“Like someone is coming in a ruddy hurry,” Daisy said, and started that direction. Indeed, Rose could hear the thunder of horse hooves—a single rider, coming at a great pace. She hurried after Daisy, holding her straw hat on her head, and crested the grassy hill…
To see one of their riding messengers come flying up the road astride a white horse, his red cape billowing out behind him. He slowed his snorting animal as soon as he caught sight of Daisy and Rose, and quickly dismounted.
“I was told to bring this in all haste, ma’am,” he tipped his hat at Daisy, pulled out a letter from his bag, and handed it to her.
“Well, thank you, my goodness,” Daisy said, brushing her hands off on her apron and taking it from him. “Go get your horse and yourself watered!”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he tipped his hat again, took the horse’s bridle and led the sweating horse toward the stables.
“Well, what on earth is it?” Rose demanded, stepping up to her friend.
“I don’t know,” Daisy said, turning it over. “It’s sealed with a royal-looking seal…” She tore it open and unfolded it…
Her gaze flew to Rose’s.
“It’s from the palace of Glas,” she gasped. “It’s a wedding invitation.”
Once again, Rose stood in the circular council room—but this time, she’d refused to sit down. Instead, she just wrapped her arms around herself, her heart beating in a strange, hurtful pattern against her ribs, as the masters and Daisy discussed. Reola, Effrain and Daisy sat in chairs by the fire, but Clanahan paced behind the female masters.
“It’s still signed ‘Prince Nikolas’,” Clanahan pointed out, jabbing a finger at the paper Effrain held. “Which means he still hasn’t assumed the throne—why would that be?”
“Perhaps is new wife doesn’t want him to be hasty?” Daisy supplied. “Or maybe he’s being crowned on the day of his wedding.”
“New wife?” Clanahan frowned at her. “Are you implying that he isn’t marrying the Queen Iskyla?”
Daisy flung out her hands.
“Why would she invite a bunch of Curse-Breakers to her wedding, when she knows full well she’s stolen that kingdom by means of curses?”
“It is far more likely that she is planning to exact revenge upon all of us for meddling in her affairs,” Effrain spoke up. “What we must decide now is the safety of journeying into Spegel when its current political state is so uncertain.”
“Really,” Daisy’s eyebrows shot up. “We’re…We’re going?”
“I’m not afraid of politics,” Clanahan spat. “And least of all the changeable, moody attitudes of some faerie-beast.”
“That’s one vote for attendance,” Reola noted wryly. “And I must confess, I think it’s what we ought to do. And perhaps what we should have done in the first place.” She glanced at Rose. “I believe we have enough evidence to be certain that Iskyla has conducted the usurpation of a throne by means of curses, which has been illegal for a thousand years.” She rested her hands on the armrests. “If Iskyla means to expand her borders to Spegel by these means, then we can assume her reach will lengthen into the valley and beyond that. I want to confront her before she gets any more ambitious. What do you think, Effrain?”
Effrain gave her a cold look.
“I agree. And I am quite willing to kill her if you give me leave.”
Clanahan snorted.
“Ah, just when I start to think you’re no fun…”
Effrain arched an eyebrow at him. He laughed.
Reola looked at Rose.
“Rose, I know it may be difficult, but we need you to come with us,” Reola said. “Since you are so intimate with the land and the palace, you’ll be invaluable to us. And if we need to stage a coup, you’ll be the one we must turn to. Will you come?”
Rose’s jaw tightened as her pulse beat in her throat.
But she made herself nod once.
“I will come.”
Devon stamped his foot impatiently and snorted. Early afternoon sun filled the valley, and sparrows twittered in the bordering shrubberies. Rose, along with Daisy, Reola, Clanahan and Effrain, all sat on their own horses before the dark twin mountains bearded in ancient fir trees.
The gate to Spegel.
They had all just donned their winter clothes—capes and gloves—and stood gazing up at the forbidding shadow of woods. Rose’s blood ran cold, and she shivered as she gripped the reins.
