Shard of Glass

by Emily Deady

  “Consider it done.”

  He looked up. “Really?”

  His mother was smiling at him. “Really.”

  “Thank you, Mum.” He flopped down into the chair behind him, feeling light and almost giddy. If Ashlin was at the ball, then he could choose her.

  Chapter 22

  “It’s hideous.” Stasiya’s face clearly displayed her distaste for the blue gown she was wearing. “It’s nothing at all like what the other women will be wearing.”

  Ashlin walked around her, biting back the retort she wanted to give. Her stepsister had chosen this fabric herself, after all. The ball was three days away, and Ashlin had spent every waking hour sewing either this dress or the tapestry. Well, not every waking hour. Her stepsister and stepmother had found plenty of household chores to keep her busy. The more time she spent sewing the dress, however, the less often they requested her to do unnecessary tasks. But with the time-consuming tasks of cooking and laundry, and the frequency with which the delicate Stasiya required hot water to be prepared for a soothing bath, Ashlin had trouble even squeezing in a moment to sew.

  While she would have preferred more time to create the blue ball gown, she was incredibly proud to have produced something worthy of the royal event at all. Nevertheless, she gazed at the gown she had created with a critical eye. While the color still made her stepsister look pale, the clean silhouette and loose drapes of silk were exactly as Ashlin had envisioned. “I thought you wanted to stand out?” she gently queried.

  “Yes, I want to stand out—not get thrown out,” Stasiya snapped back.

  “Well, it’s not finished.” Ashlin pinched the open seams at the shoulder and back to emphasize her point. “Tell me what you dislike so I can make changes.”

  “All of it. I dislike all of it.”

  “Do you still like the color of the fabric?” Ashlin asked.

  Stasiya looked at herself in the mirror. “Yes. I still like the color. I think it will grab attention.”

  “How about the waistline? I know it’s a little higher than what is currently in fashion, but it flatters you very well.”

  Stasiya twisted a bit to get a better view of her profile. “I like the higher waistline. It does make me look quite alluring, doesn’t it?”

  That was not the word Ashlin had in mind, but she continued to encourage specific feedback. “How about the neckline? I think the round shape frames your face nicely.” Ashlin kept to herself the fact that adding as much space between Stasiya’s face and the crisp blue color would help her complexion to appear less sallow.

  “I like the shape of it . . .” Stasiya traced the neckline with her pointer finger. “But it is rather plain, don’t you think?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s just a line. No ruffles, no lace, nothing to make it stand out.”

  Ashlin preferred it that way, but since this was her sister’s dress, she tried to consider it from her point of view. “You will be wearing a necklace, right? That will help.”

  Stasiya pursed her lips. “And the skirt. The skirt is too plain.” She used her hand to indicate the swooping layers of silk. “It’s all just hard edges, nothing that stands out and says I’m a lady of means.”

  She wasn’t a lady of means, but Ashlin did not want to get thrown out of her own house by pointing that out. If only she had time to do some elaborate embroidery. She circled her sister again, imagining new options for the gown.

  “I want something dazzling, or floral and elegant.”

  “Floral?” Ashlin echoed. “That’s it!” She dashed back to the kitchen and returned with a few scraps of the blue silk. Bunching one together in her hand, she twisted and pinched it until the small scrap of fabric resembled a flower. Then she held the flower over the skirt as she explained her idea. “How about a few bouquets of fabric flowers? I could place them around the swoops in the skirt, and even do some smaller ones to surround the neckline.” She glanced at Stasiya in the mirror to gauge her reaction.

  A slow smile spread over her sister’s face. “That would do.”

  Ashlin beamed. “Wonderful. You are going to be stunning at the ball.”

  “Won’t I?” Stasiya smiled back at her.

  Ashlin ignored the dull ache deep in her heart that told her she should be attending the ball in this dress. It was such a rare thing to see her sister so happy that she did not want to spoil the moment with her bitter thoughts. Maybe she could even entice her sister to spend time with her while she finished the gown. “Let me gather some of the extra fabric, and we’ll add those flowers right now.”

