Chapter 51
ELLA
MAIER MANOR
Igrit my teeth, determined I won’t fail Jacob. Whether he realizes it or not, his life is at stake here. The agreement forged between the Enchantress and me teeters at a precipice.
The hairpins aren’t working. Marianne said ancient magic is in my blood. She was so sure of it, she locked me up here and used my hair to empower her. The only power I know of is my ability to turn into a bird, which isn’t very helpful in escaping from a cage.
My eyes land on the lone dove’s feather lying motionless on the grass below. Could my bird form somehow help me? Could it have special powers? A bizarre idea creeps into my mind. It probably won’t work, but I need to try.
I take deep breaths and visualize myself in my bird form. Soaring over thick forests. Coasting on cool winds over castle peaks. Diving through clouds streaking across the sunset.
Pain prickles across my skin and aches in my bones.
It’s happening! Instead of resisting the transformation, I allow it to scuttle through my entire body.
I clutch the bars for support as my body convulses.
Suddenly, my vision sharpens and widens so I’m able to see nearly the entire garden around me.
The leaves on the trees are brighter, and the flowers deepen in an amplified variety of colors.
I’m a tiny bird, hopping in a cage. I begin scuffling about, searching for food, nipping at the sides of the cage, and testing out my surroundings. I preen my feathers, deciding I don’t like this cage. It’s very constraining. I’d much rather fly.
After a few moments, I pause, noticing a feather on the grass below. There’s something about that feather. A memory tugs at me. I focus on it, and a vision of a human drinking from the ashes of the dove shoots through me.
Marianne. Locked in a garden. My name is Ella, and I’m a bird-shifter. I cock my head, quite proud of myself. I’m getting much better at focusing my mind on my bird form.
But why did I turn into a bird? There’s a reason for it.
I peck at the seeds. It had to do with a feather like the one on the ground.
Yes, I need a feather to pick the lock. A lucky, magic feather.
I twist my neck and, with my beak, pluck out a smooth blue one from my body and lay it beside me.
Now I just need to turn back to my human self.
I try to think of human things from my human world. Birdseed, trees, sky—no, those are all wrong. I fluff my feathers and try again, this time focusing on a pain buried deep within the human part of me.
Jacob.
I must save him.
My body contorts and my insides rip, tear, grow.
I scream. The pain of transforming again so quickly is almost too much for me to bear.
Finally, the transformation finishes, leaving me panting and aching all over.
I press my cheeks against the cold metal of the bars, tears streaming down my face, and wait for the pain to subside.
Finally, I push myself to sit, groaning from the effort, and search underneath myself for the feather I hope I hadn’t imagined plucking.
Relief floods me when I find it tangled in my skirts.
My hands tremble as I gingerly fit the sharp quill inside where the key should go.
Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I hope whatever magic my bird form might have will work on this lock.
I wiggle the end and push the tip in all the way.
The lock clicks, and the cage door pops open. Relief floods me, and I cry out in joy and relief as I climb out of the cage. The moment my feet hit the soft grass, elation overwhelms me.
I snatch up my wooden shoes lying on the grass beneath my cage, then stumble on weak legs through the mirror and out into the hall. Desperately, I race to my room and grab Marianne’s book that I hid under the floorboards.
But as I descend, footsteps pound up the stairs. I’m trapped. Marianne somehow discovered I escaped. I halt in my tracks, heart thumping against my chest. I don’t have a weapon or any way to defend myself.
“Ella! Is that you?”
And there he is, rounding the corner. Tall, handsome, the prince of my heart.
“Jacob!” I throw myself into his arms, tears streaming down my face. “You’re alive!”
I press my palms to his cheeks, soaking in his warmth. The life that sparkles in his eyes. The curls that hang haphazardly over tanned skin. “You died and I couldn’t—”
His lips crash against mine, hot and passionate.
I cling to him, falling into an endless abyss I never wanted to leave.
His hand slides to the back of my neck, anchoring me closer, while the other presses against my waist, pulling me against him.
The world fades until there’s only the taste of him, the strength of his arms, and the desperate wish for a life with him, shining with possibilities. A life with love so deep, so real.
If only we could have this.
If only this could be my fairy tale.
I break away, breathless. “I can’t. We can’t.”
