Page 92 of A Slipper in the Smoke
Princess Sofia said nothing, tears trickling down her cheeks. Elena’s chest ached at the sight.
“Come,” said Buttercup, steering her into the corner. “We don’t have time to dawdle.”
The guards from outside were dragged inside and deposited in the seats. Dandelion grabbed the drivers into the carriage too, leaving Clover to jerk the train back to life. They ploughed along the tracks, Buttercup stripping Elena of her clothes and tugging her into the gown. There was no privacy, no time to be shy.
“Wait a minute,” said Sofia, “are you trying to dress her up… asme?”
“You got a problem with that?” Snowdrop snapped.
“It will never work.”
“Why wouldn’t it? No one has seen you in years.”
“You can’t just put a commoner in a dress and call her a princess!”
Snowdrop laughed, as if the whole idea was highly amusing to her. “Looks can be deceiving, can’t they?”
“I wasn’t always a commoner,” Elena told her. “We used to know each other, you know? Many years ago, I was the daughter of Baron Hernandez.”
Princess Sofia’s eyes widened, sparking with recognition. “Elena?” she asked tentatively. “What happened to you?”
“The same thing that happens to everyone out here,” Elena said, as Buttercup fixed the mask in place.
A tannoy whispered through the carriage. “We’re two minutes out,” came Clover’s voice. “Get in position.”
The guards were taken into the adjoining carriage, deprived of their robes. Buttercup—who couldn’t fit into the guards’ uniforms—slid into the front to trade places with Clover. Elena turned to see Snowdrop standing beside her, dressed not as a lady’s maid, but as a painted automaton with a porcelain face. The illusion was so startling that she buckled. Snowdrop’s sleeves had been reinforced with gears at the elbows, her long white gloves hiding human fingers, her lace ruff disguising her neck. Only her ink-black hair remained.
“What?” Snowdrop asked.
“I just… I didn’t realise you’d be wearing a disguise.”
“I thought it best,” Snowdrop said. “Wouldn’t want to be recognised.”
“By who?”
Snowdrop didn’t answer. The train slowed to a stop. Elena was pulled in front of the door, Dandelion and Clover in guards’ uniforms standing on either side of her. She sucked in a deep breath—
And promptly released it when she saw her own reflection in the polished doors of the carriage.
She’d noticed that Buttercup had added a few bronze embellishments to the petals of her dress, but she hadn’t seen the full effect. She barely recognised herself. Gone was the grease-stained, soot-skinned girl with the gears, and in her place stood a princess in emerald, cerulean and glittery bronze. She looked like a fairy princess, the fake curls in her hair fluttering around a mask that gave her the appearance of a feathered butterfly. Gold paint had been smeared over her eyelids, her lips and cheeks tinged with rouge.
No one would recognise her like this.
Snowdrop leaned forward and squeezed her fingers into hers. “You can do this,” she whispered.
For the first time, Elena believed her.
Then the doors opened, Snowdrop yanked back her hand, and Elena stepped out onto the platform.
Their group was escorted out of the station by four armed guards from the palace. No one asked them any questions, or said anything to Elena whatsoever other than welcoming her to Petragrad and dropping into perfect bows. Elena politely inclined her head, uttered a quiet thank you, and followed their lead.
Outside of the station, a glass carriage in the shape of a pumpkin was waiting to escort them the short distance to the palace lifts. Dandelion helped her ascend into it, before hurrying to the back with Clover. Elena wondered if she’d speak to them again before the night was over.
Just follow their lead,she told herself,do as you’re told. You’re good at that.
The smoke slippers hummed on her feet, reminding her that at some point tonight, she would need to act alone.
Snowdrop will tell you when.
