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The first time Mandy's power faltered, she dismissed it from her mind: merely a fluke, just a mistake in the recipe. The bald patch on Apple's flank remained red and itchy, and the next day, Mandy brewed a new batch of poultice. The new batch worked perfectly: the scabs were smoothed over and covered in soft, downy hairs within a few hours. Mandy frowned, troubled. No harm done, just a mistake, nothing more.
It was the first mistake she had made in centuries, not since her first assignment as her first lady's fairy godmother. Lady Eloise of Frell had been delighted when Mandy had given her the glittering red shoes, enchanted with exquisite spells of dancing. All eyes will be on you at the ball, Mandy had promised.
They were, but not in the way she'd intended. Unable to control the shoes, Eloise had twirled frantically over the floor, crashing into dancers and servants alike. She'd returned splattered head to toe and furious. Dancing shoes remained banned from royal balls to this day.
Mandy had learned her lesson: small magic only! She practiced her spells until they were as familiar as the songs she sang to Ella to sleep. And in all the years that followed, she had never made another mistake.
But times were changing. The next week, her cooking was just a touch too salty. So minutely that no human could put a finger on it, not unless they had grown up around fairy magic. But nonetheless, King Char set aside his bowl half-finished. "I must not be hungry tonight," he guessed, puzzled. He didn't sound convinced: it had never happened before.
Ella said nothing, but she shot Mandy a worried look. Mandy pressed her lips tightly together. Nothing to worry about, she repeated to herself like a mantra. Maybe he really wasn't hungry.
But the final straw came when Ella opened her magical book and found the pages blank, not a letter or a fairy tale in sight. Mandy marched over, frowning sternly at the book and coaxing it until at last, words begrudgingly appeared on the page. Yet all the book yielded up that night was a meager haiku.
Magic and valor
Two pillars upholding tales
A world rests on three
Ella caught sight of Mandy's crestfallen face. "It's a lovely haiku," she hurried to reassure her.
"Yes, doubtless it's the start of a grand and marvelous journey," Char added. "It does sound as though it's setting up a quest, doesn't it?"
"The rest of the story must be just waiting to come out!" Ella said.
"I suppose," Mandy said doubtfully.
"My magic is misbehaving," Mandy explained later that night, while they sat around the fire, Char reviewing applications for a Kyrrian Cultural Ambassador, and Ella translating a tome of Gnomish legends. Both set down their work and looked up with serious, alarmed stunned expressions.
"Oh Mandy," Ella crossed the room in quick strides and enveloped Mandy in a hug. And when Mandy hugged her back, her hands lacked that cool, soothing calm that had comforted Ella as a child. Now, they were tight and damp with fear.
"Are you sure?" Char asked, his eyes flashing, and Ella immediately understood: anything strong enough to sap power from a fairy must be a powerful force indeed. Strong enough to threaten a kingdom.
Mandy nodded. "My Lord, our ways are mysterious to humans. Like humans we see multiple paths before us, and we do not always choose rightly. But a fairy's magic is as sharp and clear as your sword hand is to you."
"Then we must find the cause," Ella said firmly.
"Who among our peoples has the power to threaten a fairy's magic?" Char wondered.
"I can think of several," Mandy said grimly. "Another fairy, perhaps. The elves work their craft through magic as well. Theirs is of a different nature: coaxed from the materials of the Earth, less bound to the will of the caster. But no magic is completely isolated from any other. An elf's spell a continent away can alter the vitality of a tree that grows the berries in Apple's poultice." She paused to think. "Likewise, the gnomes treat their visions as observers, watchers who do not meddle, but even seeing a future play out creates the tiniest changes in it. And of course, the giants have their ways with the land. Legends told of giants so beloved by the Earth that it would bend to shower them in gifts." Mandy shook her head. "In short, we have many ideas but no clues."
"Do you have any enemies?" Ella said thoughtfully. "Any who might wish to drain your powers?"
Mandy gave a great snort. "None, though that pesky Lucinda may bear me a grudge for her year as a squirrel." She froze, thinking hard, at the same time Char looked up in alarm.
Ella placed a hand on his arm. "It's alright, dear, Lucinda wouldn't," she said. "But she may know something that could help us."
Inviting Lucinda for a visit sounded cleaner as an idea. Lucinda arrived a scattered mess, her magic clearly frayed too. Her hair was only mostly perfect, with the occasional stray strand flapping about, and the sash on her gown dangled askew. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying.
"I've lost my perfection!" she wailed, and when she cried, her nose ran in streaks like any mortal. "And my gifts are failing!"
"You promised to stop giving those horrible curses you call gifts," Mandy admonished her sternly.
Lucinda glared even as she hiccupped. "You don't need to remind me," she snapped. "I'm not throwing any new ones about! I mean the ones I already gave."
Ella bit back her retort: it's for the best. Satisfying, but unhelpful. "Please tell us everything you know," she said instead, offering the distraught fairy a handkerchief.
Delicately, Lucinda took the handkerchief. Much less delicately, she blew her nose with a resounding honk.
"I have seen nothing like it in my lifetime," she began, "but my grandmother's teacher's teacher heard tell of a similar tale, once, long ago. It was a time of prosperity, much like the one we are in." Distant thunder rumbled as Lucinda spoke, and Ella shivered. Char stood and added a log to the fire.
"The King and Queen had just given birth to a princess," Lucinda continued, and Mandy gasped in recognition. "Kyrria was a newly-formed kingdom then, the first of its kind, and the alliance between fairies and humans was new. Fairy blessings were commonplace then, given freely as a gesture of goodwill."
"I have heard of this legend," Mandy said. "Oh, there were mishaps. Many a gift that went awry. We did not yet understand how closely magic and fate intertwined—nor how easily our intentions were thwarted."
"An evil fairy appeared and cursed the princess," Lucinda continued. "Doomed to die upon her sixteenth birthday. You'd think it would be easy for another fairy to undo the curse, or if not one, a group of fairies together. Surely a group is more powerful than any one fairy. But that is a cardinal law: magic cannot be undone by another."
"Ella, if I had been able, I would have lifted your curse myself," Mandy said, her head hung low in grief. "Small magic be damned. Some causes are worth big magic; you are worth big magic. But it wasn't possible."
"Some causes are worth big magic," Lucinda echoed. "The fairies tried and tried to end the curse, and that was the first time our magic failed." She shuddered, as if remembering it herself. "Each attempt seemed promising: showers of golden sparks and a feeling of pulling at something deep. But the curse remained intact. It was as if it had buried itself deep, impossible for any other magic to find it and uproot it without upending the entire world. In their desperation to bring it to an end, they almost did rip magic from the world."
"The princess. . . ." Char trailed off, torn between wonder and dread.
"No, she didn't die," Lucinda said. "In the end, it was the gnomes who saved her with their prophetic vision, for in one of the futures, they found the princess alive and well, and they saw just enough of the path to show the fairies the way. The rest is as we know: the princess was saved, and the waver in our power faded into distant memory. But the oldest among us remember, and whisper to this day—all the louder now that history is repeating itself."