“All right, let’s have done with it,” Clanahan declared, and clicked to his mighty shire horse. The grey beast carried him forward, toward the low opening…
And the other horses followed. Together, the five of them paced toward the gate, the shadow of the trees falling across them.
“Will it start to snow once we’re in the forest?” Daisy whispered to her.
“I don’t think so,” Rose replied tightly, keeping her gaze straight ahead. “But there will be frost all over the ground.”
Just then, they passed the first set of gnarled trees…
And a breath of wind passed by overhead.
And it rustled through leaves.
Rose’s head shot up. She stared up above her…
The once-naked canopy of branches was covered with foliage—bright green, full-flushed leaves. Sunlight twinkled down through them, creating a dappled pattern across the ground…
The ground, while coated with dead leaves, bore no frost.
“What is this…?” Rose gasped.
“It’s warm in here,” Daisy remarked, tugging on her collar. “And look! Look, look!” she pointed to the base of one of the trees…
Where purple crocuses had poked their little heads up out of the earth and bloomed like living stars.
“Reola—” Rose choked.
“Wait a moment, child,” Reola advised, scanning the woods ahead of her. “Let’s wait and see.”
The trees above them seemed to chuckle secretively in response. Rose clenched the reins in her hands so hard her fingers hurt. And she urged Devon to the front of the line of horses, beside Reola, fighting to calm her heart…
Up ahead, the tree line opened, and a breath of warmth reached them…
Then they stepped out into a broad clearing…
And Rose’s eyes were dazzled.
The clearing was absolutely sun-soaked—thick green grasses crowded with purple and yellow wildflowers carpeted the ground. Bushes burst with white blooms, emerald ivy wound its way up the dark trunks of the towering pines—the tops of which nearly split the limitless blue sky. Countless butterflies and moths fluttered through the meadow, and birds of all kinds darted from branch to hedge to branch, twittering and singing and larking to their heart’s content. Rose nearly drowned in the sweet perfume of baking grass and flowers.
Movement out of the corner of her eye: Effrain was stripping off her cape and gloves, uncovering her pale, shimmering skin to the sunlight—and she tilted her beautiful face back, closed her eyes, and smiled at the sky.
“I don’t believe I’ll have to kill her after all,” she murmured.
Rose’s heart staggered—but Clanahan and Daisy only laughed, and started pulling off their winter wraps also. Slowly, Reola did the same, gazing down the nearly-overgrown path ahead of them.
“Rose,” she said. “Would you like to lead us?”
Rose couldn’t speak. She just dumbly nudged Devon, and he tossed his head and started forward, toward the gap in the trees that looked familiar—but utterly and completely different.
The others trailed after her, their horses ripping up mouthfuls of grass as they passed. They entered a long corridor of trees—a corridor Rose remembered—but she could see now that they were mighty oaks, fully-leafed, and filled with hundreds of chattering squirrels. As they walked beneath them, acorns rattled and clacked as they fell from the branches, and the bushy-tailed squirrels scampered noisily up and down the bark. Sparrows, cardinals and robins darted through the fray, scolding the reckless squirrels, and chirping madly to
each other. Soon, Daisy and Clanahan began singing a rousty tramping song, letting their gladsome voices ring through the woods. Rose could barely breathe, let alone sing—even if she could summon a coherent thought. Absently, she finally tugged her gloves and cape off, managing to stuff them in her saddle bag, her hands weak and shaking.
Six miles later, they neared the end of the oaken canopy, and Rose suddenly recalled the tall, kingly statue of glass that would wait for them at the end of this passage…
She frowned, searching ahead of them, suddenly more bewildered than ever.
“I…Where is it?” she cut into the fifth tramping song, and Clanahan and Daisy fell silent.
“Where is what?” Daisy asked.
“The statue—the statue of a king,” Rose spurred Devon quicker—his hooves crunched over acorns. She then pulled him to a stop in front of the very place where the statue should stand…
But there was nothing there, save a thick, shining holly bush.
“Oh…my…” Daisy suddenly cried—in a stunned and breathless voice.
