Shard of Glass

by Emily Deady

  Another cart rolled up the hill.

  Onric handed the ledger back to the guard. “Thank you, Brandon. Carry on.”

  The guard gave him a slight bow and turned his attention back to the road.

  Onric exited the gate to walk along the road towards the official palace entrance. He had already checked it twice that morning, but they were expecting hundreds of new visitors to enter before the ball began that evening.

  Walking along the road gave him the opportunity to watch for any unusual activity happening outside the palace itself. Other than the increase in traffic, he did not find anything to distract him. At this point, he was almost wishing for a disaster to happen. He felt confined, restless with energy. His body longed for activity and motion. Instead, he was facing an entire night of dancing, conversing, and trying to make an impossible choice.

  He briefly considered defying his father, but he knew it was not only his father who had asked. Just as it was his duty to see to the safety of every person inside the castle walls that night, it was his duty to protect Iseldis in whatever way he could.

  A hooded figure trudged along the road towards him. Onric lost all other thought as he studied the approaching traveler for a moment. He quickly recognized the confident gait of his older brother.

  “Ho! Traveler,” Onric called, deepening his voice and speaking as an aggressive guard, “what business do you have walking so close to the palace of Iseldis?”

  Ian hunched forward, attempting to further hide his face beneath the dark hood. “Just passing through to see the festivities, my good sir,” he replied. His voice was uncharacteristically high.

  Onric smirked. “Be on your way and be quick about it, or I shall call the castle dogs on you.”

  “Castle dogs?” Ian replied in an entirely Ian voice. “Since when does the castle have dogs?” He remembered his character halfway through the second statement, which ended on a much higher note than it had begun.

  “Ever since Lord Onric decided he’d rather not see the traveling peasants when he looked out his window. He’s really quite clever, that one—the best of the whole royal lot, if you ask me.” Onric could not keep the laughter from his voice.

  Ian stood up straight when he recognized who was speaking. He pulled his hood back slightly so his face was visible. He did not look particularly pleased to have been found out. “What gave me away?”

  “You are my older brother. I could pick you out of a crowd anytime.” Onric fell into step beside him. “What are you doing out here? I thought you would surely be preparing yourself for tonight,” he said, echoing the question he had just been asked by the guard.

  “Preparing what?”

  Onric shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not my ball . . .” He let out a long sigh.

  “It is now.” Ian had heard their father’s request.

  “I see.” Onric sighed, answering his own previous question. He now understood why his brother was too restless to stay inside the palace at the moment.

  “What are you doing out here? At least you know the right one will show up.”

  “She won’t.”

  “Oh.” Ian looked over at him. “Do you—”

  “No,” Onric said, cutting him off. He could not even think about it yet, much less talk about it. He could not believe she had so little faith in him. He had been entirely honest with her in all his words and actions.

  “What would you say to a short visit to the old training yard?”

  Onric looked over at his brother. They had not sparred together in some time, but a good old brotherly brawl sounded like the most fun he would have all day. “I would say we better get over there before Mum comes looking for us.”

  “Don’t worry, I told Meena to keep her occupied for as long as possible.”

  “Smart.” Onric picked up his pace, eager to finally have something to do.

  Chapter 27

  The morning of the ball, Ashlin awoke to find her stepmother rekindling the kitchen fire.

  “Good morning, my dear,” she said. “Stasiya wanted to bathe early to have time to wash her hair before the ball, and you’ve been so tired recently I thought I would let you sleep.”

  Ignoring the empty feeling in her heart, Ashlin thanked her as animatedly as she could. Grabbing the empty pail at the door, she stepped out into the cold to fill it from the well. The bitter morning air quickly shocked her into wakefulness.

  With the unexpected help from her stepmother, Ashlin soon had a warm bath prepared for Stasiya.

  Her stepsister, giddy with excitement, quickly took advantage of it.

  “I am quite exhausted already,” Lady Cabril said as she sank into one of the chairs in the kitchen, “I don’t know how I shall stay awake until tonight. Do be a dear and get some breakfast going?”

