Ella Tremaine's Arc

Chapter 3 of 9

The road might be closed, but the night was not over. Ella stood in her attic room and looked at her mother's dress on the wall. If she could not leave yet, she could still make herself ready. She took the dress down and carried it to the little sewing table by the window. The faded pink silk had waited years on that wall. Antique lace edged the collar. Fuchsia flowers ran across the skirt in her mother's old stitching. But the fabric had worn thin in places, and small holes gaped along the seams. Ella lit a candle and threaded her needle. She would mend every flaw and make the dress beautiful again. She worked fast. She patched a hole at the elbow with a scrap she saved. She tightened a loose ribbon at the waist and pressed the lace flat with her fingers. The dress began to look whole. For the first time, she let herself picture the palace doors, and herself walking through them. Then wheels sounded on the stone below. Ella froze. The carriage had left hours ago. It should not be back. She set the dress down and crept to the stairs. The front door opened. A cane tapped once on the floor. "The clasp on my necklace broke," Lady Tremaine said. Her voice climbed the stairwell, flat and cold. "We turned back. Drizella, wait in the carriage." But Drizella did not wait. Her steps came up the stairs first, quick and sharp. She pushed into the attic room before Ella could block the door. Her eyes went straight to the pink dress on the table. "What is this?" Drizella lifted it by the shoulder. The lace caught the candlelight. "You've been sewing something for yourself." "It was my mother's," Ella said. She reached for it. "Please." Lady Tremaine appeared in the doorway. She did not raise her voice. She looked at the dress, then at Ella's face, and understood everything at once. "So this is where your hands went," she said. "You mean to follow us to the palace." "My work is done," Ella said. "Every task. I earned the night." "You earned nothing." Lady Tremaine held out one gloved hand. "Give it to Drizella." Drizella did not wait to be told twice. She gripped the bodice in both hands and pulled. The old silk tore down the front. Lace ripped loose. Fuchsia flowers split apart in her fists. She dropped the ruined halves on the floor and stepped over them. "There," Lady Tremaine said. "Now nothing keeps you from the floors." The cane tapped away down the stairs. The door shut. The carriage rolled off a second time. Ella knelt on the boards and gathered the torn pieces. Her mother's dress lay in shreds across her knees. She had mended every flaw, and it was gone in ten seconds. She had her freedom and her skill, and now she had nothing to wear.