《Glass》


 Prologue

    My story begins years before my time, when the great red Sun peaked high in the sky and shone its burning rays over the desert-swamped kingdom of Mendessa.


    In those times, the beasts of legend that once threatened the lands deteriorated at the hands of man, whose weapons had finally gotten the better of them. Chupacabras were imprisoned and tamed by the king''s men into hounds that hunted in favour of their masters'' cause. Atotolins were hunted with great difficulty, shot out of the sky and ravaged by the hounds. Cipactli were rounded up at all water sources and killed by the dozens until none were left. And in charge of it all was the great King Andres II, an esteemed and ruthless leader.


    But even after this cull, Mendessa remained under the threat of a feathered serpent - the last of its kind - and its thirst for revenge threatened to devour all that King Andres held sacred; Mendessa, its citizens, and most importantly, Andres'' daughter, the beautiful Princess Josefina.


    When the last of Mendessa''s cattle was no longer enough to satisfy the beast''s insatiable appetite, it seemed the end was near. Despite their efforts, many tried and failed to destroy it, and in a desperate effort to buy time, the king and queen decided the only way to save their people was to sacrifice their imprisoned. But soon, the prisons emptied, and the serpent hungered for more.


    With no other choice, King Andres proposed a ballot, in which one citizen would be randomly selected each day to be sacrificed to the monster. It was with a heavy heart that he nominated himself into the ballot, too, to stand alongside his people.


    After weeks of sacrifices and many lives lost to the wicked creature, King Andres'' fears came into fruition, and somehow, his daughter''s name was not only inserted into the ballot, but taken out of it. Despite her parents'' and subjects'' protests, Princess Josefina nobly accepted her fate, and went to meet the feathered serpent in the final hours of the summer solstice.


    The burning Sun sank into the sand, hiding from the serpent that slithered out of the golden grains, and as it was finally obscured by the land, the princess came face to face with the feathered serpent. It bared its bloody fangs and hissed as though it preferred its food afraid and powerless. The princess closed her eyes, refusing to give it the satisfaction of watching her shake. The night sky fell fast, darkness seeping in. The princess waited, heart in her throat.


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    She opened her eyes.


    A bloody pound of flesh fell on her feet, heavy and warm. A crimson river spilled out, drowning her sandals. The blood was so heavy and plentiful that she had to wade her way through to avoid being knocked to the ground. Her vision was blurred, and for a moment she feared that the blood was her own - not blue, as her subjects conspired, but as red as any other woman''s.


    Her legs buckled, unable to push any further. Before her head soaked with the blood, it was caught. A poisonous stench woke her conscience, and before she knew it, she was staring up at a handsome young figure, clothes splattered but his face unafraid.


    The hero, the courageous Duke Santos of Elijandri, had slain the feathered serpent, and thus brought the end to Mendessa''s suffering.


    Princess Josefina fell instantly in love with her saviour, and in the autumn, in that bewitching season where golden leaves showered the city streets and the Sun found its mercy, the two were married.


    Duke Santos continued his bout of adventures in the west, being hailed across Elijandri and Mendessa alike as a luminary, crafted by the Sun itself, and while the eventual death of King Andres II devastated the kingdom, the newly-crowned Queen Josefina and her beloved King Santos were greatly welcomed and adored.


    But King Santos'' adventuring would soon come to an end, as Queen Josefina, once believed to be infertile, fell pregnant.


    Instantly, a change flickered in the king. He grew more and more cautious by the day, his brave rebelliousness falling to the shadows as he built greater, higher walls around the kingdom. His trust grew thin, questioning anyone and everyone who may pose a threat to his unborn child. Some feared the paranoia would madden him.


    Once his son was born, the heroic king became an overprotective pacifist, sheltering his child from the world. Although some questioned his ability to co-rule, the era of danger had long passed, and the story of a ruthless daredevil pacified by the birth of his child was a wholesome one that people gravitated to.


    They said the baby prince was a saviour of sorts - a symbol of the peaceful times ahead. They said the king''s softening was the will of the Sun. They said the king was enchanted by the baby''s charm, and thus the prince was given the nickname "Prince Charming".


    Prince Charming.


    A name I sought to reject. A name latched onto me from birth.


    I am Prince Andres III of Mendessa, son of Santos.

 Chapter One: Andres (Part I)

    The legend of my father would repeat year after year on the summer solstice, each year the myth growing ever distant from the man.


    As a child, my father was a ten foot tall giant, able to crush boulders with his muscles and climb mountains with his restless feet. His voice could command the Sun itself with his bellow, which echoed down the ever-growing palace walls any time I''d sneak out of his view.


    He''d tuck me into bed at night, spinning tales of his adventures - adventures I listened to with childlike wonder, mind racing as I tried to sleep, imagining myself as the stories'' protagonist, living through the triumphs and dangers of the life once led by my father. Meanwhile, my mother would tell me about the legacy of my grandfather - Andres, my namesake - and how my destiny was to one day follow his footsteps and rule Mendessa. Back then, it all seemed so achievable. So within reach I could almost taste my many victories. But as all men do, I grew up, reality a sudden weight rather than a gentle settling.


    By the cusp of adulthood, I was already well aware that I was due to be married. My father had married at that same age, and my mother even younger. My Elijandrian cousins were already wed or betrothed, some years younger than I, which only brought the question of mine to closer attention.


    On my eighteenth birthday, I couldn''t help but pace around the snaking hallways of the palace, feet tapping restlessly on the cool tiles. Around me, the same peach walls that had bordered me from the outside world remained tall and all too familiar, and for a moment, I wished I could break them down with my bare hands.


    Even when engrossed in my own negative thoughts, I knew to walk closer to the walls and turn around every once in a while in case of a surveying guard. Even then, I hadn''t learned their patterns. Father changed their routes and numbers regularly for safety reasons. They kept the outside from coming in, and the inside from coming out.


    I peered around another corner before following the path, every little sound freezing my blood and urging me to hide.


    The early summer air was stifling - even in the early hours of the morning - and as cool as the sheltered palace remained inside, the air was thick and humid, clinging to the back of my throat.


    I turned to a great stained glass door and exited to the courtyard - the heart of my home, surrounded by mahogany balconies identical to my own, fringed with vibrant greenery. The sun had not yet risen, its watchful eye thankfully not cast over me quite yet, and the curved crimson roof tiles were bathed in a silvery light.


    I took a deep breath. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I wasn''t sure I knew the reason why. I held onto it, my fingers clawing on the fabric of my loose, thin shirt. What was I so afraid of? The idea of spending the rest of your life with someone you love was a comfort. I''d had dreams about the woman I''d marry, adorned in white, her voice captivating and her laughter enchanting. So why now was that prospect so chilling? Why, so close to my own inevitable engagement, was I having doubts?


    I stared at the fountain in the centre. The ripples of the moonlit water slowed my breath. For a moment, I''d forgotten about the daunting bronze statue of my heroic father holding the head of the feathered serpent, the water spilling from his feet. All I could focus on were the steady waves, reaching out to the ends of the fountain, bouncing off its edges. The tiles beneath them made them look an electric blue, the pale moon''s white now less interesting.


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    I''d heard of the ocean through my studies. An endless expanse of his shining blue, deeper than any quarry and as alive as any city. When I was nine, my tutor, Emiliano, revealed its existence to me.


    "Does Mendessa ever end?" I had asked him.


    "What do you mean, Andres?" He replied, not looking up from his geography book. Only he called me by my first name when we were alone, but whenever my father was around, he reverted back to formalities.


    I thought for a moment, wondering how to best word it.


    "If I just kept walking across Mendessa, what would happen? Would I tip off the edge of the earth?"


    Emiliano laughed warmly from his chest and shook his head.


    "There is much more to the world than Mendessa, young prince."


    My eyes widened. That sentence alone was a revelation, but then Emiliano continued. "There are other kingdoms all over like ours. Some across lands, separated by seas."


    "A C?" I puzzled, imagining a great C-shaped wall between Mendessa and another kingdom, segregating us from each other''s existence.


    Emiliano turned his book to me. On it, an image that would be engrained in my mind forever.


    It was a horizon, the sun meeting the sand. Only the sand was blue and smooth, foam edges laced over the beige land I was so used to. The waves were the colour of the sky, sprinkled in the sun''s gold. Never had I seen water in such an expanse. Never before had I known such a thing to be possible.


    Emiliano told me all about the ocean. Its own unique wildlife; its plants; its currents and waves and whirlpools. I sat listening, mesmerised, not saying a word. Every piece of information absorbed itself in my developing mind, and my imagination ran wild. He told me about boats that sailed across lands, trading stock and carrying travellers. Fish twice the size of a tower; fish with stripes and spots and shells; pink and purple briars spiking the ocean floor. I didn''t realise how close I was to the edge of my seat until Emiliano reminded me to sit upright.


    He moved on from his lecture, as though he hadn''t realised the impact his words had just had on me. I don''t remember what he went on to talk about - my mind was too preoccupied with visions of seeing the ocean for myself, riding across the waves and swimming to the deep depths to come face to face with new wildlife.


    The new truth stuck with me for several days. It felt like biting down on a soft avacado, only for my teeth to hit the hard centre unexpectedly: the sudden, painful shock shivering through my body. How long would it have been before my parents revealed such a wonder to me? Did they ever plan on telling me at all?


    I caught a glance of the window - that glass barrier overlooking the peach and burnt orange palace I''d always known. The glass was forged from sand - sand that likely got closer to the sea than I ever would. And yet, there we both were, exchanging glances in the highest tower of the largest structure in all of Mendessa. I sighed at the thought.


    I started down at my book, my handwriting squiggled and jagged. I tilted my head and imagined it forming into waves, untamed and eternally flowing. The world expanded in my mind, as endless as the sun. From there, everything clicked into place. My father''s travels; the foreign nobles he charmed. The world had always been there, waiting to be explored, yet there I was, encompassed in the library I''d grown bored of since toddlerhood.


    Perhaps that was the root of my problems. Despite how much I begged my father to see the ocean, I was kept his captive in a large and comfortable cell. The more I pressed, the more guards he hired. The more guards he hired, the more walls were built around the palace. The new walls and towers grew old fast, and at times, I wondered if he would keep expanding until the palace reached the ocean I was so desperate to see.


    My mother, courtesy of her royal blood, engaged me in lessons of manners and decorum from the age of eleven, often admitting that she should have started me much sooner. All the hardly necessary skills were covered; which knives and forks to use for each meal, how to hold a glass in a proper manner; how to walk in a straight line with my back rigid and head held high. But where I excelled in appearing the confident royal, I had no idea how I would talk to people from beyond the palace.


    Emiliano could have given me all the educational books in the world - and he did - but nothing could give me the true experience of greeting a foreign noble or asking for a maiden''s hand. I was utterly unprepared for meeting outsiders, nevermind marriage.


    And so I stared at the gentle waves of the fountain, breathing steadily. For now, in darkness, I was safe. Nobody could see the cowardice protruding from the once-valorous King Santos'' descendant.


    I could not truly be my father''s son until I had tasted life beyond the towers he penned me in.

 Chapter One: Andres (Part II)

    Luckily, my father''s evolving worries expanded to my marriage, and it was delayed month by month despite my mother''s protests. But the more he feared giving me up to someone he couldn''t completely trust, the more I feared that one day he''d change his mind.


    It was the eve of my nineteenth birthday when my mother finally convinced my father to let me marry. The dread within me hung heavy for so long that I had long expected the day to come and thought myself prepared.


    So on that June evening when the chocolate cosmos bloomed and revealed their purple-red centres to the sun, I was summoned to the court. It was rare that such a formal thing occurred with me involved, so I had a suspicion that my parents had finally agreed upon an engagement.


    My heart sped into a murmur the closer and closer I got to the giant courtroom doors, and when I opened the door with a shivering palm despite the arid heat, the prospect I avoided for so very long waited for me on the other side.


    My mother''s courtroom was one of the largest rooms in the palace, and while I was generally allowed to roam freely within the confines of the outer walls, the courtroom was often out of bounds, clamoured by adults who stood and spoke for hours at a time. The room was perfectly symmetrical - with tiles of orange and blue patterned into a circle in the centre. The awnings high up on the ceiling were carved with vibrant alebrijes watching over us; watching over the kingdom. At the end of the room, two thrones stood on high steps, bathed in the multicoloured sunlight pouring through the stained glass window. Atop them, my parents were still and shadowed, their little fingers touching for the other''s comfort.


    "Andres, my son." My mother spoke first, as was custom in her court. I looked around, and to my relief, no other surrounded the three of us. The relief would not last, however. "I''m sure you are long aware that you are due to be engaged."


    "Yes mother," I nodded slowly, "you have found a match?"


    Queen Josefina rose from her throne, her silver hairs now visible in the light. King Santos followed suit.


    "We have decided to allow you to choose your own suitor from a list of candidates. You will meet these candidates at a ball we will be hosting in three days'' time."


    "You mean... I''ll be meeting them all at once?"


    My parents nodded in unison. "Well... How many are there?"


    The king and queen looked at each other. My gut dropped.


    "Six hundred, give or take."


    Mother spoke as though she was merely commenting on the weather.


    "Six hundred?" I spoke barely audibly. I''d never met one woman beyond Mendessa''s palace, never mind hundreds. And to speak and dance with all of them in one night? Surely, they didn''t expect me to find a suitable bride that way.


    "And of course, the families of each candidate will also be attending for your convenience."


