Of Glass and Glamour

by Chanda Hahn

  “I’d say curse. Nothing good comes when one of the royals marry,” the man with the pipe said. “Remember when King Ferdinand was set to marry that beautiful girl from the north, even proposed, and then walked down the aisle with Giselle instead. I lost a lot of money that day.”

  “I heard it was because the girl was fae, that’s why he didn’t marry her.”

  “Ach! Nothing is as bad as the loss of Prince Vincent’s fiancée. Broke his heart. No wonder he disappeared.”

  “I heard he died,” the tailored gent spoke up.

  “Bad luck! I say. The whole thing is going to end in disaster. Mark my words, the betrothal will be marked with blood and death.” The man waved his optical around in challenge.

  The table became quiet, and no one protested.

  “Now, now, gentleman. Enough with the gossip. Let’s get back to the matter at hand. The odds. Let’s start with the easy favorites. Five to one on the duchy of Dorcille’s girl, Adelle. Ten to one on the guild merchant’s daughter,” a commanding voice cut through the chatter. The man with the top hat.

  “I’m putting it all down on the miller’s daughter. Have you seen her, Chamberlain?” A low whistle from Bishop’s lips followed his endorsement.

  “Yes, that’s true, but the first night is always a masquerade,” the one with his back to me stated.

  “So? Are you saying that beauty won’t win? How do you think the prince will pick his new wife if not by looks?” Bishop asked.

  “I will let you in on a little secret, gentleman. The first night is always masquerade ball designed to flaunt wealth via their costumes. Don’t expect any of the ladies with little money to their name to make it till morning. They will be escorted out the door before midnight,” the man I couldn’t see replied.

  “No? Then why the masks?” Chamberlain asked.

  “It’s to make sure that the prince doesn’t fall for a pretty face over a fat purse.” Bishop chuckled.

  “Ah, yes. I see now. What about the daughter of Duchovny?” the man with the pipe asked.

  “Not coming. The father deemed her too young to marry at this time.”

  Caught up in the gossip and the betting surrounding tomorrow’s masquerade ball, my mind swirled with newfound information. I quickly learned who the top favorites were to win the prince’s heart, who was broke and going to try and win the crown through deception, and who were the natural beauties that had little to offer other than their looks.

  But as I stood outside the curtain listening to the intrigue, I knew that without some unnatural help, I would never make it through the first night, much less the second night of the ball. My hand brushed an invisible fleck of dirt from my silk skirt, and as my confidence dropped, so did my glamour and the dress flickered.

  If I lost control of my emotions, I wouldn’t be able to keep a glamour over my clothes, and how could I possibly compete with the daughters of the rich nobles?

  So preoccupied in my thoughts, I didn’t see the curtain move until Dorian stepped right into my path, his shoulder knocking into me, causing me to stumble. He reached out to catch my elbow to steady me but immediately let go once I was set aright, not even sparing me a look.

  I frowned at being put aside so easily. Dorian was looking for someone, and I followed at a distance as he caught up with Madam Pantalonne as she was heading up the stairs.

  “Madam, may I so much as trouble you for the name of the young lady you had escorted up to your room earlier?”

  I hid my eagerness and turned my back to begin clearing the table next to them. He was asking about me.

  “Why, Dorian, were you unable to whisk her name from her with all of your charm? That would be a first,” she teased.

  “Yes, sadly the little sparrow has evaded my capture.”

  “And your claws.” Her voice grew wary. “I may turn a blind eye to your charades and games, Dorian, and never do I speak up when you romance your way through my ladies, but I swear you will leave this poor girl alone.”

  My tray was full, but I wasn’t ready to leave. Very carefully, I put the glasses back on the table and began to clear them again. Keeping my back to them, I listened eagerly.

  “Madam, I—”

  “No, Dorian. I will not tell you her name. I can’t. I didn’t ask her, or have you forgotten what kind of establishment this is? People come here to be left alone. I respect their privacy. You should too.”

