The Starlight Slippers Read online

  If the Magic Fits

  Ghost of a Chance

  The Starlight Slippers

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2018 by Susan Maupin Schmid

  Cover art copyright © 2018 by Melissa Manwill

  Interior illustrations copyright © 2018 by Lissy Marlin

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  Random House and the colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Visit us on the Web! rhcbooks.com

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at RHTeachersLibrarians.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Schmid, Susan Maupin, author. | Marlin, Lissy, illustrator.

  Title: The starlight slippers / Susan Maupin Schmid ; Illustrations by Lissy Marlin.

  Description: First edition. | New York : Random House, [2018] | Series: 100 dresses ; 3 | Summary: Darling and her friends locate Queen Candace’s wedding slippers, which Princess Mariposa wants to wear on her own wedding day, unaware that they are laced with magic.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017006199 | ISBN 978-0-553-53377-4 (hardcover) | ISBN 978-0-553-53379-8 (ebook)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Fairy tales. | Courts and courtiers—Fiction. | Magic—Fiction. | Clothing and dress—Fiction. | Orphans—Fiction. | Shoes—Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ8.S2835 St 2018 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  Ebook ISBN 9780553533798

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

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  Contents

  Cover

  Other Titles

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Acknowledgments

  Cast of Characters

  For the Hanleys: Jennifer, Dave, Devan, Shaylynn, and Brienne

  Fog wrapped the castle. Not the cloudy vapor of an early-spring morning, but the fog of forgetfulness. It became as though thoughts of the past slipped through people’s fingers. Oh, not that they couldn’t remember when they tried, but more that they lost the desire to keep those memories.

  I knew the dragons were to blame, because they were what people forgot the most. I’d mention them and receive a blank stare in response.

  “Dragons?” they’d gasp, blinking in astonishment. “There is no such thing as dragons!”

  How quickly they forgot. When my father, Magnificent Wray, had collared those dragons, they’d celebrated. When he’d set the dragons to build the Star Castle, they’d cheered. But when he passed away, the dragons became a myth in a matter of months. A foggy, uncertain idea that was best left unthought. Only a few people retained the memories of those days. A handful held the precious trickle of thoughts: vital notions of dragons, magic, and danger.

  I am one of the few.

  —Lady Amber DeVere, My Father, Magnificent Wray

  The key burned a hole in my apron pocket. It was small and silver, with a starburst inscribed on its bow. And although dozens of keys hung in the Head Steward’s office, they were ordinary. None had a starburst. This key had once belonged to Magnificent Wray, my ancestor and the architect who had designed the castle. A man of mystery and magic. The starburst was his emblem, and that made this one special.

  The bow held the smallest spark of magic. I hadn’t noticed it until I pressed my thumb down hard, but it was there. Which made me wonder: Did the lock it fit hold a greater magic? A stronger, more powerful force? What would happen when the two met? And what lay behind that lock?

  Did this key unlock a treasure?

  That question fired my imagination with possibilities.

  “Gold? Jewels? A magic ring?” I mumbled under my breath. “Magnificent Wray’s secret workshop? What?”

  “Quiet,” Gillian whispered, peeking around the corner ahead of us.

  I rolled my eyes. We were pressed against a wall outside the corridor to the Princess’s suite. It was early, and everyone in the castle was busy getting ready for the day. Our chances of running into someone were small. But the past weeks of slinking around together looking for the keyhole had given Gillian a taste for stealth. She made each search an ordeal of hand signals, tiptoeing, hiding behind curtains, and flattening ourselves against walls.

  It had gotten a bit ridiculous. But every keyhole beckoned, Try me.

  Each chance we got, we hightailed it to the next tantalizing lock. One of us would be the lookout while the other tried the key. So far we hadn’t had any luck. But Roger, the First Stable Boy, was right: it was too small to open doors. And we’d discovered it was too big to open jewel cases.

  We were no closer to finding out what the key did open than we’d been when we started. There were at least a million locks in the Star Castle. We’d given the key to Roger, and he’d tried every keyhole in the stables and the outbuildings. Nothing. But it had to open something, and we planned to keep searching until we found out what.

  Ahead of me, Gillian braced herself to sprint for the next lock. Her dark curls were swept back with a ribbon, her brow furrowed in concentration, her brown eyes fastened on the prize.

  “On the count of three,” she whispered. “One—”

  “Three,” I said, eager to arrive at the next lock.

  I bounded around the corner and down the corridor. Past the ornate doors of the Princess’s suite and straight to the double doors leading to the soon-to-be King’s suite. It had been closed up since the death of Princess Mariposa’s father, years earlier. Until now.