    For my convenience? I knew she meant that I''d be able to judge the calibre of each maiden''s upbringing, but there was absolutely nothing convenient about it. If I was to choose a wife of my own, I''d want to judge the character of the bride herself, and if I had it my way, I''d craft a ceremony that required as little awkward conversation as possible.


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    I cringed thinking of the hundreds, possibly thousands of small talk encounters I''d be forced to make. What do people even talk about? How could I be sure I had a connection with anyone in mere minutes before I had to move onto the next? My head was a whirring spinning wheel, playing over and over the repetitive phrases and introductions I''d have to endure.


    I dared to raise my voice.


    "Mother... Are you sure this is the right way?"


    The queen was perplexed.


    "Whatever do you mean?"


    I tried to talk sense, but then a scorn appeared, and she spoke again. "You have your pick of noble ladies across the entire world. You get to choose. Most would be forced to marry strangers they meet at the altar. Do you understand that any man would strive to be in your position?"


    But I was not just any man. I would be, had I been given the chance.


    I took hold of my heart again, as though the touch would slow the beating. I thought of the ocean, peaceful and still, trying to stop myself from pathetically trembling in front of King Santos.


    A plan formed.


    "I will agree to this," I breathed, "I will find a bride." My mother''s face softened. "However..."


    If I was to forge my own legends, then may had been my only chance. "Once I am married, you must allow me to explore the world."


    Father shot up.


    Mother spoke before his speechlessness could end.


    "I will agree to this."


    "No! Absolutely not!" Father bellowed. "Do you have any idea what''s out there? It is no place for a prince!"


    My body tightened up. I took a gulp. It was now or never, and I could not let this opportunity go.


    "Father, we are in an era of peace. The creatures-"


    "You think that beasts are the only danger in this world, boy?" Father spat, the last word particularly harsh.


    "Santos, calm yourself!" Mother snapped in a tone she''d only ever used on me before. Despite his previous determination, he stopped immediately. Mother breathed. "I have the final word. We will allow you to travel."


    My face glowed.


    "But¡­" she continued.


    My face sank again.


    "...under my terms. First, you will not travel beyond this palace until after you are married."


    I nodded, half elated but half defeated.


    "Secondly, you will travel for only eight months. At the end of which, your heir will likely be nearly born."


    I felt sick to my stomach.


    "Thirdly, you will not travel alone. You must be accompanied by guards at all times. I will personally enlist a small group of our finest to you."


    Father flushed pale.


    "Josefina, I-"


    "-Its time our son was granted his freedom. Goodness knows he''s been caged in here long enough."


    Father shut his eyes and breathed deeply. I tried to thank my mother, but my voice at this point was hardly even a whisper. Father began to descend the steps slowly. I stepped back for a moment, but he approached me regardless. He had emerged completely from the shadows, hair the colour of iron ore and face the colour of sand. I struggled to look him in the eye at first until I saw it; the water brimming his eyes; his thin lips trembling.


    I was clasped into a tight embrace, the warm water escaping and dripping down my shoulder.


    "Oh, my son," father was still able to keep his voice from shaking. It seemed he wanted to say something more, but the words escaped him the longer he held onto me. Eventually, I hugged him back. I looked up at my mother, and I could smile and speak clearly again.


    "Thank you."


    The terms granted were less than ideal, but it was a start. It was even a miracle in itself that father gave up his argument - something I had never seen before.


    While the bliss of finally being set free excited me for a while, remembering what had to come before brought my mood right back down to complete terror.


    It occurred to me that I hadn''t even considered what it was I was looking for in a wife, outside of vague adjectives and the odd blurry dream I''d hardly remember. Intelligence was highest on the list, but even the all-knowing Emiliano always told me such a thing was subjective. Beautiful, of course, but which features I found preferable, I wasn''t sure. A sense of humour, perhaps. Maybe a voice I found soothing. What would it take for one of these women to meet all my expectations, when I didn''t know what they were myself?


    To meet so many in one night and somehow know immediately who I''d want to marry didn''t seem realistic, no matter how many times mother claimed my parents'' love was love at first sight. I wondered if perhaps they were doing this to punish me, or perhaps to urge me to socialise for once in my life. But this was not the way to do things - even Emiliano agreed.


    "Six hundred women? My, it would take at least ten hours to introduce yourself!"


    I had resigned to the comfort of my boring library, intending on staying quiet but blurting my frustrations as soon as Emiliano asked what was wrong.


    "Perhaps it would be wise to not force yourself to speak to everyone - only those who¡­" he thought for a less insensitive way to say it, "...pique your interest."


    "But how am I to figure that out?"


    "You''ll know, Andres, you''ll know."


    I sat in the corner, holding onto the physical manifestation of my hope - the blue leather-bound book filled with oceanic knowledge. The pages were worn and threatening to detach from the spine, though I held it delicately, flicking through the illustrations of ships sailing into the sun.


    I did not dwell. Instead, I closed my eyes and dreamt in white and blue.

 Chapter Two: The Ball (Part I)

    I waited nervously, praying to the Sun that mother would change her mind and stop the guards from opening the gates. Maybe now, of all times, a strike of paranoia from my father would be a good thing - an irrational panic that these women could be out to kill me and take my fortune, and thus he would have the entire function called off for my safety.


    But I was never so lucky.


    Just tonight, I thought, then I can be free of this place.


    Of course, that would require me finding a bride. That night, I would have had to make a commitment I could not take back, and I was not in the right mindset to do it.


    Mother had adorned me in a piece once owned by my father. It was an embellished waistcoat of indigo and gold, jacketed atop a black shirt with a stifling collar. My shoes were sleek and pointed - tailored specifically for dance - and were heeled with a gold plate. Emiliano insisted I was "simply dashing" - which wasn''t much comfort given Emiliano was dressed head to toe in a bottle green coat inappropriate for the sweltering heat. Mother and father also repeated the notion, but I refused to look into any mirrors as I feared it would make me feel worse. Father took it upon himself to brush and slick my inky hair back, growing increasingly frustrated at the few strands that refused to go down and flopped back in front of my face. He had been sweating and quaking all day, and I could think of plenty of reasons for it. I was shaking too.


    I waited in the ballroom, freshly dusted and polished after years of little use. It looked brand new to me; a giant chandelier glimmering down on the ivory marble below, each candle atop it shining through glass shards and hitting every corner of the room with light. Torches were ignited on the ascending pillars that edged the stairs, their heat much more welcoming in winter months than they were then. Their smoke rippled into the sky, getting lost on its way to the colossal ceilings, painted in white and gold. Three tiers of balconies watched over the ballroom floor, and my father appeared at the highest one to observe my inevitable discomfort and embarrassment. Mother and her guards eagerly waited at the grand doors - doors I never before knew were painted crimson on the outside.


    One minute to the hour.


    My heart was in my throat.


    Thirty seconds.


    Why was time moving so fast?


    Twenty seconds.


    I looked at my father.


    Ten seconds.


    Is it too late to run?


    Zero.


    The band played.


    The doors groaned open.


    And I was stood in the centre of a loud, echoing cavern, soon to be flooded with waves of strangers.


    My feet were planted in the ground, my body stiff. One by one, Emiliano at the door announced the various names of seemingly every woman in the world, until the once-endless ballroom was cramped with people. Overwhelmed, I looked around, unsure of who to approach first. Before I could make a decision, it already seemed women were wanting to approach me first. My lessons in traditional etiquette did not prepare me for that.


    "Your highness!"


    A fair-skinned woman curtsied enthusiastically.


    I had already forgotten what Emiliano read her name as.


    I smiled nervously and bowed in return. At least she seemed excited to see me.


    "May I have this dance?" She took my hand before I could even answer.


    The trumpets blared as she twirled around me, swinging me from side to side with her arms. I shuffled about awkwardly, every dance I''d ever learnt completely lost to time. The other women around her appeared angered at something, and tried to steal me away.


    "Your highness, my name is-"


    I was swung into somebody else.


    "-Prince Charming, it''s an honour to-"


    And another.


    "-I saw him first!"


    And yet another.


    "-Your majesty, I-"


    A clap like thunder interrupted everything. The whole ball stared up at my father, no longer used to much attention, but just as brave as he once had been.


    "Greetings to all of you, and welcome to Mendessa Palace. Tonight is an occasion I and my wife, your Queen, have long awaited. Tonight, my son, Prince Andres II of Mendessa, will select a bride to wed."


    Father gestured and gave me a glance, and all of a sudden, anyone who wouldn''t have recognised me otherwise knew exactly who I was. A thousand eyes peered in my direction. Goodness knows what they must have been thinking.


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    "It is with great honour that we open our palace doors again. The last time we had done so was a long decade and a half ago."


    Various older nobles and their wives nodded in remembrance. I remembered too, but only vaguely. He''d hosted a ball for a select few nobles. I''d been advised to stay away, but I snuck in just long enough to admire the elaborate masquerade costumes; the vibrant masks. It was then where I had been caught by a guard and sent back to my room, where I was then guarded for the entire night, hearing the gentle beats of the music beneath the floorboards, wishing to hear the full tune.


    "By all means, enjoy yourselves. But I first have a few ground rules."


    Even mother rolled her eyes.


    "First and foremost, anywhere outside of the ballroom or its connected lavatories is out of bounds. Secondly, anyone who wishes harm upon anyone else will be immediately removed from the premises."


    The girls fighting over me before exchanged harsh glances.


    "Thirdly, a wealth of beverages will be available to you throughout the night. But anyone deemed too intoxicated will be viewed as a danger to themselves and others and therefore will also be immediately removed from the premises. Furthermore, every lady in the running to meet the prince must do so in an orderly fashion. As previously stated, any fighting will not be tolerated."


    At that point, I and many others had completely zoned out. Father continued his terms for what seemed like hours.


    "And eleventh but not least, all donations to the Mendessa gardening fund will be collected throughout the night. We encourage you to donate. Now that is all said, please enjoy your night!"


    The band nodded awake and began to play again. In unison, a circle of women twirled their skirts, revealing their vibrant layers. Overwhelmed by the noise and the heat and the people, I stood frozen, trying to catch my breath as if I''d been dancing the entire time.


    I jumped as something tapped my shoulder. I jolted around.


    "Your highness." A smaller woman was curtsying to me, spreading out the violet frills of her dress. She looked up at me, her teeth bared into a smile. "I am Princess Lorena of Cadilla. It''s an honour to dance with you tonight."


    "Um.. I..." A singular chuckle escaped my lips as I laughed at my own awkwardness. Trying to hide it, I coughed and straightened my face. "I-its wonderful to meet you."


    She was waiting for something. Eventually, I remembered the etiquette, and added "Your¡­highness.*


    Her hand was still while mine was trembling. I tried to get into the flow of things, stepping closer and further, inwards and outwards, our hands never touching no matter how close they got. She was rather beautiful - it was true - with deep brown coils and sangria lips, but my nerves prevented me from learning anything more about her.


    Lorena was the first to speak yet again.


    "I understand you have never attended a ball, your highness."


    I shook my head. "N-n-no. Apologies¡­ I am not used to¡­" where to even start? Not used to people, not used to conversation; not used to parties. "...any of this."


    "Yes, you have been hidden away. All this time, we all assumed your father was too proud to present you to the world."


    I couldn''t tell whether that was an insult or a compliment. I remained silent. We danced with increasing discomfort.


    "You won''t speak to me?" She said with a frown. I wanted to speak, but I had no idea what to say. Regardless, I tried.


    "N-no!"


    I flushed pale. "I mean¡­ I-"


    At that point she''d already decided I was too stuck up for her.


    "Fresa."


    She hiked up her dress and marched away with a scowl. I stuttered after her, but all attempts were drowned out by the music. My gut was a sinking whirlpool.


    Had my shyness truly come across as that rude?


    It seemed so, as woman after woman seemed disappointed that my "Charming" title was merely a thing of folklore. The more I tried, the more I would stutter and say the wrong thing.


    Another princess approached me, this one from a kingdom called Mariola.


    "Wonderful to meet you, your majesty." She curtsied softly.


    Although her skin was ghostly pale and her hair a muddy brown, I was intrigued by her accent, which seemed to ripple off her tongue. I had to try speaking this time, or I''d just suffer the way I''d suffered earlier.


    "M-may we dance¡­ your highness?"


    She smiled sweetly.


    This princess was dressed differently to the others. Her dress was more structured and rigid, allowing for less flow in her movement. Her puffed sleeves made her shoulders look like boulders, where every other lady had their shoulders and collarbones exposed.


    "May you introduce yourself, your highness?"


    "Oh!" I exclaimed, not realising I''d completely missed it. "Apologies, it seems all my lessons in etiquette have escaped me."


    I imagined my politesse as a bird, flying far from the palace, "Be free."


    "Excuse me?"


    Did I say that out loud?


    "Nothing. Just... an inside joke."


    Inside joke with who?


    "Right..." She forced a smile and nodded slowly.


    "If you excuse me." I bowed as quick as I could and paced away, hoping to be struck down by a vengeful feathered serpent.


    It was at that moment where mother approached me with a smile only I knew to be false, leading towards me a woman of a similar age to her own, with wrinkles lining her unnervably focused eyes and a vibrant ruby dress covering her skeletal arms.


    "Your highness." The lady''s bow was clearly practised, as balanced as it was graceful.


    "This is Countess Gloria Del Flores, widow of the late exotic animal conservationist Count Del Flores." My mother introduced. I nodded, pretending to recognise those names yet instantly forgetting them. I hesitated, unsure whether to give my condolences or introduce myself first. Luckily, the countess must have caught on, and she interrupted.


    "Your grace, my daughters would be honoured to dance with you tonight."


