Spelled

3: When You Hex Upon a Star

"Rule #43: Beware of strangers bearing gifts—especially little old ladies and cute kids."

—Definitive Fairy-Tale Survival Guide, Volume 1
3

When You Hex Upon a Star

Even though I was in trouble, princess protocol required me to attend the ball. Nobody said I had to be on time though. Since I arrived fashionably late, the celebration was already in full swing.
Everyone had dressed in their finest, myself included. I'd used my StoryExpress card to buy a gown and matching cardigan shrug spun from platinum; it was softer than silkworm wings. Best of all, it was self-sizing, so the dress would fit the same before and after I made the rounds at the buffet. The couture fashion was a one-of-a-kind and practically cost my firstborn, but it was totally worth it.
But as usual, the shoes really completed the look—limited edition silver Hans Christian Louboutin slippers, with crushed rubies covering the sole and two-inch heel. They'd been a Muse Day gift from Verte and made my feet tingle with happiness. Very few things in the world couldn't be fixed with a new pair of shoes.
Unfortunately, my mother's ire was one of those unfixable things.
I hurried past the base of the dais, hoping my parents wouldn't notice my late arrival. They did but, as usual, were too busy greeting royals and dignitaries to make time for me. For once I didn't mind though. Between the dragon incident and now, my mother had sent three page boys to fetch me, each servant more insistent than the last. I'd ignored them all, pretending to be asleep when they had yelled through my door. Whatever Mother wanted to talk about, I guarantee I didn't want to hear it.
On my way to the center of the room, I waved at Rapunzel, one of the few princesses who wasn't half bad. After all, she was a former shut-in herself. She didn't notice me, since she was busy untangling her hair from some pugnacious lady's mountain of éclairs. Above them, the will-o'-the-wisps tried to get away in their crystal balls, but the gold chains held them tethered around the wisps' middles. Their agitated flittering made the light shimmy and sparkle around the room.
In particular, the wisps' glow bounced off the foil ornaments, making the Story Spruce look like it had been dusted with glitter. I couldn't help but be drawn to it, and reached for one of the twinkling stars.
The smell of incense overpowered the tree's wintery scent as a deep male voice whispered in my ear, "You don't need one of those to make your dreams come true."
I pivoted sharply on my heels and somehow ended up in a stranger's arms.
"Pardon me," I demurred politely and tried to take a step back. When his arms stayed firm, I said, "I'm steady. You can let go now." After that didn't work, I threw princess niceties aside with a "get off" and pushed him away.
I didn't get very far.
"A beautiful jewel such as yourself shouldn't be alone in a corner. Dance with me and shine." The anonymous Prince Smarming didn't wait for permission before twirling me onto the dance floor in time to the music. Other girls around us swooned with dreamy expressions, like they too hoped to be swept off their feet.
Understandable, since the grabby stranger looked pretty good—okay. Who was I kidding? He was gorgeous in his finely tailored suit that even I couldn't find fault with. His golden hair somehow seemed windswept, even without a breeze. And when he smiled, his sapphire-blue eyes twinkled, and his cheeks had dimples big enough to keep your gems in.
I still wasn't interested.
Though I'd never met the man before, I'd met his scent. Ever since my parents started playing matchmaker, I'd received an avalanche of love letters all doused with the same noxious sandalwood-and-rose cologne. After the first hundred, I asked Father to make the hounds guard my window to scare off the carrier doves.
I vaguely remembered the guy's name, but mostly I thought of him as stalker. "Look, McWhiz or something."
"I'm flattered you made the connection, even though I've been unable to introduce myself in person until now. However, the name is Mick, the Magnificent Wizard of—"
"It doesn't really matter," I interrupted. "For one, you're way too old for me. And since you're not a prince, you're not eligible to be a suitor anyway. So you can stop with the creepy fan mail."
A quick frown marred Mick's face before reversing; he blinded me with his pearly whites. "That was rather rude for a lady, but I'll forgive it this time, since I've a keen interest in you, young Dorthea of Emerald."
"That's nice," I said sarcastically and yanked on my hand, but the action only seemed to make him hold me tighter.
"You remind me of someone I used to know."
"Good, then go dance with her."
"That's not possible." He faltered on the three count of the waltz. "I made a mistake and let her slip through my fingers."
History was about to repeat itself. Mick's clinginess made it that much easier to "accidently" step on his shiny, gold-colored shoes.
Hard.
While he gasped and reached for his injured foot, I slipped away and out the ballroom doors into the courtyard.
I found a quiet place in the very back of the gardens, among the agave lilies and a few wisps that Dad seemed to have missed. The lilies were my favorite flowers, even though the blossoms came from a prickly cactus. Unfortunately, their beauty was marred because all of the nearby topiaries were so overgrown that the lion more closely resembled a hedge hippo than the lean and ferocious king of beasts.
Apparently, the gardener was not only rude, but also horrible at his job.
I wandered over to take a closer look and catalog all his mistakes; I'd already started a mental tally of all his faults, so that next time he crossed my path, I'd be prepared to return his previous insult. With interest.
My list-making ended abruptly. I was no longer alone in the leafy menagerie. A little girl stood in the moonlight, her skin pale as a china doll's, her hair sparkling like spun silver. Taking a step toward me, she nearly tripped on her too-large pewter gown. The wobble made the huge fire opal necklace she wore swing wildly across her chest.
"Are you lost?" I asked, stooping low just in case her dress-up clothes tripped her up again. "What's your name?"
"Emerald Princess, just who I was looking for." Her voice tinkled like broken crystal. "I'm an intern with the Union of Fairy Godmothers, and I have a present for you." The little girl smiled brightly and extended her hand. When she opened it, there was a delicate, white object inside.
While I was not the kind of girl to pass up any kind of gift, unless the union recently started using munchkin labor, the child was fibbing. But I remembered making up things at that age too, trying to get someone to play with me.
I went along with her game and gingerly picked the gift out of her palm, hoping it would at least be jewelry or something nice. Looking closer, the white seemed to be ivory but just broken pieces stuck together into a crude ball kind of shape. Something was inside as well. It was not ribbon—too thin. Perhaps silver thread. No chance this came from Blooming Dales. The child had probably made it herself.
"Um, thanks. This looks..." Terrible. Chintzy. "Like someone worked hard to make... What exactly is it?"
"It's a Muse Day wishing star, made just for you. But you can't show anyone," she said with a serious face.
I placed the "star" gently into the pocket of my silk shrug; I could ditch it when she wasn't watching. "I'll keep it out of sight."
"Good," the kid said, sounding satisfied at my promise. "Wish on it well, so you'll get exactly what you deserve."
Before I could ask what she meant by that, the girl vanished—thin-air style.
Maybe she had a bit of fairy godmother in her after all.