Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Never had Ella wanted to smash an inanimate object as much as she wanted to destroy the clock on the bakery wall. Every day for the past three days, since her last meeting with Lady Nyx, the needle-thin hand on the timepiece moved at rapid speed, the sound from each teetering motion around the dial vibrating through Ella’s skull. .

She wanted to rip it from the wall and throw it on the ground, feeling the crunch of glass beneath her boot as she stomped the life from it.

Each second felt as if it came sooner than the last, and if not for the familiar toll of the clocktower bell each hour, she’d half convinced herself the small, wooden clock on the wall was hexed to make time move faster. The only things that seemed to move faster were the beat of Ella’s heart and the tremor that plagued her hands - the same hands that slipped that brilliant blue poison into Mr. Lepore’s tea.

Since the man came in at the beginning of each week, Agnes had yet to notice his absence. Each day since the murder, Ella frantically scanned the Auric Gazette for any mention of Mr. Lepore’s death. So far there had been nothing, which had done little to ease Ella’s nerves.

She wasn’t sure what she would do if she saw her crime printed out in front of her, ink as dark as the stain on her soul across thin, leafy paper. It certainly wouldn’t absolve her of her guilt. No, that would never truly fade away.

She hadn’t stuck around long enough to see if the poison left any lasting effects on Mr. Lepore’s body; a blue tongue or blackened veins - any hint of the poison that stole his last breath. From an outsider’s view, it looked as if he’d been stricken down with a heart attack. He’d been getting on in years and if no one looked too closely, the ruse was believable.

A small part of her wanted to see news of his death, his murder. She wanted the world to share in her worst secret. She wanted the world to know what she’d done. But the truth would be her undoing, as well as the undoing of her family, who were blameless in the ugly mess Ella had willingly placed herself.

A little laugh escaped her lips. Only she would be upset about being a skilled assassin.

Flipping the last page of the paper, she let out a sigh. Once again there’d been no mention of Mr. Lepore’s death. For now, the truth lay only with her and Lady Nyx.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

“Oh shut up,” Ella snapped at the clock as she pushed the paper aside on the bakery counter. A vein at the front of her temple throbbed with each tock.

It was nearly closing time. Nearly time for her next assignment.

She’d told Rosalind and the twins that she’d be working late that evening at the Slippered Tabby, a lie about helping Barron count inventory and that she wouldn’t be home beforehand. More guilt twisted in her stomach at the sad looks on their faces, knowing they merely thought she was working longer hours to provide for them.

In a sickening way, they weren’t exactly wrong. They just didn’t know she was trading parts of her soul for gelds.

A customer came in, a pretty blond haired woman perhaps a year or two younger than Ella in an odd-looking gown of striped cream and eggshell blue, though the thick cotton was still nicer than anything the latter owned. The woman looked flustered, thick beads of sweat glistening on her forehead, a garment bag and parcel tucked under one arm.

Ella eyed the woman up and down, trying to keep her expression neutral as she said, “How can I help you?”

The woman’s eyes scanned the glass display, which was now sparse as the workday came to an end.

“Just a strawberry tart, please,” the woman said, her free hand fishing around in the silk pouch draped across her body, resting just at her side. She found three bronze gelds and placed them into Ella’s outstretched hand.

“Not from here, are you?” Ella commented as she ducked behind the counter, fishing the tart out with a pair of silver tongs and placing them into a thick, frilly paper bag.

A flash of irritation crossed the woman’s face as she took the bag. “Yes, yes, I know my dress is something not even your grandmother would wear.”

Ella blinked. The dress was outdated, yes, but that wasn’t what gave the woman away.

“I meant your purse,” Ella said, forcing herself to keep her voice pleasant despite the woman’s rude outburst. She nodded to where the pouch rested at the side of the woman’s hip. “No local would wear their purse like that. Easy access for a pickpocket.”

The woman at least had the decency to look embarrassed.

“Oh,” was all she managed to say. Clearly the thought had never occurred to her.

Ella came around the side of the counter. “May I?”

The woman nodded meekly. Ella adjusted the purse so that it rested over her front where she could keep an eye on.

“That should help, but try not to let anyone bump into you. Some thieves are skilled enough to snatch your gelds right out from under your nose and you wouldn’t be the wiser.”

“Thank you,” the woman said quietly, giving Ella a weak smile before leaving. The latter wondered where the woman was from. Her accent was clipped and pristine, different from the drawn out flourish of Cendrilian tongues.

“That everyone?” Agnes called, sticking her head out from the kitchen, her face covered in streaks of white flour from whatever she’d been preparing. Ella’s focus shifted back to the clock, the hour and minute hand fixed firmly in their five o’clock positions. With the distraction of the foreign woman gone, Ella’s pulse once again quickened.

It was nearly time for her to head to the Glass Pumpkin.

