The Glass Slipper on the Stair

Orchestral music filled the candlelit hall, as masked lord and ladies waltzed, in a colourful swirl of skirts. They gathered tonight to celebrate the birthday of His Highness Prince Edmund. Outside, the full moon hung almost directly overhead.

Amongst slowly twirling dancers, Prince Edmund gazed at his partner; a young woman in a shimmering mask, who in turn stared down at her feet. She moved carefully, the clicking of her shoes on the smooth marble floor mostly keeping time with the music.

She stepped on his toes.

Her head shot up, eyes wide, reflecting flickering golden candlelight, “I’m sorry…”

“It’s no trouble,” the prince said, despite his throbbing toes. Did the woman have weights in her shoes?

She glanced back down at their feet. They weren’t even close to in time with the music now. She looked back up, through her eyelashes, lips twitching into a small smile.

Prince Edmund’s breath caught in his throat.

“I am sorry,” she said, a little wry, “you could do better than a partner with two left feet,”

He could not.

“I…” he began,

Outside, the bells of the clock tower began to toll.

Dong…

Prince Edmunds’s partner froze.

“What time is it?” she asked, panicked,

Dong…

“Um…”

“Oh no! It’s midnight!” she pulled away from him.

“What…”

Dong…

“I’m sorry! I have to go!” she turned away, stumbling as she stepped on her own skirt.

“Wait…”

Dong…

She hiked up her skirt, and dashed off through the crowd.

“Wait!”

Dong…

Prince Edmund tried to follow, only to immediately crash into a man in a pearl-embellished mask. He fell into his partner, who just barely caught him. The pair glared at the prince.

“I’m sorry!” he said, eyes still on his fleeing dance partner. He hadn’t even got her name…

Dong…

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” Prince Edmund repeated, weaving between dancing couples. His partner disappeared behind a woman with a skirt as wide as she was tall.

Dong…

She’d been heading for the door. Prince Edmund kept heading that way, craning to see… yes, there she was…

Dong…

“Your highness,” the prince’s path was blocked by His Wisdom Wizard Linford, wearing a sparkling mask with the traditional pointed hat and long beard, “How are you enjoying your birthday festivities?”

Dong…

“What? Yes, good. If you could spare me…” Prince Edmund said, looking past him

His dance partner was almost at the door. She stumbled, paused.

“...just a moment…” Prince Edmund said, trying to step past Wizard Linford.

Dong…

She took off her shoes. Then, barefoot, with her shoes in one hand, and skirt hiked up in the other, she ran for the door.

“...and the quality of some outfits, I’ve even seen people in fairy-made clothes…” Wizard Linford continued.

Dong…

She reached the door. A quick word with the doorman, and he pushed it open.

“No, wait…” Prince Edmund said.

Wizard Linford finally paused. He turned, following Prince Edmund’s gaze.

The woman ran out the door.

Dong.

“Ah,” Wizard Linford said.

The door closed behind her.

Prince Edmund ran for the door.

He reached the doorman. Stopped.

“Please… please, open the door,” he said,

The doorman nodded.

Prince Edmund waited the excruciating seconds it took for the door to open, bouncing on the ball of his feet.

As soon as the door was wide enough, he slipped outside.

Prince Edmund was hit by the cold night air, and stumbled in a rush down the first few stairs outside the hall.

He stopped.

She was gone.

Over the muted sounds of the balls, Prince Edmund heard footsteps behind him. He turned, and watched Wizard Linford approach.

“Who was she?” the wizard asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t even get her name. I thought… but she just ran off…” the prince gazed down the steps, “I just wanted to ask her name…”

Prince Edmund sat down in a dejected slump. With creaking joints, Wizard Linford sat beside him, and put a hand on his shoulder.

A few steps below, something glinted in the silver moonlight.

Was that…?

Prince Edmund scrambled back to his feet, dislodging Wizard Linford’s hand. He descended those few steps.

It was a shoe.

Hope flickered in the prince.

He picked it up, and examined it. It was a simple heeled slipper, made entirely from glass.

“What…” he said,

It must have been his dance partner’s. He could just imagine her running down the stairs, dropping the shoe, not stopping to pick it up.

