Glass

As if she was expecting us, a woman answered the door before Rafael even had a chance to knock on it. I recognised her - it was the Countess Gloria Del Flores, the one with the twin daughters.

"Your highness!" She gasped and curtsied just as poised and as elegant as she was on the night of the ball. Her dress was effortlessly expensive and modern, wrapped in a deep green lace atop green satin fabric, while her brown hair was wrapped into a neat bun decorated with a green carnation. Her thin, long neck was exposed, as were her wiry collarbones as she stood up straight. "What brings you?"

I was sure she already knew.

"We are here to find the woman who fits this slipper." I said, opening the box to reveal it. It had been in and out of the box all day, and by that point, the velvety material it was encased in had lost its shape. Gloria moved aside, welcoming us to her home.

The hallway was large enough for the Countess to throw a ball there herself. The floors were so clean that I could see my reflection in it, and the mahogany staircase shone against the glass raindrops of the chandelier above. To the left was an arch into an impressive dining room, lit with scented candles. To the right, a living area with pillows that looked like clouds. I feared that if I was to sit on them, I would fall asleep, and so when Gloria led us to them, I remained stood.

We waited as my soldiers searched the building.

"Might I offer you a drink, Your Highness?" Del Flores asked with a smile which exposed her pearl-like teeth. As nice as the offer sounded, I was forced to shake my head.

"We have been offered too many drinks for us to count by now, my Lady." Rafael said, although he failed to mention that he did not allow me to have even a drop for fear of poisoning.

I looked up at the mantelpiece, where above stood a marvellous portrait of the Del Flores twins from some years ago. It was intriguing to see the youthful features where their beauty would eventually derive - their rosy, rounded cheeks before they became high and angled like their mother's; their vibrant matching dresses swapped for the more mature hues and modern designs. In the portrait, they appear rather sweet, maybe even innocent despite how they acted at the ball. As I scanned the room, I saw more portraits of the twins as they grew, some with their mother, others with a man who looked nothing like them. He was tall with dark skin and a strong brow, but his smile was soft and kind. In the few that included him, he was holding a different animal, all of which I had never seen before.

"My late husband, your highness," Gloria explained, noticing my interest, "he was a conservationist of rare and exotic animals. He cared deeply for them."

Her eyes were downcast, but she smiled at the memories she spoke of.

"We met at a conservation shelter for jian birds in the North Continent. I had donated to them many times before, but never knew the man behind it all. Fabián was a widow, as was I, and he wanted to open a shelter for an endangered species of squirrels right here in Mendessa. So I let him stay with me and my daughters, while he pursued his dream. We fell in love… married that very same year and moved into this manor. He treated my girls like they were his own."

Hearing their father's name, the twins entered the room, accompanied by the entourage who had cleared their search. Laelia put a hand to her chest when she saw me.

"Your highness! You came back for my hand?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Laelia." Dahlia rolled her eyes.

The two were just as well-dressed and well-groomed as their mother, despite the late hour. Their mother flashed them a glance, and in unison, they curtsied.

"Girls, Prince Andres is here to find the girl who ran at the ball," she said, "whoever fits this… glass slipper… is the one who owned it."

"It's mine." Laelia said instantly.

"Don't lie to him, Laelia, he can cut your head off for that."

I shook my head nervously to assure her that I would not. It was obvious that these three women were not the ones that I was looking for. I had met them previous to Cinderella's entrance.

"Are there no more women in this household? Maids? Cooks?" I asked, but my soldiers were already shaking their heads.

"I am afraid not, your highness. Since Fabián, there has only been the three of us."

I nodded with understanding.

"Very well."

"Oh, do let me try on the shoe, your highness!" Laelia begged, "Just to be sure! I swear I have a pair of shoes just like it!"

Her lying ability was dreadful. Gloria looked affectionately at her as though she was looking at a mildly mischievous child.

"Oh, your highness. Do you mind just humouring her?"

It was already the end of the day, and I had nothing to lose.

Laelia sat on the sofa and sank into its plushiness. She lifted out her leg and giggled nervously as she took off a brand new flower-embellished pump. I kneeled, and slowly placed the slipper onto her foot. The further down her toes slid, the more apparent that they would never fit into the shoe, even without its magical effects. She tried and tried to shove the rest of her foot inside, but it was futile. Defeated, tears glazed her eyes and her cheeks became hot.

