Ella Tremaine's Arc

Chapter 2 of 9

The door shut behind her stepmother. Ella stood alone with three gowns crushed to her chest. The ball began at sundown. She carried the silk to her sewing table and set it down. Her needle and scissors waited among the thread spools. She lifted the green gown first. Drizella's dress. Deep velvet, heavy lace, seams pulled tight at the waist. Ella threaded her needle and bent to work. Her hands were fast. Years of chores had made them fast. She let out the waist, tightened a sleeve, pinned a hem. One gown done. She reached for the second. The candle burned lower. She did not stop. The second gown fought her. A torn seam ran the length of the skirt. She stitched it closed, stitch after stitch, until her fingers ached. Outside, the light turned gold, then gray. She finished. Two down. One left. A voice cut across the room. "Are they done yet, cinder-girl?" Drizella stood in the doorway. She snapped a purple fan open and fanned herself, though the room was cold. Her eyes swept the finished gowns, then the last one still in Ella's lap. "You're slow tonight. We leave soon." "They'll be ready," Ella said. She did not look up. Her needle moved faster. Drizella crossed the room and lifted the green gown from the pile. She held it against her body and turned. "The waist," she said. "Show me." Ella rose and pointed to the new seam. Drizella pinched the fabric, searching for a flaw. She found none. Her mouth tightened. "Fine. But if the hem drops while I dance, you'll pay for it." She dropped the gown across Ella's arms and left. Ella heard her call down the stairs for their carriage. Ella returned to the last gown. Her eyes stung. Her back throbbed. She drove the needle through the final hem as hooves and wheels sounded below. The front door opened. Her stepmother's cane tapped once on the stone. Then the carriage pulled away. The house went silent. Ella pushed the needle through the last stitch and cut the thread. Three gowns lay folded and finished on the table. She had done it. She stood. Her legs shook. Through the window, the last gray light was fading. The ball had already begun. Her stepfamily rode toward it in their fine dresses, and she stood alone in an empty house. Ella climbed the narrow stairs to her attic room. Her mother's dress hung on the wall where she had left it. She had won her freedom. Every task was done. No one could send her to the ash now. But she had no carriage. No horses. The palace stood far across the countryside, and night had come. The chores were finished. The road was not.