by Emily Deady
Then, as quickly as it started, the movement stopped and the shimmering disappeared. In its place was the most elegant pair of shoes Ashlin had ever seen. The glass had hardened back into its original state, but the shoes on her feet were reminiscent of graceful swans. They still had the feathered texture of her mother's figurine, and the sides of the shoes wrapped around the sides of her feet like the wings of a swan, peacefully floating. She lifted her foot to examine the back. The textured glass caught the flickering firelight and sparkled in response. Even the heel itself was elegantly reminiscent of the graceful neck of a swan.
“They are beautiful,” she breathed.
“Your mother will always be with you, Ashlin.” Mistress Cedrice ran a gentle hand down the side of her cheek. “Now hurry, you must go!”
Ashlin flew down the stairs, surprisingly stable and comfortable in her new pair of shoes. She gathered her skirt in her arms as she moved through the front door, so as not to snag the fabric.
“Oh dear, I’ve forgotten something else!” the old woman called after her.
Her heart pounding from excitement, Ashlin turned back inside, smiling. “So have I,” she responded. She ran back to the seamstress, throwing her arms around her. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You are very welcome. But we can’t let you run through the streets like that. “Grab me a squash from the basket in the room, and see if you can lure any of those wool-eating pests out the front door.”
“The mice?”
“We have not got anything else. Hurry.”
Once again, Ashlin did as instructed. Soon a plump brown squash was sitting on the street, surrounded by four mice who were eagerly nibbling away at the breadcrumbs that had lured them hence.
“I’ll have to make this quick so no one sees it.”
Mistress Cedrice closed her eyes tightly for a moment, then opened them and began to hum her song. This time she rushed through it, rumbling over the deeper notes with a new intensity. Within moments, the shimmering effect of the magic took place, and suddenly Ashlin was looking at a round carriage, complete with two horses and two footmen. Even though this was the third magical creation she had seen this day, her jaw dropped.
One of the footmen bowed to her and opened the door.
“Ooof,” the older woman sighed, breathing out a puff of air. “All that singing really takes your breath away. I have never been properly trained, so I am not very powerful.”
“Not very powerful?” Ashlin interrupted in disbelief, completely awed.
“I don’t know how long the enchantments will last,” Mistress Cedrice continued. “It will probably be for a few hours only. I wouldn’t expect anything to remain spelled past midnight.”
“I will be careful.” Ashlin kissed the older woman’s cheek. “Thank you.”
“Enjoy it.” Mistress Cedrice waved her away.
Safely inside the moving carriage, Ashlin could not wait to see Onric again.
It only took a few moments for the carriage to travel the streets to the palace, driving up through the front gate like she was a proper guest and not a servant. The speed of their travel made her realize how slowly Onric had made Blossom ramble through the streets each evening. He had truly loved spending time with her. Her chest squeezed, and she hoped that he would accept her apology.
Her once-a-brown-squash, now beautiful carriage pulled to a gentle halt, and the door was opened from the outside. She took the footman’s hand and descended from the carriage, thanking him as she went. He bowed deeply to her but did not speak back.
She looked up at the entrance to the ballroom. The entire palace was ablaze with light. Poor Hommlyn must have lit a million torches. Hopefully he’d had Drirsi to help him. The effect was stunning.
She began to ascend the steps to the main entrance. At the entrance to the ballroom, a young page bowed to her. “How shall we announce you, my lady?” he asked.
“Lady Ashlin Cabril,” she responded.
Chapter 30
Onric returned to the side door of the ballroom and slipped inside. Hoping to avoid the next dance, he stayed in the shadows behind one of the spiral staircases. His brother was still on the dais, a playful smile on his face.
While Ian had been smiling for the past two hours straight, Onric knew the difference between his brother’s fake smile and this real one. Ian appeared to be actually enjoying himself. Who was the girl in his arms that could be causing such a positive reaction?
All Onric could see was her back. Her head did not even reach his brother’s shoulder, and she was wearing a brilliantly blue dress. The small flames from the large candelabrum above the dais reflected off her dress, making it appear more luminous than anything else in the entire room. Why was it so bright? He looked around the room. Everyone was wearing deep colors, wine reds and navy blues and violet purples. No one was wearing the color of the sky. So, she was different. He liked that. He liked that for Ian.
He looked back at his brother, waiting for a moment to catch her face. Ian laughed. He spun the girl around.
Onric’s face lit up as his heart skipped a beat.
She had come.
He felt ridiculous for not recognizing her without the brown kerchief in her hair, but it was definitely Ashlin. He would know those bright eyes across a thousand ballrooms. She was smiling, her hair was piled on top of her head in a way he had never seen, and she had captivated the attention of everyone else in the room. He wasn’t sure if it was because her smile was so luminous or because she was the lucky one to be dancing with his brother.
She was dancing with his brother.
His face fell. He whipped around to disappear out of the doorway behind him and never set foot in the ballroom again. He wasn’t angry at her. At least, he didn’t think he was. But he was angry. When he turned around, however, he found himself facing three women who stood between him and the doorway like a wall of well-constructed masonry.
