Shard of Glass

by Emily Deady

  “So Prince Ian was wrong?” He tried to stop the stupid grin that spread across his face, but he so desperately wanted to hear this anonymous young woman criticize his perfect brother.

  “Oh, no.” She glanced up at him quickly, her face pale. “That’s not what I said. Of course, the crown prince was right to follow the wishes of the Council. I would never . . .”

  “Don’t worry,” he cut her off, “I understood your meaning completely, and I wish that the monastery could have remained untouched.” He had not intended to cause her alarm.

  “You are sure?” Her soft brown eyes pleaded with him. “I would never breathe a word against the royal family.”

  “Absolutely,” he reassured her, not wanting to give away his identity. “I am entirely in agreement with you.”

  She scoured his face for a few more moments before nodding and dropping her eyes back to her stitching. She snipped the end of the thread and set down her needle. “It’s done.”

  “That was . . . quick.” He stood up, swinging off his jerkin, and walked over to her. He was not sure how long it should have taken, but he wished it had taken longer.

  She stood, handing him the shirt.

  He slipped it over his head, not even thinking to check her work. He could feel the light touch of her fingertips as she adjusted the sleeve over his arm, tracing the line of the seam she had just sewn.

  “It’s not completely hidden, but it sits just fine.” She looked up at him, her smile reserved.

  “Yes, it does.” His eyes were looking at her, though, not at his outstretched arm.

  “I’m afraid I have to get back to the washing.” She was still standing right next to him.

  “I won’t keep you. I should get back to my brother.”

  She stepped backwards. “Your brother?”

  “We, uh, yes.” He gritted his teeth. He was addled in the brain. “My brother. We did not want to frighten you all at once.”

  “You left your brother out in this weather?” Her eyes were wide, full of judgment. At least she had forgotten her self-consciousness.

  “He opted to stay with the horses,” Onric said, defending himself.

  She crossed her arms.

  “I’ll go get him.” Onric grabbed his cloak from the fireplace and trudged back out into the storm. Moments later, he guided Ian back through the door into the welcoming little kitchen. The maid was cutting another slice of bread.

  “I’m so terribly sorry.” She stepped behind Ian and grabbed his cloak as he removed it, shooting Onric an angry glare behind his brother’s back. “I had no idea you had been left out in the cold.”

  Ian turned and bowed gallantly over her hand. “Your barn is quite accommodating, m’lady.”

  She smiled shyly and gestured towards the table. “Please eat and warm yourself for a moment.”

  Onric placed his cloak in front of the fireplace again, searching for the happiness he had felt a few moments prior.

  “Thank you for stitching up my brother,” Ian was saying, a smile in his voice.

  She was blushing. Straight up blushing. Suddenly, the small kitchen felt claustrophobic. Ian tried to catch his brother’s eye when she turned away. He probably wanted to celebrate that she had not recognized either of them, but Onric turned his shoulder and pretended to be warming by the hearth. He stared at the flames while his brother and the maid chatted comfortably behind him.

  “Excuse me.” Suddenly she was right next to him, leaning towards the fire. She reached out with an iron tong, pulling at the boiling kettle amidst the flames.

  “Allow me.” Taking the tong and the thick rag from her hands, Onric maneuvered the kettle to a safe place and lifted it by the handle. It was heavy. He looked around to see what she needed it for.

  She had stepped back towards the washbasin. “In here, please.”

  He carefully poured the boiling water into the half-empty basin.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He replaced the kettle as she started washing the clothes from the basket. Ian smirked at him, his head making subtle gestures towards the girl.

  Onric rolled his eyes, using his own head to gesture towards the door.

  Ian leaned back in his chair, getting comfortable.

  Onric shot him a look, trying to convey the terrible things he planned to inflict on his older brother as soon as he had the chance, but he was not going to let Ian ruin this.

  Despite the warm glow of the fireplace and his easy conversation with the young woman, he had not failed to notice the darkness under her eyes and the extra seconds it took to bring a smile to her face.