  “Do I have to keep this on the whole time?”

  “It will be the best way to decide where the flowers should be placed.”

  “Alright.”

  Ashlin dashed to the kitchen to retrieve more supplies, giddy that her sister had agreed.

  The flowers were easy to create, and Ashlin worked on them quickly so as not to bore Stasiya. As she finished each one, she let her sister choose where to place it on the gown.

  “Add it to the bouquet on the skirt,” Stasiya instructed on the fourteenth flower.

  That particular bouquet already had eight flowers in it, and Ashlin was worried that it was ruining the natural symmetry of the design. “What if we spread it out, to give more of an illusion of lace?”

  Stasiya scrunched her nose. “No, I like the bouquet best.”

  With a few more stitches, Ashlin added it to the overgrown bouquet. It might not be her first choice, but it felt as though they were working on something together, and she was enjoying that feeling.

  She had just started on the next flower when a knock sounded at the downstairs door. Stasiya made no move to answer it, so Ashlin hurried down the stairs. She opened the door to a young man in the livery of the palace. He bowed perfunctorily and handed her a folded parchment. The letter was stamped with the seal of the royal family. Was it from Onric? She dipped her head in thanks, but the deliveryman was already striding back to his waiting horse.

  “Who is it, Ashlin?” her stepmother called, following her down the stairs.

  “A letter from the palace,” Ashlin replied. She wanted to open it herself, but there was no indication who it was for. She handed the folded parchment to her waiting stepmother.

  “A letter from the palace?” Stasiya followed her mother down the stairs.

  “It’s another invitation,” Lady Cabril said, her eyes scanning the letter as she explained its contents. “They have extended the invitation to all the citizens here in the city.” Her eyes narrowed. “Which means that anyone can get in.”

  Ashlin’s heart skipped a beat. She could attend the ball herself as Stasiya would no longer need to take her invitation. “Which means that I can get in.”

  Two pairs of eyes turned towards her.

  “Surely I can attend now as well.” She could not keep the smile from her face. “We no longer need to . . . reserve my place for Stasiya. I can go too, as Ashlin.”

  “My dear,” her stepmother replied, “whatever shall you wear?”

  “Perhaps I can alter one of my sister’s old dresses?”

  “I suppose, if she has something she would not mind giving you.” Lady Cabril turned her gaze to Stasiya, who remained silent. “Of course we would love to have you join us, but there still is a bit of work to do on your sister’s gown, so you will not have time to alter something for yourself . . .”

  “Mother,” Stasiya interrupted, “I think Ashlin should be allowed to join us. It is quite unfair that she has to remain home when she is part of our family, after all.”

  Her sister’s accepting words soothed the fear Ashlin felt while making the request to join them. She was wanted.

  Lady Cabril batted her eyelashes, overcome by her daughter’s kindness. “You are so giving, my dearest daughter.” She drew Stasiya into a hug, but her eyes flitted over to Ashlin, ensuring that her stepdaughter had heard her words. “But that still does not solve the problem of wh
at a kitchen maid could wear to a ball.”

  “She can wear this dress, of course.” Stasiya indicated the blue gown that she was wearing. “She has spent so much time on it, after all.”

  Ashlin’s eyes widened. She had not breathed a word to her sister about wanting to wear the blue silk. Perhaps her sister had noticed her appreciation for the fabric over the time they had spent working on it together. Her eyes stung with tears.

  “But what will you wear?” Lady Cabril asked her daughter.

  “Perhaps Mistress Cedrice still has some dresses that have not sold yet . . . ?” Stasiya’s head was lowered, but her eyes, soft and questioning, looked up at her mother.

  “Be a dear and get me the box above the mantle,” Lady Cabril responded.

  Stasiya gathered her skirts and danced up the steps.

  “Stepmother . . .” Ashlin paused. They had no money. Every penny that she earned at the palace had to be saved for food and fuel. They had already spent what little they had on the blue silk. “We cannot, we should not . . .” She wanted so badly to take the gift that was being offered to her. It was her work that had earned the money to purchase the silk and her work that had turned the silk into a beautiful gown. However, she could not be reckless with the fragility of their current living situation. “We cannot afford a ready-made dress. Let me wear an old gown from her, or even you. It does not have to be perfect. I won’t embarrass you, I promise. I won’t even be dancing with the prince, just watching the dancing from one of the balconies . . .”