    From the crowd emerged two young women, dressed in pink and peach respectively, their gowns adorned with flowers.


    "Laelia. Dahlia." The countess called without the need to raise her voice, and the two girls hurriedly approached.


    There was no denying the daughters'' beauty. They were twins - alike in every manner aside from the short twists in Dahlia''s hair and the long waves of Laelia''s. The girls were as nervous as I was, though they were far worse at hiding it, their bows trembling and their giggling uncontrollable. The countess shot them a glare, just as my mother did to me.


    Courteously, I held my hand out to Laelia, who flushed as pink as her dress. She balanced her smile under the uncomfortably watchful gaze of her mother, her sweaty palm meeting mine. Exchanging another bow to the countess, I led the girl to the centre of the ballroom floor.


    Almost immediately, the dance was a complete disaster. Laelia flailed around, her feet clumsily stepping over mine with her heels. I couldn''t hide my grimace.


    "Sorry," she said, still unable to stop her laughter. "Oh...it''s-" I began, but her chortle was so loud now it drowned out all my words. She gripped onto me harder to keep herself upright, until I was practically swinging her around the dancefloor, the both of our faces burning red. As soon as I could, I returned her to where I found her, but before I could leave, Dahlia took me by the hand and ran to the dancefloor, the people between us blurring.


    Dahlia Del Flores, unlike her sister, was an excellent dancer. She was clearly well rehearsed in jarabe tapatio, enthusiastically swirling her dress into mesmerising circles patterned by decorated linings. Her feet touched the floor quickly and flawlessly, not making a sound, and for a moment, it was as though she was floating on air. Impressed, I told her,


    "You are quite the remarkable dancer."


    "I know," she replied almost instantly, "my sister was a fool for thinking she stood a chance with royalty. Not with those two left feet of hers."


    Surprised by her boldness, I hoped she''d redeem herself in her next answer.


    "You both look a picture."


    "I more than her, I hope."


    I chuckled, thinking the sarcasm was a disaster averted. Unfortunately, she continued. "Poor thing. People compare us all the time but we both know it''s to make her feel better."


    She turned my face and forced my eyes into hers. "You are rather handsome, my prince. Far too handsome to fall for the likes of Laelia."


    I backed away as she leaned in. She pulled me in closer for a second attempt. I broke free, heart thundering with fear. Her eyebrows furrowed.


    She said something, but I didn''t know what. Before I knew it, I was running through the crowd, away from the shameless yells of Lady Dahlia.


    Maybe finding a bride was impossible. Maybe I''d never see the ocean. Maybe¡­


    Maybe I''d never leave.


    My lip trembled and my breath shallowed. Colours and faces swirled around me, the music only growing louder and louder until the melody was unbearable. It was all a blur. It was all a trap I couldn''t break out of.

 Chapter Two: The Ball (Part II)

    Looking for momentary escape, I dodged through the crowds and ascended the steps to where Emiliano was standing, watching over the event. I caught my breath, cheeks flushed. It took everything in me to not crumple to a heap on the floor.


    "Your dancing appears to have improved, you highness." He observed. "Have you found a potential bride?"


    I shook my head and choked on my own spit.


    "I don''t even think it''s them who''s the problem. I hate how I am around them. I''m a stuttering mess. Nobody makes me feel comfortable or even liked in the slightest. I feel like a fool."


    "You''re just nervous, your highness-"


    "-I can''t do anything about that!" My voice was breaking. "I''m scared, Emiliano."


    His face softened. He hesitated to embrace me, but the watchful eyes of my father wouldn''t allow for it.


    "Andres," he whispered my name like it was a crime to do so, "I know you more than almost anyone, and I know that you are no fool. When I first met you, you were... well... practically mute. But I remember the day after I taught you about the world."


    "You remember that?"


    "Of course. I had never seen you so animated. You came in the day after demanding I tell you more. You asked questions. You made theories. You entertained the idea that there were fish out there made of stars and horses made of water. Some of your less outlandish theories even proved correct. There is nothing I can say that could quell your fears, but trust me when I say that curiosity is charming. Intelligence is charming. Confidence matters little to those who will learn to appreciate who you truly are."


    He sighed, reminiscing about his own courtship with his wife. From what I remembered, she too was hopelessly shy, blushing when anyone did so much as meet her eye. She came in and out of the library often, sorting the shelves; hiding in the corner to read. It only then occurred to me that one day she had completely stopped coming¡­


    If she could be loved despite her social anxieties, then why couldn''t I?


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    I wasn''t ready to give it another go. Not yet. The sea of bodies below us danced, heads searching around for me. I hid behind Emiliano like a child, ignoring the fact that I was taller than him.


    Mother was somewhere in the crowd, conversing with another menage of nobles, subtly trying to look for me. Countess Del Flores could be seen from miles away, chasing after her daughter with an angered scorn as Laelia stifled her laughter. Princess Lorena, it appeared, had already left. As for the princess of Mariola, she appeared engaged in conversation with a young male noble. The remaining women were vying for royal attention, spinning and swishing their dresses.


    Perhaps sitting it all out and missing my opportunity was the most cowardly thing I could have done at that moment.


    Emiliano gave me a little push. No turning back now.


    I gave him a final glance before gingerly returning to the overbearing crowd.


    Again, I was on my own.


    But then¡­ everything paused.


    Everything dimmed.


    And little did I know it was because someone I had long awaited was standing at the door.


    She was like no other in the room that night, and all those other faces melted away until I could have sworn we were the only two in the ballroom.


    Her dress was a deep blue, not puffy or vibrantly patterned like anyone else''s. It fell to her feet like a waterfall, the iridescent sheer layer atop the blue shining like silk below the chandelier''s light. As she descended, the blue at her feet appeared closer to a sea green, hemmed with white lace that flowed down the stairs behind her. On her feet, a pair of glass-blown shoes, crafted meticulously with green and blue and beige.


    Aware that everyone had stood still to observe her, the woman slowed down, grasping onto the golden railing in fear that she might fall and embarrass herself. I knew the feeling entirely.


    As she reached the bottom step, we both took a sigh of relief. I hadn''t known how long my arm had been extended for her hand, but the second I even knew I had done was the second she touched it. Blushing, we avoided each other''s eyes, as though to deny the sudden spark we had felt as our hands touched.


    "M-may I?" I stammered foolishly. "May I have... the honour... of this dance?"


    At a closer distance, I noticed her shoulders were decorated with everything I''d never seen in person - pale peach seashells, silver pearls; sun-bleached sea stars. It was as though she knew exactly what I had been looking for, before I even knew it myself.


    "Y-yes." She finally answered, her voice soft and smooth like light rain. At last, our eyes met.


    My vision blurred.


    As did her face.


    Trying to blink away the anonymity was futile. Thinking my eyesight was somehow damaged by the beauty - like the consequences of staring into the Sun''s light - I desperately looked at my parents. They now both stood on the balcony above, clear as day, prompting me to dance. I gulped hard. Perhaps it was just the nerves.


    I led her into the center of the floor, now cleared out by all the dancers who previously whirled around me. It was me and her - the mystery woman, seeped in ocean blue. And for a moment - the brief moment between our halted feet and the music''s returning melodies - it was as though I had found myself far from shore yet unafraid, waiting to know how far I could fall into the eternal depths.

 Chapter 3: Before Midnight (Part I)

    I tried to speak to fill the silence between us as we danced in perfect sequence, but all words escaped me. What could I possibly say that would make me seem poignant, confident, endearing, and above all else, in any way charming? As much as I was immersed in her company, a part of me hoped that she would step away from this dance without a single opinion of me. I''d rather have no acknowledgement than the acknowledgement that I was a fool.


    "You''re shaking." She observed aloud.


    Panic struck me. No matter what I did then, I could not hide the fact anymore that I was a complete coward - an embarrassment to my father''s name. Quick, I thought, say something to take her mind from it. Make yourself appear calm and collected, intelligent and witty.


    "Oh. That''s strange."


    Let me die.


    "Don''t worry," the woman said, her voice like calm waves, "I''m nervous too."


    While half of me remained cringing, the other half was somewhat relaxed by her reassurance. I stayed quiet, afraid of saying something stupider, but the silence grew longer and so did my discomfort. The woman continued,


    "I''m not used to being around so many people."


    With those words, it was as though she had stopped time.


    "Me neither." I chuckled nervously, my face hibiscus red.


    "A Prince of Mendessa? Unused to company?" She pondered over the thought. Panic struck again - did she think I was lying?


    We turned in unison, stopping where our hands touched. From there, we circled each other, legs outstretched and feet pointed like vultures circling a feast. The music was slow, strangely sensual, as we circled, face to face, though hers was still an anonymous blur. The strings livened for a split second - preparing us for what was yet to come.


    "I lived a sheltered life." I admitted almost too comfortably. As we stopped in place, she responded.


    "As did I."


    The tempo was changing, and we both knew what was next. The Dance of the Feathered Serpent - a dance that persisted since before even my grandfather''s time. One person would play the part of the feathered serpent, sly yet insatiable for the kill. The other would play the prey, agile and alluring. The dance was a dynamic display of movement, often ending in the feathered serpent "capturing" their prey with...


    Oh no. I forgot about that part.


    The feathered serpent would end the dance capturing their prey with a kiss.


    I didn''t have much time to decide. On one hand, I could be the prey, at the mercy of this woman. It seemed she was more fit to lead than I was, and besides, the role of something meek and exposed reflected exactly what I was feeling in that moment.


    A thousand eyes stared at me. My parents stared at me.


    But if I was to be the feathered serpent, I wouldn''t risk revealing myself as a pushover. I could play the part that all of these people expect of me, most of all my father. However, if I was to fail in my portrayal, it would risk lifelong embarrassment.


    The music swelled to a crescendo of fast and intricate strums.


    It seemed that both of us had opted for the feathered serpent.


    The rhythm bounced of the walls as my heels tapped against marble, circling one way why she circled the other. Her glass shoes clattered wildly, every step somehow elegant enough to stop the glass from breaking. We opened out our arms and turned, a battle of equals playing out on the ballroom floor in front of everyone. Fully engaged, I refused to stop and look for my father, lest his expression would nerve me back into the state of the dance''s prey.


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    At the blare of a trumpet, we clashed into one another, our arms and hands high above us straining before lowering into an outside right position. I thought to take this opportunity to take the lead, but before I knew it, her breath was meeting mine and she unravelled herself from my arm in a series of twists. Her free arm wriggled like a smooth wave and I sought to move mine in a similar way.


    A drum-like beat followed us; ongoing applause. We used it. We paced around the enlarging space we were being given, stopping each other at every turn to pose or drop or hold one another. It was fast and invigorating - the way our hands would touch so naturally yet forcefully to spin each other. As she turned again and again, seemingly unable to get dizzy, her hiked-up dress appeared like the dangerous but phenomenal whirlpools I''d read about, finally stopping once again as I grabbed her waist and outstretched hand, lunging us eastward with a perfectly-synchronised clang of our shoes hitting the ground.


    For a moment, everybody around us disappeared, and in looking at the anonymous face of my dance partner, I realised that, for the first time that night, I was smiling and meant it.


    I almost forgot about what was soon to come.


    Our arms and legs wrapped and tangled like two battling serpents as we continued to fight over the role of the beast, neither one of us wanting to back down.


    The more I led her to the left, the more she swayed me to the right. It was a nimble display of control yet chaos as we made our way from the centre at last, losing ourselves in the hundreds prompted to join in with partners of their own. From there, we held our our hands and strided to the end of the room, conveniently where doors to the courtyard had been left unguarded.


    Wriggling our way out, the dance softened away. The alluring battle for power under the heat of the torches now cooled along with the night''s wind.


    We caught our breath, laughing at the sky with joy. For the longest time, neither of us even noticed that we were still holding hands. Once I realised, my body froze up a little, but then the realisation of how comforting her soft hand was made me thaw out completely; even melt a little.


    "We escaped before the kiss." She breathed.


    "I hope that doesn''t offend you." My other hand was hesitant to lay itself on top of hers.


    "Not at all," she patted down her dress with her free hand, refusing to let go of mine. That alone was enough to make me feel like I was made of mush. "In truth, I''ve never...." She stopped herself. "Nevermind."


    I don''t know what compelled me to admit such an unexpected thing from a Prince of Mendessa, but I felt no regret in saying it.


    "I have never kissed anyone either."


    The woman thought for a moment. She blushed and her blurry gaze left mine, staring up at the colossal walls blocking out most of the otherwise beautiful night sky.


    "You said you had a sheltered upbringing. In such a large palace... It must have been lonely."


    I sighed. All the days I''d spent aimlessly walking the hallways flooded back. All the days spent daydreaming out of the library window. All of that time resigned to my quarters, guarded in by all-seeing eyes. All those times, there were windows taunting me about what lied beyond - a glass barrier between me and the world.


    A glass barrier between me and this wonderful young woman, even if I didn''t know it at the time.


    "It was." I lamented, "I had my tutor and my parents, and I had everything a boy could desire, but..."


    "You weren''t free?"


    She took the words right out of my mouth.


    I shook my head in response.


    "And you?"


    We waded towards the fountain at the centre and sat ourselves down. It was then that her hand left mine, and a slight longing sadness swept over me. She gestured to the balcony above - the balcony where I had been that night when worries of marriage were overwhelming me. How distant that now felt.


    "I never lived in a home as grand as this," she breathed with wonder, "but my father''s home was all I had. It was all that remained of him, other than cherished memories. I could go into the kitchen and remember him singing terribly with my mother as she cooked, or stay in the garden and think about the times he taught me the names of all the flowers and the insects. I may miss him, but his love is always there."


