Ella Tremaine's Arc

Chapter 1 of 9

Ella Tremaine knelt on the kitchen floor she once owned. This house was her father's before he died. Now her stepmother held it, and Ella scrubbed its stone on her knees each morning. Tonight the palace held a royal ball. Ella had no invitation. Still, she meant to go, to walk through those doors and, for once, be seen. A gray mouse sat on the hearth stone, watching her work. "She keeps the whole house on my back," Ella whispered. "But I finished the dress. My mother's dress. Tonight I wear it." The mouse twitched its nose. Two sparrows landed on the windowsill. Ella almost smiled. They were the only ones who listened. She swept the ash from the fireplace with her worn straw broom. Its frayed head scattered cinders across the clean floor. She swept them back. The work never ended, but her hands moved fast now. Finish the chores. Finish, and the night was hers. A cane tapped the stone behind her. Ella's shoulders locked. She knew the sound. She turned. Lady Tremaine stood in the doorway, dressed in black, both hands resting on her cane. Her stepmother did not sweep or scrub. She only watched others do it. Her eyes moved to the broom, then to Ella's face. "You have hopes for tonight," Lady Tremaine said. "I can see them on you." Ella stood and gripped the broom handle. "The chores are nearly done. When they're finished, my time is my own." "Your time." Lady Tremaine stepped closer. The mouse fled into a crack in the wall. "This house is mine. The hours in it are mine. You have none of your own." "My father—" "Is dead." The words landed flat. "He left me an estate and a burden. You are the burden. You will not stand among lords and ladies. You will not shame my daughters at that ball." Ella's grip tightened. "I only want one night." Behind her stepmother, Drizella leaned in the doorway. She held a green silk gown against her body and studied her own reflection in the dark window. "Mother, the seams pull at the waist," Drizella said, not looking at Ella. "She'll fix them before we leave. Won't you, cinder-girl?" Lady Tremaine did not turn to her daughter. She kept her eyes on Ella. "You heard her. Three gowns need altering. Hems, waists, sleeves. All before we depart tonight." Ella's breath caught. "That's hours of work. I can't finish and still—" "Then you have chosen how to spend your evening." Lady Tremaine set a stack of silk in Ella's arms. It buried the broom against her chest. "Sit at your table. Sew. If one stitch is loose when we return, you sleep in the ash." She turned and left. Drizella dropped her gown on the pile and followed. Ella stood alone with the silk crushed to her chest. The ball began at sundown. Now three gowns stood between her and the door.