His eyes search mine. Pain and desperation replace the sparkle. His hands lower down my arms, and I shiver at his perfect touch. My whole body craves him. Needs him.
How will I live without him?
“I know,” he whispers. “You deserve so much more than the cursed life I can offer. I want you to have everything. The prince, the castle, the life that you were destined for. And I’m going to do everything to make sure you get that.”
“Jacob.” I run my hands along his shoulders, down to his hard chest, memorizing the feel of him.
“My Jacob. You may think you live under a curse but never forget that you have a family who loves you. And these stories you write are saving our villagers from monsters and warning us of the dangers around us. And because of that, I want you to write my story to give others like me hope. You’ll do that for me, won’t you? ”
“Anything you ask of me is yours.” Tears well up in his eyes. He takes my hands, kissing them like he’s sealing his promise. “I’ve been seeking a way to break our curse ever since I made the mistake of signing the Enchantress’s contract. But perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I’ve got it wrong.”
“We will always have our story,” I remind him. “No one can take that from us.”
Tears escape from my eyes, streaming down my face. There are so many words to tell him. Too many, and I fear that if I let them loose, they’ll hold too much power. He wipes them away and kisses my forehead, but pain is turning his eyes stormy blue.
“This is for you.” I push Marianne’s book into his hands. “The Enchantress is expecting it. It’s Marianne’s journal and communication source. Perhaps it can even help you with your curse.”
“Thank you.” He tucks it under his arm. His finger catches one of my locks. “Your hair. What happened?”
“Marianne is what happened. Now let’s go find Fritz, I mean the prince.”
“Are you sure? I’ve been frantically thinking there must be another way.”
“When my mother died, I thought my whole world ended. In some ways, the old me died with her that day, too, because I’m not the same girl I was.
Our family will never be whole again, but I like to think I’m stronger and a little wiser.
So this new me is what will make my future, and that starts right now. ”
He nods in understanding.
Back outside, we’re met by Stepmother arguing with the prince’s guards. Bertha is wailing while Marianne hangs onto the prince’s arms, whispering words into his ears. A glaze haunts his eyes. A sickening feeling rises inside me as I realize the hard truth.
The prince isn’t my soulmate. Could we still be happy together? Would we be able to ward off the evils we surely will face in our happily ever after?
The answer hangs heavy on me.
“I’m here,” I call out amidst the noise.
Everyone faces me and grows silent except for Marianne, who gasps.
“You have a slipper for me to try on, Your Royal Highness?” I ask, bowing to the prince.
“Ella?” Confusion twists his mouth. “You’re the stunted daughter?”
Heat rises to my face. Father called me that in front of everyone?
“She never attended the ball,” Stepmother says. “So you couldn’t have met her.”
“We didn’t meet at the ball, did we?” Prince William steps closer. “All that time and I never saw it.”
“Sometimes we only see what we wish to see.” I settle primly on a stool that Wilhelm provides for me.
The footman groans, muttering under his breath, but carries a pillow with my slipper on it to me. I slip off my wooden shoe and allow the footman to replace it with the glass one. It slides on perfectly.
“It fits!” the prince pronounces, throwing his hands into the air.
“Of course, it does.” I smile. “It’s my shoe.”
The prince’s men clap politely, and the trumpet is blown, while my family is clearly not pleased.
Father withdraws a flask and begins heartily drinking from it.
Stepmother begins a rant about what a wicked girl I am to take away an opportunity from my stepsister, while Bertha launches into one of her fits.
Marianne remains serenely quiet. Too quiet. That worries me most.
To my left, Wilhelm sits on the stone steps, writing furiously. Dear Wilhelm, always dependable and kind. And then there’s Jacob, pacing in front of his horse, hand on his sword. Impatient and annoyed. But his faithfulness and selflessness are deeper than I could’ve imagined.
“Come, my princess,” Prince William says, kissing me on the hand. “It’s time for us to announce our engagement to my parents.”
Except the wind starts to rise, tugging at my skirts, gaining in strength. She isn’t going to let me have my happily ever after. The guards are knocked over. The prince tumbles to the ground.
“Ella!” Jacob screams, pushing against the wind, trying to get to me.
Fear races through me. I turn to face Marianne, standing with her hands at her sides, palms face out. Her bright green dress remains unmoving, a stark contrast to everyone else caught in a windstorm.