"No, I swear it is mine! Please, just let me try again!"

"I'm sorry." I told her, and she clearly did not like it.

"Please! Please! It is mine!" She remained insistent, despite all the certainty that she was not Cinderella. I took away the shoe, leaving her heartbroken, but before she could cry, Gloria once again gave her that stern look that instantly thwarted her into submission.

"You're an idiot, Laelia." Dahlia seemed to enjoy her sister's upset. She came towards me. "If she's tried it, I want to try it. Why not?"

I knew for a fact that Dahlia wasn't Cinderella, either, but I also knew by this point how tenacious the Del Flores women could be. Reluctantly, I gestured for Dahlia to take her sister's seat.

Dahlia floated down onto the seat and presented her foot to me, expecting me to be the one to take her shoe off. I did so, holding my breath, and I presented the shoe. Her foot was smaller than her sister's, and fit into the shoe with plenty of wiggle room. But her feet were wide, and her skin pressed against the stained glass. The shoe fought back.

"What's happening?" She exclaimed. With a fearful wonder, her mother and sister looked on as the shoe encased itself around her foot, squeezing and shrinking by the second. "Get it off! Get it off now!"

I did as she asked. She shot up and pointed.

"Get that ugly death trap away from me!"

Zolin came forward to protect me. Gloria rushed in to hold her daughter back.

"Dahlia! This is not how a lady behaves!"

I closed the box on the slipper and held it close to my chest. Dahlia's eyes pierced mine, and in them I saw fear; the very same that the Faerie Godmother had given me.

"We done here?" Rafael said, and all I could do was nod in silence.

I was surrounded and escorted out, but before I left, I remembered the fright that had come from the old man earlier in the day.

"I have one more question." I said, unable to look at any of the Del Flores' frightened faces. I felt a shudder through the room - one that I did not intend to impose. "There have been women going missing in the city. Do any of you know anything about that?"

"Andres, that's just a load of old-" Rafael began.

"I've heard of it," Laelia spoke up.

Gloria came forward.

"I don't allow my girls to venture without me due to it. Mendessa City is not safe. There are plenty of criminals out there looking to kidnap poor women for…" despite the adult age of her daughters, she proceeded with cautious language, "...well, who knows what?"

She glided towards the mantelpiece, taking in Laelia and Dahlia's girlish features on the portrait.

"I heard women had been going missing for several weeks. Poor women, in the lower districts. I make a conscious effort to avoid prying into that sort of business. Many who did have gone missing themselves." She looked saddened at the thought of her daughters meeting the same fate. "But I am afraid that that is all I know."

"Thank you, Countess." I said.

"Is the Queen looking into it?" She inquired with a speck of hope in her voice. I thought for a moment, and considered how this danger could prompt my parents to shut down my search. Eventually, I answered her.

"I am."

From there, I followed behind Rafael. We went past the doorway, back through the garden of half-browned grass and down the hill, towards the crowded lengths of cobblestone which had turned eerily dim.

"We're too far to turn back," Rafael decided, "I say we stay out for the night and make our way to Castillon in the morning."

I looked up at the sky. It was always so strange how quickly the sun descended when its time came, and within the minutes we were inside Del Flores manor, the sky had blackened and was shimmering with stars.

"Agreed. Although I fear what the king and queen would make of our absence." Emiliano spoke.

"We'll send 'em a message." Rafael reached into his pocket and took out a folded sheet. He grumbled as he rummaged some more, only to find nothing else but a tiny pot of ink and no quill. "Squeak! Your bird."

Zolin stuck his fingers into his mouth and whistled loudly. The sound was high-pitched enough to make my shoulders rise, but then it transformed from pure noise to a unique melody. He repeated the tune over and over several times, letting it echo like the howl of a wolf. In the distance, I could not see anything, but Zolin persisted until we could hear the flapping of wings.

The jacamar - the very same which had delivered the drawing Zolin showed me - landed on his arm, jerking its head around in a deceit of dumb confusion.

Rafael struggled, writing with his stubby finger coated in ink, until he had gotten something that resembled a readable message. He wafted the page to dry the ink, and then handed it to Zolin. Carefully, Zolin took the string at the bottom of the jacamar's foot, and twisted it tight around the rolled-up parchment. He then gave the bird a light pat on its little green head, and whistled quiet and fast. Like a bullet, the jacamar shot off into the night.