Rose turned…
To see Daisy staring far up and past her. Rose turned back around…
The Palace of Glas.
A jagged, spectacular height—a mountain itself. Countless pointed towers, woven through with covered serpentine walkways and transparent corridors, threaded together by delicate, spidery black webs. Color blazed through the palace—deepest violet at one wing, to ocean blue, to fervent pink, to blood red, to heart-stopping orange, to stunning gold, to peak each pinnacle with flashing emerald and ruby sparkles. Millions upon millions of frames of glass, in countless arrangements and shapes. Caught in full summer sunlight, radiant and blinding as the gateway to heaven—and surrounded by a forest in full, green, leafy bloom.
“This is impossible,” Rose breathed.
Daisy suddenly laughed out loud, and urged her horse past Rose’s.
“Come on!” Daisy exclaimed. “I’ve been dying to see this castle in person ever since Rose’s first letter!”
Devon started following Daisy’s horse without Rose bidding her—but Rose couldn’t move. She could only sit there, limply holding the reins, staring at the vast, verdant park at the foot of the castle, fair bursting with daffodils and bluebells, with queenly beech trees lining the lane of iron lamps—lamps that burned so bright she almost couldn’t look at them.
As they drew nearer, Rose could catch glimpses of the walls of the fantastic castle through the wide green beech leaves. There, upon the darkest wing: the familiar boiling, churning clouds that looked like the surface of the ocean, then flaring starbursts that pulsed in their hearts; upon the left half of the main gate: a thousand fabulous blue snowflakes that glittered as if they were laced with diamonds; upon the right half of the gate: green, interwoven vines with ruby thorns; upon the central keep: mounting orange and yellow flames of hues so hot they could surely burn; and up, up the gold-and-milkglass towers which clarified to crystal, outlines of suns, with far-stretching shafts lancing out from them. Every angle and wall and tower capturing the surrounding light and refracting it, casting huge, brilliant rainbows onto neighboring towers, and across the land before it.
They stepped into the shadow of the castle—a shadow which swam and spun with interchanging hues—and Reola reached out to the bell, and rang it.
The silvery tone burst through the air, and immediately, a guard darted out onto the parapet above. Rose jerked.
The guard wore splendid white adorned with gold, and he spotted Rose instantly. And—to shock her further—he immediately beamed at her.
“Madam Curse-Breaker!” he shouted. “You’ve come at last!”
Rose’s mouth fell open—she couldn’t summon any words.
“Wait a moment, I shall open the gate!” the guard said, holding up a finger, then dashed off.
“You’re famous,” Daisy teased her. The other Curse-Breakers glanced back at her, but she couldn’t say anything. She felt light-headed, and her heart pounded like a rabbit’s.
Smooth gears began to work, and the beautiful sapphire portcullis eased open, revealing a wide stone courtyard stacked with planters overflowing with draping flowers. In the very center of the courtyard stood something absolutely new: a fountain that looked like a dozen fish leaping upon an ocean wave. The pure water sprayed into the air, laughing as it splashed into the deep bowl below, shining across the blue-and-green fish.
“May we take your horses to the stables?” the guard stepped up beside them, alongside three pages who bowed at the waist.
“Yes, thank you,” Reola nodded, and dismounted. But the guard came immediately to Rose, and grasped Devon’s bridal.
“May I help you dismount, my lady?” he asked earnestly.
“Thank you, I can manage,” she said, and started to get off—but immediately found another page waiting to take her hand. She grasped it and allowed him to help her—all the while Daisy was giving her a knowing grin.
All the horses were led away to the stables to the right, and the five Curse-Breakers stood by the fountain, listening as the water’s song resounded against the glassy surfaces.
“I cannot believe this place,” Daisy murmured, staring up at the neighboring towers.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Rose laughed weakly, feeling slightly ill and fluttering. Then, a side door opened, and another guard strode out—
Rose jumped.
It was Captain Elfrid.
He wore an even more stunning white coat and hat, trimmed in silver, and his face was flushed with color, his eyes alight. He strode right up to her.
“Madam Healer!” he cried, took up her hand, and kissed the back of it.