"The gnomes," Ella murmured, an idea taking shape. Across the room, Char met her eyes, and Mandy drew in a hopeful breath. "The gnomes saw a path before," Ella thought out loud. "If there is a future with magic, they will see it."
Char nodded in agreement. "Then we will set out to find the gnomes tomorrow," he said.
They set out early the next morning with a wagon laden with provisions and a pony each. The morning was cool and bright, and for a few hours, Ella could forget the dire circumstances of their journey. Char pointed out colorful birds as they passed, although most were simply variations on the common Frellian sparrow, and Ella pointed out architectural influences from around and outside Frell, and Mandy taught both of them about the herbs and plants, which to use in cooking and which to use in salves.
Around noon, they stopped at a tavern for cider and stew.
"On the house for our King and Queen," the barkeep tried to offer.
"Oh no, we couldn't," Char insisted, firmly laying down a pouch of coins.
"I'm just a linguist, no need to bow," Ella futilely protested.
Mandy looked on and tried to hide her smile.
The first night, they stopped at a roadside inn and went to sleep in good spirits, and even the book obligingly provided a rousing tale featuring three knights on a quest for glory.
"We're not exactly in it for the glory, but it gives me courage to read about it," Char said cheerfully, looking at an illustration of Sirs Lancevelle, Flailistina, and Balherd.
By afternoon on the third day, the terrain around them was changing to boulders and low cliffs, and the sky overhead was growing dark. "We're close," Char said tersely, glancing uneasily at the sky.
Distant thunder crackled. Over the next hour, a drizzle started which grew into a downpour. Suddenly, a flash of lightning touched down on a cliff nearby, and Ella startled. She froze, listening hard.
"We're almost there," Char murmured, pulling his pony close.
Ella shook her head and held up a finger for quiet. In the distance, a rhythmic stomping came drifting through the rocks, growing louder every second.
Mandy's eyes widened. "Run," Char said.
They spurred the ponies into a gallop just as a massive bear came bursting out of a cave. "A Fang-mouthed Mountain Bear!" Char yelled in excitement.
"Now is not the time for sightseeing!" Ella howled, and Char turned to face forward again with a sheepish grin. They pounded away down the road with the bear gaining at each step.
Ella was never sure after what came over her, or how she knew what to do. It simply came to her in the moment: a shrill squeak that echoed behind her, bouncing off the cliff walls behind. In the next moment, common Frellian sparrows emerged from every crevasse, fluttering around the bear's head and blocking its view.
"This way!" Char called, leading them toward a gap in the rocks where dark shapes stood waiting. They tumbled head-over-heels into Gnome Caverns, and landed in a tumbled heap. Three gnomes had leaped out after and hauled their ponies into a tall cavern, and two others were blocking the entrance with boulders, working so quickly their hands blurred. Ella looked more closely around them: the floor was covered in cushions, and the pony's cavern looked freshly carved. An elderly gnome stood over them.
Ella looked up at the gnome with a question on her lips. Remembering her manners, she swallowed the question and instead gave the standard greeting. ",fwthchor evtoogh brzzay eerth ymmad boech evtoogh brzzaY" she said politely. Digging is good for the wealth and good for the health.
"My name is zhamM, and we foresaw your coming," he answered with a kindly smile.
After a dinner of hearty root vegetable stew and candied carrots for dessert, Ella settled into a cushioned chair with Char on one side and Mandy pacing about. Mandy's eyes flickered uneasily over the low-hanging ceilings, and Ella sent her an encouraging and sympathetic smile.
zhamM noticed, of course. "Surface dwellers do not like to spend long underground," he explained. "Though I am afraid you will have to spend the night before the storm passes. But for now, tell us why you have come. We also foresaw that you would have great need."
"Yes," Ella said. "Mandy's power is failing, and Lucinda's too. We think fairy magic is failing all over the kingdom, and beyond."
zhamM nodded gravely. "This much we knew. It is not the first time in our history we have experienced this unusual phenomenon, not the first time we've been called to assist. But unlike in past time, our vision has become limited."
"Limited?" Ella asked, confused.
"Yes. Think of it as nearsightedness," he explained. "We gnomes are accustomed to clear vision for years into the future. Oh, not the minutiae of day-to-day, but the broad strokes of a gnome's life and doings. But as of late, our eyesight blurs when we try to look. There are days of clarity and days of darkness."
"Your magic is going too," Mandy said in dawning comprehension.
"Perhaps. However, one thing is clear, in every vision we are able to capture, no matter how blurred or distant: resentment, hard and bitter as an unripe turnip. Someone was wronged by fairy magic, and that is where your search begins."
"Someone wronged by fairy magic," Ella murmured, despairing. There were so many, she simple didn't know where to look. Lucinda had been blithely casting big magic every which way, in every land among every peoples, for years.
"I know, love," Mandy said, reading her expression. "At least it's a start."
"We'll start with the ones we know, Ella," Char said, taking her hand. "Starting with the giants. It may not be them, but it's the best idea we have."
"Mandy. What happened back there, on the way in? Were the birds hurt?" Ella asked Mandy the next day. They were riding along the road again, the ponies eager to be out after a night in the caves. Aside from the dewy ground, the storm had passed without a trace.
"The sparrows? No, not at all, sweet. They are nimble. They'll dart in and out and be away as soon as we reached the tunnel."
"So the sparrows. . . ." Ella trailed off, thinking. "They understand me?" she said, amazed.
"Ah, I always wondered when your gift would show," Mandy said knowingly. "You have a drop of fairy blood in you, love," she explained, gesturing at Ella's tiny boots. "This much you already know, and I didn't want to say more in case it never came to pass. Didn't want to disappoint you. Every Lady before you has had a gift. Always something small. Yours seems to be fraternizing with Frellian sparrows. It suits your adventurous spirit," she said with a grin.
Ella gave Mandy a playful shove. "When you say it like that, it sounds like I'm about to go frolicking and rolling around in fields," she grumbled, but she was smiling too.
"You would if you had a free afternoon; flying down banisters is not so different," Char added.
"We were lucky there were so many sparrows around," Mandy said. "Your mother's gift was roasted chestnuts. She'd roast them perfectly with just a thought, and then stuff herself silly before anyone found out. They were always going missing from the kitchen."
Ella laughed at the thought of her mother sneaking chestnuts when she thought no one was looking. "Mother was excellent at appearing dignified in public. As befitting a lady!" she recalled. "I don't know how she managed it."
"She was so much like you," Mandy said fondly. "As mischievous but sweet as yourself. As determined as yourself." She reached up to rub at her eyes, and with a start, Ella realized Mandy was crying. "Chestnuts were harder to come by when they weren't in season. I was always on the lookout for them at the market. Did you know, she discovered her powers quite by accident?"
"How did she find out?" Ella prompted.
"Well, it all started on a rainy day when I was preoccupied with preparing for a feast. She would have been around five. . . ."
With Mandy telling fond stories about Lady Eleanor, and all the ladies she'd served before, they entered giant country, and the crops and houses grew huge around them.