    She fell silent for a moment. To console her, I touched her shoulder without a second thought. Instead of stiffening from the sudden touch, she softened, breathing deeply.


    "I wish things had stayed the way they were sometimes."


    I understood what she meant, although I could never fathom the loss.


    "He sounds like a great man."


    She nodded.


    And then¡­


    Then¡­


    Her head rested on my shoulder.


    I hoped deeply that she wouldn''t notice how fast she had made my heart beat in doing that.


    I wrapped my arm around her, and her skin was cool and smooth like pure marble. The water behind us trickled, and I thought of that one place we would someday see together.


    "Lately, though, it seems my home doesn''t feel like a home anymore. Does that make sense?"


    "Of course it makes sense!" I said perhaps too enthusiastically. "Do you see that window on the third floor?" I pointed.


    "Yes?" She nodded, considering the bars wrapped over it.


    "It used to be a beautiful window of frosted glass made to look like palm trees. I opened it about ten years ago and threw out a rope of tied up bedsheets." I laughed at the ridiculous memory of myself. "I was practising an escape plan. I got caught. Obviously."


    The girl couldn''t contain her laughter. For once, I didn''t mind being laughed at.


    "And then my father had them bar up the window." My smile fell a little. "My bedroom window."


    She shook her head at the rusting bars in disbelief.


    "I never tried again after that." I added.


    I couldn''t believe how much of myself I was opening to her judgement. But she didn''t seem to judge. She was still and receptive, curious as to what I was to say next. My lungs filled with anticipation.


    "May I show you something?"

 Chapter Three: Before Midnight (Part II)

    The east wing was unlocked, much to my surprise, but inside, lamps were lit, hell-bent on exposing our shadows. I stayed close to the wall, the woman following suit, and at every wobble of the lamp''s flame, we dashed past, our breaths so still that our lungs were suffering.


    On the stairs around the wall''s corner, a single guard stood in the dimness. I looked at the stairs adjacent - it would be mad to try and get there without being seen. But I had made a promise and I would not let this woman down now.


    Whenever I tried to come up with a plan, cowardice would set back in again. I feared that she was noticing my shameful self coming to light.


    She was considering all the options too - or, what little options we had. Without consulting me on what to do, she took a deep breath and stepped out into the open.


    I froze. What on earth was she doing?


    "You there!" The guard bellowed. "You are not authorised to be here!"


    "A-apologies¡­" her voice was shaking was genuine fear, "...I-I saw someone enter the west wing. I c-couldn''t find any guards who¡­ hadn''t been drinking."


    The guard took a deep, annoyed huff.


    "Those guards¡­ what on earth does the king pay them for? It seems only I pull my weight around here!"


    His armoured boots rattled as he stepped forward. The woman was planted still and straight.


    "The west wing, you say?"


    The woman nodded. The guard huffed again. "I will investigate. Now go."


    With that, he turned his back and trudged towards the nearest door, muttering to himself.


    The woman looked at me. I tried not to laugh; I couldn''t believe that had worked. Never before had I considered that the strict and straight-faced guards would ever be fooled, but this woman had demonstrated it as though it had always been an obvious truth. Perhaps she had charmed him in a way I never could.


    We scurried up the staircase.


    I eyed the keyhole.


    Another guard was waiting on the other side.


    "There is no way we can get past this one." I whispered. The woman seemed to agree, any skill in deception fully spent for the night. As our fingers touched, I realised she was still shaking from the ordeal. She had done that for me, and she knew she didn''t have to.


    I looked for another way - another door with a bar nailed atop it. On the other side, yet another new part to the palace was under construction, and I had no way of knowing how far along it had gotten. But if I remembered correctly, it would host a fire escape from the library tower.


    Not daring to make any noise, I pinched one of the nails between my fingernails and tugged on it. My fingers slipped with sweat the more I focused. Catching wind of my plan, the woman joined in, unafraid to damage her delicate nails if need be. Sweat beaded my palms and forehead as I focused. Time was not on our side, and any minute, the guard would be coming back to find us breaking Into a restricted area.


    The nail broke free at last, dropping to the floor before I could catch it. I began on the second, this one thankfully looser, as my fingers had lost the capacity to struggle so much anymore. Shortly after, the woman completed the task also, and we pushed open the newly-polished door together.


    Sure as can be, the potential fire escape staircase was completed. Relief cooled my mind.


    I took her by the hand and led her up the spiralling stairs, terrified at how easily I could fall through an unbolted step or let go of an incomplete bannister. At least if I went first, no harm would come to this woman.


    Reaching the top unscathed, I kept us backed before the doorway, not yet fitted with a door. I peered to see if where we were now was familiar.


    Sure enough, the room ahead was large and circular, with another, much older staircase to climb. Where the fireplace was dimming before an old chaise lounge stacked with used books, a guard slept, his armour soaked with wine.


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    With over a decade since the palace''s last festivities, it was hard to really blame him.


    We snuck past on tiptoes, eyes fixated on him. Every sudden snore jolted us. With no other sound aside from the dying embers and the sleeping guard, we made our way up the stairs steadily.


    Once on the library floor, I shut the door behind us and breathed all the breaths I had been holding in. At last, we were alone, but it wouldn''t be long before I was missed. We giggled like children until I looked up at the grand clock high above the door - a few minutes to midnight. I had to act fast.


    I led the woman towards one of an array of bookshelves coating the walls at both sides. It was dark - the only light being the moonlight shining from the large window at the end of the room, where my desk sat without a pupil, and a dusty chalkboard stood without a lecturer before it.


    The woman gasped in awe.


    "I''ve never seen so many books in one place!"


    "You like to read?" I asked.


    "I used to. Nowadays, I can no longer find the time." She waded towards the mahogany shelf of thick classics - fingering the spines of all the household-name romances and adventures. She pointed one out. "My father used to read this one to me all the time."


    This book I hadn''t recalled reading before - which was rare, as all my days spent in the library I did little else except read. She pulled it out delicately, as to not damage the already ancient cover and yellowing pages. The cover was maroon, a little scratched, but intact, and held an illustration etched in gold foil. With its age, the drawing was a little unclear, but it appeared to be a tall tower, with something - a long rope, perhaps - spilling out of the window to the base of the tower. She smoothed over it with her hand slowly.


    "It''s a story from the North Continents. Some even believe it to be true. It''s about a girl who was taken by a witch as a child and trapped high in a tower with no doors or stairs."


    I listened intently, the tower feeling like something I''d known in a dream.


    "But one day, a prince comes and the girl lets her long hair down so he can climb up. They then fall in love, but the witch is determined to keep the girl hidden and vows to destroy the prince."


    Her blurred face turned a little pink as she placed the book back in its place. "I won''t tell you what happens. You''ll have to read it for yourself."


    "I''ll give you a review." I smiled.


    "You better." She chuckled.


    It occurred to me how she didn''t speak like anyone else I''d spoken to that night. She used less formalities, but also less pretences. It was as though she was speaking to an equal, not a strange pet that needs patronising, nor a grand prize to be won.


    "My favourite tale is this one," I retrieved a thick book from a shelf too high for the woman to reach, "my cousins brought it from Elijandri. It''s about a City of Fortune - mountains made of gold and rivers of liquid silver. Two peasant boys embark on a dangerous journey all across the land to get there. They come across jagged cliffs, dangerous beasts, daring challenges, magic-" I stopped myself from rambling. "Apologies."


    "Whatever for?"


    I didn''t know. I''d never been asked that before.


    I broke away from the shelf of fiction and moved to the much larger array of non-fiction. I had my treasured ocean book nestled in a nook between the geography and history sections, hidden down below as if I was afraid it would get stolen or confiscated if anyone came across its beauty.


    "This is what I was meaning to show you. I''ve never shown it to anyone before." I held the book out to her. Curious, she opened it.


    "The ocean."


    "Yes," I said, begging that she wouldn''t find my obsession strange considering her attire, "I''ve always wanted to see it. There is nothing else in this world so vast - so free. It''s a pathway to anywhere in the world, but it even has its own hidden lands underneath!"


    She scanned the pages, noting the small annotations I''d penciled in over the years. On an illustration of a port, captioned with the words "Port Auriga", my ten-year-old self had pencilled in "the other side of the world!!!" on that one exciting day where I had discovered it.


    "I suppose you want to be a traveller like your father." She said, flicking to the next page. "That must be exciting."


    "In truth¡­" I hesitated, but upon her head lifting to look me in the eye, I realised I couldn''t pause there, "...my parents forced this ball upon me. I had bargained with them to let me travel if I found a bride tonight."


    At first, she seemed amused, but it soon shifted.


    "And that is the only way you feel you can be free?"


    "By compromising?" I sighed. "Yes. Otherwise, I don''t think I''d ever have the opportunity. I haven''t had the experiences of any other ruler. I haven''t had the life of any other man. It''s like being behind a giant panel made of glass. On the other side, the world is waiting - it''s cultures and climates and landscapes and experiences - but it remains on the other side, and though I may watch from afar, I can never be part of it."


    "Not unless you break the glass." She said.


    "What?"


    She held the book to her chest and took me to the window, looking back at me as she walked.


    "I myself wasn''t allowed to be here tonight. But I''ve grown so tired of waiting for things to happen that I took it upon myself to be here¡­" she drifted, taking me by the hand, "...And it has been the greatest night of my life, thanks to you."


    Part of me was glad it was dark, as otherwise she would have seen my entire face glow red. My heart once again lost its rhythm as she drew closer, yet still not close enough.


    She handed the book back to me, our fingers briefly touching.


    "I hope you succeed," she said, "and I hope you find the wonderful bride you deserve."


    I think she might already be in front of me, I thought, anticipation building up in my chest.


    Something within me burned to speak my mind that night.


    "I came here with the intention to earn my freedom. But now, I think I''ve found something just as fulfilling."


    Oh, what was I saying? Everything was leading me to confess my feelings. My heart would burst otherwise.


    "And that is?"


    Oh no. Don''t answer that. It''s too early. You barely know each oth-


    The library clock''s echoing chimes interrupted us, saving me in the process.


    Or at least I thought.


    At the blink of an eye, there was a seismic shift in the woman in front of me. Her chest rose and fell as she stared at the clock, hesitantly grabbing her dress. She stumbled back. Her breath was audible now.


    "Are you-" I began, but she was already pacing away from me.


    "I have to go."


    I persued.


    "I''m sorry, did I say anything that-"


    She ran.


    The clock''s chimes loudened.


    She sprinted out of the door.


    My body was weak, trying to understand what happened; trying to figure out what to do.


    Stop standing here deciding, she''s getting away.


    And I ran after her.

 Chapter Four: Midnight (Part I)

    The clock''s deafening chime made the windows shudder and the floorboards shake. I fell to my knees, watching as the sea foam lace drifted further and further away, descending into the darkness. I pulled myself up, calling after her, the chimes drowning me out. Clasping my hands over my ears, I pursued.


    "Are you alright? Excuse me-"


    My feet were so fast on the steps that I almost missed them every time. But for once, I did not panic over my safety.


    "I apologize if-"


    My foot finally slipped, sliding me down the last few steps with a mighty thud. The woman was already gone, fleeing out of the door into the wing. Again, I kept on going, ignoring the winding pain in my lower back and the ache in my legs.


    "Wait! Please!"


    My voice echoed. She ran as though she didn''t hear.


    Almost tripping over the wood we had dismantled from the door, I picked my legs up, running as fast as they could go.


    "Please wait! I don''t even know your name!"


    The winding corridors didn''t stunt her for a second. She followed the music that echoed through the halls, rising to a crescendo as though it was a symphony to her speed, ever growing the closer I seemed to reach.


    "Stop!" I yelled again and again, "please!"


    My eyes watered, unblinking, fearing that if I let her out of my sight for even a second, she''d be gone. I stumbled. I pushed myself off the wall, wheezing for the air I''d lost long ago, but my legs refused to stop and rest.


    "I''m sorry but I must go!" She finally spoke, gasping for breath. I tried to plead.


    "Please! Just tell me your name at least!"


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    Her silence made a brutal return. The tide of her dress was drawing out, lit by moonlight as she finally made it to the courtyard. For a moment, I could have sworn she looked to my bedroom window, bars looking back at her. She made a left into the crowds.


    Don''t lose her now.


    While the crowds seemed to disperse in her path, they closed again every time I grew nearer. It was almost coordinated - like every person in the world was using this opportunity to their - or her - advantage. My body was a battering ram against them all, elbows and shoulders being whacked again and again until they felt numb.


    "Please! Someone-" my breath was stuck in my throat. The crowds were too heavy now; too overbearing. The blue of the woman''s dress was shrinking.


    Don''t let her get away.


    "Somebody stop her!" I choked.


    The guards all sharply turned their heads to the fleeing girl. Their faces were determined - almost angered. In their hands, spears.


    Oh, what have I done?


    "Don''t hurt-" The air was knocked out of me once again as an elbow jabbed my kidney. I was being suffocated in every conceivable way - the heat, the crushing horde, the torture in my side. Worst of all was the fear - the fear that squeezed my lungs with a first of steel and weakened every limb in my body as the ability to push my way through grew harder and harder.


    Every voice in the world addressed me, making mine lost. The music persisted over it - the noise unbearable to listen to.


    If they could just be quiet for a moment. Please.


    I grew desperate, resorting to shoving. Eventually, I broke free of the arms grasping out to me like branches, and I clambered up the staircase with everything I could muster.


    "Stop!"


