Page 63 of Once Upon a Midnight Clear

“Silence!” she snapped at him.

“I will not help you,” Ella said, defiant.

She dropped her hands to her side, a sort of sadness coming over her features. “Pity.”

Without warning, Malvina flung her hands toward Ella. A blast of dark magic hit her square in the chest. She cried out as her head fell backward with the burning sensation clawing through her.

“That was a warning,” Malvina said.

Tears stung Ella’s eyes. Tears of anger and fear and pain. The slippers on her feet responded to that, sending a pulse into the room that looked like shimmering light. Malvina sucked in a sharp breath when it hit her. She pressed a hand against her gut. She faced Ella with suspicion creasing her face.

“Ah…so youdoknow how to use them.”

Ella blinked the tears from her vision as they fell down her cheeks. “I…will not…help you,” she repeated. The pain of speaking was nearly unbearable.

“Then perhaps you need a different sort of motivation.”

She waved her hands into a tight circle and conjured a table topped with an oversized hourglass. Inside, black sand rested at the bottom. Malvina grasped it, holding it, and pinpointing Ella with her evil glare. Then she turned it over to allow the sand to run from the top to the bottom.

“You have until the sand runs out to give me what I want.”

With a wave of her hand, she disappeared in a puff of purple haze.

Ella sniffed, trying to keep the tears at bay. A weight pressed against her chest with dread.

Another shimmering wave emanated from her, filling the room with sparkling air that reminded her of dust motes dancing in the sunlight.

“Ella?” Her name was a tentative question on his lips. “I know you’re scared and upset. I can sense it from here.”

Was that from the shoes? She glanced down at them. They shimmered with the same sort of wavy light dancing in the room. She took a deep breath. Crying was going to get her nowhere. She needed to pull herself together and figure out a plan. She worked at the knots behind her back, the ropes chafing her skin.

“I’m sorry, Ella,” he said.

“For what?” She glanced at him, trying to shove back her guilt. “It’s my fault. All of this. If I just removed the slippers before the last stroke of midnight like I was supposed to, none of this would be happening.”

“If you removed the slippers before the last stroke of midnight, I’d have never seen you again.”

Her heart lurched and her pulse raced at his words. He was right. She’d never be here in Rovenheim and he would be lost to her. Instead, she’d be stuck back at home with her terrible stepmother and stepsisters, slaving every day away as though she was nothing. At least here, she was made to feel as if she was something. Even if it was the dark queen’s prisoner.

She continued to work the rope around her wrists. Her hands were slick. She assumed that was due to either blood or sweat or both. It didn’t matter. She had to find a way to get out of those bonds so she could help Nicholas and Ingrid before the sands ran out.

If only the slippers could help her. She closed her eyes, thinking positive thoughts, trying to will the knots to come undone.

An idea struck her. She eyed the guard standing at the entrance of the chamber.

She scooted her chair, scraping it along the stone floor to face the guard. She hooked one foot around a leg of the chair and pushed. Her muscles quivered with the exertion, but she managed to turn it around to face him.

She planted her feet together in front of her, her toes pointing at the guard.

Think, Ella, think.

If the slippers were truly connected to her emotions, then perhaps she could use it to her advantage. What sort of emotion, though, would coerce the guard to free her?

“Hello, there,” she said and gave him her best smile.

If he looked at her, she was unable to see. He was several feet away and the helm hid his expression from her.

“Could you help me?” she asked.

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