Ella feared how the giants would be. The last she'd seen of them, three years before, Udabee had been sobbing, distraught on her wedding night. Uaaxee had been barely better off, her face grown even grimmer and longer in grief. Ella remembered Lucinda's frightful curse: for the newlyweds to never be apart. She dreaded to see what their marriage had become.
To her surprise, Udabee looked radiant. She opened the door with a broad smile and led them down the enormous hall to where Uaaxee waited, holding a plate of roasted chestnuts, each as large as Ella's head. It was then that she realized: Udabee's husband was nowhere in sight.
"Out of the blue, the magic relaxed its hold," Uaaxee explained. "That was perhaps three weeks ago. Although they must still leave the palace together, they can now pass the time in separate rooms."
Udabee beamed at them. "Right this moment, Ayaagik is reading in a guest room. He hums when he reads, did you know? He has a gravelly voice, quite a nice voice, anyone would say. But even the nicest voice becomes grating when it's always present. How nice it is not to hear him!"
"The first week after the curse was loosened, they immediately went into separate rooms and saw each other not a single time," Uaaxee recalled. "I feared that this had become a house divided for the rest of our days, though I was ecstatic for them. But after that first week, they began to talk again."
"Just little, passing conversations," Udabee said with a smile. "I'd forgotten the pleasure of asking how his day was and telling about my own, and being surprised by the answer. We don't like each other yet, but in time, we may remember why we once did."
Uaaxee nodded in agreement, wrapping an arm around her daughter. "These three years were the hardest I have ever endured, watching my daughter and son-in-law suffer. I have begged Lucinda and begged—we all have. She never relented before."
"I do not know what caused her change-of-heart, but I am grateful. We all are," Udabee added.
Ella and Char exchanged a look, Ella frantically wondering what to say.
Before she'd said a word, Mandy jumped up with a steely expression. "She hasn't changed her mind," she said scathingly. "That good-for-nothing Lucinda! She's been busy hiding from the world while she fusses over her skin. No, I'm sorry to say, our magic is failing. That is the source of your respite."
"And when it returns?" Uaaxee asked, her eyes wide and horrified.
It was Char who took her hand, his eyes hard and angry. "When the magic returns—if the magic returns—I will stop at nothing to see your curse undone. I promise."
All the way out of the giant's castle, and for miles beyond, Ella remained quiet and deep in thought. At last, Mandy sighed and stopped in her tracks. "Out with it," she said sternly.
"That's bigger than big magic," Ella murmured, her voice low and serious. "Fairies can't undo another fairy's gift. You've always told me that. I can't help but remember Lucinda's tale of the cursed princess: In their desperation to bring it to an end, they almost ripped magic from the world." Yet when she looked up, her eyes were burning with fury and determination. "All the same, I want you to do it," she said, resolute. She swept an arm out, taking in the castle behind them. "They only have one life to live," she said urgently. "It's not right that they spend it like this."
"Think hard on your choice." When Mandy spoke, her voice was not harsh or angry. Instead, her eyes held a bottomless grief. "Your children and grandchildren will grow up without healing," she said simply, and Ella's breath caught in her throat, remembering the day her mother died. Mandy's eyes were bright and wet with unshed tears, and Ella suddenly understood that Mandy's grief reached farther than a generation. Mandy mourned for Lady Eleanor and the lady who came before, every lady of Frell who had ever lived and died, all the way back to Lady Eloise all those centuries ago.
Now, Mandy carried herself with uncharacteristic weariness, her shoulders slumped and her tiny feet dragging through the mud. A dozen words warred within Ella's mind, and in the end none came out. They set up camp silently, each lost in their own thoughts.
"I'll see you in the morning," Mandy said before disappearing into the tent. Ella remained outside, staring into the campfire.
There was a shuffle next to her as Char joined her and sat, and drew an arm around her. Quietly, Ella leaned into his side, turning to bury her face in his shoulder.
They sat there quietly while Ella swept through her thoughts, wave after wave of them crashing through her. "I miss Mother so much," she said at last, low and soft and barely above a whisper.
Char said nothing, simply stroked her hair and waited for her to continue.
"I couldn't understand when she died," Ella said, her voice wavering. "She'd always been so healthy—strong in constitution, I always thought. Suddenly she was ill—feverish and clammy all at once, and so, so pale. Now I know it was magic that kept her healthy."
"I want our children to have a fairy godmother," she admitted, blanching as she said it. Udabee's beaming face swam into her mind, and her relief at a moment's solitude, and the tears she'd shed on her wedding night long ago. In the next moment, her mother's delirious face appeared seared into her memories: she couldn't choose.
Char huffed a quiet sigh, and when Ella turned to look at him, he was gazing up at the stars with wet eyes. "I did not become king to put myself ahead of my people," he said, as if it were the simplest choice in the world.
Ella pulled back in disbelief. "You'd let Mother die all over again," she said angrily.
Char shook his head. "I would give everything I had to save Lady Eleanor, if I could. My title, my wealth, my life. Everything that is mine to give. But I couldn't give their happiness," he said sadly, nodding in the direction of the giants' castle. "Their future isn't mine to trade."
Ella leaned back into his arms, unable to stay mad. "That's why you're their king," she mumbled.
"It did not come easily," Char said with a dry huff. "I was much like Lucinda at first, serving up exciting, newfangled ideas without looking back. Without seeing whether they were for good or for ill." His voice took on a pensive timbre.
"What happened?" Ella asked.
"The first time I went on an ogre hunt," he said simply, and Ella understood at once. It had been the talk of the town a number of years back: the young prince's heroic charge which had saved all but one of his knights, at great personal risk. Char had been hospitalized for a month, recovering. In the eyes of the people, he'd emerged a protector.
"I met his widow and children," he said now, voice as hushed and miserable as if Sir Edwin had died yesterday. "I can never forget that every person in Kyrria, and in all the world beyond, is as real as myself."
Ella gave him a trembling smile. "Even someone horrible?" she asked jokingly.
Char laughed and stroked her hair. "Well, I might leave your stepsisters to suffer," he said. Then he froze, face growing thoughtful. "Ella," he said urgently. "There's someone else we know with an unwanted fairy gift."
Even riding at full speed, Ella was wracked with worry. "We have to get back to Frell," she repeated like a mantra.
Mandy seemed driven by the same urgency. "They'll ruin Lady's home," she muttered under her breath, spurring her pony to a full gallop. They streaked through the countryside, stopping only to let the ponies rest.
They turned a corner, and the manor came into sight. "It's still standing," Ella sighed in relief. "The windows look alright." She burst in through the door just in time.
"—and you look more at these ugly things than at the girls—your own stepdaughters!" Dame Olga was shrieking, waving a heavy clay vase around her head. Olive was peeking through a door opened just a crack, trembling, and over her shoulder, Ella could make out the flash of Hattie's bejeweled dress.
"I don't even look at Ella that much!" Sir Peter retorted.
"You think Ella is more important than my girls!" Dame Olga wailed. "You don't even look at me!"
"Ella turned out to be an invaluable asset, not like those boors you raised," Sir Peter sneered. "They will never marry into wealth and royalty."
"That's the only reason you married me!" Dame Olga spat. "You decided to—to endure my looks for my money!"