  I wanted to clap, shout, and hug Madam Pantalonne, for she was a champion of women and underdogs.

  “Besides, she will leave soon enough. She didn’t have many possessions and will not make it past the first night, and you will not swoop in when she is culled. Spare her from being one of your many trophies.”

  I frowned.

  Even the madam had little faith in me, that I would make it through the event. Painful tears burned at the corners of my eyes, and I felt like I was back home, being passed over time and time again in favor of my younger, more talented sisters.

  “Go home, Dorian,” Madam commanded. “Or have you forgotten about Sisa already?”

  “But—”

  “Go!” She pointed to the door.

  Dorian seemed on the verge of arguing with the pink-haired woman, but he gathered his cloak about his shoulders and headed into the night. I watched him step out the front door.

  Sisa? Who was Sisa? His wife? A lover? A dark storm cloud gathered over my emotions as I once again realized how foolish and naive I was. Even here, far away from my family, no one believed in me. Total strangers didn’t believe in me. But it only fueled my determination.

  I had come to avenge my parents, but maybe, just maybe I would steal a throne while I was at it.

  Chapter Six

  The light came streaming in the window, burning the back of my eyelids. In my tower room at home, it was dark and dismal. My windows faced west, so it was always dark and dreary in the mornings. I hated this bright wakeup call. Maybe I’d think about asking for a different room. Maybe they had one in the cellar. I sat up, and my head hurt so much that I fell back onto the pillow.

  After a full mark, I dragged myself out of bed, pulled out my satchel, and dug through it, scrounging for something to eat. I found a packet of nuts and a few stale crackers wrapped in butcher paper.

  I could work with that. Changing the flavor of something was easy to do. If I could just remember the right spell. I drew a sigil over the crackers, feeling triumphant that I was going to have cake for breakfast. I popped it in my mouth and chewed slowly, savoring the… burning. Holy stars above!

  Pfffft. The crackers flew from my mouth, scattering across the bed and onto the floor. “Ah, ah, ah.” I panted as I tried to wipe the cracker from my tongue.

  It was inedible.

  I turned the cracker into a peddler pepper. My eyes burned, and I began to cough. I looked back at the purse, wishing I had something to wash it down with, like a normal plain cracker. Nope. Wasn’t going to try that again. My powers useless, I grabbed the nuts and slowly chewed each one of them. The more I focused on the nuts, the less my tongue burned from the pepper.

  After a few minutes, I opened the small case and looked through my sparse clothes. I put on a sensible skirt with leggings, a long jacket, and boots. After braiding my hair over my shoulder, I gave myself a cursory glance in the mirror. It would do. Before I left, I drew another sigil over the door—a “do not disturb” one that made others stay clear of my room.

  Walking down the stairs, I saw an unattended tray of fruit on a side table. I nabbed a few and placed them in my bag before heading out into the street. Once I had made my way around the block, I took a bite out of the apple and spit it out. What was wrong with people? Who would turn their fruit into wax? I quickly inspected the pear and saw that it was spelled the same way. Disgusted, I tossed both into the nearest trash bin and grumbled my way back to the main square as I headed toward the palace.

  The whole town seemed to be built in the palace’s shadow, and even though it
was midmorning, there was a chill in the air. No one gave me any notice as I walked the streets. When a few gruff men tried to gain my attention, I silenced their advances with a cold, calculated stare. Maybe they could feel my desire to bespell them if given the chance?

  The market was bustling and filled with vendors selling flowers, exotic spices, and food to accommodate the group that had gathered outside, waiting to get into the palace, or get a look at the prince.

  I purchased a real apple from an elderly woman and tucked it into the pocket of my skirt before falling among a group of ladies who were watching the manor with envious eyes. The guards were stopping each person entering the palace gates and checking their faces carefully and comparing it to sketches they had in their hands. What was going on?

  Three of the ladies were furiously waving their fans to cool themselves off in the warm sun and spoke in hushed tones. “What are they doing?”