  Ashlin hunted through the empty baskets in the kitchen, finally finding a few handfuls of grain for a porridge.

  “You should bathe next, so your hair has time to dry as well,” Lady Cabril offered.

  “Time to dry?” Ashlin repeated. Apparently, her brain was still quite foggy.

  “Of course. You are coming with us still?”

  “You still want me to be there with you?”

  “My dear, we have been over this. Naturally, we will have them announce your sister as Ashlin Cabril, since the prince has already been introduced to her under that name. Are you considering not going? I thought you wanted to do this.”

  “I did.” Ashlin stirred the pot over the fire to keep the porridge from burning. “I do.” Except that she also did not. She could not bear to see Onric again so soon. She could not bear to see him dancing with other women, assessing them, judging them, choosing them.

  “Good,” her stepmother continued. “We cannot disappoint your sister after she went through so much to get you a dress for tonight. Her excitement is quite contagious, is it not? Come, let us go help her with her hair. Breakfast can wait.”

  Ashlin spent the rest of the afternoon in the family parlor, helping Stasiya to prepare for the ball. Lady Cabril stood back, offering suggestions while Ashlin brushed her sister’s long hair. Gathering very small sections of hair, she carefully braided dozens of small braids and twisted them around her head in an elaborate style. Her sister glowed with excitement, and her stepmother fawned and fussed. Slowly, the rawness in Ashlin’s chest relaxed and she found herself laughing, enjoying the time spent together.

  This was why she had left the palace yesterday, for the precious moments like this when everything felt right.

  “Now, it’s Mother’s turn,” Stasiya announced, jumping up from the chair when she was finally satisfied with her appearance.

  Ashlin repeated the process with her stepmother’s hair.

  Her stepsister quickly lost interest in the long process and went to put on her gown. She came back into the room some time later so Ashlin could lace her up. The orange of her gown colored her cheeks and showed off her hair.

  “Oh, my dear.” Lady Cabril stood, clutching her heart. “You look absolutely magnificent.”

  “You look truly gorgeous,” Ashlin offered, not feigning the compliment.

  “Now,” Lady Cabril continued, “stop moving and let us make sure everything is perfect.” She walked around her daughter, examining every detail of her dress, face, and hair. “This curl looks a little out of place. What do you think, Ashlin?”

  Ashlin considered the curl in question. “Let me see if I can pin it back under those braids.”

  “And see what you can do about this ruffle, here. It does not seem to be falling correctly.”

  Ashlin complied, warming the fabric of her sister’s dress between her hands to smooth it down and rub the wrinkle out of it.

  “Now that,” Lady Cabril stated, “is perfection.”

  Stasiya sighed in contentment and spun in a circle, her gown flowing around her.

  “Do not sit down lest you wrinkle your dress,” her mother told her.

  “I will not.” Stasi
ya stopped spinning. “Your turn, Mother.”

  Moments later, Ashlin was tightening the laces on her stepmother’s gown.

  “Now stand back so we can see what needs to be fixed,” Stasiya ordered.

  Lady Cabril looked truly breathtaking. Her tall figure in the burgundy gown was accentuated by the high, twisting braids on top of her head.

  “Mother, you are magnificent.” Stasiya clapped her hands.

  Ashlin nodded her agreement. “Truly magnificent,” she echoed.

  “I cannot see a single thing out of place,” Stasiya announced.

  Ashlin walked around her stepmother, taking in the seams of the gown and appreciating the tucks and gathers of the fabric. Mistress Cedrice truly was a master of her craft. “Neither can I,” Ashlin agreed.

  “I feel like my old self,” Lady Cabril said, placing a hand on her waist and stepping regally across the room. “No one shall stand in our way tonight.” She made a dramatic turnabout to face them again. “Oh, Ashlin, it is your turn now. But hurry, the carriage will be here in less than an hour. And the bath is probably cold. Go, go!”

