Free Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine

In all the times I’d imagined the miseries she could inflict on me, I’d never imagined this. I’d thought of injuries, and I’d imagined terrible embarrassment, but I’d never thought of this kind of hurt.
    Areida was in our room now, waiting to give me a lesson in Ayorthaian. I remained seated. I couldn’t face her.
    Was there a way to stop being her friend without hurting her? I could pretend I had suddenly become mute so I wouldn’t be able to talk to her. But in that circumstance she’d be my friend as much as ever. She’d talk to me, and we’d invent a sign language, which would be great fun. And that wouldn’t be ending our friendship, so the curse wouldn’t let me do it. Besides, a mistress would be sure to say, “Speak, Ella,” and I would have to.
    I could announce I’d taken a vow of loneliness. But Areida would be hurt that I’d taken such a vow.
    If only Mother hadn’t forbidden me to tell about the curse. But then again, explaining would be an act of friendship, which the curse also wouldn’t allow.
    The bell rang calling us to bed. I was late again, but tonight there was no Areida to joke with about our tardiness.
    In our room, she sat on my bed, completing a letter for Writing Mistress.
    “Where were you? I’ve been reviewing the imperative.”
    “I’m tired,” I said, not answering the question.
    Perhaps I did look tired, or troubled, because she didn’t press me. She only patted my arm and said, “We can study imperatives tomorrow.”
    In bed, I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to savor the last few hours before I had to hurt her.
    Sleep on, Areida. Be my friend for one more night.
    A long vigil lay ahead. I pulled out my magic book. It opened to a letter from Dame Olga to her daughters.
    _My sweet darlings,
    Your poor mother is desolate without you.
    I attended a cotillion last night at the palace. I wore my wine-colored taffeta gown and my ruby pendant. But it was for naught. The company was thin because King Jerrold is away, although Prince Charmont was there. That charming man, Sir Peter, wasn’t there either. I was desolate. I understand he is off traveling and becoming richer, I imagine. I wish him well and will be first to pay my respects on his return._
    Three pages followed describing Dame Olga’s social calendar and her wardrobe. In closing, she remembered she had daughters and was writing to them.
    _I hope both of you are eating well to keep up your strength. Olive, pray remember not to eat Madame Edith’s flowers. If you were to sicken or die, I should be desolate. Hattie, I hope you have found a trustworthy servant to dress your hair. Madame E. promised it could be arranged.
    I expect the two of you are amazingly finished by now. But do not toil too hard, my dears. If you can sing and dance charmingly, eat daintily, and sew a little, you will be fine ladies and I shall be proud of you.
    My sweets, the carriage has arrived. I am in my lemon silk calling gown, and I must fly.
    Your adoring mother,
    Dame Olga_
    *
    WHY WAS a trustworthy servant necessary to dress Hattie’s hair? I compared the luxuriant tresses of Hattie and her mother with Olive’s thin curls, and I remembered Hattie’s attack on my hair after she smelled the bogweed. I laughed out loud. Hattie and Dame Olga wore wigs!
    Thank you, Dame Olga. I hadn’t expected to laugh tonight. I turned the page.
    On the verso was an illustration of a centaur colt — Apple, I was sure — nuzzling a young man — Char. The colt was a beauty. His hide was deep brown with a tan mane and an irregular tan star on his chest. Skinny and leggy, he was made for speed, although he was too young to bear a rider. Would he ever really be mine?
    On the right was a letter from Char to his father.
    _Dear Father,
    I hope this finds you safe and well. My mother and my sister and brothers are in good heath, as am I.
    Since I received instructions to join you, I have been filled with gratitude for your confidence in me. The knights