"That's settled. There's an inn a couple of miles from here, just outside the bridge to Castillon. We can walk it in an hour."

This alternative was met with reluctant nods, but we all knew that it was better than going back to the palace, which was a much further distance. It the entourage could have it their way, they would simply camp on Gloria Del Flores' property and wake with the sun. But what Rafael said went, and we trudged tiredly in his steed towards the grassy path bound for Castillon.

In the cold and dark, there was not much of a view to look at. While being out so late and so far from home had some potential novelty to it, I could not take in any new sights unless they were three inches from my face. Rafael seemed to know exactly which direction he was facing, even without torchlight. Without me even having to ask, he explained.

"I know a girl from Castillon. Works at the stables. She sold me my Alma."

"Yeah, I bet you know a few girls from Castillon, Rafael!" A soldier yelled out, prompting a wave of laughter from the others.

"None like her, lads. You can keep to your working girls, but you're not going near Valeria."

The men clamoured like schoolboys at the sound of her name, wondering aloud what she might be like, or moreso, what she looked like. They exchanged banter with their captain for a while, and every time, he shot back with mentions of other Castillon girls the soldiers had found themselves entangled with.

"By the Sun, I think the only lad here who hasn't got any from there is Squeak!"

Another burst of laughter. But this time, instead of sinking away, Zolin sucked his teeth and shook his head.

"Who knows? I haven't been there yet!"

Rafael roared with laughter.

"Imagine! Squeak with a girl on his side!"

He roughed Zolin up a little too hard, as usual.

"That's something I'd love to see!"

"You know, it is best not to encourage such relationships," Emiliano raised an eyebrow to the rowdiness, "you soldiers are meant to be wed to the throne."

It was an unfortunate fact; one which humbled the soldiers to silence.

"We know," Rafael's voice grew lower with disappointment, "if things were different, I would have loved to make Valeria my wife."

"Imagine the piss-up!" A soldier called out. Rafael smiled bittersweetly.

"Why are you sworn to the crown?" I asked.

"What higher honour is there?" Zolin said.

"The price of the honour is that we have to go by your father's rules, Andres," Rafael said, "and you know what he's like. He doesn't want any of us to spill secrets to people who might take advantage."

"That's not fair." I said, squinting at the mere ridiculousness of it.

"That's life, lad." Rafael sighed.

Of all people, not even Rafael was willing to disobey the king. Not even for love. To have so much power over such a person - and such a concept of love itself - was something that no one man should ever hold. I would have hated to have so much power, even as King of Mendessa.

"Well, when I'm king, I'll let you marry Valeria. And I'll let any soldier marry, for that matter."

Suddenly, Rafael stopped in his tracks.

"Did you hear that?"

I became a statue. Nothing. Silence, apart from my own heartbeat.

I breathed in, preparing to hold my breath, but in the air I could smell something dreadful. Something metallic, like the smell that lingered in my nose after a nosebleed. But in it there was a damp, pungent heat.

I shuddered. A hiss rattled through my ears. I turned my head, wondering who had shushed us. But there it was again. And it wasn't a voice.

Something brushed against the ground. A flame struck on a torch, giving me a headache from the sudden light.

"Take that damn flame out!" Someone said.

"No," Rafael's voice was cautious, "whatever is here, it has already seen us."

A shadow shocked past us, dimming the torchlight. It moved again, the hissing louder than ever. We spread ourselves, keeping our eyes on every direction. But there was nothing. All there was was dark, tall grass, and a dozen heartbeats within it pounding.

I heard the slow, high pitch of a sword being released from its holster. Only one, and it was by my side. A bead of sweat rolled down by brow. Slowly, as though any movement would prompt the sword to strike me, I turned my head in its direction.

Zolin's needle-like sword was blinding me against the fire. My eyes blinked and adjusted, and I saw that he was stood low with his feet apart, looking upwards towards the stars. I dared to follow his gaze.

A deafening yell scraped the sky.

A dozen heads followed, releasing their weapons, allowing the torch to fall to the ground. On the dry grass, it caught fire, engulfing our surroundings in a blaze. Above, where the sky should have only been the home of stars, the flames illuminated a giant being which seethed and flapped wildly.

I followed its trace.

My heart was gripped as I barely whispered out its name.

"The feathered serpent."