  “I heard that they are being very cautious with the invitations this year.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because of what happened with the prince of Baist. That sorceress swapped out his bride for her daughter on his wedding day.”

  “No!” Gasps followed.

  “Yes, no one knows what the crazy hag will do next.”

  “Don’t tell tales, Lizzie.”

  “I’m not telling tales. My lips speak nothing but the truth.”

  “Sorry, ladies. If you want to enter, you must get in line.” A guard stopped them as they had wandered too close to the gates and pointed to the line of people waiting to get in.

  I wasn’t prepared for an inspection but decided to test my ability to sneak into the palace ahead of time. I would do some snooping to see how tough it would be to get in.

  I purchased a basket of flowers from a vendor and waited for the right moment. A retinue of guards were coming from the main square and heading into the palace by the main gates. I targeted a younger-looking guard and pasted a smile on my face as I plowed into his strong chest, my finger reaching for his uniform.

  “I’m so sorry,” I cried out, dropping my flowers and waving my hands in the air in embarrassment.

  The guard bent down and picked up my basket, carefully putting each flower back into it before handing it off to me. “No need, miss. It happens. Are you all right?” He gently touched my arm, and my cheeks flushed. I looked up into his warm brown eyes filled with concern and froze.

  I was stunned by the genuine emotions that poured from him. One of the things we had been taught by Mother was to read auras. His was so pure, so filled with light that it was like looking upon the sun. I blinked and shook my head, trying to let the aura fade from my vision. A second glance, I was able to see him, the square nose, brown hair with a cowlick that didn’t want to stay down, and his charming smile.

  It was disgusting. I reminded myself.

  “I’m fine.” I pulled my elbow out of his hand and lifted my chin. I was unnerved by his virtuousness and could feel it want to inch over to my own darker aura. It was hard to breathe. I stepped back and thrust out my hand, demanding my basket. Instead of handing it to me, he took a step forward. I retreated.

  He frowned, those dark brows pulling together in confusion. “Hey, filly, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Did you just call me a horse?” I rolled my eyes.

  “No...? Yes, but wait.”

  “Forget it. Keep the flowers.” I waved him off. Lifting the hem of my dress, I hurried down the street in the opposite direction. I could hear him yelling after me, his footsteps hitting the brick road. I reached into my purse and dug until I found the apple from a stall vendor I purchased earlier. Ducking into an alley, I bit the apple, being careful to not swallow and hold it in my teeth. The juices ran over my tongue. I could feel the change take over, starting with my hair and shoulders. My hips widened, my back crooked lower, and my hands began to wrinkle—taking on the appearance of the elderly apple vendor. I turned around and was almost knocked over by the soldier.

  “Oh, excuse me, ma’am. Did you happen to see a young woman pass this way?”

  I nodded and pointed down the street.

  “Thank you so much.” He gave my arm a quick squeeze before taking off running down the alley, my basket of flowers still in his hands.

  I quickly chewed and swallowed the apple and felt my body began to transform. Tossing the apple into the street, I held up a gold button with an insignia on it—Candor’s insignia, a gold sun—stolen from the young guard’s uniform. I had pinched it when I pretended to run into him.

  I held the button in my hand and focused my attention on a glamor. The reason I chose that soldier was because he was average looking, easily forgotten. He wasn’t too handsome or too ugly. Taking over his identity was easy, and I quickly made my way back to the palace gates. One of the guards waved me through, and I could see where the guards had headed into the barracks.

  I had made it. I was in the palace. I grinned in excitement. A loud voice boomed from behind, and I felt a slap on my bottom.

  I shrieked.

  Loud merriment from the men surrounded me. “Did you hear Derek? He screamed like a girl.”

  I turned on the nearest offender, working my fingers and getting ready to fling some errant curse his way, but then I remembered who I was pretending to be. I had seen men do this ritual before where they hit each other on the bottoms. The world was an odd place.

  “So, did you find that fine filly? Give ’er something to remember you by?” The tall guard wiggled his eyebrows at me.

