Chapter 41

The dress took a fortnight to complete. We didn’t talk about Curtis again, and Comfort didn’t bring up the subject of me going to the ball. Instead, we focused on the gown we were making. We were determined that Cynthia would have the most beautiful dress at the ball, and the end product was stunning. The sleeves on the gown clasped at intervals, with the fabric trailing down to the floor at the end. The dress itself was form fitting and trimmed with light pink ribbon. Below the waist, the skirt flared, with a generous train.

“I already took care of the shoes,” I whispered confidentially to Mother and Comfort.

“How?” Comfort asked. “The cobbler has been booked for weeks out.”

I grinned mysteriously. “Thomas the glassblower is helping.”

Mother and Comfort stared at me. “Surely you aren’t giving her glass shoes?” Comfort asked. “She will be digging shards of glass out of her feet for weeks if she takes a single step.”

“We will see,” I said, laughing at their shock. Thomas had assured me that the shoes would be ready the next day.

“When are we giving her this dress?” Comfort asked.

“I have a place to leave it where I know she will find it.” I didn’t want to say the exact spot for fear that Comfort would ridicule her stepsister.

“Let’s leave it for her the day of the ball!” Comfort suggested. Though she had been initially against the idea of making the dress for Cynthia, she now seemed to be just as excited about serving her stepsister as I was.

“Very well,” Mother said, “Truly, would you leave the shoes for her tomorrow, and tell us how it goes in the evening?” She pressed her hands to her temples. “Heaven knows your sister and I have enough work on our hands.”

I knew it. It seemed like every girl in town was taking lessons. On dancing, poise, etiquette, singing, and any other subject that they felt might help them in the slightest for the ball. It was all any of them ever talked about. Each imagined herself leaving the small rural town we lived in, and trading that life in for one of comfort and ease at the castle, wed to the crown prince of the land.

“If they knew who the prize was, I doubt they would be this excited,” Comfort had snorted more than once, but only in private. During classes, Comfort became the model of ladylike grace that all of her pupils so eagerly tried to imitate.

True to his word, Thomas had finished Cynthia’s shoes when I went to pick them up the next morning. I picked them up and delicately inspected each shoe from every angle. They glittered like precious gems, catching the sunlight and seemed to be made of diamonds, rather than glass. They were tiny, the exact size of the shoes I had stolen from Cynthia’s room for Thomas to copy. I only hoped they would work for Cynthia.

“They won’t break,” Thomas assured me. He took one of the tiny shoes from me and hit it, hard, against the countertop. There was a delicate ringing vibration, but not a single crack or dent appeared in the shoe.

“That is amazing,” I told Thomas fervently. “Thank you so much! These will be perfect.”

“If they work out, let me know!” Thomas called to me as I exited.

I hurried to place the shoes in the Fairy Tree, double then triple checking to make sure I wasn’t being spotted when I hid them. Then I eagerly stepped away, hoping that Cynthia would find them.

Sure enough, Cynthia appeared right on time. I had figured out her routine in the past two weeks of watching her. After cooking breakfast and cleaning up, she went on a walk around mid-morning. She would always stop at the Fairy Tree to pay her respects to her parents, and would reach inside. Today was no different.

I held my breath excitedly as Cynthia reached inside. The shoes looked blinding, dazzlingly bright in the morning sun. They truly looked as though they had been made by fairies. As she had done when she found the gloves, Cynthia looked all around to see if anyone was around. But she didn’t search for very long; she seemed too eager to try on the shoes. She sat down and kicked off her old, worn shoes and tried on the glass slippers.

They weren’t perfect. The right shoe seemed to be slightly larger than the left. But they did seem to fit well. Thomas knew his craft. I told myself that after the ball, I would spread the word about his abilities to get him more business. Cynthia tried several steps, and the shoes seemed to work just fine. I watched, smiling, as Cynthia tried to dance, twirling and spinning, waltzing with an imaginary partner.

Finally, she changed back into her old shoes and hurried back toward the house, clutching the shoes against her chest.

That evening as we put the finishing touches on Cynthia’s ballgown, I told Mother and Comfort all about the shoes, omitting the part that it was the Fairy Tree where I put it. I simply told them that I knew where she walked in the morning, and she had found it along her walk.

Mother glowed with pride as she watched me and my sister finish the dress and discuss how happy it made Cynthia when she had found the shoes. I described the shoes in detail, marveling how they wouldn’t break and how they looked like something from a different world.

“What good girls I have,” Mother gushed. “I am so proud of you two. For taking on the challenge of earning a living, for finding ways to serve your stepsister. You two are treasures.”

That was what Father had always called us. We all hugged each other, then stood back and admired the gown that we would be giving to Cynthia soon.