Wizard Linford came to stand beside him.

“Who wears shoes made entirely of glass?” Prince Edmund asked, trailing his fingers along the cool, smooth shoe.

“It looks fairy-made,” Wizard Linford said,

“I mean, glass is notoriously hard! Rigid! These can’t be comfortable!”

“The craftsmanship… it looks like it was moulded exactly to her foot,”

“No wonder she had trouble dancing! And no-one could even see them under her long dress! Why not wear something more practical? Even just a little bit?”

“I would love to meet whoever crafted these…”

“This is the most ridiculous footwear I have ever seen! I need to know who she is!”

“We may be able to manage that.”

The day following His Highness Prince Edmund’s birthday masquerade ball, it was announced he was looking for a young woman who had dropped a fairy-made glass slipper.

The day after that, the palace was flooded with letters claiming, ‘the shoe is mine’, or ‘the shoe is my daughter’s’ and ‘would His Highness be so kind as to return it, personally?’

“Why?” Prince Edmund demanded, waving a letter at Wizard Linford, who was seated across the table.

They were in the wizard’s workshop, in the west tower of the palace, at a table stacked with letters. Wizard Linford took a letter from one of these stacks—the one of unsorted letters—and held an iron pendulum over it.

“Why would so many people lie about the shoe?” Prince Edmund continued, slamming his letter down onto another stack—the stack of one’s he’d read.

“We knew this would happen,” Wizard Linford said,

“Did we?” Prince Edmund asked,

“Yes,” Wizard Linford said. His iron pendulum swayed over a letter. He moved it to the pile with traces of fairy magic.

Prince Edmund sighed. He took another letter from the ‘traces of fairy magic’ pile, and skimmed through it.

“Just because everyone wants to meet the prince, or own a magic shoe…” he muttered, and made a note in his ledger; the name and address of someone who may own the shoe. That is, they claimed to own the shoe, and had been exposed to fairy magic.

“If you don’t care to find this woman…” Wizard Linford said, holding his pendulum over another letter.

“No, I do! I do!” Prince Edmund said.

Wizard Linford’s pendulum held still. He moved the letter to the pile not touched by fairy magic. Prince Edmund placed his letter in his read pile, then took the next letter from the fairy-touched letter pile. He began again to read, pen and ledger at the ready.

Three days, and many, many letters later, Prince Edmund and Wizard Linford, along with two guards and a coach driver, finally set out to find the owner of the shoe. Starting closest to the palace, they began working through the list of addresses they had compiled.

At the first address, a young woman with lank blonde hair tried on the shoe, which slipped straight off her foot. When asked, she could not produce its pair, mumbling something about how she’s lost that one as well…

Meanwhile, Wizard Linford stalked around the house, peering through a hole in a river-smoothed stone.

Prince Edmund caught Wizard Linford’s eye, through the hole in the stone. The wizard shook his head. They made their excuses, and moved on to the next address.

At the next house, they met three tall sisters, none of whom could fit their feet into the shoe. Their mother insisted that it was the unseasonable heat—unseasonable heat Prince Edmund had certainly not noticed—causing their feet to swell, and the shoe did fit, really…

Wizard Linford peered through his stone, and shook his head. They moved on.

At midday, a woman whose feet were slightly to narrow invited them to stay for lunch. Wizard Linford attempted to engage her in conversation about her family’s ties to the fairies. Prince Edmund attempted not to demand an explanation for lying about being the owner of the shoe. The woman blushed and stuttered her way through the meal.

The prince, the wizard, and their small retinue moved on.

As sunset approached, Prince Edmund and his retinue once more stepped wearily from the carriage. Dragging their feet, they approached the household of yet another claimant on the shoe. It was a nice place, on the outskirts of the city, with a cobbled drive lined with leafy trees.

As they mounted the steps leading up to a large wooden door, Wizard Linford again took out his stone.

One of the guards rang the doorbell. As they waited, Wizard Linford paced up and down the steps, then circled a pot plant, peering through the stone’s hole all the while.

He strode purposefully back to Prince Edmund’s side.

