Page 93 of Disenchanted
I could not resist getting in one last jab. “How do you know that I am not tricking you and just giving you the fake one back?”
“I can feel the difference. The real one is slightly heavier.”
“What!” I sat upright in alarm. “You told me the fake one you had made was identical.”
“I said the substitute was as alike as I could make it. No one could tell the difference between them, except perhaps another wizard.”
“Another wizard like Mercato? Blast you, Hawkridge, why didn’t you warn me that—”
“Relax, Ella. I do not think even Sidney Greenleaf is allowed to go poking about in the king’s private treasure chamber. Theorb has been gathering dust there for decades. No one is likely to have a sudden urge to inspect it now, so stop fretting.”
I subsided, but the list of things that Mal kept telling me I did not have to worry about grew longer by the minute.
The lantern light played over Mal’s face, illuminating his expression. I had expected him to be overjoyed to have this memento of his grandfather returned to him. But there was something that made me a little uneasy about the rapt light in Mal’s eyes as he examined the orb, as though he was mesmerized.
“Exactly what did you say that thing does again?” I asked.
“It finds that which has been lost,” Mal said, as though he was quoting from some ancient text.
“You mean like a missing glove or a shoe?”
“Something far more valuable.”
“Like what? A buried treasure?”
“Yes, a lost treasure,” Mal murmured. “I have to figure out how to use the orb first, but when I do— oh, Ella, just think how this could change all our lives.”
“Um, hmm.” I agreed halfheartedly. Ever the dreamer, Mal was probably imagining finding some lost cache of gold or jewels. I hated to disillusion him, but I was far too cynical to believe that little glass ball had that kind of magic or even if it did that Mal would be able to use it.
I struggled to my feet. “I really need to get back to the palace before my stepmother wonders what happened to me.”
Mal snapped out of his trance and tucked the orb away in a small pouch affixed to his belt. “Thank you, Ella. I am so grateful; I could kiss you.”
“No need for that. I have had quite enough kissing for one night.”
“But you have no idea how much this means and— what!” Mal gaped as my words registered. “Who have you been kissing?”
I shrugged. “Commander Crushington and a couple of princes.”
When Mal shot me an outraged look, I reminded him, “You did tell me to enjoy myself.”
“Not that much!”
“Good night, Mal,” I said, regretting my spurt of honesty. I could only blame it on my exhaustion, my mind too tired to control my mouth. I turned to make my escape, but there was no way Mal was going to be fobbed off that easily.
He caught hold of my arm and hauled me back to face him.
“Why were you kissing the Crusher?” he demanded.
“The commander caught me down in the forbidden part of the palace right after I had stolen the orb. He was asking me too many questions. I needed to do something to distract him.”
And what a delicious, pulse pounding, blood warming distraction it had been. I barely managed to suppress a sigh at the memory.
“You couldn’t have just hit him over the head or something?” Mal scowled. “And how could Crushington catch you when you were wearing the glass slippers? You would have been invisible.”
“I wasn’t wearing the glass shoes.”
“What! Why not?”