"Don't pretend you're different, my love! You only married me due to false advertisement!" Sir Peter spat the words out, his face red and angry, the words dripping with resentment for his forced love. "Besides, I already know what you look like; I'm married to you! That vase is an investment!"
"You don't want to look at me! You think I'm ugly!" With that, Dame Olga burst into sobs and hefted the vase into the air, and threw it at a wall.
Char leaped into action, catching the vase and landing in a graceful roll.
"You're an inattentive father and a lackluster lover," Dame Olga sobbed, not sparing her visitors a single glance. "I'll be glad to be rid of you!"
"That's enough!" Ella called, leaping in between the two. "What's happened? I've never seen you two at each other's throats like this!"
"Ella, you arrived not a moment too soon," Sir Peter said, straightening his tie and casting Dame Olga a condescending sneer. "Ever since our ill-fated marriage, my head is in a daze. I find myself purchasing worthless knick-knacks of minimal market value, simply to suit her undiscerning tastes. Worse, I plan my journeys inexpertly: I passed up the Elven Winter Art Fair to be home, all to escort my lady to the Crystal Gala. I couldn't bear to see her upset or disappointed. I berated myself furiously for such sentimental foolishness, but I was helpless to resist."
He pointed contemptuously to where Dame Olga sobbed on her knees. "Enough is enough. Something snapped in me not long ago, and I found myself waking in anger and in resentment. A fairy's curse can be broken, that much I know." He smiled, a cold, toothy grin that resembled a grimace, and held up a raised fist. "I must have reached the breaking point and broken it myself," he declared smugly.
"You are a fool, and I've had enough of you parading around like an overgrown turkey, crooning on about how clever you are!" Dame Olga screamed at him. "You didn't do jack! I can't stand your smug face another second!" From within the folds of her gown, she brought out a little music box barely the size of her palm, the lid crafted in an intricate pattern of flowers and leaves, and a ornate handle set in the side. "This is the true reason for your indifference," she sneered.
She turned the handle. A twinkling tune rang out of the box, a hint out of tune, just enough discordance to send goosebumps up Ella's skin. The hall was silent save for the otherworldly song, each person waiting with bated breath.
As the last note played, a cloud of smoke burst from the music box and solidified into a human shape.
"Ah!" Char gasped in surprise, body automatically shifting into fighting stance and his sword drawn. Mandy's hands came up, her energy flowing around her that Ella suddenly recognized as big magic. Sir Peter let out an unbecoming screech and cowered against the wall.
In the next moment, Char lowered his sword and Mandy let the energy dissipate as the mysterious figure sharpened into a young woman, barely taller than a girl. She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, and both lowered their weapons, though they both remained tense. Ella knew they'd be ready to defend in a blink.
The woman raised her head to reveal large, midnight-blue eyes pooling with tears. Her hands wrung in her dress: black velvet laced through with blue ribbons. Long black hair fell down her back in a shimmering curtain. She bit her lip.
"Honey, is she keeping you captive?" Mandy asked gently, tilting her head at Dame Olga. She did not take her eyes off the woman.
"N-no," she whispered.
"We won't hurt you," Char said, offering her his hand. "Please tell us how you came to be in that music box."
The woman glanced at Dame Olga, who nodded. "It's alright, you can tell them," she said.
"Very well." The woman straightened, shaking back her hair. "My name is Letty, and I am a fallen fairy. I was trapped in the music box as punishment for a. . . mistake I made, long ago."
"He brought me the music box as a present," Dame Olga explained, scowling at where Sir Peter stood dusting himself off. He was watching the fairy with a calculating expression. "Figured he didn't care enough about the present to bother listening to it," Dame Olga said contemptuously. "It could have been out of tune or busted, or played the wrong song, not that he cared. If he had, the wish would have been his!"
"A condition of my imprisonment was that whoever found me would be granted a wish," Letty said. "And Dame Olga has wished to undo her wedding gift. I am trying my best, with all the power I have in me, but as you know well, a fairy can't undo another fairy's magic. This is a cardinal law. Any who has been under magical compulsion knows: to resist is the worst pain one can endure. But my mistress has refused any other wish."
"Is this the only wish you have?" Ella asked Dame Olga in despair. "You could wish for anything—wealth and jewels, the most beautiful wi-I mean, hair. . . ."
"Yes, listen to Ella. Wish for riches, or wish me success on my travels," Sir Peter said indignantly. "You have a fortune at your fingertips!"
"That's stupid," a new voice shrilled: Hattie had crept from the sitting room where she'd hidden during their quarrel. "All your ideas are stupid," she snarled at Sir Peter. She turned to her disheveled mother, her face streaked and her wig fallen sideways. "Wish for beauty—for me as well! Then we could marry into riches we couldn't dream of, and we wouldn't have to wear these on our head," Hattie ordered, tugging at her wig.
"All you care about is beauty!" Olive had followed Hattie out, and now she spoke in a thin, childish voice. "Why wish for beauty when you can go directly to riches? Wish for the coins, enough to buy three white cakes a day for the rest of your life."
Dame Olga shook her head resolutely, and ignored Sir Peter and her daughters. She turned and spoke directly to Ella instead.
"I loathe him—your father. I endure him with all my heart and none of my head; all of my curse and none of myself. I have no choice but to love him, and so I loathe him. I loathe what he has done to my children's futures. Hattie wanted to be the wife of a king, and now she is the daughter of a pauper and a crook! She cannot bear to show her face in society, let alone in a grand ball. Olive wanted coins and jewels! He was meant to bring her treasures by the handful, and now she must make do with wildflowers plucked from the side of the road. Mere weeds!"
She took a great, shuddering breath, her tears streaking the rouge on her cheeks. Hattie patted her shoulder sympathetically, while Olive sat a seat away, stone-faced.
"But though my curse compels me to love, nothing compares to my love for my girls. When Hattie hides, when Olive cries, it cuts me deeper than a fairy's curse. So what if I would have been content to live in this run-down hovel and greet Sir Peter when he comes home?" She waved at the very extravagant mansion, and it took all of Ella's restraint not to roll her eyes.
"And I would have been," she added in a whisper. "The joy—the pleasure of being in love. . . it's no more real than my hair, but it's mine, is it not? No matter."
Dame Olga dissolved into sniffles, and Letty took up the tale. "The rest is as you see it. In his travels, Sir Peter found the magic lamp, and Dame Olga released me from it. I am a servant of the lamp, bound to grant my mistress one wish, and she wishes to be freed from her cursed love. And I have no choice but to comply."
"None at all?" Mandy asked. "There is no trick or loophole for you to fulfill the letter of your wish?"
"Ella—" Char said, giving her a meaningful look.
"Mandy—" Ella said at the same time.
"I didn't mean to do it!" Mandy exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "I know it offends your sense of honor. You're like your mother that way!" Ella's eyes grew wide, and Mandy took a deep breath, her voice softening. "Oh Ella, I don't mean that cruelly. Lady Eleanor's honor was the most admirable trait, the same as all the Ladies before her. It's why we chose your family to be Friends of the Fairies."