“The shoe, your highness, give me the shoe,” the wizard demanded, reaching out and beckoning with his free hand.

Prince Edmund took a moment to process the request; Wizard Linford had been perfectly content letting him carry it all day.

“The shoe!”

Prince Edmund handed the over shoe.

A maid opened the front door.

“Your Highness, Your Wisdom,” the blushing maid curtsied, “Lady Vivian and her daughters are expecting you.”

Prince Edmund politely returned the greeting, then complimented the maid’s hair, hoping to distract from the way Wizard Linford was ignoring her. He was focused on the shoe; holding it up, so the glass glinted golden in the light of the setting sun, and examining it through his stone.

While the maid, blushing even pinker, raised a hand to her genuinely pretty ringlets, Wizard Linford leaned in to the Prince.

“This might be it,” he murmured.

Prince Edmund felt a flicker of hope.

They were invited in, and led to a cosy sitting room. A fire smouldered in the grate, and a vase of red roses stood on a side table.

A silver haired woman, Lady Vivian, rose from a plush chintz couch to greet them. Her two tall daughters, one wearing green, the other russet red, rushed to follow suit.

At Lady Vivian’s invitation, Prince Edmund sat in an armchair opposite her two daughters, who were introduced as Ashley, and Rosalie. Wizard Linford ignored this invitation. Instead, he put his stone in his pocket, and pulled out instead a long wooden wand. He began circling the room, waving his wand about.

The eyes of the three women followed him, expressions ranging from baffled to concerned.

“Don’t mind him,” said Prince Edmund, while wondering how that wand had fit in Wizard Linford’s pocket, “You wrote to me about a lost shoe?”

“Of course,” Lady Vivian said. Her daughters, lovely girls, very kind, very talented, she explained, had attended the ball. But, clumsy dears, had dropped a shoe. A beautiful, fairy-made one too. Oh, how upset we all were to lose such a gift! We were all so relieved to hear it could be returned to us!

The prince nodded politely, that flicker of hope fading at Lady Vivian’s vagueness on which daughter, exactly, had lost her shoe.

“And would your daughter—the owner of the shoe, that is—mind trying it on? I do want to ensure I am returning the right one,” Prince Edmund said, forcing what he hoped was a convincing smile.

“Oh, not a problem,” Lady Vivian said, smiling right back, “Dears?” she turned to her daughters.

“Yes!” the two girls said simultaneously. They turned and glared at each other. Then, the one in green—Ashley, if the prince was not mistaken—turned to Prince Edmund and said, “It’s my shoe, I’ll put it on.”

Prince Edmund turned to Wizard Linford, who was waving his wand over the fire, oblivious. The prince cleared his throat, “The shoe?” he said loudly.

The wizard paused in his wand waving, turned, and blinked.

“The shoe?” Prince Edmund repeated,

“Oh, of course!” Wizard Linford said.

He handed the glass slipped back to Prince Edmund. Prince Edmund, in turn, handed it to Ashley.

Ashley stared at the shoe, flickering amber with reflected firelight.

Then, she took off one of her own shoes, and slipped the glass slipper partway on. She grimaced, inhaled, and shoved her foot the rest of the way in. She looked at Prince Edmund with what could generously be called a smile.

Wizard Linford stood behind her, and waved his wand over her head. He frowned.

“I think we may be talking about different shoes…” Prince Edmund said,

“Let’s not be too hasty…” Lady Vivian began.

Meanwhile, the daughter in red—Rosalie—elbowed her sister’s ribs.

“Actually, the shoe’s mine,” said said, baring her teeth, “so stop messing around, and hand it over.”

Ashley tugged off the too-tight shoe and, with her teeth also bared, handed it to Rosalie.

Wizard Linford jerked his wand up, pointing past Prince Edmund, over his shoulder. The prince turned, following the line of the wand.

It pointed to the door, as a young woman walked in. She wore a soot stained apron, and carried an armful of wood.

“Pardon me,” she mumbled, staring at her feet, and went to the fireplace.

“See, it fits!” Rosalie declared.

“Hm?” Prince Edmund turned back around.

