The Bride Tournament (Hexed Hearts Book 1)(46)

Rachel helped Olivia into the coach and soon the ladies headed for the castle.

“Okay.” Rachel turned on Ellie. “What do you mean she’s using the mirror? What did you see?”

“A crow, in the glass, reached out for her.”

A cold wind whipped up in the front courtyard, and dead leaves crackled as they spun in circles. Gooseflesh broke out over her arms. She rubbed the dirty sleeves of her work gown to warm up. It was as if the breeze listened.

She tugged Rachel inside and up the stairs to Olivia’s room. “She held the mirror and chanted. A black crow cawed from the inside of the glass. I heard it.”

Rachel wrung her hands, sitting on the pale coverlet. “It doesn’t make any sense. How can she hex with a piece of glass?”

“I don’t know.” Ellie searched the room. “Help me find the mirror.”

The pair searched for a quarter of an hour but came up empty-handed.

“The mirror did not walk off on its own. Lady Olivia must have taken it with her to the dance.” Ellie groaned and flopped down onto the chaise. She rubbed her forehead where an annoying ache throbbed.

“Come, we best head to Meera’s.” Rachel sighed and tugged her up.

They walked, quiet, through the forest, each lost in their own thoughts.

If her stepsisters were out of the competition, what was she staying in for? To win Gerard? She scoffed aloud. Rachel raised a brow and Ellie waved off her friend’s concern. She’d originally stepped forth to help combat the possibility of a hex. Now that the hex was real, she needed to figure out how Lady Olivia got rid of the competition.

She looped arms with Rachel as they passed under the stone arch leading into town. “There are only two events left.”

“The Dance, and the Magic round.” Rachel patted Ellie’s hand. “You’re a horrible dancer so you’re bound to get forced out tonight.”

“Hey! I’m better than you,” she shot back.

Rachel grinned, “Yeah, I have two left feet, but at least I keep my balance.”

“I fell once during a dance. It was years ago!” Ellie bemoaned.

“I’ve never seen anyone fall with such a level of calamity. You tripped your partner, too.”

“He started it,” she muttered.

In truth, her dancing partner must have eaten rotten fish before the country dance because his breath nearly caused her to pass out. In an effort not to suffer the stench, she’d held her breath, passed out for a moment, and toppled the unkempt man.

“Hello, girls!” Meera waved cheerily, her headscarf a brilliant emerald this evening. The wasting disease that swam in her veins took a little more of her composure every day. Despair clung to Ellie. She couldn’t imagine a world where Meera wasn’t baking sweets and spouting motherly advice.

“How’re you feeling today?” In the excitement and turmoil following the hex and Ellie entering the tournament, she had given little thought to Meera’s condition.

“Like a thirty-year-old. Now come inside, we haven’t much time to get you ready.” The older woman prattled on and fussed over Ellie for an hour.

Rachel spun about the back room in a fury of motion, trying to keep up with Meera’s demands.

“Meera, I can’t dance. They’ll kick me out this round. Besides, it shouldn’t matter what my hair looks like. I’m not there to win.”

“Keep telling yourself that, dear.” Meera patted her shoulder in a placating way and kept plaiting and curling.

Ellie had her father’s hair—long, thick, blonde, and stubborn. Meera whispered spells as she wove the golden strands, so they’d stay in place all night.

“Rachel, dear,” Meera said, motioning to one of the many closets, “could you pull the garment from that armoire?”

Rachel opened the tiny doors and pulled out a gown, neatly pressed, and hung on a delicate hanger.

“Oh my…” The breath left Ellie’s lungs in a rush.

“Meera, where did you find such a gown?” Rachel asked, eyes wide.

The gown was silver-blue, the color of moonlight. Strands of pearls and sequins flittered along the fitted bodice to highlight the small waist. More sparkling strands flowed along the wide, gauzy skirt, causing it to appear lit from within as Rachel swished the material. Dainty shoulder caps drooped from the bodice in the same material as the bottom half of the dress.

“I made it.” Meera beamed.

“You made this? When would you have had the time?” Ellie breathed as she stood and padded barefoot to Rachel’s side. She ran a palm over the soft material of the bodice. “It feels like velvet.”

“Some of it is.” Meera teared up and blotted her cheeks with a kerchief from the pocket of her serviceable gray gown. “Rufus and I never had children of our own, but I wanted my wedding gown to be passed on, as a mother would.”

Ellie sniffled. “Meera, is this your wedding gown?”

“Parts. When it was clear the prince had an eye for you, I knew you’d make it to the end. I knew you’d need a gown for the ball, and I wanted to pass a piece of motherly love on to you, seeing as how I doubt I’ll make it to either of your weddings. This is my way of pretending I’m watching you marry the love of your life.” Meera choked on a sob.

At once, Ellie and Rachel ran to her side in a flurry of tears.