Ella managed a wobbly smile, even as her insides turned to ash, and her conversation with Char echoed in her ears: Their future isn't mine to trade.
"I'm only asking to know what the rules are," Mandy said gently. She turned back to Letty. "Well?"
Letty shook her head. "Mistress was very clear. Her wish was to end the gift of love that Lucinda gave her, and I am bound to obey."
"Miss Letty," Char said, thoughtful. "You've spoken of being bound, in obedience and punishment, and of being trapped in that music box for thousands of years. What could be so horrible that your captors decided to punish you so cruelly?"
Letty smiled sadly. "I can't say it wasn't deserved," she answered, to shocked expressions.
"Thousands of years in a box? No, that can't be possible, sweet," Mandy protested.
"I had hoped to be your friend, but if you must know, you'll change your mind," Letty said mournfully. "My regrets began a thousand years ago, when I was a young fairy, eager for a first assignment."
As she spoke, her voice took on the deeper tones and rhythms of a fable being told, passed from elder to child. "It was said that an evil fairy appeared and cursed the princess. The truth was far more ordinary: a foolish fairy gave the princess the 'gift' of a charmed youth. Your childhood will be unsurpassed in joy, she said, and only after the 'gift' emerged from her wand a thin trickle of black smoke, did she realize the method the fates had chosen: to uphold her childhood by stripping her future. Afraid to hurt the fragile truce between humans and fairies, and to admit her own mistake, she quickly covered her mistake with a show of golden smoke to hide the black. But the damage had been done. The king and queen had seen, and the fairy's mistake was uncovered."
"Of course the other fairies immediately decried the foolish one. So the wretched fairy was cast as an outlaw, in the early retellings merely a fairy from distant lands, but later an evil fairy, and sometimes a demon. The other fairies sealed the fallen one in a magic lamp and buried it in the sea, and there I lay for three thousand years."
"And thus, by their punishment, the humans were convinced that I was not one of theirs. The alliance was saved. The fight to undo the curse was harder: it took them sixty days to work around it, and in that time they nearly ripped magic from the world by the roots. But in the end, they sought out the gnomes and found a way to temper my spell, and turned its course without erasing it."
"In one sense, it worked perfectly. The alliance was unharmed, and the princess lived in the end. She awoke a hundred years in the future, among strangers and in an unfamiliar time. She retired to a convent and spent the remainder of her years grieving her family and friends, and remembering her golden childhood. In that sense, the curse came perfectly, horribly true."
Letty's voice trailed off, her face wet. A somber silence fell over the small group, and even Hattie and Olive were stunned into speechless quiet.
"Oh, Letty. . . ." Unable to hold back, Ella came over and drew Letty into a hug.
"Come with us," Char said suddenly. "We. . . ." He looked at Ella, and Ella stared back, her heart thumping and her mother's dying face branded in her memory.
Char gave her meaningful look: Trust me. "We may not agree on the fate of fairy power, or even have the power to decide, but at least we're searching to see if it can be done. So come with us, and search with us."
"I—" Letty stammered, uncertain.
Mandy came over and took both her hands. "You've cast a curse, but you're not evil, sweet," she said reassuringly. "Perhaps you'll do some good by undoing the curses in the world today."
"It doesn't fit right," Mandy muttered under her breath, the pots and pans clattering in her hands. Ella looked up from across the campsite. They were two days out from Frell's teaching library, where the oldest tomes and legends were collected.
Now, she quickly crossed the distance on silent footsteps. "What is it?" she asked, peering into the pot.
"Not the cooking, Ella, dear. The story." Mandy glanced over to where Char and Letty gathered firewood in the distance. She lowered her voice. "It doesn't sit right that Letty's spell went so astray. Magic responds to intent. Things are not what they seem. Hush, now," she added quickly, just as Char approached them, with Letty a single step behind.
"We found bones," Char said tersely, pointing into the forest. "By my best guess, a hybrid between a Giant Moose and a Gnomic one. That by itself is not surprising: we've just left Giant Country. But the bones were picked clean."
"Not many creatures would take on a Giant Moose," Ella murmured.
"Exactly," Char said. "An ogre."
"Should we run?" Mandy asked in a hushed whisper.
Ella shook her head. "Running will only attract attention. I've escaped from ogres before, but it's best if we can escape their notice." She glanced up at the darkening sky.
"We won't be much good traveling at night," Char said, echoing her thoughts. "We'll leave as little trace of ourselves as we can."
But though they doused the fire, and Mandy and Letty both cast camouflage illusions over the tent, Ella lay wide awake, plans and words racing through her head. She remembered the feel of the words in her throat, smooth and slick, and she imagined that her throat was coated in oil. "You do not wish to eat us," she whispered to herself, rehearsing what she'd say.
In the dark, Char found her hand and squeezed it. "I'll keep guard," he murmured. "Try to get some sleep."
"If anyone should be keeping watch, it's me," Ella whispered back. "I'm the one they'll listen to."
"Or perhaps we should both go to sleep," Char said, the words tired and slow.
"We should both go to sleep," Ella echoed. Her eyes felt impossibly heavy.
"Go to sleep," a soothing voice said, barely audible on the wind. "You should both go to sleep."
It sounded like such a good idea: she was so, very tired, only it didn't make much sense, come to think of it. She knew there was a reason she had to stay awake, only she couldn't remember. . . .
You do not wish to eat us.
Ella jolted awake. "You do not wish to eat us!" she yelled in an undignified squawk. To her side, Char startled and sat bolt upright. The sword was out in his hand faster than thought.
A weary sigh sounded from outside their tent. "You want to put down your sword and come outside, the oily voice said, and Ella clapped her hands over her ears. Fumbling, she searched for the earplugs. Char's eyes were dazed, and Mandy and Letty were already reaching for the tent flap. She wouldn't find them in time.
"You do not wish to eat us," she tried again. It came out in a squeak. Clearing her throat, she imagined swallowing a mouthful of Mandy's tonic, the slimy, cool feel of it coating her mouth and throat. "You do not wish to eat us," she said, the words rolling through her chest.
A loud laugh sounded outside. "Wait, stop! I know this one! She's my pet!"
"NiSSh?" Ella called in surprise.
A large, hairy hand pulled aside the tent flap, and NiSSh grinned in at her. "ahthOOn SSyng!" he replied, sounding downright jolly. Much eating. "I thought I'd see you again!"
He'd grown in the intervening years, no longer the awkward adolescent ogre who hung back on hunts. He was taller, rounder, and hairier, and he sported a full beard gathered into tufts and strung with beads. "You're not. . . furious?" Ella asked blankly. "Because I got you captured?"
"Why are you reminding him?" Char stage-whispered.
NiSSh only laughed, the sounds booming out and making the ground shake. "Escaping was not easy! We stayed away from humans for a long while! Even now, we carry earplugs, ready to slap them on at the first sign of struggle. None ever subdued us the way you did. Imagine my bad luck to run into you twice!" He laughed again, and the trees bent and bowed with each booming sound.
The other ogres eyed him dubiously. "Have you lost your mind?" An ogre asked.