  He moved from the fire back to the washbasin. “Let me help?”

  She looked up at him, not convinced. “You don’t exactly seem to be the type of person who is used to doing the washing.”

  His brain scrambled for a way to reply when he noticed she was smiling. She was teasing him.

  “Quite the contrary, I wash and brush my horse nearly every day,” he replied in the same vein, but it was also true. He liked to care for Blossom himself.

  She downright laughed at that. “Is that how you plan to care for these dresses, then?” She lifted a purple mass from the basket on the floor beside the basin.

  “Ah, yes.” He took it from her hand. “Have you any extra oats to keep it busy while I scrub?” He looked around the room, pretending.

  She smiled at him and dropped her head to continue her task.

  “I’m quite serious. The hour is late. Let me help you finish.” His tone was sincere, no longer teasing.

  She handed him a bar of lye soap.

  He bent over the basin, his head close to hers. “Why did you open the door to a complete stranger? That seems quite brave.” He tried to keep his voice quiet, not wanting Ian to participate in this conversation.

  “Brave? I could not let you suffer in the storm.” She paused, her eyes tensing. “Although I’m afraid I cannot offer to let you stay inside the house.”

  Ian stood from the table. “We would not dream of imposing such on you or your master.” He swung his cloak over his shoulders. “Thank you for your kindness. I’m going to try and catch some sleep.” With a light smirk at Onric, he slipped out the door. The small kitchen immediately felt more comfortable.

  “You do not have to stay, sir. You are surely tired.” The maid was looking up at him again.

  “As are you,” he responded. That brought out another smile.

  “Oh! I can warm this for you.” She removed her hands from the soapy water and wiped them on her apron before retrieving a length of brown fabric from a basket and spreading it near the fireplace. It was marked with several holes, and it looked quite homely spread out next to his fine cloak. But her gesture of thoughtfulness caused the muscles in his chest to constrict, and for a moment he found it difficult to breathe.

  Sometime later, when he had helped the tired girl to wring out every dress and dishrag, he wrapped himself in his cloak and added the extra layer of the warm wool around his shoulders. Bidding her a sleepy goodnight, he went out again into the pouring rain to join his brother in the barn.

  Chapter 3

  Having woken before dawn, Ashlin went to check the barn. But the kind young man and his brother were gone. They had folded the brown wool and placed it on the side of a stall, off the muddy ground. Two more gold coins were nestled on top of the folded fabric. Pocketing the coins, she smiled at the memory of . . . Her thoughts stopped abruptly.

  She did not know his name!

  After the first awkward moments, they had begun conversing so quickly, as though they had always been friends. Then they had spent the rest of the night laughing over the washing. He had wrung the water from each item after she scrubbed it, which made the entire task go by quite quickly. With another smile, she realized that her arms were not aching, as they usually were after washing day. Afterward, he had merely slipped sleepily out the door with his newly dried cloak and the warmed wool as an extra blanket. She had c
ompletely forgotten to even ask who he was. She had known he was a nobleman as soon as he had knocked on the door. His jerkin was a deep purple, one of the reserved dyes. There was also something kind and honest in his eyes, which she trusted right away. Her stepmother always said that she trusted too easily, which was probably true.

  Even if she did not know his name, at the very least she could relish her memory of the previous night. Those happy thoughts remained with her as she walked to the palace to inquire about work. After being directed to various people, she eventually found herself trailing the man in charge of the day-to-day operations of the castle, Steward Daniel. The middle-aged man, who was short in stature and had a round face and short nose, was inspecting barrels of beer in the buttery. He held a ledger on which he marked the contents of each barrel.

  “Looking for work? Everyone is these days,” he muttered, having barely glanced at her.

  “Yes, sir. I work hard and do not complain.”