  My cheeks flamed, and I had to bite my tongue. I nodded.

  “Not gonna kiss and tell, then are you?”

  I shook my head and squared my shoulders as I spotted a dark head of hair coming in through the gates. It was Derek. He was back. I couldn’t believe he had given up the chase already. The other guards had begun to remove their cloaks and unbutton their belts, and I realized they were undressing. Feeling trapped, I walked down the rows of bunks until I came to a side entrance. Keeping my head low, I escaped the barracks just as Derek came through the door and to the side.

  Pressing my hand to my chest, I took a deep breath and listened.

  “Whoa! Derek how did you do that?” a voice asked.

  “Do what?” Derek was understandably confused.

  “Go out that door and come in through this one?”

  That was my cue to leave. My escape had not gone unnoticed.

  “Are you mad, Leonard?” Derek asked. “I just got here.”

  My heart pounded at how close a call it was, but I kept my head down and slipped into the closest covered building, which were the stables.

  As soon as I was out of sight, I started to swear up a storm, my arms flailing as I swore to the stars above, I was going to rain down boils on all of the army for slapping me. And during my rant, I lost hold of Derek’s button and it fell into the straw.

  No! I kneeled down and quickly ran my fingers through the straw, scattering it, trying to find the round button.

  Raised voices came toward me, and I ducked into an occupied horse stall. Keeping low, I moved to the rear of the stall, gently shushing the roan and running my hand over its haunches while I eavesdropped on the conversation.

  “I don’t care what you want. I want you to pick a bride from the ladies coming to the ball.” The voice was old, rough, and filled with authority.

  “That is difficult to do when they’re wearing masks. You might as well ask me to pick a bride based on the size and make of her shoe.”

  I smirked at the sarcastic tone of the second speaker. I carefully peeked above the stall to confirm my suspicions. It was King Ferdinand, wearing a dark pinstripe suit. The king had a mustache. His hair, speckled with gray, looked almost white. The prince’s back was too me, and I couldn’t see him other than the cut of his short dark hair.

  “Well, if they were perhaps made of gold or diamonds, then I’d say, yes, you should,” the king answered.

&
nbsp; “So, you’re saying I should base a woman's worthiness on how extravagant and expensive her footwear is?”

  “No, I’m asking you to base it on her family’s bank accounts,” the king snapped.

  My stomach rolled in disgust at the king’s demands. No wonder Mother hated him.

  “I can’t do that,” the prince argued.

  “You will, or you will end up just like your brother.”

  “If only all of us could so easily escape the weight of a crown.”

  “We will not speak of him again,” the king roared.

  “Aren’t you worried the witch will show up? I heard that she ruined Prince Xander’s wedding.”

  I bit my lip in fury as they spoke ill of my family. I shifted my weight on my heels when I saw the button on the floor outside the stall. Just out of my reach.

  Prince Evander continued. “What if she comes here? What about the pro—”

  “Of course, I’m worried. One of her daughters is already in the city. She arrived by transport last night. I will take care of it. The prophecy will not come true. I’m bringing in a truth seer to monitor the entrance. No witch, wizard, or fae will get passed the gates.”

  This news made me worried. It meant the driver betrayed the passenger oath, of keeping fares private. He must have gone to the king.

  My fingers curled into fist, my nails digging painfully into the palm of my hand. I itched to reach my hand forth and exact revenge, strike him down, burn the barn to the ground, but instead, I restrained myself. Could I murder him in cold blood?

  Patience. That was key. What was a few more days?

  The king groaned as if in pain. “All I ask is that you do what you’re told. Take a wife. Preferably a rich one.”

  “Fine,” the prince snapped.

  “Fine.” The king huffed and stormed out of the stables. I feared for my life even more, knowing that if I was caught, there would be hell to pay.

  My safety lay in the button, just out of reach. Making a rash decision, I lunged for the button and rolled into the open stall across from me.

  “Who's there?” the prince called out.