Ashlin opened her hand, rubbing her thumb over the familiar feathered texture. “This? It’s nothing, just a piece... It was my mother’s.”
“Perfect. Do you mind if I use it? It will retain the same essence, but I will recreate it into something whole.”
Ashlin held out her hand.
“Thank you, my dear. Please place it on the ground. Step out of your boots and place one foot over the glass piece. Careful not to cut yourself, though.”
Ashlin did as instructed.
Mistress Cedrice started to hum again.
Ashlin started to close her eyes, then realized she had not been asked to do so, so she kept them open and looked at her feet. After a moment, she felt the glass piece move and grow around her foot. As it came into view, it shimmered like the dress had but flowed like liquid around her foot. It felt warm and soft, like she had just dipped her foot into a fresh washbasin of heated water or slipped on a velvet slipper. The same motion was mirrored on her other foot.
She gasped as the glass pushed against the back of her feet, raising them off the ground and creating pointed heels. Mistress Cedrice grabbed her hand to steady her but kept humming all along.
Then, as quickly as it started, the movement stopped and the shimmering disappeared. In its place was the most elegant pair of shoes Ashlin had ever seen. The glass had hardened back into its original state, but the shoes on her feet were reminiscent of graceful swans. They still had the feathered texture of her mother's figurine, and the sides of the shoes wrapped around the sides of her feet like the wings of a swan, peacefully floating. She lifted her foot to examine the back. The textured glass caught the flickering firelight and sparkled in response. Even the heel itself was elegantly reminiscent of the graceful neck of a swan.
“They are beautiful,” she breathed.
“Your mother will always be with you, Ashlin.” Mistress Cedrice ran a gentle hand down the side of her cheek. “Now hurry, you must go!”
Ashlin flew down the stairs, surprisingly stable and comfortable in her new pair of shoes. She gathered her skirt in her arms as she moved through the front door, so as not to snag the fabric.
“Oh dear, I’ve forgotten something else!” the old woman called after her.
Her heart pounding from excitement, Ashlin turned back inside, smiling. “So have I,” she responded. She ran back to the seamstress, throwing her arms around her. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You are very welcome. But we can’t let you run through the streets like that. “Grab me a squash from the basket in the room, and see if you can lure any of those wool-eating pests out the front door.”
“The mice?”
“We have not got anything else. Hurry.”
Once again, Ashlin did as instructed. Soon a plump brown squash was sitting on the street, surrounded by four mice who were eagerly nibbling away at the breadcrumbs that had lured them hence.
“I’ll have to make this quick so no one sees it.”
Mistress Cedrice closed her eyes tightly for a moment, then opened them and began to hum her song. This time she rushed through it, rumbling over the deeper notes with a new intensity. Within moments, the shimmering effect of the magic took place, and suddenly Ashlin was looking at a round carriage, complete with two horses and two footmen. Even though this was the third magical creation she had seen this day, her jaw dropped.
One of the footmen bowed to her and opened the door.
“Ooof,” the older woman sighed, breathing out a puff of air. “All that singing really takes your breath away. I have never been properly trained, so I am not very powerful.”
“Not very powerful?” Ashlin interrupted in disbelief, completely awed.
“I don’t know how long the enchantments will last,” Mistress Cedrice continued. “It will probably be for a few hours only. I wouldn’t expect anything to remain spelled past midnight.”
“I will be careful.” Ashlin kissed the older woman’s cheek. “Thank you.”
“Enjoy it.” Mistress Cedrice waved her away.
Safely inside the moving carriage, Ashlin could not wait to see Onric again.
It only took a few moments for the carriage to travel the streets to the palace, driving up through the front gate like she was a proper guest and not a servant. The speed of their travel made her realize how slowly Onric had made Blossom ramble through the streets each evening. He had truly loved spending time with her. Her chest squeezed, and she hoped that he would accept her apology.
Her once-a-brown-squash, now beautiful carriage pulled to a gentle halt, and the door was opened from the outside. She took the footman’s hand and descended from the carriage, thanking him as she went. He bowed deeply to her but did not speak back.
She looked up at the entrance to the ballroom. The entire palace was ablaze with light. Poor Hommlyn must have lit a million torches. Hopefully he’d had Drirsi to help him. The effect was stunning.