“Your Highness,” said one as she dropped her eyelids half closed.
The next went into a deep bow, and the third held out her hand to be fawned over.
He attempted a smile, which probably looked far more terrifying than inviting, and turned back around to stand in the shadow of the twisting staircase. His heart pounded.
He wanted to look anywhere else, but the only place his eyes seemed to focus on was the center dais.
Ian swung Ashlin out in another full spin. Onric watched her face closely, wanting to make sure she was happy but also hoping that she was miserable.
Her eyes scanned the room as she spun. When she had finished the rotation, she took a half step closer to Ian’s side so that her head was positioned against his shoulder rather than directly in front of him. In that position, her eyes continued to scan the room.
She was doing the thing. She was doing the thing that nearly every other woman had done to Onric tonight. She was searching for someone else she would rather be dancing with.
He stepped out onto the dance floor, braving the moving sea of people. He waded through them, taking as direct a line to the center dais as he possibly could. The music slowed, the final few notes coming to a crescendo.
He was close. His brother bowed over her hand, both of them still smiling. Ian said something to her, but Onric was not close enough to hear what it was. Ashlin laughed and withdrew her hand.
She turned away and stepped down the small staircase from the dais to the dance floor.
“My Lady.” Onric bowed to her.
She was already smiling as widely as she could, but her eyes came alive as soon as she recognized him. “Onric.” She held out her hand and he grasped it, inwardly vowing to never let it go.
“May I have this dance?” he asked.
She squeezed his hand and stepped forward, placing her other hand on his shoulder. “I need to speak with you,” she said, leaning closer, “as soon as possible.”
He placed his hand at her waist and nodded. Looking towards the side door, he started to dan
ce with her, guiding her through the sea of people as quickly as he could.
As they neared the door, however, she slowed behind him, and he heard her gasp. He turned around to see the cruel woman from the seamstress’s shop holding on to Ashlin’s wrist. The woman’s eyes were narrow as she gazed down at her stepdaughter.
“What are you doing here?” the stepmother asked.
“What are you doing here?” Ashlin spoke calmly but firmly as she twisted her wrist from the woman’s grasp. “You have no right to restrain me.”
“You are risking everything I have built, coming in here and having them announce a second Ashlin Cabril. Did you not hear the confused whispers? Go home at once.”
“No,” Ashlin replied. Her face was taut.
Neither woman had looked in his direction, and he felt as though he was listening to a conversation he should not be a part of. While part of him was afraid that Ashlin would choose to leave with her stepmother, he refused to leave her side while that vicious woman was anywhere nearby.
As if to defy his thoughts, the older woman’s face softened into a motherly gaze. “My dear, you are simply overwrought,” she said in a sweet, thick voice. “You should head home, and we can sort this out tomorrow.”
“No.” Ashlin’s voice remained calm and firm, but Onric detected the slightest tremble in her jaw.
Onric’s heart beat rapidly. He had never witnessed anything so brave.
Her stepmother’s face turned stone cold, and her gray eyes flashed fire. “How dare you defy me? Wretched, selfish, ungrateful . . . I gave you everything.” She moved in closer, keeping her voice low, likely to avoid attracting attention, but her spite was entirely funneled towards the small girl standing tall in front of her.
“You gave me nothing,” Ashlin replied. “I tried to help you. To lighten your load and share your grief. In return, you took everything from me, including my name.”
When Onric saw the rage in her stepmother’s eyes as the woman clenched her fist and started to move, he knew it was time to make his presence known.
“I believe this conversation has gone on long enough,” he said, inserting himself between them.
Lady Cabril’s eyes went wide as she recognized him, and her smile followed a second too late. “Excuse me, Your Royal Highness.” She bowed low. “This girl is my maidservant and should not be here. Allow me to remove her from your presence.”
“Actually, madam, I believe you are mistaken. This lady here is a rather courageous noblewoman, and it will be myself who has the pleasure of removing her from your presence,” he responded, not even deigning to return her respectful bow.
Ashlin stepped past him towards the door so he was firmly separating the two of them.
The older woman sent a sorrowful gaze after her. “Ashlin,” she said, “I am your mother.”
“You are not and never will be a mother to me,” Ashlin responded with a sad smile.
Onric followed her out the side door onto a small balcony. The guard who had been standing there prudently disappeared.
As soon as they stepped through the doorway, the noise from the ballroom disappeared and she turned towards him.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
She looked up at him, and the intensity in her gaze surprised him. He had expected to see the same scared girl who was too afraid to tell him her name in the courtyard staircase all those days ago. Instead, her eyes were bold and direct.
“Prince Onric,” she said, “I am so sorry for the abhorrent things I said to you yesterday. I was afraid of being controlled, and I believe I may have misconstrued some of your actions.”
He looked down at her earnest face, relishing every curve of it. Her words were quiet, but bold and honest. She was not hiding her face in fear or second-guessing her statements. She was being her true self.