  “We are in need of a few chambermaids, but we cannot go passing those positions out to anyone who walks in off the street. Never know when a Majis will try to infiltrate the castle.” He stopped then and looked at her, eyes pinched in scrutiny. “You aren’t a Majis, are you?”

  “No, sir.” Ashlin shook her head emphatically. She had never seen a Majis, as they had been exiled from the five kingdoms for one thousand seasons. But legend said they were monsters, tall and cruel. The thought that someone would mistake her for one was ludicrous, but the steward was still glaring at her, so she elaborated, “My name is Ashlin Cabril. My father was Lord Cabril . . .”

  The scrutiny in the man’s eyes dissipated. “Ahhh. A sad affair that was. Who could have predicted such a storm in the middle of goldenreign? No natural explanation. It’s a good thing the castle wasn’t built near the sea.” He paused, bringing himself back to the matter at hand. “You are the first nobleman’s daughter to come looking for work here, but if this frost does not break soon, you won’t be the last.” He shook another barrel to gauge its contents. “I’m willing to give you a try. You look like an honest one, and I can’t say that about everyone here. What with the exile being almost over, the Council says we cannot be too careful. Surely they’ll be back for vengeance, and what better place to start than within the royal palaces themselves . . .” He paused, looking back at her again. “Here I am blabbing on to you about things I should not be opening my mouth about. Don’t go chatting about this now, and I won’t let anyone know that a lord’s daughter is scrubbing the floors. You can scrub floors, right?”

  “Of course, sir,” she responded. “Quite well, actually.”

  “Good. Come back this evening, an hour before sundown. You’ll be on the evening crew. Half days, but working after dark. One copper a day. Remember your station while you’re here and we won’t have any trouble.”

  “Thank you, sir!”

  Ashlin practically floated home after that, and the smile from her stepmother when she shared the news kept her energy high for the rest of her regular duties.

  Upon returning to the castle that evening, she was given a wooden pail of warm, soapy water and instructed to follow the steward. While she was excited to see the interior of the royal palace, so far all she had seen were the kitchens, the buttery, and the current undercroft they were walking through to get to the other side of the castle. While the working rooms were larger, busier, and more efficient than anything she had ever seen, they were surprisingly simple and functional.

  “This staircase connects the royal living quarters to the interior courtyard,” the steward said as he led her back up to the ground level, “but since it isn’t used in the evenings, it’s a good place for you to start. You are not to speak to the betters, though ’tis unlikely that you will see anyone. Hommlyn will be along shortly to light the torches during his rounds. When you are finished, come find me.”

  Ashlin nodded in understanding, but the busy man had already trundled back down to the lower passageway.

  She set the heavy bucket on the bottom step and knelt beside it. She was excited to begin her new responsibilities, which made her smile. She had never been excited to work before.

  The staircase in front of her was made of solid wood slabs that had been polished smooth by years of use. Closed doors at both the top and bottom helped to insulate the cold air from the living quarters. While she was deep in the interior of the castle and the walls around her were stone, she guessed that she was still not in the original castle itself. That part of the royal palace was said to be little more than ruins and was no longer in use. The newer wings of the current palace had been built around the original castle.

  The large wooden slabs in front of her were caked in a fine layer of mud that had been tracked in from the courtyard. Twisting the excess water from the rag in the pail, she began to scrub the bottom step, then realized her mistake. If she started from the bottom, which was the dirtiest, the water in her pail would quickly turn into a muddy mess. Lifting the pail again, she carefully made her way to the top step and started over.

  By the time she was a few steps from the bottom, all semblance of daylight was gone but no one had come to light the torches yet. She could no longer see what she was doing and was unsure of how to continue.

  She considered finding her way back to the kitchens, but she was not entirely sure she could navigate back there on her own. And she did not want to complain without first trying to solve the problem.

  The stairwell had three iron candle holders on either side. Each one held a thick tallow candle surrounded by a cast iron cage. The iron bands around the candle were supposed to act as a safety measure so that nothing could fall into the candle flame and catch fire. Though, each also had an opening at the top so that the candle could be lifted out and replaced.