“Elfrid!” Rose yelped. “Look at you! Look…Look at this place!” She grabbed his hand with both of hers. “What has happened?”
Elfrid laughed, shaking her hand back and forth.
“I wish I could tell you, but it is not my tale to tell!” he answered. “Would you all please come with me?” And he gestured toward the huge scarlet door in front of them.
“Of course,” Effrain nodded coolly. Captain Elfrid then offered his arm to Rose.
Daisy giggled behind her.
Rose couldn’t spare the strength to glare at her, so she gratefully took hold of Elfrid’s arm. Two of the pages re-emerged, hurried around the fountain, grasped the huge door handles, and heaved the great red doors open.
And Rose and Elfrid passed straight into the sun.
A vast crystal hall, far more immense than any she had ever seen—with a deep scarlet floor done in fantastically-intricate mosaic, with mirror lace in between each piece. As the gothic walls rose and stretched toward an infinite, arched heaven, the fathomless scarlet near the floor lifted to heartbeat ruby, then to a smoldering orange, to a multi-faceted amber, to a breathtaking copper—and higher and higher, the gold of the harvest-ready wheat, to the bloom of a piercing yellow…
And at its height, the real sun beamed down, cascading through suspended droplets of clear glass—like a summer rain caught and shafted through.
The far wall—a mighty expanse with an arched crown—displayed a vibrant, lifelike picture of a young king on horseback, his crown held easily in his hand, his head tilted back, as his white horse strode through a field of waving grain. And upon the horizon of the image stood the sun, in spectacular glory, half risen—and within its reaching beams danced graceful, winged angels, bearing lutes and harps, flinging their long curly hair, and laughing at the sky.
Before this glorious image stood a very tall dais—twenty scarlet stairs led up to it—and to either side of it, shorter archways hid doors that led to other rooms. The Curse-Breakers stopped, stunned beyond speech, and Captain Elfrid just smiled to himself.
Then, movement came from the left-hand door.
“Madam Healer,” Elfrid said. “May I present His Majesty, King Alexei of Spegel.”
Rose’s eyes widened, and her startled attention locked on the figure that had just
emerged.
A tall, handsome young man about her age, with a light brown beard and collar-length brown hair. He had flashing blue eyes, and a ready smile. He wore a scarlet doublet and tunic, black trousers and polished riding boots. The crown on his head shimmered like golden carnival glass, and a long fur-lined cape trailed down the stairs behind him as he descended, glittering with a million tiny rubies.
Immediately, the other Curse-Breakers bowed at the waist, as did Captain Elfrid. But Rose just stood there, stunned beyond reckoning, her hand pressed to her heart.
“Rose Melhorn, Curse-Breaker,” the king declared, his voice hearty and merry. He drew up in front of her, and gave her a beaming smile. “How happy I am to be met by you again.”
“I…I beg your pardon, Your Majesty,” Rose stammered. “But I…I don’t believe we have met.”
“Oh, we have indeed,” he assured her, leaning closer to her. “I was the first person you ever saw when you entered Spegel. I was there to greet you at the end of the oak lane.”
Rose’s mouth opened. She stared at him.
“You...!” she gasped. “The…the statue?”
He laughed. The sound rang like morning rain through the whole room.
“Yes, indeed!” he declared. “I was turned to glass thirty years ago by my own wife—my wife who performed that spell to save my life.” He put his hand over his heart. “She was then killed by Queen Iskyla—the Snow Queen, who then set her sights on my son to be her prince consort—and on my realm, to make it hers.” The smile faded from the king’s face, and he gazed earnestly into her eyes. “When you healed the Great Mirror, you broke her spell on my kingdom. As soon as morning came the next day, the sun broke through the palace and melted all the ice, and the summer returned to the whole realm for the first time in thirty years.” The king reached out and took up her hand in both of his. “You freed us. You freed me. The entire kingdom of Spegel is forever in your debt.” And he bent, and fervently kissed her hand.
Behind her, Daisy clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle an astonished giggle.
Glass Page 18