“I do not expect your forgiveness, nor even the renewal of your friendship, as I know my words hurt you,” she continued, “but I had to let you know that you did not fail. You have been the hero of my smile, and you were so very right. About so very many things. I am moving forward now.”
At the word hero, his heart swelled. He held his hands out in front of him, palms open.
She looked down and accepted his silent invitation, placing her hands in his.
He gently clasped them, wrapping his large fingers around her small palms. He had broken his own heart when he had laid it at her feet, begging her to allow him to protect her forever. She had come back. She had come back to him.
He leaned towards her, dropping his head down closer to hers.
She looked up at him, confusion in her eyes. “You are not angry with me?”
He brought his forehead to hers, and his heart thudded in his chest. “How could I be angry at you for trying to protect yourself?”
“But I said so many cruel things . . .”
“Yes, and they did hurt me. But I think over time I will forget them. Especially if you cancel them out by saying lots of pleasant things to me.”
“I have so very many wonderful things to say to you.” She squeezed his hands.
“I will always be here to listen.” He dropped her hands and slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her closer.
She tentatively reached up to touch his chest. “You are truly not angry with me.” She framed the words not as a question, but as a statement of disbelief.
He wanted to kiss her so badly, but she did not seem ready to accept his love quite yet. He settled for dropping his lips to her forehead, gently cherishing her with slow, soft kisses along her hairline. “Truly, I am not angry with you. I accept your apology and I gladly forgive you.”
“Truly?” She leaned back, looking into his face. Her eyes glistened with tears, and her face held a joyful lightness he had never seen there before.
“Truly. You are wholly forgiven.”
Her hands slid up to his face, landing on his cheeks as she stood on tiptoe to bring her face closer to his.
He responded to the gentle pressure in her hands, meeting her halfway. He smiled as she closed her eyes, enjoying the peaceful anticipation on her face.
They were so close that the very air he breathed in was warmed from her body heat.
She brushed his nose with her own, then tilted her face and pressed her lips into his.
Warmth flooded his body as he tightened his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Every thought left his mind save for the sweet sensation of her weightless kiss.
Accepting her soft kiss, he pressed his face down and passionately returned the gift.
Chapter 31
Ashlin was glad that Onric had his arm firmly around her waist, as the intensity with which he returned her kiss was enough to make her dizzy.
She wrapped her own arms around the back of his neck to stabilize herself. His direct offer of forgiveness had freed something within her. For the first time in recent memory, she felt right. Both her thoughts and her feelings were aligned, and it felt as though all her weights and worries had disappeared or become minuscule in the face of her newfound clarity.
The confidence and desire in Onric’s kiss gave her new life, and she relished in the feeling of being overwhelmingly loved. Time stopped. She let go of every worry in her mind as her sight, touch, taste, and smell experienced his reassuring closeness.
Finally, his lips pulled away from hers, but he kept his head bowed and his face close. She drew in a deep, shaky breath as her lungs begged for air. A giggle formed deep in her throat as she reeled against him, clinging for support.
She felt so light that she was sure her feet would lift off the ground. “I think you might have a spelled kiss,” she said, “for nothing has ever felt quite so right before.”
“Are you saying that kissing me feels like a spelled needle affirming all your choices?”
She nodded, closing her eyes so she could press her face against his chest. “Yes,” she sighed in affirmation.
“I’ll guess I’ll have to kis
s you more often then.”
“That sounds perfect.” She breathed in through her nose, enjoying the fresh aroma of his clean jerkin. Her ear was pressed against his chest, and she could hear his heart beating beneath it. The soothing rhythm was louder and closer than the distant strains of the ballroom musicians. This was exactly where she wanted to be. This was the comfort and presence she had longed for at home. This was home.
He held her close, one hand wrapped around her shoulders and the other lightly stroking her hair. Occasionally, he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
With every beat of his heart, the world grew more stable under her feet.
“Dance with me?” He spoke low, his voice rumbling close to her ear.
She stepped backwards, ready to take on the world. “I would love to.”
He led her back into the ballroom, placing a hand at her waist as the first chords of the next melody began to flood throughout the room. She stepped into his embrace as though they had danced together a hundred times. He pulled her closer, his arm tightening at her waist.
She smiled up at him, her mind filled with the things she wanted to tell him. She blew the thoughts away, choosing to enjoy this perfect moment instead. They would have plenty of time for talking later.
The melody came in and rose above the chords as they moved in harmony. He held her close the entire time, not even spinning her out as the dance called for. She had no complaints, as she could not bear to leave his arms, even for a moment. She wanted for the dance to never end.
Finally, though, the music did come to pause, and she took in the ballroom around her for the first time.
Although she had already been in the ballroom previously, she had been so focused on looking for Onric that she had not registered anything else in the room. When she had entered the room for the first time, Crown Prince Ian had been standing on the center dais, bowing to a young woman whom he had just finished dancing with. As he stood up from the bow, he heard her name announced and smiled in recognition as he walked past the long line of women waiting to dance with him. The room parted as he walked through the dancing crowd and stopped to bow in front of her.