"Mind your trap, vEEj," NiSSh growled. "Away, all of you!" Inexplicably, the ogres all obeyed. "I'm the chief," he explained, to Ella's dumbfounded expression.
"Are you going to torture me and eat me slowly in revenge?" Ella asked morosely.
"What? Oh, come now. I know you lot will spare a pig or a cow if it shows signs of being smart, or sometimes when it's just dumb and cute," NiSSh said with a huff. "Being outwitted by one, now that's special! You may not be in my fist or my belly, but you're my shTTfoong now!"
Ella frantically tried to translate: she was passable in Ogrish, but that word was new to her.
"My pet," NiSSh clarified.
"Should I kill him?" Char asked out the corner of his mouth.
"I think it's a compliment," Ella whispered back.
NiSSh only laughed. "Don't try anything. Ogres see everything about you, remember? All your deepest insecurities. I know about your left knee that dislocates when you stand on it funny." NiSSh frowned. "Only from memory though. Can't see anything about you today. Is this some kind of new magic?"
Ella stared. "You mean your power is fading too?" she said, aghast. "That's for the best," she added to NiSSh. "If you never catch a human again, it still doesn't make up for all the ones you've eaten! Not to mention all the ponies!"
"You're bold, giving me words about ponies with all the stuff you lot eat," NiSSh said, uncaring. "But enough of that. Now that I found you again, I'll make you a proper Ogrish shTTfoong! Or your companions will get it!" NiSSh waved around his earplugs to emphasize the point.
"Do I have to come with you to insure the safety of my companions?" Ella asked, resigned.
There was that jolly laugh again, NiSSh holding his belly in laughter. "What? No, no, you got it all wrong. Ogrish pets are free range. You get a name tag so other ogres know you're not for eating." He rummaged in his pouch and brought out a braided ribbon with ElaNN - NiSSh spelled out on it in darker thread, and tied it around Ella's wrist. "It comes with a whistle for when you get in a pickle!" He pointed to an off-white, hand-whittled whistle attached to the bracelet, no larger than her pinky finger. It looked suspiciously carved of bone. "Don't make that face," he said. "It's made from a deer antler, not anyone you know."
"Thanks?" Ella tried to say, and it came out as a question. Then, the words sank in, and she became indignant. "What do you mean, when I get in a pickle?" she protested.
"You're the type that goes looking for trouble!" NiSSh pointed out. "Sooner or later, you'll find it. Ogres look out for their pets!"
Becoming an ogre's lunch is about the worst trouble a traveler can run into, Ella didn't say. "You mean I go on quests to right wrongs and fight injustice!" she argued instead. She winced as the words came out. They'd sounded grander and less naïve in her head.
"If you must call it that. ahthOOn SSyng!" NiSSh replied. With that, the ogres were off, vEEj scowling and taking swings at NiSSh as they went, and NiSSh cheerfully whacking back.
". . . ahthOOn SSyng," Ella said to their retreating backs.
Finally released from their spell, Mandy and Letty stumbled back with startled gasps, breathing hard, and Char went to brew them tea while Ella led them over to the fire and wrapped their shoulders in blankets.
Later, Char plucked at the ribbon around Ella's ankle and snorted. "You may be the first person in Kyrria to get a friendship bracelet from an ogre," he teased.
True to their word, there was no more trouble all the way to the town of Oldswad, a picturesque town just outside an Elven forest.
"In fact, Oldswad takes its name from the typical Elvish greeting, Porr ol pess waddo," Ella expounded as they passed through the town. "Ol pess waddo, or in the shade forms the base of many of their figures of speech. Over time, the pronunciation of the town's original name shifted, dropping letters and pauses until it became the Oldswad we know today."
"Mmhmm," Mandy nodded, half-listening to the lecture.
"Fascinating!" Char was watching Ella intently, eyes sparkling; he'd sincerely been listening with undivided attention. Ella smiled at him. After years together, she still found his curiosity sweet.
They made their way to the library and split up, each scouring the shelves for any mention of the fairy magic or the cursed princess of yore. Their search turned up fruitless the first day, and the second, and the third.
Each night, they returned to a small inn by the library for supper and bed. And on the third night, Ella let her head thump upon the table. It was just Ella and Mandy at dinner that night: Char had stopped by the feed store, and Letty had taken to evening walks after an eternity in a music box.
"We looked in all the likely sections," she sighed. "And we can't read the entire library inside of a decade. Mandy, can you cast a spell to help us search?"
"A spell that searches every book?"
"Yes!" Ella said emphatically. "All the versions we found have the standard tale, the evil fairy cursed the princess et al. All of them mention that the curse was altered, but none describe the loss of magic." She sighed, dejected. "It's as if that part was erased from history."
"Yes, even among fairies, those parts of the tale are only whispered." She'd expected Mandy to say no out of hand. That's big magic, Mandy might say, or even that such a spell didn't—or couldn't—exist. Instead Mandy looked thoughtful. "Perhaps your book will know where to look," she said.
Ella sat up, her eyes bright and hopeful. "How does it know what it knows, come to think of it?" she asked.
"Fairy magic," Mandy answered.
They hurried ahead to their room, where Ella rummaged in her knapsack and brought out the book. "Do you know where we can find the information we seek, on fairy magic and why it's disappearing?" Ella asked it, stroking the gilded front page. Slowly, she opened the book.
Another haiku sat on the page, just three short lines.
What is it you seek?
You are closer than you think
Turn the page and ask
"Oh," Ella said, her voice small. Across the table, Mandy's hands trembled as she turned a page. Ella stared down at the blank page and said, "Please tell us why the magic is disappearing."
Line by line, the golden words appeared on the page in an elegant, scrolling hand. Breathlessly, Ella read them out loud.
"Long ago, when the Earth was new, every creature on Earth was gifted with their own, unique form of magic. The gnomes in their underground caverns received Foresight, so that from their tunnels, they could see farthest of all. The gift of the giants was Bounty, so that their crops may flourish, and their people with it. The elves were given Craft, able to coax the natural materials among them into any shape. And the ogres—they asked for Persuasion, to counteract the fear invoked by their image."
"One creature remains not named among their brethren. What of the humans? Our lives are so varied, we know not what to ask, the humans protested. So the humans were given small magic, to guide them in whatever path their lives took."
"For a time, the humans were at peace. But soon, unrest began to brew. The great kings and queens grew greedy, and sought to amass power to overwhelm each other, and thus overthrow neighboring kingdoms. Commoners with magical talent were abducted and conscripted into armies. Nor did they stop at their own kind, for they encroached upon the gnomish tunnels and elven forests as well. In despair, the Kings and Queens of every race formed a gathering, representing all the world's magic, and they stripped humankind's powers, and bound them to a chosen few wise folk. And these became the first fairies, chosen to safeguard humankind's magic."
"But humans were not content with their lost power. Tales of fairies being hounded or bribed were as common as sparrows. Some sought them out for their magic; many a young lover came for love potions. Others came in anger, mourning their lost magic, and their anger turned outward into bitter words and snarled curses. One by one, the fairies changed their faces and stuffed their shoes, and thus went into hiding, disguised in plain sight among the common folk."