    The guards were unsuccessful in their chase, lagging far behind enough for me to catch up with them. The stairs and bridge leading up to the palace were already cleared by the woman, and she was climbing into a silvery carriage, slamming the door as the horses began their sprint.


    I tried to get a good look at the carriage, all detail shadowed by the castle walls as it shrank from view. I could have sworn the woman turned to look at me as the coach left. Focusing only on her, I tripped up again. My heart pushed on my throat suddenly. I shut my eyes. I embraced the pain.


    I was jolted.


    My eyes opened hesitantly.


    I was floating, only my tiptoes on the corner of a step, angled downwards to the barren moat and dry wooden bridge ahead.


    The guard let go of my waistcoat, planting me on my feet and firmly back to dreaded reality.


    And with that, the woman had turned to mist, vanishing into the dark.


    Hopelessly, I stared ahead at the faded horizon, chest sinking; stomach turning.


    "You fell on this, your highness." The guard retrieved a familiar item from the steps. Holding it delicately, as though it would collapse in his hands, he held it out to me.


    A heeled shoe, somehow unchipped from the chase, glass-blown with paint embedded in an abstract pattern.


    I held it just as cautiously.


    That was all I had left of her.

 Chapter Four: Midnight (Part II)

    I lay awake, ignoring my heavy eyelids, pondering about what exactly went wrong. Every word of dialogue I could remember played over and over again, the memories sweet as they were puzzling. What was it that I was missing? Had I said something to offend her? Had I been so blind in my affection that I failed to realise any discomfort?


    It was all just so sudden. None of it made any sense. And all my heart knew to do was hang heavy with guilt.


    I felt sick. Sick with guilt and sick in a way that I hadn''t quite experienced before. It was a turning in my gut, accompanied by a racing heart. My heart seemed to have been that way since the moment I laid eyes on that mystery. I couldn''t explain it. At first, it was pleasurable; the way every vein in my body buzzed at the thought of her, but then the thought of her running returned, making me cold with shame.


    My eyes stayed fixated on the ceiling''s pattern, a diamond of red and blue tiles. I had to apologise to her, at the very least. And as selfish as it was; as cruel as it twisted in my gut; I hoped and hoped that she would still be willing to marry me, regardless of whatever I had done. There was no other who interested me that night. No other made me smile quite the same. No other made my heart flutter like the tapping of rain on a stained glass window; the very rain I compared her voice to, reaching out to meet the sea, the soothing waves washing over me with every reset of the memory of her.


    I winced.


    Was this what being in love felt like? If that was the case, was it an illness or a blessing?


    Knowing that lying down pretending to fall asleep wouldn''t help, I sat up, pushing the stifling covers away. From behind the curtains, sunlight was already peeking through, and had been for some time. The night I met that mystery woman was over, and, exposed by the Sun''s light, my fears took hold. Fears that I had ruined my one chance with her, fears that she saw me as a fool; fears that I''d be forced to marry another. The dreams of the ocean drew further away with every step she ran, lace sea foam tailing behind her. I could not marry if it wasn''t her. I could not explore the world in turn. But, oh, what bliss it was to come so close.


    I stared despairingly at the glass slipper at my bedside. The dim glow of a singular candle could not give justice to its artistry - the unique swirls melted into the glass like seaweed, accompanied by pearls of pastel blue and white. It was nothing like anything I''d ever seen before, every bit as unique as the woman who had worn them.


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    I hadn''t even faced my parents yet - I couldn''t. I sought refuge in my cell, for once making the decision to be there on my own terms and not wanting to leave; ever. I was sure I had embarrassed myself and my family. I had embarrassed the kingdom of Mendessa. I had embarrassed all those who came before me, mighty warriors and leaders reduced to a boy who couldn''t even track another human being, never mind a beast of legend.


    I hoped the covers would swallow me whole. I hoped I could run far from the palace, too - but I couldn''t do both. I would always be Prince of Mendessa - it is a title chained to me, and there would be no turning back. But if I too could escape without trace and without a name, even then I would be faced with an eternal hardship. I was stuck. Stuck and crushed between two boulders blocking the two paths of life I must now choose between.


    Remain a shameful prince or become a lowly nomad and leave the kingdom in ruin without a future leader? That was all I had if I was to avoid the consequences.


    Maybe if I stayed in here long enough I could just turn invisible? Maybe people would forget I existed?


    The hope was ridiculously futile.


    My life was all ahead of me from there on in. A refusal to let me roam beyond, an eventual arranged marriage, a dull life, and a humiliating reputation.


    I wanted to scream. But then, I thought hard about what the mysterious woman had said.


    "Break the glass."


    Forge my own destiny? Was that even possible?


    Those three words looped more than any of the others, a voice from the past urging me onwards to my future.


    What good would lying around thinking about things do? Here, I was getting nowhere, driving myself mad with repeats of the night and crushing myself down with every possible thing I said that could have been wrong. I could have stayed and suffered over it, or I could have followed that woman''s example and hopefully get my chance at happiness like she did.


    I stood to my feet valiantly.


    And then I sat back down.


    Who was I kidding? I was not prepared for such a task. As much as that woman stood out to me on the night, finding her among a sea of merchants and nobles and farmers and guardsmen and builders and travellers was a needle in a haystack - shining and beautiful, but impossible to find. Without a face or name to attach her to, the endeavour would surely be in vain.


    Furthermore, I''d have to investigate - ask questions, take names - and even a simple introduction proved to be a struggle. Perhaps my father understood my nature all along and knew that the outside world was no place for a man like me.


    But I had to try.


    Otherwise, I''d never be a match for the braver woman who defied her situation. And if not to prove myself to her, I''d have to prove myself to my family. I''d have to prove myself...


    I never considered proving myself to me before. Not until that moment. I always knew what I wanted but instead of doing something about it I waited. I waited because that was expected of me. I waited because that''s what was desired. The years I''d wasted on waiting and waiting had to stop.


    I had to find her.


    And I knew just how to do it.

 Chapter Five: Breakfast

    I was awoken before I even realised I¡¯d fallen asleep.


    "Good morning, your highness."


    A maid whipped the curtain open, blinding me with migraine-inducing light.


    As tired as I was, the hunger came and could not be ignored. In a half-asleep daze, I searched around with a squint for the breakfast always handed to me at my bedside.


    "The king and queen insist you eat breakfast with them this morning, your highness."


    I ducked back under the covers and laid to sleep or simply die - whichever came first.


    "I''m afraid I cannot let you sleep in." The maid tore the heavy covers off me as though it was no weight at all, exposing me to the brightness once again.


    After getting ready in a series of daily rituals I was too tired to remember doing, I was already being rushed down the stairs and through the hallways towards the dining hall. Beside me, two guards, equal in height, were stationed to guide me as though I would get lost in my own home. No matter how much I stuttered and mumbled questions, neither one answered.


    The dining hall was grand, floored with shining mosaic tiles against walls painted with warm-coloured patterns. Portraits of my ancestors watched over me, framed in polished amber acacia and bathed in a golden light. Usually, the great, long table at the centre of the room was used for all the guards and the few maids we housed, but it was barren, with a crimson cloth draped over the ever-expanding miles of mahogany. At the end of it, far at the other end of the room, my mother sat in a grand seat, eyeing the plates of food being presented before her. Angled at her side, father sat already perfectly groomed for the day, just as mother was, despite how long they''d been awake overlooking the ball. They barely acknowledged me at first, but without even a glance, mother eventually spoke.


    "Sit, my son."


    Nerves and hunger fighting in my stomach, I took my seat opposite my father. The guards dispersed to the sides of the room, watching with envy as we began to pick at an assortment of local natural delicacies - ripe mangoes, vibrant papayas, juicy watermelon, and sweet pineapple. All of them glimmered under the daylight, stirring my hunger even more. It was definitely a welcome breakfast after a long night as opposed to tamales or spiced omelettes, which I could eat so much of it would draw me back to sleep.


    I picked at my favourites, already sliced into neat pieces for my convenience, and for a moment, I almost forgot the conversation that was to follow.


    "I trust you found a suitable bride last night?"


    I should have expected mother to be so upfront, but mid-mango cube, I almost choked.


    "Chew your food, Andres! You could choke to death!" Father reminded me as if it wasn''t already too late. I cleared my throat.


    "I... um... I believe I did."


    Mother smiled.


    "Ah. The mystery girl, I assume?"


    I looked at them both.


    "It''s all that everyone has been talking about," mother said, cutting her watermelon into even tinier pieces and eating them off the end of her fork, "a nameless woman, entering with no introduction, dancing with the prince and briefly disappearing with him, only to promptly leave afterwards with no explanation."


    I hung my head. I hoped she wouldn''t blame me, even if it had been all my fault. Before she could begin to ask dreaded questions, I told her,


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    "I''m not sure what went wrong. One moment, I was getting to know her, and the next..."


    I took another bite of pineapple out of self-pity. The remains turned sour on my tongue.


    "I have to find her again."


    Father stopped inspecting his fruit for a moment and laughed at me. Mother turned to him sharply and his face fell.


    "You are not serious?"


    "I am serious." I breathed. The fork on which his cube of mango hung clattered on the plate below. I braced myself.


    "If she ran, then the girl does not want to be a princess of Mendessa. No use in chasing after her! I forbid it."


    "Now, Santos, I''m sure the girl had her reasons," mother''s glare pierced my eyes whenever I dared to make contact, "right, Andres?"


    I wasn''t sure what to say. I hoped my mother wasn''t trying to accuse me of anything. Hopelessly, I shrugged.


    "I need to talk to her again. Just once. Just for peace of mind."


    "And do you think that if you called her to the palace she would return?"


    Mother was right, as usual. After all, the woman hadn''t even been allowed to attend the ball; a detail I decided was best leaving out. I cleared my throat.


    "I would have to go out and search for her myself."


    Father stood to his feet.


    "Father, it''s the only-"


    "-There were hundreds of women that night! What were the chances that you just happened to fall for one who ran away without trace?"


    "Santos-"


    "-Do you not see, Josefina? This is clearly a rouse to get himself outside the palace! I can see right through it and I will have none of it!"


    His fist slammed the table, rattling the cutlery. I held my breath, avoiding his stare as he descended back into his seat.


    Mother placed a hand over his, her voice not raised, but calming. It was directed at me.


    "Perhaps we can have our men settle this. Do you have a description, Andres? I admit that your father and I never got a close look."


    How to even begin to describe her?


    "She danced like... Her voice was just... I liked..."


    Her kindness, her intellect, her wisdom, her humour, her empathy, her charm; anything! Just say anything!


    "She was just... so..."


    I lost eye contact completely, all words failing. Failing to convince them. As much as I wanted to persist, my throat was already giving up.


    "Well, what was her name?"


    I stammered, the embarrassing realisation swirling in my gut.


    "I...I don''t know."


    Mother sighed deeply, closing her eyes.


    "You never asked?"


    I shook my head in shame.


    Father scoffed.


    "He knows nothing of the girl, Josefina. He doesn''t mean to go after her, he only means to go out and get himself in danger."


    Mother seemed defeated. For a moment, she returned to her food, picking at bits of watermelon with her knife and fork, filling the air with an uncomfortable silence. Father eventually followed suit. I had failed them in every aspect of the word, and the more I let time pass, the more I would be outnumbered.


    "For starters, I know she is from Mendessa," I looked around at every unconvinced face in the room, even that of the guards, "she told me so herself."


    I was already aware of how ridiculous that sounded out loud, but in my head I was certain that I wasn''t being naive. To fill the silence, I added, "I wouldn''t even have to travel beyond the kingdom, father."


    "With no name and no face?" Mother considered out loud, stopping herself before she said any more. It was futile, we all knew it. Even within the confines of Mendessa, there were hundreds of noble households. That was merely with the notion that the woman was, in fact, noble and was telling the truth.


    I was losing without a doubt. I was losing her in the process. I couldn''t be beaten so easily.


    But what chances did I have? What could I say that could change their minds? It was as futile as the search itself; a pointless argument that would only serve to further my embarrassment.


    I stood up, hunger dissipated.


    "Father?"


    Sweat dripped from my palms as I dared to meet his unimpressed gaze. Ever so quietly, I asked the question I''d long awaited an answer to.


    "What are you so afraid of?"


    His eyes widened. His voice halted itself.


    "If you had been in my position, you would have travelled to the ends of the world to find mother again. But now..." I again braced what was to come, "...we are in an era of peace... aren''t we?"


    Silence.


    Father''s sigh was closer to a growl.


    "When I was your age I was a Duke. You are the sole heir to the throne. Your position is more open to danger than mine ever was. And it''s true that there are no monsters in Mendessa anymore, there still is and there always will be men who want power. Our power. Your power. I cannot expose you to that. I cannot risk you or our kingdom."


    I understood as much as I questioned. Many of these points he had made before, but he always left out specifics; who to be afraid of, who wanted to take the throne, or why they would be willing to commit treason against a beloved monarchy. It was all too vague and murky for me to fully grasp his reasoning.


    "But without a bride, we risk no future for our kingdom."


    Mother''s voice was stern as she sat completely still. "Santos, we of all people should allow risk for the sake of progress. If my father had never-"


    "-Things are different, my love-"


    "-If my father had never taken risks, we would still be at the mercy of beasts!"


    Her voice echoed off the ceiling, its hollow sound dawning a bitter chill within the room. She composed herself, dotted her lips with a napkin, and balanced a smile.


    "It is time, my love. There would always be a day where we would have to let the boy see his own kingdom. Danger or none. Andres," as she addressed me, I sat back down slowly, like I was unsure that the chair beneath me was still there, "I will employ our finest guards to aid you in your quest. Find that mystery woman. Do whatever you must."


