingers.

  “She has a thimble,” Shoe whispers.

  I answer with the faintest of nods. Inside my pocket, my mother’s thimble burns on my own finger.

  “We’ll keep this polite,” I say. “Why have you come here, Lady Faye? I don’t think you were invited.”

  She seethes with cold fury. Her nostrils flare and her eyes spark. “Take off the shoe, you stupid girl. Take it off, now! The prince puts it on your foot and realizes that he loves you. It is inevitable. It must happen. The prince, not this meddling fool.” She jabs a finger at Shoe.

  “No, I don’t think so,” I say.

  “I will not be thwarted. Give the shoe to the prince at once,” she orders.

  I give her my most evil grin. “The shoe stays with me.” To my surprise, I feel Shoe’s hand take mine in a steady, reassuring grip. A source of strength. “Lady Faye,” I say. “You are in my house. My stepmama is here, and my sisters.” Dulcet and Precious nod, showing that they are with me, and after a nudge from Dulcie, Stepmama blinks. I can see her reconsidering her loyalty, unsure of what to do. “Prince Cornelius is here too, armed with a knife and two ferocious dogs.” I glance at Blue and Bunny; both dogs are cowering behind the prince’s legs with their tails lowered. “In addition,” I add, “four of the prince’s bodyguards are outside the door. You can do nothing to us here.”

  She bares her teeth. “Oh, can’t I?” She takes a sweeping turn around the room, her chin raised, her silken skirts rustling and hissing about her; the prince and my stepmama and stepsisters flinch away. The cups from stepmama’s tea set rattle in their saucers and the dogs whine. Shoe stays steadily at my side. Lady Faye takes another turn, and the gathering magic crackles around her. “You, prince,” she beckons. Her raised hand glows blue with the power of her thimble.

  Before Prince Cornelius can respond, I step forward to intercept her. “And,” I add, “I am not defenseless.” I draw my hand out of my skirt and hold it up. The shimmer of warm, fire-colored light spills around us.

  Seeing my thimble, she recoils. “Ah,” she gasps, as if she’s been slapped. “You had it all along.”

  “No,” I say. “But I have it now, and I am strong enough to use it.”

  “You stupid girl,” she spits. “You don’t understand.” She grips her own thimble until the skin stretches tightly over her knuckles. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with. And yet you would set yourself up as my antagonist, would you?”

  “Apparently it’s an inherited position,” I answer.

  “Inherited position,” she sneers. “You are nothing compared to your mother. Nothing.”

  I give a shrug that I hope seems confident. “Nevertheless, you can see very well that I am in a place of strength. There is nothing you can do to us here.”

  Lady Faye, still panting with rage, looks around the room, calculates, and gives a narrow-eyed nod. The light from her thimble flickers out. Then she steps closer, speaking only to me. “All right. I will go. But Story is not finished with you yet.” She raises her voice. “It is not finished with any of us. Story will have its ending.” She glances aside at Shoe. Her voice drips with venom. “And the special ending I promised still awaits you, Shoemaker.”

  Well, that is quite enough of that. It is time for my stepmother to be a hero. “Stepmama,” I say loudly. “Please show Lady Faye to the door.”

  Dulcet and Precious at her side, Stepmama collects herself, eyes me and then Lady Faye, and makes her choice. She sails into battle, all flags flying. “Lady Faye!” she trills. “Do come again soon.” The three of them usher Lady Faye out of the room.

  When the door closes behind them, I leave the thimble in my pocket, draw my hand from Shoe’s, and flop down on the couch. “Phew.” I inspect my finger. The thimble burned when I was facing down Lady Faye, hot enough to scorch, but the tip of my finger isn’t even pink.

  “That was a bit tricky,” the prince says from over by the window. He parts the curtain, looking out. Watching for Lady Faye to leave, I assume.

  “A bit,” I agree. A vast understatement. With my toe I push the high-heeled shoe off my other foot; it falls to the carpet with a thud.