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After she finished cleaning up the bakery for the day, Ella bid Agnes goodnight and made the familiar walk towards the Slumps. The early evening sun cast a golden glow on the city, making even the shabbier clusters of buildings appear dreamlike.

The light sparkled against the glass exterior of her destination, blinding Ella as she approached Lady Nyx’s headquarters. She slipped around the back, so as not to draw the ire of the silk-clad hostess.

Jolie greeted her at the back door, her brown hair in its usual plate and tattooed arms bare.

“Tamsin, we’re going to need a lot more rouge!” Jolie called over her shoulder as she ushered Ella inside. Then to Ella she said, “You look like you’re a breath away from death.”

Ella rolled her eyes as Jolie shut the door behind her.

“Let’s just get this over with,” she said, following the other woman down the hall towards Lady Nyx’s office.

Jolie snorted. “Let’s hope you show a bit more enthusiasm while talking to the prince.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Right, the prince.

She was going to the masquerade ball with the sole intent of charming Prince Asher. She glanced down at her shabby clothes, threadbare from years of wear. Just thinking it sounded ridiculous.

Lady Nyx was sitting on her sofa dressed in a flimsy gown of midnight chiffon that left little to the imagination. Ella wondered what it would be like to live with that level of confidence.

The fairy sipped something pink and bubbling from a crystal chute glass.

“Eleanor,” Lady Nyx greeted softly, her voice like velvet. “Right on time.” She gestured to one of the armchairs across from her, a silent command for Ella to sit.

“Ready for tonight?” Lady Nyx asked as the other woman did as instructed, snapping her fingers and a twin glass of that bubbly pink liquid appeared before her. She handed the glass to Ella, who drained it. The bubbles tickled pleasantly against the back of her throat, and she detected a hint of raspberry entwined with the sweetness of the alcohol.

“As ready as I can be,” Ella answered, placing the glass back on the low table between her and Lady Nyx. The surface was dark and polished and Ella could see her own reflection glancing back up at her. Begrudgingly, she realized Jolie was right; she did look a breath away from death.

Lady Nyx glanced at the empty glass. “Pace yourself, darling. There will be plenty of time to drink yourself stupid when the night is over.”

“If I’m not caught, that is,” Ella interjected. The drink had dulled her nerves slightly, and as a result loosened her tongue.

Violet eyes rimmed in gold glanced up to meet human blue. “Have a little faith in yourself, Cinders. You’ve proven yourself capable before.”

The unspoken mention of Mr. Lepore sent a shiver down Ella’s spine, but she brushed the cold away. She needed to be focused and relaxed if she was going to pull this off.

“Anything I need to know about the prince?” In the twenty-two years she’d lived in Auric, Ella had only seen the prince from a distance, usually during parades where he sat next to the king, an empty smile plastered to his face as he waved to the cheering crowd.

“He’s arrogant but charismatic,” Lady Nyx said, studying the tips of her perfectly manicured fingernails. “Easy enough to charm, I'm told.”

Ella nodded. “Partial to flattery, got it. Anything else?”

Lady Nyx looked up from her nails, head cocking in confusion. “What else would there be? You just need to charm him for an evening, not court him.”

Ella frowned, tapping her fingers impatiently on the armrests on either side of her. “There has to be more to him then he likes his ego stroked. I’m sure he has hundreds of people blowing kisses up his ass every single day. I need to stand out. Know his interests. Have something other than empty compliments to hurl at him.”

The fairy laughed. “Clearly you’ve never met the man. My sources say he has the emotional depth of a puddle. Just keep drinks in his hand and pretty words on your tongue and you’ll have him spilling his secrets in no time.”

Ella wasn’t as sure, but given Lady Nyx knew who she, an ordinary woman from a poor family, was before they’d ever met, it only stood to reason she knew all about Prince Asher.

“You said you’d have a dress for me.” One hand slid from the armrest and entwined itself in the thin fabric of her skirt. It was her favorite, once a deep blue now faded. As the material shifted the soft flesh of her legs were visible where it was particularly worn.

Lady Nyx eyes cast down on the skirt, a look of distaste tugging on her beautiful features.

“Yes, and a good thing too.” She let the insult hang in the air, unspoken but clear. Not that Ella cared; she knew what she looked like.

Rising, Lady Nyx raised one hand, beckoning Ella to follow with the curl of a slender finger. The fairy woman led her to a wardrobe made of polished oak with a design of leaves, flowers and berries carved deep into its edges. The fairy woman pried the twin doors open, revealing a simple white chemise hanging inside.

Lady Nyx took the dress and handed it to Ella, who held it in front of her, brows furrowing and it was now her head cocked in confusion.

“You can’t be serious,” Ella said, her eyes trailing down the length of the garment. It was lacking in ornament, with only two thin straps and a clean hem. No lacy trim or sparkling beads dotting the bodice. Despite this, the dress was still nicer than anything she owned.