    I thought of the glass slipper, glinting at my bedside - the one clue I had.


    Who would wear glass shoes? Who could without them shattering beneath the weight of a human body? They had to have been made by a master glassblower to be so detailed in its design yet so practical that they could be danced in.


    I knew exactly where to start.

 Chapter Six: The Soldiers (Part I)

    Surprisingly, mother wasted no time in finding the kingdom''s finest men to accompany me, and all of them had to endure rigorous questioning from my father, even if he had known them to be loyal for many years.


    "Your father and I compromised on an entourage of fifteen, but three of them will travel close to you, even if the others need to spread out their search." She explained, opening the heavy door to the guards'' quarters. The humid stink of musk immediately wafted in my face and my eyes tried to adjust. The dim torchlit room was surrounded by thick cobbled walls and wooden benches. Weapons were displayed on the walls and kept in pristine condition, unlike the moulding clothes and bedsheets hung on a single rope across the ceiling. Even as the queen''s men, they were men, nonetheless.


    Fifteen soldiers kneeled before us, their armour freshly shining in the torchlight.


    "Be stood."


    The men immediately followed. Chief among them was Sir Rafael Jimenez, Captain of the Guard, seemingly ten feet tall with a face coated almost entirely with hair.


    "At your service, Prince Andres." He had one of those voices which was naturally bellowing no matter what he said. He cracked a hearty smile and went to shake my hand. Try as he might, he never perfected the royal customs that were so far removed from his upbringing. He had always put me on edge, although I knew that he was never malicious.


    I nervously took his hand despite the faux pas and it was shaken with the force of an earthquake. "That''s my boy!" He exclaimed. Mother would usually be appalled by such informality, but instead she just smiled.


    "Sir Jimenez, you forget yourself." She spoke politely. He straightened himself up.


    "Apologies, your majesty."


    From the gathering, I could see a familiar shape in the shadows. I squinted intensely to get a better look.


    "Emiliano?"


    From between clattering armour, my tutor emerged, fashioned in a leather tunic of his own.


    "I volunteered myself to join you, your highness. I believe I can offer some expertise in the outside world."


    I smiled wider than I had ever smiled since the ball.


    "And to complete your core entourage, I have selected this year''s most promising new soldier. Sir Zolin Gabriell."


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    A smaller soldier, the one unfamiliar face, stepped forward and bowed. He looked younger than a knight should be, and his voice didn''t do him any favours.


    "Your highness."


    The other guards snickered. Sir Rafael threw an arm around Sir Zolin and rubbed his poorly-cut brown hair with his knuckles.


    "Squeak here bested all the wannabe soldiers in Mendessa. Knocked ''em on their arses, he did! He may not look like much, but there''s a warrior in there!"


    The small soldier smiled awkwardly at the sudden affection from his superior.


    "It''s an honour to serve you, your highness." Zolin spoke. Rafael patted him on the back a little too hard, pushing him forward. The rest of the guards continued to laugh. Zolin turned red. I stepped in.


    "It is nice to meet you, Zolin. I have no doubt you will prove yourself a fine member of my entourage."


    Despite what my mother thought of it, I reached out to shake his hand - I assumed this was what guards and soldiers did, even when greeting royalty. Zolin looked to my mother for approval, and then took it just as awkwardly as I had offered it, a shaking smile returning to his lips.


    Out of nowhere, mother dropped a bombshell.


    "I shall leave you to lead them." She turned away towards the door.


    "Lead them? Now? H-how?"


    "This is your investigation and these are your men," she said, "if you have been taught your royal duties well, you should not need me to tell them what to do."


    I was unprepared. I was uncertain. But before I could protest further, mother had left, and I had no choice but to take her advice. In an ideal circumstance, I would have spent hours practising a speech in my chambers, laying out all the plans meticulously. But I was instead met with fifteen blank faces, all waiting on me to say something. The more I looked back, the more apparent it was that fifteen was far too many people to do what was needed.


    I looked to Emiliano. He gave me a look to say he wasn''t getting me out of this situation, so I reluctantly cleared my throat, trying to ignore the burning sensation in my cheeks.


    "You have all¡­ been summoned to-"


    "I can''t hear you for the life of me," Rafael turned his ear towards me, "could you speak louder, your highness?"


    The other soldiers and Emiliano didn''t know what to do with themselves. They stood awkwardly, also leaning in as if they had not heard a thing. My throat felt caught in my throat, refusing to let me speak. I avoided eye contact, looking above them all as Emiliano once advised in my lessons. Staring back at me was a fading mosaic of my father, standing valiantly above a crowd of adoring commoners. I cleared my throat again.


    "You have all been summoned here for an important cause. The mystery woman from last night''s ball is yet to be identified. I need your help to find her."


    "What did she do, your highness?" Zolin spoke up, hilt in his hand, unsure on whether or not this was a manhunt.


    "I think he intends to marry her, Squeak." A tall soldier flicked him on the back of the head, making him sink into his oversized armour.


    "That is correct," I said, "So if by chance, you find her, do not use violence. Do not capture her or make her feel unsafe in any way."


    "And if she runs away again?" Rafael raised an eyebrow. Unfortunately, I''d spent all day and all night pondering that worst case scenario. The reality where I am forced to marry someone I do not love; kept inside a place I cannot stand; preparing for a duty I do not want. After having seen the outside world, would I ever even return after facing such rejection? Could I stand to be the prince who didn''t conquer anything, least of all love? Could I walk willingly back into the place I am held hostage, having seen only a fraction of the world I wanted to explore? I didn''t know the answer, nor did I ever want to. But the choice was not mine to make.


    "Then we respect her decision," I said, looking away from the mosaic, "understood?"


    The soldiers bowed their heads in unison,


    "Yes, your highness."

 Chapter Six: The Soldiers (Part II)

    "First order of business," Emiliano raised his voice, and he was the only one who could do so without making me feel overpowered. He stood to my side and handed me a small, parchment map. "This is where we shall start. Mendessa City. If we are unsuccessful, it would be best to venture into Castillon, the nearest town to the north of the city - rumour has it that many women there claim to be our missing maiden."


    "People already know of this?"


    The soldiers looked sheepish. All except Rafael, who couldn''t help but flash a condescending smirk.


    "Everyone knows what happened last night. Every highborn in a million-mile radius was there. It was only a matter of time before people started claiming they had danced with the future King of Mendessa."


    I sighed. This would make things much more difficult.


    "But you know what she looks like. Can''t be hard to weed out the ugly spinsters, right?" He chuckled, as did the rest. But I just felt embarrassed. I didn''t know how exactly to tell them that what I saw wasn''t so much as a detailed face, but an indescribable blur.


    I took the map from Emiliano.


    "Thank you. I trust your judgement."


    I squinted at the map in the dim light, following my index down the streets and around intertwining alleyways. The city was set out almost like a mosaic of its own - titled squares and crooked lines among similarly-sized blocks of buildings. It was just missing the bright colours and the jagged edges. Cut across the city''s oval shape, a river - a mere remnant of the ocean - curved to a trading hub huddled with fishmongers, coopers, and inns for travelling merchants. Wedged between them, displayed as a miniature block on the map, was just the place I was looking for. I pointed to it.


    "We start here. Lagos Glassblowers. I want you all to search the area, ask people if they have seen a woman purchasing something from there recently."


    The soldiers seemed a little confused.


    "The woman we are looking for had shoes made of glass. Such a thing could only be made by a prominent glassblower such as the Lagos family." I recalled the name as if from a dream, the realisation that it was them who created the palm tree window I once had coming to me all at once.


    I was fitted into a suit of leather armour which hung heavy on my shoulders. It was thick, shielding me from harm but confining me in a sweaty heat which only grew worse when I stepped outside. I learned that only the Sun''s rays could penetrate such armour, and with his mighty strength he was more than willing to do so. Whether it was out of punishment or a means to challenge me, I was not sure.


    Sir Zolin was entrusted with the glass slipper, which was boxed up and wrapped in layers upon layers of silk.


    My hand acted as a shield against the sun as I squinted at the sudden light. Not since the ball had I been beyond the giant doors of the palace, and before the ball, I couldn''t remember a time where I had passed them at all. And yet, that night, when I ran through them to follow that woman, I never even stopped to realise it. Not once did I notice how far I had gone. But when I was there again, this time in sunlight, my eyes adjusted to the details once lit only by the moon. The clean sandstone tiles; the glistening red pillars. The stairs which led down to the path ahead were blocked by a ginormous gate guarded by six men, all of which were working vigorously to open them for myself and my entourage. I walked slowly on the steps, desperate to see if anything would catch the sun''s light - a piece of glass, or even just a lost piece of jewellery or fabric. But the woman had left me nothing but the slipper which was in Emiliano''s safekeeping, locked in a satchel and surrounded by more protective padding than Emiliano himself.


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    I took a deep breath as I ascended to the final step. Anticipation was welling up inside me, as though this final step was to be the most significant one I had ever taken, and once my foot touched the pure earth beneath me, a strange feeling surged through my veins. Dread; excitement; relief? I wasn''t so sure. But what I did know was that I was no longer elevated above the earth, hidden away for safekeeping. I was a person after all. And as I turned to see the men behind me who had lived through so many experiences, I noticed that, to them, walking down the steps meant nothing at all.


    The mud was lumpy but completely arid beneath my feet, making every step a slight discomfort. I took the opportunity to welcome it rather than reject it. Emiliano and Rafael positioned themselves so that they were surrounding me, looking cautiously at the trees on the near horizon. Zolin, on the other hand, was not looking ahead or around. Instead, he looked at the ground, as if avoiding eye contact with the world. I supposed he was so used to seeing it all. For the long-serving or higher-ranked guards and nobles, being out in the sun was something of a novelty. Zolin only had a matter of time before he missed the opportunity to truly appreciate the daylight.


    We walked slow, but my heart was racing as though I had run a hundred miles. As we passed more and more of the trees, the final wall surrounding the palace only seemed to grow larger. It was a wall I often could not see - one I sometimes forgot about - but it was made of thick, impenetrable stone bleached almost white by the sun. Above it, high above the ground, more guards awaited, looking out to whatever lay on the horizon. A giant door was held up with masses of chains like a prisoner, so tight that not even a storm could make them move. My father had constructed all of this - made our home the safest in the world. But with all the weapons I could see, it didn''t exactly feel that way.


    "Mateo! Julio! Prepare to open the gates!" Rafael roared. Immediately, two guards on the highest point above the door, shot up and saluted, before shouting at the men around them to aid their task. The chains grinded and clattered as a dozen men struggled to turn the wheel that loosened them. Shouts and orders mingled together as I waited nervously.


    The first break of light beyond the door passed through - the blue of the sky ahead. And then it leaned away from us and expanded. The door lowered more and more, but excruciatingly slowly. So slowly that by the time it had even reached a quarter of the way down, most of my nerves had fizzled away, and I was just growing impatient. A hint of excitement struck me when I saw something other than the sky - a chimney made of red brick, and then some rooftops, and eventually, the houses they belonged to.


    The streets ahead were cleared for us, but families gathered to the pathways, all staring at us with bubbling joy. All faces I had never once seen before. Their features were more diverse than any I had seen in the palace - a spectrum of eye and hair and skin colours I barely even thought possible. It seemed they were just as excited to meet me as I them.


    But just as the top of the door hit the cobbles ahead, spraying a cloud of dust, I saw it; the memoriam of King Andres I - my grandfather. My namesake. He looked tall and strong and valiant, holding a sword to the ground in a stance of victory against the beasts that used to ravage our land. A great stone beard carved into his great stone face, with piercing eyes that looked directly at me. He faced the palace for a reason - to watch over his ancestors, particularly my mother.


    I looked down at my lightweight armour - nothing compared to the giant metallic boulders Andres I would have worn on his shoulders. I could not grow a beard to save my life, and according to many of the passing guards, I was still a child. Nobody moved around me until they were certain the drawbridge was safely in place, and when I looked around, I noticed just how tall everyone was compared to me. Only Zolin was shorter, and still seemed lost in his own thoughts. I thought that maybe if I hid, Sir Rafael would be mistaken for me - a much better candidate for the kin of Santos and Josefina. But it was far too late, and the crowd was already beginning to cheer.


    I stepped out onto the bridge, reminding myself over and over not to trip and fall in front of all those people. Even hiding the uncontrollable shakes that took over me was a challenge, as every creak beneath my feet made me fear that the entire structure would collapse, and I would be washed away in the moat below. The noise grew louder against the clanking of armour and the horse''s hooves, each new weight making me feel less stable. I tried to fix my face and not look scared. I worried my teeth might show too much, or that my straight back might look as though I was compensating for my pitifully average height. The crowd''s eyes may have been joyful, but to me they were judging. Every step and every breath was humiliating to say the least.


    I decided to focus on where I was - finally outside the palace. Ahead, the city expanded farther than the eye could see, but as expansive as it was, it appeared like a model village at the same time. The houses barely reached half of most of the palace''s towers, and were crammed together in stilted rows of white brick. Wooden stalls lined the pathways, offering an enticing display of fresh fruit and vibrant pottery. Signs hung above every other door, advertising too many businesses to count. There was dry, cracked paint and very little greenery as far as the eye could see, but other than that, it looked just like how I imagined the small towns in my books.


    "What do you think? Bit of a nasty surprise, I''d wager." Rafael leaned in to me.


    "It''s perfect." I said, and finally, my smile was genuine.