  Ashlin reached towards the candle closest to her, but she was too short to grasp it.

  Thinking on her feet, she went up two steps and reached backward to pluck the candle from its cage. It took a few tries and a long stretch, but she was able to maneuver it out.

  Not daring to enter the doorway at the top of the stairs, she ventured back out into the open courtyard. It was quite empty. The steward had said it was an interior courtyard, which likely meant that it was only used by those who lived in the castle. Ashlin could feel her heart pounding. She was not afraid of the dark, but being trapped in a strange place with no idea how to find her way out was unnerving.

  That was, until a young man appeared from a doorway across the courtyard. He was wearing the uniform of the palace guard and carrying a long, thin candle that he was using to light the torches dotting the exterior walls.

  Exhaling a deep breath, she quickly moved towards him. “Excuse me, Hommlyn?” she queried.

  The young man paused his action and faced her. “No, miss. I’m Drirsi. Hommlyn hurt his leg and was sent home, so they sent me to fill in for him.”

  “Oh, excellent.” She met his smile with one of her own. “Can you light this? The stairway back there is completely in the dark.”

  “So is every other room in the whole palace, which is why I am rushing.” He dipped his long taper over her candle until the wick caught. “Could you do the rest of the torches in the stairway so I can hurry on to the other more used areas?”

  “Of course!”

  “Thank you ever so much.”

  “Thank you, Drirsi!” she called over her shoulder as she returned to her waiting domain.

  Climbing up the steps in order to reach the candle holder, she carefully slid the now-lit candle over the top of the protective cage, balancing it with her fingers until it fell into place. Fortunately, the flame did not go out as it landed in its place. By the dim light of the single candle, she went across to the other wall to get the next one. But when she brought it back to the original sconce to light it, she ran into a problem. She could not get the wide candle close enough to the flame, and now that the original candle was lit, she could no longer reach over the top of the
iron cage to pull the candle back out.

  Standing up on her toes, she stretched her arm as far as she could and tried to get the candle in her hand closer to the small flame protected by the iron sconce. Balancing on the balls of her feet, she shuffled just a touch closer to the edge of the stair.

  The lower door in front of her opened with a clang, and her body tensed in surprise.

  Losing her footing, she fell forward. Before she could tumble completely to the ground, her face slammed against a broad chest, and she felt two firm hands catch her waist. In a moment, she was back in balance with her feet on the ground—back in balance, but uncomfortably close to a definitively male person. In the dim light, her eyes registered a purple jerkin right in front of her face, and she followed the row of buttons up to see a clean-shaven jaw and a familiar pair of smiling eyes.

  Those smiling eyes lit up as he recognized her, and his face spread into a happy grin, which she knew mirrored her own.

  “It’s you,” he said.

  “And you are?” she asked, determined to get his name this time.

  “He is Prince Onric of Iseldis,” a voice spoke from behind him, and she looked around his arm, which was still holding her waist, to see his brother.

  She jumped backward, her ankles hitting the step behind her. But she caught herself in time and backed up a few steps to put distance between them as horror and embarrassment covered her face.

  “And I am Ian,” his brother continued.

  “The crown prince,” she stammered. “And . . . Prince Onric.” She bowed in an awkward curtsy as the awful truth washed over her. “You . . . you slept in my barn.” She wanted to run away and be sick. “Why did you not say something?”

  The smile had left Onric’s face. He rubbed his neck, blushing.

  Ian stepped around him, elegantly reaching for her hand and bowing low over it, which only added to her embarrassment. “My dear, you were quite gracious. Do not trouble yourself about it. We are forever in your debt.”

  “My Lord . . . Your Highness. . .” She awkwardly dipped her head again as she pulled her hand away from his. Thankfully, he stepped away and lightly continued up the staircase, disappearing through the doorway at the top. Unfortunately for her, his brother did not follow suit.