“Do I look like the type to jest?” Lady Nyx asked impatiently, sweeping her dark silken hair over her shoulder.

“I’ll certainly get the prince’s attention in this,” Ella mumbled, holding it in front of her.

Lady Nyx’s lip pulled into a smirk. “It certainly will,” she agreed. Clapping her hands together, she beckoned Ella to follow once more.

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An hour later, Ella had been bathed in rosewater, feeling cleaner than she had in years. Now she stood before Lady Nyx in the white chemise, its hem gracing the tops of her bare feet.

With the touch of a finger, Lady Nyx had tried her wet locks in an instant.

“There,” she crooned, sweeping her long fingers through the soft ends. “Now you don’t smell like yesterday’s bread.”

Ignoring the jab, Ella trailed her hands over her hips. The silk clung to her skin, revealing every curve of her body. She might as well be naked for how exposed she felt.

“The guards will never let me through the gate wearing this,” she said, pulling the dress up slightly as she turned to look in the gilded full-length mirror Lady Nyx had procured out of thin air.

A melodic chuckle behind her sent a shiver down her spin.

“Have a little faith in me,” Lady Nyx said, stepping into the mirror's reflection. Her eyes cast downwards. “What’s that?”

Following her employer's gaze, Ella found her flame-shaped birthmark on her ankle peaking out beneath the dress.

Lady Nyx bent down the carpeted floor to inspect it, sweeping one cool finger along the edge of the mark. Instinctively, Ella pulled her foot away. When she rose, Lady Nyx wore an amused smile.

“Cinders indeed,” she said softly, causing Ella’s face to flush with heat as she dropped the folds of the dress, hiding the mark once more.

Eyes turning back to the mirror, she caught sight of a spider resting in the center of its intricate web in the far corner of the room above one of the bookshelves. It seemed so out of place in Lady Nyx’s fine office, where every polished surface glinted in the light with nary a speck of dust floating in the air. Everything in the room seemed pristine, purposeful even, from the many aged tomes lining the shelves to the strange fauna curling from clay pots. Yet there the spider sat silent and still. An unassuming beast ever patient in a beautiful trap of its own making.

Ella tore her gaze from the spider back to her own reflection, her skin crawling as if a thousand of its eight-legged brethren danced upon her. Absent-mindedly she brushed her hands over her bare arms as if sweeping the invisible bugs away.

“There has to be more to this dress,” she said, choosing to ignore the fairy’s taunt. She couldn’t explain why, but it felt important to not let Lady Nyx know how much she frightened her. That knowing smile on the other woman’s face let her know she wasn’t doing a good job at masking those feelings.

Unperturbed, Lady Nyx stepped back, her eyes trailing down the length of Ella’s body. Sparks of heat like an invisible flame followed her gaze, as if her scrutiny alone could burn the human woman.

“I think the dress has potential,” Lady Nyx said, cocking her head slightly as she assessed. “Give me a spin, would you?”

“What?” Surely Ella hadn’t heard her correctly. There was no way the most dangerous and revered crime boss in Auric was asking her to turn around in her dress, as if they were lifelong friends in a dressmaker’s shop.

Lady Nyx met her eye once more and repeated in that soft tone, “Spin for me.”

Ella found her feet moving before she’d even decided to obey, the arches rising and forcing her onto her tiptoes as she twirled in a circle. The pads of her feet dipped into the soft carpet of Lady Nyx’s office, and she caught glimpses of herself in the mirror, her blond hair wild and free and the skirt of the dress billowing out as she spun.

A small giggle burst free from her chest as she moved, feeling lighter than she had in years. Another giggle followed, then another until she was manically laughing as she spun. She lifted her hands up, enjoying the feel of the air through her fingers, her own personal wind.

As she twirled, her reflection in the mirror began to change, or rather the dress began to change. Sparks of light, like the sun on morning dew, shimmered down the dress as the skirt expanded and flared out. The white silk darkened at the hem and spread upwards, like ink spilt on a blank page.

When Ella finally stopped spinning, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, the feeling of joy still tingling under her skin, she looked up to face her reflection once more and gasped.

“I don’t… I can’t…” Ella stammered out incredulously as she stared down at her dress, no longer plain and shapeless. The thin straps had fallen from her shoulders, thickening into place against her biceps, the neckline following the curves of breast. The fabric had fitted itself tightly along her waist before spreading into a full skirt of flowy gossamer.

The hem of the gown had turned a deep blood orange, darkening to crimson from her knees to her waist before turning black along her bodice. It was as if she wore a flame turning to smoke.

Lady Nyx stepped back into the mirror’s silvery surface, placing one hand on Ella’s shoulder. Ella met her gaze in their reflection.

“Like I said,” Lady Nyx said softly. “The dress has potential… not unlike yourself.” She paused for a moment, that amused smile returning. “Cinders indeed.”