"Then, fifty years after the magic was sealed away, a princess was born—"
Ella sucked in a breath at the familiar words, and Mandy's eyebrows shot into her hairline.
Ella read on.
"A princess was born to a conniving King and Queen. They contrived to imbue their daughter with the lost magic, and summoned a cadre of fairies to gift her with their best abilities, and offered them their hearts' desire. An offer they couldn't refuse: their own land where no humans would knock on their doors seeking favors, nor make them the audience to their anger. Of course, most fairies saw it for the trap that it was, and refused to help an evil ruler take power. But a few were seduced by their promises, and they agreed."
"So I pretended to agree to stop them!" Letty's voice rang out. Ella looked up, surprised, and Mandy gave a small shriek: Letty looked nothing like the sweet, shy fairy she had been. Her hair swirled around her in a cloud, and her eyes glowed green, and she dragged Char behind her, bound and gagged on a magical tether.
"Let Char go!" Ella said; it came out as a squeak.
"Well, go on!" Letty said imperiously, pointing at the book. "Keep going with the story! I crafted my gift so carefully, choosing flowery words while holding ill will in my heart. Oh, I'd hoped to escape their notice—I wasn't so lucky, the curse's true nature emerged as thick, billowing smoke, and gave me away. I was imprisoned—but it was worth everything not to give those vicious rulers a weapon over the kingdom."
"Letty!" Mandy yelled, horrified. "The Princess was just a babe! She was innocent!"
"Tell that to the other fairies," Letty sneered. "Do you know my true name? Maleficent. Oh, you recoil from me now—my name has become just another word for evil. But what of the other fairies, those in King Edgar and Queen Narissa's court? What of the fairies in all the world beyond, who knew how to break the curse but didn't do it?"
"They wanted to keep their power, is that a surprise? They chose selfishness over the Princess's happiness—a little evil that doesn't compare to being the one to cast the curse!" Mandy retorted.
"A little evil, you say. You are blinded by your dislike of cursed gifts. What of the evil in handing the King and Queen a weapon, a graceful and perfect Princess to charm and subdue neighboring peoples?"
"I—you can't know what she would have grown into—"
"Oh, for the sake of—what?" Letty turned on Char, who was straining and growling in the magical ropes. She vanished the gag with a flick of a finger.
"You know how to break the curse?" Char gasped out, panting.
Letty scoffed. "A better question to ask is, why couldn't we break the curse? And it's simple once you think about it." She raised up her hand, and a dozen shimmering humanoid outlines appeared in the air between them. "They stripped humankind's magic," she recited, and the shimmering lines dulled from ten of the figures, and drifted over to the remaining two. "And bound them the to a chosen few," she finished. The two figures brightened and glowed so blindingly that Ella shielded her eyes.
When she could see again, the two were each encased in an impenetrable bubble.
"Oh," Mandy said softly from beside her.
Letty nodded. "You understand now, don't you? Every fairy is an island unto themselves. You can layer your spells atop another, but the only way to encroach upon a spell is—"
She snapped her fingers. The bubbles popped, and the blinding light slowly drained from the fairies, and dissipated into the air. When it was over, all twelve figures were dull as hardened clay. "Our kind was loathe to relinquish our powers, you see," Letty said simply.
"And they still will be." Char hung his head. "The fairies of today don't remember a time without their powers. To convince them to give them up. . . they won't agree to that."
"Don't be so sure," Mandy said pensively. "Small magic is all that would be left to us. But for most of our kind, it's all we do anyway." She gave a small, sad sigh, gesturing at the dull, ashy figures drifting around the clearing. "The remainder of our time, we spend in hiding. That part of our tradition never went away, even as the stories were lost or disguised. I daresay only that preening fool Lucinda would mind."
"I don't care what the fairies want or what they agree to," Letty snarled. "I stopped caring when they chained me to that box. I am breaking the seal, and scattering magic to the four winds, and then—then—then my imprisonment will be broken too." She turned to Ella and Mandy. "And you're coming with me, or Pretty Boy gets it."
Ella hadn't the faintest clue where Letty was taking them. During the day, she and Char trudged behind Letty on magical tethers with their hands bound behind their backs. Mandy with her magic was considered a greater risk, and she was hog-tied and slung onto a pony.
On the first night, Letty constructed a magic-enforced cage for her prisoners, but not before putting Mandy into a deep sleep. Char slashed at the bars for an hour before putting away his sword, the blade dulled and chipped, and the bars none the worse for wear.
"I'm sorry," Char said, settling down next to Ella and draping a not meeting Ella's eyes. "Some king I turned out to be."
"You're doing alright," Ella said. "To have prevailed against every force except Maleficent herself. . . that's an impressive record. The envy of all your knights, I daresay."
Char laughed despite himself. "I'm forever amazed at your resilience even in the worst situations. Here you are cheering me up, and we don't know if Letty's going to—to run out of a use for us tomorrow. You never cease to surprise me, Ella. You still make me laugh after all this time," he said fondly. He reached out to take her hand. His knuckles bumped against the bracelet on her wrist.
Ella stared at the tiny whistle. Slowly, she lifted it to her lips. She met Char's eyes, and he nodded.
Taking a deep breath, she blew into it.
Silence.
"Maybe it's broken," Char suggested.
Ella shook her head. "Ogres have a much larger range of hearing than our own. It's good for tracking all different kinds of prey. They might hear us after all."
"Why are you keeping us captive?" Ella shouted at Letty on the second day. "You already know how to break the spell. Let us go!"
Letty scoffed. "I need his connections," she said impatiently. "The seal was cast by someone from every species, and must be removed the same way."
The second night, by light of the campfire, she had Char write invitations to an elf, a gnome, and a giant, with an arrival date and an official signature. "You'll never convince them to help you!" Mandy ground out, glaring at the letters in Char's hand and stamped with his seal.
"You might be surprised," Letty said. She pointed at the letter addressed to Uaaxee. "She wants to free her daughter, and can you blame her? She'll jump at the chance."
And there it was again, the rotten, unsettled feeling in Ella's heart. Udabee's relieved face rose unbidden in her mind, her delight in a moment of solitude after three years of perpetual company, and and her inevitable grief when she'd be forced to endure her husband's round-the-clock presence once more. She pushed the thought away, and it was like turning away from the giantess herself.
She turned to Char, her eyes flickering to the letters. "You're not going to send them, are you?" she asked, and wasn't sure which answer she wanted to hear.
Char sat silently next to her, and for a long minute, he didn't say a word. Slowly, he met her eyes, and with distress battling on his face. "I don't know," he whispered.
Every night, Ella blew the whistle, and NiSSh found them on the third night, sneaking into their campsite with surprising stealth for an ogre of his size. It started with the faintest suggestion of sleep drifting through the campsite, a sinuous whisper of weariness that had all their eyes drooping a little at a time.
Ella started out of it in recognition and clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.
"Shhh!" NiSSh stuck his face into her tent and held a finger to his mouth, then continued coaxing Letty from her tent. She emerged, dazed and obedient, and allowed NiSSh to tie and gag her before he released his chant.