  Shoe is standing, still staring at the door as if he can’t believe Lady Faye is gone.

  “What did you do to make her dislike you so much?” I ask him.

  “I, um . . . ,” he says blankly, as if he’s busy thinking about something else.

  “You have this bad habit of turning up places where you’re not supposed to be,” I say.

  He turns and focuses on me, all grim intensity. “Yes, that’s it. Pin, we have to—”

  “She’s gone,” the prince interrupts, looking out the window again. “But I can see four of her footmen from here, and no doubt there are more of them lurking about.”

  “She’s not done with us yet,” I say, sitting up.

  “No.” Leaving the window, the prince crosses the room, Blue and Bunny at his heels. “Go lie down, you ferocious creatures,” he says, pointing at the floor. When they do, he sits beside me on the couch. “It is no secret that Lady Faye is the true power in this city.” He glances over at Shoe. “If she’s got a punishment in mind for you, Shoe, she’ll get you eventually, and you too, Lady Penelope. There’s nothing I can do about it.” He looks steadily at me. “The only way I can protect you is to marry you.”

  “No,” I say. “That’s exactly what Lady Faye wants. It’s the last thing we should do. And even if we did, it would still leave Shoe,” I point out. “What does she want to do to you, anyway?” I ask him.

  Shoe shakes his head and doesn’t answer.

  “Hm.” There is a long silence. “Why is Lady Faye doing this?” I ask suddenly.

  Prince Cornelius shrugs his broad shoulders. “Power?”

  “Yes, but how?” I push. “The endings are always the same. How does that give her power?”

  “She’s caught up in it too,” Shoe puts in
unexpectedly.

  I blink. “Lady Faye, you mean? The Godmother?”

  He nods.

  “So,” I say slowly, thinking it through. “It’s not Lady Faye who wants power. Story gains power by forcing these endings. Happily ever after endings,” I add with a grimace. “Boring endings. They’re all the same.” I get up from the couch, pace a few steps, and then go on. “It’s wearing a rut. Every time Story’s wheel turns, it gains more power. Lady Faye is just serving its will.”

  Prince Cor is staring intently at me. “I think you’re right, Lady Penelope.”

  “What can we do to stop it?” I ask. “It doesn’t feel like anything we’ve done has broken its power.”

  “No,” the prince says.

  “Story will have its ending,” Shoe says, reminding us of Lady Faye’s words.

  I feel a moment of despair. “We want to thwart it, but it’s so powerful. How can we know that we aren’t just doing what Story wants us to do? How can we know if we’re acting out our own will?” I look to the prince. “At the ball, at midnight, I tried to get away, remember? I thought I was escaping from the thing I was caught up in. But Story meant that to happen—when I lost my shoe and you found it and then came here to try it on me. That was all Story.” I shudder, thinking of how close to an ending we just came, and I didn’t even realize it.

  “Some people are resisting it,” Shoe says.

  “You, for example,” I say, as I begin to understand. For when he took the shoe from the prince and put it on my foot, he saved me from that ending. No wonder Lady Faye had been so furious.

  He looks away. “You do the unexpected thing too, Pin.”

  I wonder what it will mean for Story if it can force somebody like me—the daughter of the woman who thwarted the Godmother, the bearer of a magic thimble—into one of its prescribed endings. If I can’t resist it, maybe nobody can.

  “What are we going to do?” Prince Cornelius asks. His dog Bunny whines and he leans down to pat her head. “Shhh,” he murmurs.

  I frown, becoming more impatient. “We have to do something. We must. If we don’t, we’ll just get caught up again. We’ll have to act, and hope that we’re not falling into Story’s rut when we do. I am quite strongly set against playing a part in any ending that I don’t choose for myself.” I nod, deciding. “It’s clear that I have to leave the city at once, and Shoe should come too. We can’t let Lady Faye get her hands on him.”