  Gillian hurried to catch up with me.

  “Darling, wait!” she called.

  The doors to the King’s suite were painted to resemble a view from a window. The painting portrayed Eliora by the White Sea, this very kingdom. The details were stunning. A mountain rose above the sea. Birds soared. Ships drifted in the harbor. The city sat nestled in its cove. And the Star Castle crested a rise that climbed to the mountain’s top. I squinted at the brushstrokes: every leaf and stone was executed so that you felt you could reach out and touch it.

  “It’s a special kind of painting,” Gil
lian said, panting a little. “Trumpet oil, Baroness Azure called it. I think that’s a kind of paint. Anyway, it’s supposed to fool you into thinking it’s real.”

  Gillian had the habit of repeating what the Baroness told her. Although not necessarily correctly.

  “Trompe l’oeil,” I said. “It’s a style, not a paint.”

  “Sure,” she agreed affably.

  She reached out and turned the castle, which rotated because it was actually the doorknob. The enameled metal piece fit so neatly into the painting that you didn’t suspect it was there. She pulled the door open and walked inside.

  “The Baroness said,” she began, “that the Princess’s suite used to be the Queen’s suite when there was a queen. But now the Princess uses it, since she’s like a queen. Only not. But she will be.”

  Princess Mariposa had stayed a princess since her parents’ death because her father’s will stated that she could be queen only upon her marriage. In a matter of weeks, there would be a wedding, a coronation, and a ball! The entire castle was abuzz over the upcoming events.

  “I hope the Baroness said something we don’t already know,” I replied.

  “She says lots of stuff.” Gillian paused a moment to admire the suite’s anteroom, with its three doors. “The King’s suite is a mirror image of the Princess’s.”

  A forest flowed around me, holding the walls, the floor, and the ceiling in its painted leafy embrace. The doors nearly melted into the walls. A bluethroat eyed me from its perch in a tree. The sun dappled its little brown head and the white-tufted blue patch under its beak. A rabbit hid in a hollow.

  “The fastest way is to go straight through the bedroom,” Gillian added.

  She opened the center door, breaking the illusion, and stepped through. I followed her into a room devoid of furniture, where the scents of turpentine and lemon oil tickled my nose. The walls glistened with fresh paint: royal blue, Prince Sterling’s favorite color. The carved crown moldings glinted with gold. The marble floor gleamed.

  “It’s being redecorated for Prince Sterling,” Gillian explained, gesturing at the ladders and buckets scattered about the room. “New furniture, drapes, carpet. Well, all except for the reading room, of course.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said.

  “Prince Sterling declared that it was already perfect. He said don’t change anything but the drapes,” she continued, following me. “Mind your step.”

  I nearly stumbled over a rolled-up carpet. Gillian caught me with a grin. Threading our way around buckets and ladders, we reached the next door. Beyond it was a lounge. A partially finished mural wrapped the walls, but Gillian didn’t waste time admiring it. She raced to the last door and threw it open.

  “Here it is,” she announced, as if I wouldn’t grasp where I was. “The reading room!”

  The King’s reading room was a symphony of woods: maple, walnut, cherry, and mahogany. Polished parquet graced the floor. Carved panels braced the walls. Bare windows stared, wide-eyed without their draperies. A plush throne-sized chair sat next to a marble-topped table in the center, and a wonder of built-in bookcases and cabinets circled the room.

  Silver keyholes winked at me from every door and drawer. Untried keyholes. The King’s reading room: what better place to hide Magnificent Wray’s treasure? My hand crept into my apron pocket and fastened around the key.

  “Don’t you want to curl up in that chair and read?” Gillian asked. “Well, I mean you would if the Prince’s books were on the shelves. They will be soon—”

  “Sure,” I said, making a beeline to the nearest lock. “Watch the door.”

  I slid the key in and jiggled it. Nothing. I tried the next lock, and then another.

  “Argh!” I exclaimed, shaking my fist at the cabinet. “One of you has got to open!”

  Diving from lock to lock in a frenzy, I searched until I felt Gillian’s hand on my elbow.

  “My turn,” she said with a smile that brought out her dimples.

  I blinked, the key clutched in my fist. I was halfway around the room from where I had started.

  “You look like a Laundress with a stubborn stain.” She giggled.

  I felt my face heat up. “Sorry,” I said, handing her the key. “I got carried away.”

  “That’s okay,” she replied. “We do need to hurry. There are a lot more locks in here than I thought there’d be.”

  “Yes,” I said a bit sheepishly.

