Ella von Rosenfeld's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Ella could not sleep. The white feather lay hidden in a box beneath her bed, proof her magic was real. But proof was danger. If a servant saw the dove fly through her chamber, or glimpsed the slipper glowing in her hands, word would reach the Order. The witch hunters watched the royal court closely. A princess with witch blood would face a death sentence, crown or no crown. Every night in the castle, Ella practiced in fear, listening for footsteps at the door. She found Valentin in his study at dawn. "I can't do it here," she said. "Every time I call the bird, I risk everything. Yours and mine both." Valentin set down his papers. "Then you shouldn't do it here. I've been thinking the same." He stood and crossed to her. "My father pushes the Order harder every week. This castle is the worst place in the kingdom for you to learn." "Where, then?" Ella asked. "Your father’s house. The Salzmann Estate." He took her hands. "It stands empty. No servants, no court, no hunters. And the tree is there, Ella. The place where your magic first woke. If it listens anywhere, it will listen there." Ella felt the fear in her chest loosen. She had not seen the estate since the wedding. She had not knelt at her mother's grave in a year. "We could leave quietly," she said. "Say we want time away. No one would question a prince taking his wife to her old home." "No one would dare," Valentin said, and smiled. They left two days later, before the sun rose over the castle towers. Only a driver came with them. Ella watched the great stone walls shrink behind the carriage, and with them the eyes of the Order. For the first time in weeks, her shoulders dropped. The road ran long through the countryside. By afternoon the Salzmann Estate rose ahead, a sprawling manor of stone and brick, its towers dark against the sky. Dust covered the windows. Ivy climbed the walls. But Ella's heart lifted at the sight. This had been her father’s house but, she also remembered the ashes, the hearth, and the cruel years under her stepmother and stepsisters. She did not go inside. She walked straight to the grave behind the manor. The hazel tree stood there, taller than she remembered, its branches heavy with nuts. The headstone read ANNA SALZMANN. Ella knelt in the grass and pressed her palm to the cool stone. "Here," she whispered. "I can do it here." Valentin stayed back by the manor, giving her the quiet. Ella drew the golden slipper from her bag and held it against her chest. The old grief rose easy now, here where it began. A tear fell. The slipper warmed in her hands. White wings beat above the tree, and the dove came down to her, safe at last from watching eyes. Ella had her place. But she did not know Snow White’s stepmother Kassurina had already marked this estate, and was coming.