  She stopped talking as Lady Cabril turned to her with a sorrowful face. Tears glistened on her stepmother’s eyelids even as a small smile graced her lips.

  “That beautiful soul does not have a selfish bone in her body. You could do well to learn from her Ashlin. After all she has been through, to offer you her own gown.” She paused, composing herself.

  “I am quite touched by her kindness, truly I am. But this is a weighty expense, which is not necessary and we truly cannot afford.” Ashlin could feel the determination in her own voice, and she was instantly proud of herself for standing her ground. Not only was she calmly stating her opinion on a household matter, she was denying herself the chance to wear the gown of her dreams. No matter what her stepmother said, this was an entirely selfless act on her part.

  “If we cannot afford it, that is on you,” Lady Cabril said, dismissing her statement. “I, for one, will not say no to my daughter. She has seen not one father, but two, pass away. If this is what she wants to do, I cannot deny her this small pleasure. We will find a way to make it work. You will wear the blue gown and join us at the ball. It will be a wonderful evening for all of us to enjoy together.”

  “I want that, I truly do.” Ashlin wanted to accept the invitation being handed to her from the two people who made up her remaining family. But she also knew how hard it was to work from dawn until midnight to acquire the few measly coins that were currently sitting in the box above the mantle. She herself did not even have the basic clothing necessities, much less an extravagant gown for an extravagant event. “But what about . . . I’ve . . .” She too had suffered the death of both her parents.

  Every day she went out of her way to make sure her remaining family was as comfortable and happy as possible. She sacrificed her comfort and happiness for the sake of theirs, and she asked for nothing in return. She felt a small seed of resentment settle in her stomach. She twisted her hands together in front of her, feeling the anger grow. “You cannot say no to her, but you can say no to me?” she whispered to her stepmother, unable to hide the accusation in her voice.

  “Oh, my dear.” Her stepmother moved towards her with a face full of compassion as understanding dawned upon it. “That is not how it is at all. I am just so thankful that you would never be so cruel as to ask me for something I cannot give you.”

  She reached out to embrace Ashlin, but Stasiya returned at that moment with the small box from the mantle. Lady Cabril reached into her pocket and found the appropriate key on her small key ring. Unlocking the box, she pulled out the five remaining coins, four copper and one silver. For Ashlin, those coins represented ten days of working long nights at the palace.

  “This won’t even be half enough to buy a dress, but hopefully Mistress Cedrice will accept it as a first payment.” Lady Cabril transferred the coins to her pocket and closed the empty box. “Come Stasiya, let us go to her shop right away to make sure she still has gowns available.”

  Stasiya had already removed the blue dress and changed back into her fur-lined forest-green kirtle. “Yes, Mother.”

  “Come along with us, Ashlin. This is a moment we should all be celebrating together.”

  Wishing she had found time to turn the brown wool into a proper cloak, Ashlin followed them out into the chilly morning air. She did not want to think about her stepmother’s earlier words. Had she created her own unhappy situation because she was not brave enough to ask for what she needed?

  She followed her stepmother and sister to the seamstress’s shop. The two women in front of her chatted comfortably as they walked, and Lady Cabril occasionally threw a compassionate glance over her shoulder at Ashlin. Neither invited her into the conversation.

  Once they arrived, mother and daughter quickly reviewed the three dresses that Mistress Cedrice still had available. Stasiya immediately chose one in a deep burnt orange that actually made her cheeks look full of color.

  Ashlin held up a small mirror so her sister could see herself in the dress. Stasiya twisted and turned in front of it, admiring certain elements and pursing her lips at others.

  “This color makes your skin quite glow,” Ashlin complimented.

  “It does, doesn’t it?” Stasiya pinched her cheeks to bring a spot of red into them. “Mother, what do you think?”