  Ashlin smiled and ran from the room. The bathwater was indeed cold. She quickly washed herself and hurried down to the warm kitchen to dry and change.

  She had spent the day successfully avoiding any thoughts of Onric.

  She slipped into the blue dress. Having had no time to adjust it to her proper sizing, it was slightly too large in her chest and waist. Hopefully, the corset-style closure would let her fasten it tighter around her body. With no one to help her into the gown, she laced the back up as loosely as possible, then slipped the dress over her head. Reaching around behind her, she found the ties and pulled them closed as tightly as she could, though she could still feel the uneven weave going up and down her back. She was used to dressing herself without a maid, but this particular gown had not been designed for someone to put on alone.

  It had been months since she had worn anything other than her brown work dress. She smiled, wishing she had a mirror in the small closet-like room. It felt as though an old part of her had returned.

  Her hair was next. She quickly loosened the large braids that had kept her hair clean and untangled. Running her fingers through the braids left a lovely soft pattern of curls. Perfect. She twisted them up on top of her head and tied them into place with a ribbon, hoping it would be enough to hold her hair in place.

  She washed her face with the cold water from the basin in her room and patted her cheeks to bring out some color. That would have to do. It was not as though she was trying to impress a prince.

  Something was missing, though. Reaching back down to her brown apron, she pulled out the small piece of glass that had broken all those mornings ago. She had kept it in her pocket since, as though she were keeping a small part of her mother with her. She slipped it under the waistband of the blue dress.

  She was running out of time. The coach would be arriving any minute.

  Grabbing the simple cloak that Onric had given her, she threw it over her shoulders. She had nothing else. It covered most of the dress, but it was entirely inappropriate for wearing to the ball as it was clearly a man’s cloak.

  She slipped it back off her shoulders. Would her stepmother question where she had acquired it?

  The moment of indecision caused her to pause. Maybe she should not even try to go to the ball at all. She could stay home and enjoy an evening without housework or palace work. She would not have to see the prince again, and now that her stepmother had forgiven her, life would go back to normal. Eventually, normal would feel almost as good as sharing a laugh with Onric.

  She shook her head. She would never have the chance to go to a ball again, and her family wanted her there with them. That was enough.

  She imagined getting into the carriage with them, each in their lovely gowns, chatting excitedly about the ball. Her father would step in last, telling them how lucky he was to attend the event with the three most beautiful women in the kingdom . . . Ashlin smiled lightly and scrunched her nose before the tears could gather in her eyes. Her father would not be there, of course, but sharing this excitement with her family would feel like old times.

  She had no more time to waste. The hired carriage would arrive any moment.

  Which brought her back to whether or not she should take the prince’s cloak. She looked down at the light blue dress. The smallest speck of mud or dirt would completely ruin the fabric. She would have to risk it. Folding her cloak over her arm, she went back up the stairs to the parlor.

  Stasiya was standing by the sofa, looking down at her gown while moving only her head. She occasionally smoothed a ruffle with her hand. She had been standing for most of the afternoon, and her feet would be tired and bruised before they even arrived at the ball tonight. She looked up as Ashlin entered the room.

  “Let us have a look at you,” Lady Cabril said, sweeping forward and taking the cloak from Ashlin’s arm. “The dress is fitting a little loosely,” she observed. “I thought you were going to alter it to fit you?”

  Ashlin decided not to mention the fact that she’d had no time to do so. She spun halfway around to reveal the lacing at her back. “I couldn’t quite pull the laces tight enough by myself. Could . . . could one of you perhaps fix it?”

  “Stasiya, go help your sister.”

  Mere days ago, Ashlin would never have asked for help from her stepfamily. Perhaps she should have tried this ages ago.

  Stasiya’s lips twisted into a smile. “Yes, Mother,” she said. She stepped forward, careful to ensure that her dress did not touch any of the furniture. Moving behind Ashlin, she reached forward and started to loosen the laces, evening them out as she went so she could tighten them properly.