"Don't eat her!" Ella warned, as soon as she could speak.
"I wasn't going to!" NiSSh grumbled, casting a hungry look at Letty that suggested otherwise.
Mandy did scream when she saw the ogre, and Char was not entirely able to suppress an undignified yelp.
Char recovered himself quickly. "Ahem. In gratitude for your assistance, the royal family will give your clan a feast of a two dozen oxen," Char promised, and from then on, NiSSh traveled with them.
"My brother will have usurped my chiefdom by the time I return, but they'll come back to me when I bring them the feast," he said.
The following day, they reached the castle. Unease twisted in Ella's stomach. She should have been relieved, but something was off: Char had seemed his usual determined and optimistic self, but he hadn't met her eye. Hadn't seemed eager to speak of Letty or the curse. Mandy, too, had been oddly quiet, even regretful. She'd barely spoken, seeming unable to even look at Letty.
Char emerged from his room in his most formal diplomatic finery, and Ella's heart sunk. "Today is the day the guests arrive," he explained. "I have to make this choice, Ella. Not alone—never alone, I'm not a dictator, but I must ask the representatives of the other peoples to weigh in on the question of fairy magic. And the council may decide to bring about an end to it."
He paused, breathing deeply, steeling himself to force out the remaining words. "I know what your book was telling me when we started our journey. Magic and valor, two pillars upholding tales," he quoted. "A world rests on three. And the third pillar. . . I couldn't name it if I tried, but I feel it in my blood. It's the opposite of dooming Udabee to suffer, out of sight and out of mind; It's a little like justice. So, Ella, my dearest Ella, I will argue for ending fairy magic. I won't ask you to like it, but I hope you'll forgive me one day."
Ella marched up to him. "Who do you think I am?" she asked sternly. "I'm neither my father nor my stepsisters, and I spent sixteen years of my life under the thumb of Lucinda's spell. I won't take what isn't mine."
As Char drew in a hopeful gasp and raised his eyes, she met his squarely. "Let's bring the era of tyranny to an end," she said.
"Human magic, I release thee from thy chains!"
One by one, they recited the line in turn: Slannen speaking for the elves, Uaaxee for the giants, zhamM for the gnomes, and Ella representing the humans and fairies that had once been one race. It was fitting, she mused: with her small feet and very limited powers, she was a literal ambassador of both. They stood in a circle with hands joined, with Letty at the center leading the spell, and around and around the circle, their words and magic flew.
"Human magic, be released!" Mandy cried. The circle of their joined hands began glowed softly and faded, and the four stood still, frozen in place and waiting.
Slowly, Mandy released her breath and lowered her hands.
"Is it done?" Ella asked.
Mandy frowned. "I feel the same," she said, puzzled.
"No," zhamM spoke up. "I still cannot see the paths before us. The spell must be unbroken, and our powers are still fading."
"Is it the spell?" Uaaxee guessed.
"No." Mandy seemed to wilt as she read over the notes Letty had given her. "I cross-referenced every line of it. These lines came directly from Ella's magic book. No, it's not the spell. Something is wrong." She brought out the book and opened it to the page, comparing the verses.
Ella stared at the book, grasping at something at the edge of her mind: a half-unformed thought, a passage she half-remembered reading. Absently, she flipped back a page, back to the true story of the Earth and its peoples.
The bracelet clattered softly on her wrist.
"Oh," she said quietly. "We're missing someone."
"Human magic, I release thee from thy chains!"
This time around, the glowing magical circle blazed to life immediately and brilliantly, and Ella gasped as it surged through her and through the five members of the circle. The words rolled from NiSSh's throat, deep and soothing in the persuasive Ogre tongue. Ella imagined that it was the magic itself being persuaded to relinquish its hold.
"Human magic, be released!" Mandy said again, and this time the result was unmistakable. Light and energy exploded outward from their circle, passing through the walls and spreading over the land. Ella shivered: the magical current felt like being doused in fizzy soda.
In the aftermath, as everyone stood breathing hard, she looked around the circle and took stock of herself. Uncertainty, joy, relief, and sorrow mixed within her, and something new: an alertness that buzzed beneath her skin.
She reached within herself, caught hold of the current, and brought it through her fingertips, and shaped it into a daisy. To her side, Mandy let out a startled gasp. With laughter and tears, Ella presented the flower to Mandy. "It's alright," she said, trembling. "The magic wasn't scattered away. It came back to us. . . to all of us."
Mandy took the flower. "Small magic only, love," she chided, before bursting into a watery smile herself. And while she came forth and engulfed Ella in a hug, their friends celebrated around them as magic returned to the land.
Ella stood outside the doors in trepidation and and uncertainty, unsure of what she'd find. Lady Eleanor's manor which was now home to Ella's father and stepmother, their household held together with greed and fairy love. Would Dame Olga still be there? Ella wondered if she'd taken her girls and moved out the moment the curse ended. Would Sir Peter become unmanageable, with not even a cursed love to reign in his worst temptations?
Perhaps she'd find the place ruined, the porcelain in shatters from a tremendous row. Perhaps Dame Olga had allowed Hattie and Olive to ransack the palace before leaving in a huff.
She opened the doors.
The entrance hall was just as she'd left it, if a little dusty. A familiar, homey bustling came from the kitchens. Faint chatter echoed down the hall. Ella entered the dining room to find Hattie a touch tipsy, scowling without heat. Olive had a suitor, a chatty, graying nobleman regaling the room with an embellished tale of his time among the Elves. She listened intently, unblinking, while her sister rolled her eyes. Dame Olga sat primly, playing the hostess in her grand gown and her jeweled hairdo. Sir Peter was away on another trip.
Ella stared at the scene. It was as if nothing had changed.
"Oh, Ella, dear, do come in!" Dame Olga called, catching sight of Ella. Confused, Ella walked into the room and sat down at an empty spot, and took the plate that Dame Olga heaped for her.
"I don't understand. I thought you didn't want to be. . . well, here," Ella said, waving at the table, the room, the girls and their tiresome guest.
"Well, I always want what's best for my girls, right?" Dame Olga took a sip of wine, and then waved at Hattie. "Being the King's step-niece-in-law will be Hattie's entrance into royalty." She sniffed. "My Olive, on the other hand. She is a simple girl, and the King has cakes and coins aplenty. It would be cruel of me to take those from her, would it not?"
She settled back into her seat, and turned back to the visitor, and for a moment something passed over her face. It was closer to a measure of peace than Ella had ever expected to see on a face as cruel and contemptuous as Dame Olga's. For her part, Hattie glanced at her mother with a just a hint of affection in her expression, and Olive smiled faintly when the visitor reached a particularly emphatic sentence. Abruptly, Ella remembered Dame Olga's words in the forest: nothing compares to my love for my girls.
And with that simple, sparkling understanding, Ella found the patience to endure her stepfamily another day. "Perhaps cruelty needs a reprieve too," she murmured to herself.
"What? Stop mumbling," Hattie griped at her, though the words held no bite.
"Don't tell me what to do," Ella snapped back. But watching the worst people in her life find something of a happy ending, she couldn't help smiling.