Chapter 17

17

Ella

My shoulders drooped, and I headed back into the stable, shutting the central door behind me. A dozen stalls stretched out in either direction. There was no way I was going to be able to muck the entire place out before they got back—not on my own, not even in a day.

But I was going to have to try.

"At twenty minutes a stall, I might be able to do it in eight hours," I muttered as I located a wheelbarrow, pitchfork, and shovel stashed in the back. "So, if I get it down to fifteen, maybe I can do it in six?"

Would they be gone that long? Probably not. I guessed that dawn was only four or five hours away. I was going to have to work harder than I'd ever worked before, and I was going to need a miracle.

I started with Gwen's stall first, pulling out all the old bedding and shoveling up the manure. Pip helped—or tried to, at least. With his tiny body, it was more moral support than anything.

The work stank, and I was sweaty and itchy almost immediately. After I dumped the wheelbarrow of waste in the dung heap out back, I hustled in and laid a new layer of hay as bedding—extra thick because she deserved it.

My chest was heaving once I finished, but I knew I couldn't rest. I had to work faster. As I didn't want to mess up Gwen's stall, I rotated the horses into the space left by Lorayna's gelding. Once each was out, I set to work, furiously cleaning, tossing old hay like a windstorm.

As I was digging out the fifth one, a wave of dizziness hit me, and I dropped to my hands and knees in the muck. My back and shoulders ached, and my head spun. I was too tired to care that I'd fallen in the manure. I just leaned against the sides of the stall and let my head thump against the wood. "I'm never going to make it."

The bloodsuckers couldn't be gone more than another couple of hours—less if the sisters irritated the prince as much as I thought they would.

The lazy old hound dog sauntered in and sat down beside me, nudging me gently with his nose.

"What am I going to do, ol' boy?" I asked.

He cocked his head to the side and raised his limp ears with a soft bark. Help?

"I wish. But I'm on my own with this one, and I don't think paws are going to do the trick." The laughter in my voice faded. "I think I'm royally screwed."

He threw his head back and released a mournful howl.

I shook my head. "My thoughts exactly."

A moment later, a string of ear-splitting yips burst from further down the stable.

Help! Help! Help! Help!

When the little dog didn't stop, I groaned and shoved myself off the ground. "What are you going on about?" I asked as I emerged. "Settle down!"

He was facing the central double door of the stable and barking at the top of his lungs. He didn't stop or even look at me. Help! Help!

Was someone out there?

I wiped off my hands and grabbed the pitchfork, then headed toward the door. The little ruffian didn't stop barking. I lifted the latch, and then I toed the door open, pitchfork held at the ready. "Who's there?"

Darkness exploded around me, and I tumbled back onto my butt, surrounded by a cloud of feathers and the piercing cries of crows. I rolled out of the way as hundreds of birds streamed in over my head.

The stable was in chaos—birds of all kinds everywhere, the dogs barking, and the horses turning about in their stalls. I crouched there like a deer in the stalker's sights, no idea what to do.

The insane little dog raced down the corridor between the stalls and circled the empty wheelbarrow once, barking all the while. In a wave of darkness, the crows followed and then began diving in and out of the stalls. They wheeled around, dodging each other and dropping hay into the wheelbarrow.

My jaw went slack. They were cleaning the stalls for me.

The stunned silence of my thoughts drowned out the noise in the room. I was in a magical castle, and it was full of magical animals. It was like I was caught up in a fairytale. If bloodsuckers could be real, and floating lights could be real, why couldn't this be real as well?

I glanced back at the open door to see if anyone else was watching the spectacle or had been drawn by the noise. The sky outside had shifted from deep black to the slightest hint of blue.

It was late, and I was running out of time.

I sprang to my feet and locked the door, then threw myself into the chaos. The horses were going crazy, spinning in their stalls and desperately trying to get away from the divebombing birds.

"Not while the horses are in there!" I shouted above the din, and the cyclone of crows lifted off and shifted their efforts to an empty stall.

I shook my head, still barely believing. They'd listened to me.

I opened the gate to one of the occupied stalls and motioned to the slightly spooked horse inside. "Come on, let's get you out so we can clean."

The mare turned her back and began kicking the soiled bedding into a pile, and I watched in disbelief as she trotted out and down the corridor into the last stall I'd cleaned.

"Okay, then, we've got a system now." I grabbed the brimming wheelbarrow and disposed of it on the slop pile out back. The birds followed me out, whisking away the dirty hay, so I left the door open. With their help, I could clean a dozen times as quickly and better, and soon, we had a rhythm going. Once I'd finished cleaning a stall, the crows and sparrows quickly began filling the empty stalls with fresh bedding.

Every minute counted, so I didn't dare stop working myself—that was an ungrateful way to lead, anyway. After an hour, the maelstrom of activity began to subside.

I returned the empty wheelbarrow to its spot and stretched my aching back and trembling arms. Then I looked around. The stables were probably cleaner than they'd been in a century, better than I could have ever done on my own.

It was a Fates-damned miracle.

Despite the pain coursing through me, my heart was bursting with joy and pride. There was magic all around me, and I'd found a way to be a part of it. I knew it wasn't me—it was the castle that was enchanted. But still, for a moment, I could imagine I was like one of the witches of old, talking with animals and banishing my troubles with the wave of a hand.

Granted, mucking the stables hadn't been a simple wave of the hand. It had been backbreaking, and every joint in my body felt it. My damp hair clung to the sides of my face, while my clothes stuck to my sweaty skin. I was covered with strands of hay and dust and—well, frankly—horseshit.

But I'd done it. We'd done it—and that was all the magic I could have ever asked for.

I grabbed a big sack of oats from the back and dragged it into the center of the aisle. "Settle down, everybody!" I said as I threw my hands in the air.

The birds squawked and cawed about me, but slowly, they came to rest, filling the rafters and rails of the stalls. Finally, the stable was quiet except for the low din of the sparrows fighting for position. Hundreds of eyes were trained on me, and my heart was full to bursting, both with gratitude and a thrill for the magic of the place.

"I don't know how much you can understand, but thank you, from the bottom of heart. You saved my skin today, maybe even my life," I said, lowering my arms. "I'm not sure how to show my gratitude, but I hope you like oats."

I opened the sack and tipped it over, spilling its contents across the floor. The crows and sparrows descended so quickly, I had to dive out of the way to avoid becoming a pincushion. The offering began rapidly disappearing, so I poured another out a little way down, and then treated the horses to hefty portions as well.

Halfway through, the hound barked and came running from the far end. Bloodsuckers and horses.

"Everybody out!" I shouted to the birds, and they rose into the air, then poured through the back door into the early dawn sky, leaving me in an almost unearthly silence.