  “Hold still, girl,” Mistress Cedrice reprimanded through a mouthful of pins. The seamstress was closing up the seam in the back to ensure the dress would fit her properly. “I’m bound to stick you with one of these if you don’t stop moving.”

  Stasiya stilled.

  “You look absolutely ravishing, my dear,” Lady Cabril purred. “Wouldn’t you agree, Ashlin?”

  Ashlin nodded in agreement.

  “Mother,” Stasiya said, moving her head carefully so as not to disturb the seamstress, “I think you should consider the burgundy gown.”

  “What?” Lady Cabril placed a hand on her heart. “A new dress for me?”

  “Why ever not?” Stasiya continued. “Your ballgown is so old. And besides, it’s what you wore when you married Cabril. Will it not make you sad to wear it again?”

  Lady Cabril took a shaky breath. “You are so very right. I have been nervous about wearing it again.”

  “Go stand next to the burgundy gown, see how it might look on you.”

  Ashlin watched in disbelief as her stepmother held up the wine-red fabric. In her head, she could only add the number of days at the palace it would take to pay for two entirely new dresses. Not to mention how they were going to purchase their next meal, since the box on top of the mantle was now empty. She shook her head at her stepmother.

  But no one noticed her movement except for Mistress Cedrice, who raised her eyebrows.

  “Ohhh, Mother, that color makes you look truly regal,” Stasiya said.

  “Does it?” Lady Cabril patted her cheeks, a small glow returning to her gray eyes. “What do you think, Ashlin?” She looked back at Ashlin, who was still holding the mirror.

  Ashlin shook her head. “We absolutely cannot . . .” She paused.

  Her stepmother’s eyes had narrowed, the glow replaced by a shadowed stare.

  Ashlin shook her head again, determined to stop this madness. Mistress Cedrice nodded gently up at her.

  Before she could open her mouth again, the door to the shop swung open behind her, announced by the light clinking of the small bell attached to it.

  Ashlin could not see who had entered, but she could see Stasiya’s reaction
.

  Her sister dropped into a deep curtsy. “Your Majesties,” she said with a simper.

  Ashlin spun around, clutching the large mirror to her chest. Onric and his sister, Princess Meena, stood in the doorway as a servant removed their cloaks.

  Onric’s face lit up as soon as he saw Ashlin, and he opened his mouth to speak.

  Ashlin shook her head only the tiniest fraction, but she hoped the ferocity in her face would convey her meaning. Why was he here now? It was not as though she could introduce the prince to her stepmother on a first-name basis.

  “Why hello . . .” Onric had already started.

  Not sure what else to do, Ashlin dropped the mirror in her hands. It shattered loudly, and the entire room froze.

  Except for her stepmother, whose light gray eyes had turned nearly black. Striding forward, she slapped Ashlin across the face. “Clumsy girl. How dare you embarrass me?” Her words were calm but held a venomous undertone. “Clean that up.”

  Ashlin had reeled backwards from the attack, her face stinging in disbelief. She dropped to her knees, covering her cheek to ease the pain, but also hoping to hide her embarrassment.

  Onric was at her side in a heartbeat, dropping to his own knees and placing his hands on her shoulders. “Are you alright?” he asked.

  She nodded for the sake of those watching, but quietly whispered through the fingers over her face, “Not here.” She hoped that no one else in the room could hear her.

  “I must apologize for my maidservant, Your Highness,” said Lady Cabril as she sank low, almost inserting herself between them. “I will be sure to teach her the proper meaning of respect.”

  Onric must have seen the plea in Ashlin’s eyes, for he stood up and stepped backwards. “I’m afraid I am the one who must apologize for disturbing you all. My sister and I are here for a fitting with the seamstress.”

  Ashlin began to pick up the pieces of the mirror. While it had been loud, the glass had only broken into a handful of large pieces. She stacked them on top of each other, careful to avoid the sharp edges with her hand. She kept her eyes focused downward, having no desire to see the wrath in her stepmother’s eyes. But even without looking at his face, she could hear the ire and frustration masked in Onric’s voice.