Page 83 of Once Upon a Midnight Clear

She didn’t ask anything silly like would she ever see him again. Instead, she took a deep breath and pulled the cork off the vial. He squeezed her hand once more.

“Goodbye, Ella.”

She sniffed, her throat constricting. “Goodbye, Nicholas.”

She sprinkled the shimmering fairy dust around her, closed her eyes, and thought of home. She no longer felt his hand on hers as the ground dropped out beneath her feet. Everything whirled around her. A whoosh of air went around her, stealing her breath and then she landed on the hard, cold ground.

She opened her eyes to darkness and saw she was outside the kitchen door of her childhood home. She’d left Rovenheim and Nicholas behind. Curling in on herself, she tucked her knees to her chest and burst into tears.

Chapter 29

Whenthefirstbirdchirped, Ella peeled herself off the cold ground covered in a dusting of snow. The sun began to peek over the horizon and soon the day would come. In the distance, the clock tower from Whitebridge Palace clanged six times telling her the hour. She brushed her palms down her skirt, then smoothed her hair. She was, at least, still dressed in the wool dress and cloak from Rovenheim. On the ground at her feet was the empty vial. She bent to pick it up. It was the only thing she had to remember Noella and Nicholas.

With a resigned sigh, she pulled open the back door and stepped into the kitchen. She halted in the doorway, gaping at the utter disaster before her.

The fireplace was cold and dark, ashes piled under the grate. Dirty dishes littered the table in the center of the room. Dust covered every inch of countertop. The cupboard doors stood open, the contents empty. Even the floor was dirty. It was enough to make her want to walk away forever and never look back.

She shuddered to think what the rest of the house looked like if the kitchen was this bad.

There was no sense in standing around feeling sorry for herself. Taking a deep breath, she pulled off her cloak and hung it by the door. Then she shoved up the sleeves of her gown and got to work.

She needed water from the well to start washing dishes. She found the discarded pail by the backdoor and snatched it up. With every step outside to the well, her ire rose. How could they have allowed the kitchen to get into such a state? And if the cupboards were bare, what were they surviving on?

After retrieving water, she headed back inside to build a fire. She couldn’t wash dishes with cold water. But there was no wood in the firewood rack. Back outside, she found a small stack by the shed. As she grabbed a few, she halted and peered around the yard. It suddenly occurred to her there were no animals. No chickens. No dog. An eerie sensation went over her.

Back inside, she dropped the logs, the fire forgotten. She had to see what was going on in the rest of the house. She pushed through the kitchen door and froze.

The house was a disaster. Dust coated every surface. All the silver was tarnished. Trash littered the floor. Furniture was either missing or tipped over.

What day was it? How long had she been gone?

On the dining table was a discarded newspaper with the headline announcing the royal Christmas ball. The ball in which she’d met and danced with Nicholas. Next to it, a paper announcing the wedding of the crown prince with a circular tea stain splotched across the story. The newspaper was dated one week after the ball.

With her heart in her throat, she hurried through to the stairs and ascended. The bedroom doors were closed. At the top of the stairs, she hesitated, shaking from head to toe. The house was silent.

Thinking of her own third-floor room, she rushed up the stairs, flung open the door and halted. Everything was as she left it. The shabby curtains at the window. The few Christmas decorations she had managed to use including the tiny star on top of the tree. The lumpy bed. She sagged against the doorframe, suddenly relieved to see her mother’s decorations still in place. At least they hadn’t taken that from her.

Back downstairs, she went to her stepmother’s bedroom and knocked.

There was no response.

She gripped the knob in her sweating hand and turned, pushing it open a crack to peer inside.

The room was empty. She flung open the door open and stepped inside. The bed was still unmade, the blankets rumpled as if her stepmother rose that morning and decided to leave the house. There were still a few gowns in the wardrobe.

Next, she checked her stepsisters’ bedroom. Also empty with rumpled beds.

The house was deserted for now, but the clothes left behind indicated they would be back.

She pressed her cold, shaking fingers to her lips.

All that time in Rovenheim she worried about returning to her stepmother, to her outrage that she had been gone for…well, she didn’t know for how long. A week, possibly longer. Relief sputtered through her at the thought that she was gone. But was she gone for good? And if not, then for how long?

Her relief was short-lived when she realized she had no money and no means to take care of the house or the upkeep. How would she survive?

Her stomach rumbled. Back downstairs, she rummaged through the kitchen looking for any scrap of food. There was nothing. No eggs, no flour, not even tea. She cut a glance at her cloak hanging by the backdoor and decided to walk to the market.

The market was a bustle of activity. She paused at the entrance, taking it all in. All the holiday decorations had been removed, so she assumed the festivities had passed. The Christmas ball had been planned a few weeks before the holiday. It was her only point of reference.

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