Pumpkin Patch Princess

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Old Habits Die Really Hard

The dwarves hadn't been joking when they said that diamond glass was hard to break. Yesterday, I had knocked a piece off the table and it hadn't even been scratched. Impressed, Dad and I had spent hours trying to dent and smash it. We bashed it with hammers. We ran over it with the wagon. We even threw it against the brick wall of our house, but nothing happened except Mom yelling that sooner or later we would break regular glass.

So when I put on the slippers, I felt confident that they were completely sturdy.

"Comfortable?" Mom asked.

"Very," I said, surprised. I imagined dancing in them and realized how important it was that they fit to perfection. I spun around experimentally, waltzing without music, and then just stood in a patch of sunlight to watch the slippers sparkle like water.

"They look magnificent," Mom said. "Fit for a princess."

The day I kissed my parents goodbye and left home for the second time, those shoes were in my bag, wrapped in silk and cotton. I set out for Indigo Castle, hoping they would be on Princess Cynthia's feet when she danced at the King's Festival.

As I walked, I thought about the forgotten princess. What would she be like after having been cooped up in Indigo Castle for so long?

My first glimpse inside the castle gates was . . . actually pretty disappointing. After all the beautiful castles I had seen lately, this place looked shabby and dirty. Weeds and trash filled the gardens, which were badly in need of water. Everything seemed old and dusty and neglected.

I yanked on a cord by the drawbridge and a bell sounded from somewhere within. I waited for a long time before the rickety bridge creaked down, and when it finally did, I was astonished to find one little servant girl, panting by a wooden wheel fastened to a large chain.

I stared at her. "You didn't have to lower the bridge all by yourself, did you?"

She stared back at me with frightened blue eyes as big as saucers. "Why do you think it took so long? Come in. Hurry!" She practically dragged me inside and, panting, began to raise the bridge again.

"What's the problem?"

She wiped away sweat as she labored to turn the wheel. "It's just so big out there, so open. It's best to stay inside," she muttered. When the job was done at last, she turned to me. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm here to see the princess," I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw some giant rats lurking in the shadows of the courtyard.

"Octavia's out shopping with her mother," she said, pushing aside a strand of grimy hair. "I'm the only one at home."

"You're the only servant?" I asked, shocked.

She nodded. "I've always been the only servant. Queen Ingrid fired the housekeeper six years ago."

No wonder the upkeep was so abysmal. One girl couldn't possibly take care of such a large castle all by herself.

I shook my head. "Princess Cynthia is the one I've come to see. I'm her fairy godmother. Or might be, anyway."

The girl's eyes widened, and a tentative smile blossomed on her face. "Oh."

"Could you tell her Noelle Simpkins from C.A.F.E. is here?"

"She already knows," she said slowly, holding out a dirty hand. "I'm Cynthia."

I gaped at her. "Excuse me?"

"I didn't know you were coming today, or I would have cleaned myself up a bit more," she said eagerly.

As my mind struggled to understand this concept, I took in her appearance. She looked about eighteen and was roughly my height, but painfully thin. The strands of hair poking out from her head cloth might have been blond if they hadn't been so dirty. Her arms and face were splattered with grease, as though she had been rolling in silver polish.