 Chapter Seven: The Glassblowers (Part I)

    Mendessa City only seemed to grow more and more with every turn. On one street, a town square with detailed architecture and open space, and on the next, a crowded hub of merchants and aristocrats. And that was not even considering the places Sir Rafael and the others refused to take me - the dimly lit pathways leading to the unfavourable districts of the city which were teeming with thieves and vagabonds. I was kept on a strict path, even outside of my father''s territory. But even still, I felt as though I had been given a new pair of lungs, and the city air was revitalising every part of me.


    The one thing I could not shake off, though, was the watching eyes. It was impossible to blend in when I had an entourage of royal soldiers and their flag-festooned horses surrounding me. Every now and then, I heard my name, but surprisingly not in a jeering way. But it was in the same way commoners would call out to my mother and father on the rare instances of them making public appearances. Adoration. Despite my nerves, I was still the future king of Mendessa to them. A part of me was put at ease, while the rest of me still loathed all the attention.


    "You''re gonna have to get used to this." Rafael had said.


    We came to an arch which led us out onto the port bridge. By then, my legs were aching, and the sun was already high in the sky. I hadn''t realised the time that had passed while I was taking in all the sights I previously had only dreamed of. To the soldiers, this had barely been a morning stroll, and they remained just as lively as when we left. Even the young Zolin, although he had saved most of his energy by not talking so much.


    The water below sparkled in the mid-afternoon Sun, looking almost clean enough to be drinkable. However, the ships in the waves were in varying states of cleanliness. I stared at them in awe regardless - even the ones which were falling apart or looked old enough to have brought cargo to my grandfather. The ones with chipped paint or violent scrapes; ones which told stories of facing off against perilous storms and sea creatures. New or old, small or gigantic - every single one captured my imagination, and once again it was like stepping into one of my books, about to set sail on a grand adventure.


    I looked enviously at the men in tattered old clothes carrying heavy barrels that had once touched a whole other land. I noticed many of them spoke in languages I''d never heard before, and even more so than the city itself, every new individual looked more unique than the last. I was in a single place where the entire world had decided to come and meet.


    For once, in the midst of the busy hustling, we were not recognized straight away. I was just another man again.


    "Leave the horses. I, Sir Rafael, and Sir Zolin shall escort His Highness to the vicinity. The rest of you will question surrounding people who may have witnessed our maiden going to the Lagos Glassblowers before the ball."


    "Yes, sir." The soldiers answered, immediately taking action. I was glad that Emiliano had taken the initiative, given I was so occupied in the port''s dynamism.


    Not so far over the bridge, the Lagos Glassblowers was within sight, and stood out among the buildings encompassing it. While the rest were made of the same grey stone, the glassblowers were decorated with a spectrum of shapes and colours. Wind chimes stuck out from above the immaculate stained glass windows, making a quiet melody as we came to the multi-coloured door.


    "How magnificent." Emiliano wondered at the life-sized glass statue of a quetzal standing proudly at the edge of the rooftop.


    In the shade, the doorknob was a shock of cold when I twisted it, but the inside glow was warm enough to thaw my hand immediately.


    The heat and noise of the grumbling kiln could be heard as soon as I opened the door. Small chandeliers of every colour hung from the ceiling, the light bouncing off every single one of them to create a kaleidoscope on the walls. On both sides of the shop, shelves displaying miniature glass statuettes glistened and sparkled in an array of patterns. I did not dare to touch any of it, knowing that if I did, I''d find a way to accidentally destroy it. The desk at the end, where a shopkeeper ought to have stood, held a beautiful vase, decorated with a pattern akin to the wings of a monarch butterfly, and inside it, a grand bouquet made completely of opaque glass marigolds.


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    "Hello?" I said, surprised to still have breath after seeing such a beautiful place.


    "By order of the prince, show yourself!" Rafael bellowed rather harshly.


    From behind the desk, a tiny head popped up.


    "The prince?" A childlike voice spoke excitedly. "Wait here! I''ll get my grandpapa!"


    He disappeared within a curtain of beads, calling out for his grandfather, and soon enough, a man with thinning curls and an eye patch came to greet us.


    "Look, grandpapa! It''s Prince Andres! He''s really here!" The little boy, no older than eight, pestered.


    "Your highness." Mr Lagos'' voice was weak and hoarse, but he tried all of his might to bow to me. "What can I do for you?"


    "We are looking for someone. Someone who may have come here." I told him. Carefully, Zolin presented the glass slipper. "Is there anyone who purchased this from your shop recently?"


    Mr Lagos'' eye widened.


    "May I?"


    Zolin turned for me to grant permission. I was apprehensive.


    "Yes, you may."


    Mr Lagos took the shoe and held it close to his face, taking in every detail with a sense of childlike wonder. Even his grandson, and the grandchildren who were peeking from behind the bead curtain, held their breath, mesmerised in its beauty.


    "This is an incredible piece indeed." Mr Lagos was almost inaudible. "If this had come from my family, I would be exceptionally proud. Felipe, get your mother. She would know who made this."


    The little boy scampered away, followed by a small crowd of excitable siblings and cousins, and within a couple of minutes, he returned with his heavily pregnant mother.


    "Your highness." She said. Having not expected such guests, she wrapped her cotton robe tighter around her chest and patted down the yellow dress beneath it.


    "Marta, do you know if any one of us created this shoe?"


    Mr Lagos did not let go of it, but Marta took a close look at every angle.


    "It''s beyond anything I have ever seen." She said, which made dread sink in my stomach. "No, I don''t believe this was made by us."


    In a last ditch attempt, I asked,


    "Do you know if you ever sold it anyway? Did anyone come in and purchase it?"


    Marta shook her head.


    "No. We only sell what we make. And this shoe doesn''t look like it''s been repaired in any way by us either."


    I sighed.


    "I understand."


    Emiliano was occupied with the tiny glass alebrijes on the shelves, but he was still listening.


    "Have you had any young women come into your shop? This past week perhaps?"


    Mr Lagos racked his brain, but Marta looked less optimistic.


    "I can''t seem to remember anyone under the age of thirty here for a long time," she said, "our customers tend to be people looking to decorate their family home. You''d be hard pressed to find a young woman in here. Myself included." She chuckled a little, but nobody else did.


    I tried to think of any other questions, but it seemed the Lagos family were certain that I had no hope. Defeated, I nodded to them.


    "Thank you for your help regardless. If you do think of anything at all, please inform us."


    Mr Lagos handed back the glass slipper.


    "If it were not for this being evidence, I would pay good money to buy this piece from you. I don''t mean to pry, but who exactly are you looking for who may have owned such a fantastic work of art?"


    I supposed to most, the rumour had already spread. There was no use lying to avoid attention on the matter.


    "A woman I met at a ball last night. She disappeared. But¡­ I intend to make her my bride."


    Marta''s face softened.


    "Well, I wish you luck, your highness." She said.


    "Would you like to take anything from our shop? On the house, of course." Mr Lagos said, "Consider it an early wedding gift."


    I blushed beetroot.


    "No thank you, Mr Lagos. But perhaps I will return soon. It really is a beautiful shop."


    "Best of luck, your highness. Gentlemen."


    Rafael nodded back at Mr Lagos and turned his heel. Reluctantly, I followed behind him and the others. Suddenly, everything outside lost its wonder, and for the rest of the journey back, I barely spoke a word.

 Chapter Seven: The Glassblowers (Part II)

    By the time we had reached my home, sunset had already begun. I prayed beyond hope that the outer entourage would have some leads on our case, but so far, they had not caught up with us, and with the Lagos family themselves having no recollection of the girl I was seeking, I doubted anyone else would.


    "Home sweet home, right lads?" Rafael said, chugging back the last of his water flask. Emiliano and Zolin seemed to be tired by that point, having spoken about war history and the limitations imposed on the army the entire way back. Emiliano just seemed to have an engaging way to talk about such things so fluently, but I was too lost in my own thoughts to catch the entirety of it.


    "What''s the plan for tomorrow, your highness?" Zolin eventually asked. I had questioned the same thing myself for nearly the whole journey back.


    "I still think it''s worth searching Mendessa City, on a wider scale. We''ll send people to question locals."


    "We will have to be careful," Emiliano said, "there are plenty of nobles within the city who attended the ball, and will say anything to pass themselves off as the maiden we seek."


    He was right, as usual.


    "Suppose we say it''s unrelated to the matter. If we just send guards and soldiers, there''s no guarantee they''ll be asking about her specifically."


    "You may be correct, your highness," Emiliano smiled beneath his moustache, "but we also don''t want the lady to be too frightened to come forward. It is a rather troublesome situation to navigate."


    The four of us parted in the very same room where the ball took place. We wearily bid each other good evening, and resolved to meet again early the next morning. By then, I would have to figure out exactly how to proceed.


    I had been almost certain that the glassblowers would have some answers. I was stuck with very little - if anything at all - to go off of. Questioning everyone in Mendessa City could have taken weeks, and even then it was unlikely we would get any genuine leads. And it was possible that the girl I was looking for didn''t even want to be found, and could deliberately lie to hide herself. The heavy weight in my stomach was made of pure hopelessness, dragging me around the palace with every step. I knew there was no use doting on it, but at that moment, I could not do anything else.


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    I snaked around the hallways, passing by guard after guard standing as still as statues, waiting for something to happen. I suppose I related to them in that regard.


    But when I reached the spiralling stairs up to the library, my train of thought was finally interrupted.


    "Andres. You''re home."


    My mother smiled warmly and walked slowly towards me. "How was it out there?"


    Suddenly, all the initial wonder of taking in the city came flooding back.


    "It was good," I said, but my voice didn''t exactly reflect the excitement, "we didn''t¡­ find anything, though."


    She sighed a little, noticing the sadness in my eyes.


    "There is always tomorrow."


    I nodded weakly, the message not going in. How many tomorrow''s would I have to suffer in that place? How long before father grew impatient and made me marry someone else?


    I began up the stairs.


    "Oh, Andres?"


    I stopped for a moment. "I hope you have not forgotten, given your predicament. King Cedric and Queen Rosaline of the United Realms will be visiting us shortly. Their boat has just arrived in Castillon."


    It took everything in me to not groan. The visit had been scheduled weeks in advance, and I hadn''t realised it was so soon. The last thing I wanted was to endure a royal visit in the midst of everything.


    "Please clean yourself up and join us for dinner."


    I wanted nothing more than to tend to my books. But whatever my mother said was final.


    I did as I was told - bathed, changed into a fresh shirt and waistcoat, and combed back my hair, but as always, the one particularly stubborn strand refused to stay back. From outside, I could hear the clattering of hooves, and I knew that it was time that they arrived. When I passed the hallway where the spiral staircase was, I gave it one last, longing look, and vowed to myself that I would sneak away to read whenever possible. I needed something to get my mind away from my stresses, and it seems a fable would be the only remedy.


    I returned to the grand hall just in time for the giant doors to open. I stood beside my mother, avoiding my father in case he inquired about the day''s failure with great satisfaction.


    Once the doors opened, I was reminded of the ball once again. But instead of floods of women and their wealthy families, I was greeted by only six men, surrounding the king and queen until they were certain to be welcomed to our home safely.


    Queen Rosaline was the one I noticed instantly. She had lengthy mahogany hair that twisted like branches down her flower-adorned dress.


    "Your majesty," I bowed, trying hard to keep my balance. She curtsied back, perfectly poised as a queen should be.


    "Your highness," she returned, "it is wonderful to see you again."

 Chapter Eight: Cedric and Rosaline

    I hadn''t seen Queen Rosaline since I was a child, barely young enough to remember most of my days. But Rosaline I remembered. Her beauty was renowned across Mendessa and the world alike, as was her story of being awoken from a curse by her beloved.


    "My, he has grown!"


    A booming voice livened the room, and in stepped King Cedric, coated in a thick ruby cloak inappropriate for the weather. He had been handsome in his younger years, but it was fading with age more obviously than Rosaline. "Come here!"


    Before I knew it, the king had grasped me in a tight embrace and patted my back.


    Rosaline rolled her eyes and smiled at him.


    "Don''t suffocate the boy, Cedric."


    After similarly embracing my parents, King Cedric and Queen Rosaline were led to the dining hall, with me trailing behind them, hands nervously twitching.


    The hallways were soaked in a warm light, travelling up to the high ceilings that made all our footsteps echo at once. Outside, the view was blocked by the east wing walls, but their deep peach tone indicated that the sun was sinking fast.


    I kept my head down, focusing on the patterned tiles blurring beneath me. My parents were already engaged in conversation with the king and queen, asking them about their kingdom and their twins. My ears only pricked up when there was mention of the treacherous journey it took to get from their kingdom to ours - a two week long trip across icy waves, stopping from isle to isle overnight in a series of short-term misadventures.


    They made it sound all so casual. So mundane. The way they described the shores of the sun-bleached islands of Acrecia or the towering ruins of Mariola sounded in their voices as though they were merely commenting on what they had for dinner last night - a dinner which did little to enrich them yet seemingly never ended. Even still, I wondered at the things they had seen in passing - their ship''s brief brush with sirens in The Middle Sea, the thousand-step staircase up towards the castle of the Cristonian mountains; the lush green towns of Eregard, sheltered by trees taller than the highest tower.


    "I trust our daughter made it here safely?" Rosaline inquired, "She travelled some days before us. She would not have missed your grand ball for the world!"


    I racked my brain in a panic trying to remember if I met anyone who resembled Rosaline or Cedric in any way at all; anyone who shared their distinctly clear and brisk accent. There were hundreds of women that night, many of which I did not get a chance to speak to. Was it possible that I had simply forgotten to greet the princess of The United Realms?