  “I’m starting to sympathize with Cherice,” Gillian said.

  Cherice, the former Wardrobe Mistress, had dropped the key when she was captured. She’d been hiding in the cellar, lurking in the castle’s secret passages, so she’d had months—and before that maybe even years—to look. If finding the keyhole that fit the starburst key were easy, she’d have found it ages ago.

  “It’s got to be here,” I said.

  “If it is, we’ll find it,” Gillian replied.

  I went to stand guard as she wielded the key like a piece of fine crystal, gingerly testing it keyhole by keyhole.

  “Hurry,” I reminded her.

  She nodded and teased the key into another lock.

  The reading room windows grew brighter. Time was slipping away. Sweat broke out on my forehead. We did not want to get caught fumbling around in here where Princess’s Girls had no business being. And there were a number of keyholes left to try.

  “Gillian—” I growled.

  Through the door, I heard the muffled sound of voices. Someone had come into the suite. I lunged forward and grabbed her.

  “Someone’s coming!” I hissed in her ear.

  We looked at each other and then around the reading room. There was no place to hide.

  “We are in so much troub—” she began.

  I didn’t wait to hear more. I dragged her out of there and into the empty lounge. I scanned the walls, ignoring the mural. The castle was riddled with secret passages that Roger and I had discovered. Since then, Roger had been walking through them, sketching a map. And although we hadn’t stumbled on a passage to this part of the castle, there had to be one. Cherice had used one. If I could just find the hidden door—

  “A quick peek at your progress, gentlemen,” a voice said, “and then I will leave you to your work.”

  Prince Sterling!

  Gillian went white. Footsteps echoed on the marble floor beyond the door. Up on the mural, a waterfall glimmered. I yanked Gillian in front of it.

  “Say something about the mural,” I said.

  She tottered for a moment but then recovered herself. She snapped back her curls, conjured up a smile, and exclaimed in a loud voice, “Oh my!”

  “It’s so pretty!” I sang out just as the lounge door opened.

  Prince Sterling walked in with a couple of Painters at his heels.

  “Good morning, Girls,” the Prince said with a sparkle in his warm brown eyes. “Admiring my mural?”

  “Oh yes!” I said. “We couldn’t resist taking a peek.”

  “We hope you’re not angry,” Gillian said.

  “Angry?” The Prince laughed, and then he noticed Gillian’s hand. “What’s that key you have?”

  Gillian and I looked down at the starburst key still clenched between her fingers. Both our hearts skipped a beat. We couldn’t lose that key!

  “Um…,” she said.

  “It belongs to Marci,” I said.

  “Yes, we have an errand,” Gillian gasped. “We ought to be going.”

  The Prince eyed us with a quizzical look. “It’s early for errands.”

  “It is,” Gillian stupidly agreed.

  “Yes, well,” I said, putting on my best servant’s face and dredging up the one indisputable excuse I could think of, “we—all of us servants—want everything to be perfect for the wedding. Everything. Perfect.” I p
unctuated my statement with nods.

  “All of us,” Gillian echoed. “Perfect.”

  “And yet you’ve made a detour into my lounge,” the Prince pointed out.

  “Ah,” I said forlornly. “We did.”

  You couldn’t accuse Gillian of being a coward. Armed with only a fork, she had once faced down a gryphon. And now that same courage rose up in her. She winked at the Prince and wagged her finger at him.

  “Now, now, you know how it is,” she said. “Just because Marci wants something doesn’t mean the other servants are available. We were buying time.” She gave him her most dazzling smile. “You won’t tell on us, will you?”

  He ran a hand through his brown hair, considering. “No,” he said with a chuckle. “Run along.”

  We bobbed quick curtsies and escaped before he could ask any more questions. We raced back through the bedroom and ducked into the hall beyond.

  Smack-dab into Francesca, the Head Girl.

  “Where have you two been?” Francesca demanded, planting a fist on her hip. Her tone was as crisp as her silver-gray dress and white apron. Even the embroidered silver-gray butterfly on her apron pocket appeared stiff.

  As the Head Girl, she was in charge of all the Princess’s Girls. But Gillian and I were special cases. I reported to Marci, the Wardrobe Mistress. Gillian took orders from Lindy, the Head Presser. But as far as Francesca was concerned, every Girl was accountable to her.

  And she had the power to make our lives miserable.

  “Oh,” Gillian said, batting Francesca’s question aside, “His Highness showed us his new mural! So lovely. Didn’t you think so, Darling?”

  “Yes!” I exclaimed. “Gorgeous.”