Rosalie held up her foot, showing off the shoe. She had been able to fit her foot in, and it was not falling off.

“Hm,” Prince Edmund said again, “Could you stand up?” he asked.

“Oh, um…” Rosalie hesitated,

Meanwhile, the young woman in the soot-stained apron knelt by the fireplace, put a log on the fire, and prodded it with a poker.

Wizard Linford stood beside her, and wave his wand over her head.

“Many young women have tried to trick me into believing the shoe is theirs today, you understand.” Prince Edmund told Rosalie, “At the ball, the young woman wearing those shoes could dance in them; I won’t trust I have found their rightful owner until I can see you can comfortably walk in them,” he tried valiantly to keep his tone polite, not quite sure he was managing it.

“Oh,” Roaslie said.

Meanwhile, the young woman holding the hot poker was eyeing the wizard and his wand suspiciously.

Roaslie slowly stood, keeping most of her weight off the foot with the glass slipper.

“It’s, um, awkward standing with only one heel,” she said,

“You can go get its pair, if you like,” Prince Edmund said.

Rosalie bit her lip, and shifted her weight. Her ankle, the one of the foot in the glass slipper, buckled. She winced. Ashley sniggered.

“Perhaps you would be more comfortable if you took the shoe off, it doesn’t seem to fit right,” Prince Edmund said.

Glaring at the floor in front of her, Rosalie sat down, and took off the shoe. It left red marks on her foot.

Prince Edmund held out his hand. Not meeting his eye, Rosalie the shoe back to him.

Across the room, the woman in the soot-stained apron said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She was still kneeling by the fire, pointing her poker up at Wizard Linford. He stood over her, pointing his wand down at her.

And, oh, Prince Edmund recognised that voice.

“You have had a fairy enchantment on you recently, I can tell,” Wizard Linford said.

The prince cleared his throat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the woman repeated,

“You have…”

Prince Edmund coughed, louder this time.

Wizard Linford and the young woman simultaneously turned to look at him.

“Perhaps… perhaps you would like to try on the shoe?” he asked,

“Oh, no, she wasn’t at the ball…” Lady Vivian said,

“I was not talking to you,” Prince Edmund said, his patience thin.

The woman in the soot-stained apron looked down, then glanced back up at the prince through her eyelashes, a faint blush dusting her cheeks.

The prince rose from the couch, and went to kneel before the young woman by the fireplace.

“Oh, Your Highness, there’s no need to do that, you’ll get ash all over yourself…” Lady Vivian said.

“That is none of your concern,” the prince snapped back.

He took a deep breath. Then, heart hammering, he offered the glass slipper to the young woman in the soot-stained apron.

“Would you like to try on the shoe?” he asked,

“If Your Highness wishes,” she said, and accepted the slipper.

The young woman took off one shoe. Then, in its place, she slipped on the glass slipper.

It fit perfectly.

“You do know exactly what I was talking about!” Wizard Linford said, “You do have traces of fairy magic on you! It is the same as the magic in the shoe!”

“I wasn’t meant to go out that night, you see,” she smiled, a little wry, “That’s why I had to run off,” she rose to her feet, “It’s very generous of you to say I can dance,” she shifted her weight, standing unevenly, “And, it is awkward standing with only one heel. I can go and get the other one…”

“It’s alright,” Prince Edmund said, clambering to his feet as well, “um. I believe you. I, um,” he felt the blood rise in his cheeks.

The young woman shifted her weight again.

“Do you want to sit back down?” the prince asked,

“If it wouldn’t be a bother,”

“Here, over here,” the prince took her hand, and led her to the couch,

“No, you’ll get soot on it…” Lady Vivian protested.

The prince ignored her, and sat down. The young woman sat beside him.

Facing the young woman on the couch, still holding her hand, the prince said, “I, that is,” he cleared his throat, “I just wanted to return your shoe. Which. I have done. And, um. Say it was nice meeting you the other night. What’s your name?”

Her smile was entirely genuine now. Prince Edmund saw she had blue eyes—the colour had been lost, in the dimly lit ballroom that night—and a smattering of freckles across her nose.

She said, “I’m called Cinderella.”