  “Thank you,” Ashlin breathed, unable to keep a smile from her face. Even more so than before, she felt as though she was properly participating in the excitement.

  “Oh, you’re welcome,” Stasiya responded, as though they had always been best friends. “I’m so glad that you found a way to make this dress work for you.” With all the laces loose, she started to tug each individual loop to tighten them evenly.

  “Do make it nice and tight, Stasiya,” Lady Cabril commanded. “The bodice is quite uneven.”

  Ashlin let out her breath, sucking her stomach in as she felt the corset laces tighten firmly around her one at a time.

  Her stepmother absently stroked the cloak she was holding as she turned her attention to Ashlin’s hair. “I suppose that is the best we can do,” she said, tilting her head to one side.

  Stasiya reached for the ends of the ties themselves and started to pull on them vigorously.

  “You don’t need to yank them quite that hard . . .” Ashlin started to correct her, but a distinct snapping sound cut her off. She stiffened.

  “Oh, no!” her stepsister cried. “The laces broke.”

  Ashlin twisted her head over her shoulder as she felt the lacing itself start to unravel down her back, loosening her bodice.

  “No worries, we can find a new lace.” Lady Cabril stepped forward. “It’s this hair that I am worried about. She tugged at the ribbon in Ashlin’s hair, pulling it loose.

  The unbraided curls dropped around Ashlin’s shoulders, and she reached up to grab them, trying to twist them back in place.

  “Mother, what do you think of these fabric flowers?” Stasiya asked. “I think they would rather ruin the dress.”

  “I quite agree,” her mother replied.

  Stasiya grabbed a flower and tugged at it.

  Ashlin heard a stitch pop. “No, stop!” she cried, reaching down to save the dress.

  “My dear, we are only trying to help you get ready.” Lady Cabril grabbed her hair in a large handful and started twisting it back up, pulling tightly.

  Ashlin reached up to grab her head. Tears stung her eyes as her stepmother pulled too hard. Lady Cabril slapped her hands away.

  Ashlin heard a loud rip, but with her head held back, she
could not look down to see the damage.

  “Much better,” Stasiya decided. Ashlin heard another loud rip. She saw a blue silk flower fly through the air and land on the wooden bench by the fire.

  “Stop!” Ashlin cried again, trying to remove her hair from her stepmother’s grip.

  Lady Cabril only grabbed it more firmly. “We cannot let a kitchen maid go to the ball looking like a lord’s daughter.”

  “Oh, no, that would never do,” Stasiya agreed, tearing another flower from the skirt.

  “Did you think I would let you risk my daughter’s chances tonight?”

  Stasiya reached up to grab the flowers at Ashlin’s neckline. She slipped and grabbed on to Ashlin’s sleeve for support. The delicate silk gave way with a loud screech.

  Still in shock, Ashlin grabbed at her ruined sleeve with one hand to try and assess the damage. She kept her other hand on her scalp in an attempt to alleviate the constant pressure. “I never intended to stand in your way. I would have done nothing but watch the dancing from a balcony.” She tried to twist out of their combined grasp.

  But with Stasiya in front, still ripping off the final few flowers, and her stepmother holding her hair firmly behind her, she could not move.

  “You are a selfish, lying child. You destroyed my happiness and I shall always be here to destroy yours. You will never be a part of this family.” With a final twist, her stepmother finally let go of her hair and stepped around her. She looked composed, as though she had just come from her dressing room mirror, except that her face was lightly flushed.

  Stasiya stepped away at the same time, a smug smile on her face as she surveyed her handiwork.

  Ashlin looked down. The beautiful blue dress hung in tatters. One sleeve was ripped off and hanging halfway down her arm, the gauzy overlay on the skirt had been torn off, and the flowers she had carefully stitched for her sister were strewn about the floor.

  “I believe the carriage is here, my dear,” Lady Cabril said, her eyes tracing Ashlin from head to foot. She shrugged. “I’m afraid you cannot go to the ball looking like that.”