    "Yes, your majesty," my mother eventually said, "Princess Alice looked a picture. Her gown was simply divine."


    "It was designed by the three faeries," Rosaline beamed proudly, "were they human, they would be excellent seamstresses."


    Faeries was another thing Rosaline talked about that seemed so everyday to her. In Mendessa, one would be lucky to ever come across one in a whole lifetime, but in The United Realms, the creatures were abundant, tending to nature and creating beautiful fields of flowers. But Rosaline, despite her royal status, was raised by them. Magic was just as common as dust to her, but I wondered what a wonderful home she must have had growing up, carved with enough wonder to last a child a lifetime. I doubted she ever got bored.


    "I hear that your son is looking after your kingdom while you are away?" Father asked.


    "It''s good training for him!" King Cedric said with a hearty laugh, "If he is to take on our kingdom when our time comes. Meanwhile, we are hoping that our Alice gets married soon."


    Just like that, I knew exactly the reason they were here. I gulped hard.


    "I doubt that would be a challenge. Alice is a beautiful soul." My mother complimented.


    "But all too spirited," King Cedric smiled, "she is always running off, acting wildly out of the ways we taught her. She is much like myself in that regard. Now I understand why my father was always so worried about me in my youth. I suppose you might know the feeling, Santos?"


    My father was silent for an eerily long time. From behind, I could not see his face, but my mind was plagued by the many ways his face could crinkle and twist into a variety of disappointed or embarrassed expressions.


    "Of course," he spoke eventually, although it was far from convincing. I hung my head, praying that everyone would forget that I was still in the room.


    The dining hall was golden with light. The table was draped in brand new cloth, and on top of it, not a single thing was out of place. In unison, two servants poured sangria into the wine glasses as we sat down, my mother at the table''s end, each family on either side of her. For a while, nobody did so much as touch their wine, and each and every person looked as though they wanted to say something.


    "Regretfully, I am afraid I cannot satisfy all your hopes," my mother said to King Cedric''s eager expression, "Santos and I decided that we would leave the decision to Andres. And¡­ Andres did not choose Princess Alice."


    I knew it.


    Rosaline and Cedric looked surprisingly calm. Cedric nodded his head with a forced smile.


    "I understand." He said with a low voice.


    "Do not think that we have any pretences. I did not want to lie to you both. You are dear friends to us."


    "Do not feel guilty. Your son is not the first to reject her." King Cedric rested his elbows on the table, sparking a slight reaction from my father, "But not to worry. There are plenty of princes suitable for our Alice. You know what they say - third time''s the charm."


    "And who would we be to get in the way of true love?" Rosaline''s voice was soft and melodic. She turned to me, "Congratulations on finding a bride, your highness."


    "Th-thank you." I could feel my father''s tension beside me.


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    Another silence befell us as Cedric took a large gulp of sangria. He leaned forward.


    "So tell us about the lucky girl, your highness!"


    I didn''t expect a light to be immediately cast on me in the conversation. How was I to tell them the ways in which the girl I loved was superior to their daughter? I wriggled with discomfort.


    "Uh¡­ I¡­"


    "Go on." My mother said with a stern expression.


    I blurted out the first thing I could think of.


    "She''s a good dancer. A¡­ great dancer¡­ actually. And she, um¡­ she was kind. She shared her favourite book with me. I have yet to read it, but she seemed so passionate about it." I couldn''t help but smile as I remembered the leather-bound cover of ''Rapunzel'', heavy yet so light in her delicate hands. And I got carried away with the memory; with the sound of her silken voice and the way she listened to me with no judgement.


    "Being around her was just so¡­ comfortable. Everything about her. It felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be." I thought of her advice, "And she is wise, too. And adventurous. She is everything I¡­ everything I want to be. The kind of person I''ve only ever read about in stories. But she''s¡­ so real. So honest¡­"


    The memory faded and I suddenly became all too aware of the eyes staring at me. My face was crimson and I avoided their gaze, nervously sipping on the sangria. Had it been too much?


    "She sounds wonderful." Rosaline smiled warmly. "Cedric, doesn''t she sound wonderful?"


    "Like a future queen," Cedric answered with a glint in his eye, "and I would know."


    "Oh, Josefina, you must be delighted that he has found such a perfect match!" Rosaline took my mother''s hand excitedly, and even my mother couldn''t help but look proud. But before the spark of hope had surged through me, her face turned solemn as she remembered. With that, I remembered too; I still didn''t know who the woman I spoke of was, or if I would ever see her again.


    "I heard some strange rumour on our way to the palace," Rosaline seemed a little dazed, as though she thought of her journey like a daydream, "that there was a lady there with no face. Is that true?"


    I pursed my lips.


    "That would be the very woman."


    Rosaline''s eyes widened with wonder. Cedric only looked confused. As was I, to an extent. I believed it had just been me, but perhaps that what I was seeing really was the truth; that she didn''t have a face, but a vague blur that I nor anyone else could remember.


    "No face?" Cedric almost spat out his drink, imagining the horrors of an eyeless, mouthless being.


    "That sounds romantic, though, don''t you think? He fell for her, not for her appearance." Rosaline rested her hand on his, her delicate ring catching the light. "But it is rather¡­" her voice drifted away, and her deep blue eyes travelled in thought.


    "Strange?" I said eventually. She shook her head vigorously.


    "No, not at all. The word I was thinking of was mystical."


    "Rosaline, my love, surely you don''t believe that magic-"


    "-Magic is the only explanation for it!" Rosaline beamed. My mother and father backed away a little, as though they were in the presence of someone who had clearly lost their mind. But Rosaline was as certain as she was optimistic, and her husband eventually settled to the notion.


    I leaned in with curiosity.


    "Magic?"


    "There are faeries in Mendessa, are there not?" She turned to my mother. My mother rested a finger on her lips inquisitively.


    "They are very rare around these parts. But the theory is not impossible."


    "What theory?" I failed to gather how faeries and magic had anything to do with the woman I was looking for. Rosaline spelled it out for me.


    "Perhaps a faerie helped your bride disguise herself!"


    I now had the same look as my father - puzzled.


    "Why would-"


    But then it hit me; the words the woman had said to me that night.


    "I myself wasn''t allowed to be here tonight. But I''ve grown so tired of waiting for things to happen that I took it upon myself to be here."


    How forbidden must she have been from attending that she had to go to a faerie to disguise her appearance? Wheels turned in my head. If she had to hide herself, then it was possible that people she knew were at that ball. Maybe even people I had spoken to.


    It complicated everything. If I were to inquire guests about that night, I could risk exposing her to the people she was hiding from. But without witnesses, there was no way of knowing where she went. What would become of her if people were to find out she was the one I was looking for? My breathing quickened, as the dreading thought of her possibly being in danger struck my heart.


    "Andres?"


    Everyone was waiting for me to speak. My lips quivered, unsure of what to say.


    "Speak to a faerie." Rosaline repeated. I had never seen anyone so sure of anything. And if anyone was an expert on the fae and their magic, it would be the adopted daughter of one.


    I nodded.


    "Thank you, Rosaline."


    She grinned, blissfully unaware of the impact her theory had had on me. She was a believer in true love - that much was obvious - and helping to achieve it mattered more than the political gain of marrying her daughter off to me. For that reason, my thanking was more sincere than it had ever been, but the words rolled off her like it was nothing.


    I stood up.


    "Excuse me for a moment."


    I started towards the door. My walk grew brisker with every step. I sped up some more. I opened and closed the door.


    I ran.


    "Emiliano!" I called out.


    My heart was bouncing. I ran with a smile, fully energised, racing up the spiralling stairs like a laughing child.


    "Emiliano!"


    "Whatever is the matter?"


    I looked up. Some steps above me, Emiliano was retiring to his chambers.


    "I know what to do next!"


    "Very well," he nodded, "inform me tomorrow morning-"


    "What do you know about the faeries in Mendessa?"


    At first, he was stunned into place. But then he considered it. Within moments, it all became clear to him.


    "They are rare creatures," he said, still thinking while he spoke, "but if one can be found, it may grant a wish."


    "I think the one I''m looking for wished to remain anonymous." I told him.


    He knew that much. Tiredly and somewhat reluctantly, he beckoned me over.


    He was in a robe, ready to retire for the night with a cup of herbal tea, so hot that it was still boiling in the mug. He opened his chamber door, and inside was a spacious room soaked in blue light. Above his bed there was a portrait of him in his younger years next to a woman in an elegant wedding dress. The two of them smiled warmly, but the rest of the room felt so empty and cold. The desk was left abandoned aside from a large fishbowl, housing some kind of lone, exotic fish, which swam in circles around faded trimmings of coral. A series of historical books filled the shelves, yet all were old and read before. At my feet, the carpet was worn down, and the patterns on the wall facing the window had been bleached away by the Sun. The darkening Sun beckoned in bits of floating dust, which stuck to the giant curtains and the cold bedsheets.


    Emiliano sat on his chair, in the corner where the light did not hit, and drank his tea quietly.


    "There is a possibility that your theory is correct." He said.


    "Which faeries can we go to? Can we track any down?" I asked eagerly. He held up his finger as he took another sip.


    "There is one I have in mind," he said, "who goes by the name Anise. Unlike most faeries, she is well-known among humans."


    I listened closely, almost feeling the heat of Emiliano''s cup from a metre away.


    "Anise. That sounds somewhat familiar." I said, recalling mentions of the name around the palace some years ago. But who she was or what she had done escaped me.


    "It is likely you have heard of her. She has been involved with charitable causes all over the continent. Families go to her to give their children blessings."


    It came back to me. In my days of sneaking around the palace and listening to guards'' conversations to pass the time, I had heard them speak her name. A guard had become an uncle, and the baby was delivered to Anise for a blessing. Anise had been so trusted that the family decided to make her the legal guardian of their baby should anything happen to them.


    "And she does it for a lot of families, too," the guard had said to another, "she has hundreds of godchildren out there."


    After another sip, Emiliano confirmed my suspicions.


    "Anise is most commonly known as the Faerie Godmother."

 Chapter Nine: The Tree of Stars (Part I)

    I stewed over my fears in the night, deciding what the next course of action was. To question people and potentially expose the girl I was looking for posed more risks than I initially thought of, but without it, finding her would be close to impossible.


    I turned in my bed. My brain refused to shut down despite how exhausted I was. When I tried to think of the ocean - the one thing that would always get me to sleep - the sea foam crawled upwards into the shape of the mystery woman''s dress, coated in illustrious details. She was out there, but she was only one person out of millions. Every time I tried to imagine a facial feature, it would fade quickly and fog my memories.


    I supposed that this Faerie Godmother would be the one to know who she was. She may have been a godmother to many, but she had only performed a spell of anonymity on one person, and I highly doubted that anyone else would have shared the same pair of glass slippers.


    I left my bed and approached the door. It was left locked from the outside most nights, but I had kept one of my mother''s hair pins to pick at the lock. I concentrated, hoping to not make any noise in case a guard was passing by, and awkwardly, I leaned into the lock, my feet at the side of the wall to not make a shadow beneath the door.


    I heard a click. Slowly, I turned the knob, my face creasing at the grinding sound it always made. I cracked open the door and slid through the gap. I eyed my surroundings.


    On tiptoes, I paced down the corridor in the direction of the library.


    "Your highness."


    My heart sank.


    "You are supposed to be in bed at this hour," the guard''s sour face was mostly shadowed by his helmet, "allow me to escort you."


    "Actually, sir, his highness will have to come with me."


    A familiarly shy voice shook from behind the giant figure before me. They came into the light, short and still in uniform despite the late hour.


    "Sir Zolin?" I whispered.


    "King''s orders." Zolin smiled innocently at the guard.


    "You should be lucky I caught him before he ran off." He said. He gestured for me to pass, and my lungs could finally relax again.


    Zolin walked with me until we reached a corner.


    "Thank you," I whispered, "but how did you-"


    "-I need to show you something." He whispered back, his voice almost child-like.


    We looped down stairways and across the palace''s endless maze of hallways until we reached the courtyard. From there, we turned into a series of paths at the far north side of the castle, closer to where the other soldiers would be resting. But instead of going back down into the musky soldiers'' quarters, we ascended to a small tower where the door was barred by a metal rod. Zolin lifted it with some difficulty and pushed it aside, and the moment he opened the door, hundreds of birdsongs lapped over one another.


    The Avery was tall and housed any bird that one could think of - from ospreys to manikins, and every breed of flycatcher in-between. All colours of the rainbow perched on the many bars all the way up to the ceiling, illuminated by the moon''s rays peering through the hollow windows. Wings flapped and birds chirped, while others curled up and slept in the warmth of their own feathers.


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    Zolin waded through the muddy floor covered in bird-muck, not expecting me to follow with my bare feet. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled, instantly summoning a tiny, jade-green jacamar. A tiny scroll was tied to its foot. I squinted in the darkness. A jacamar was a very unconventional bird to choose for sending messages, but somehow this one has been trained to do it. Zolin untied the parchment and came back to me, making sure to hold it to the light for me to see clearly.


    It was a sketch. It was a sketch of a boy staring up at a great statue, looking at it in awe as the statue held its sword to his shoulder, as though to knight him. As I looked closer, I noticed the statue looked eerily similar to the one facing the palace, and the boy looked like me, although creative liberties had been taken on the shape of my eyebrows.


    "My cousin drew this today when he saw you in the square. He''s twelve. Don''t you think it''s good?" Zolin said with his finger pointed on his cousin''s initials at the bottom corner of the page.


    The pencilwork was both messy yet perfect, accurate and precise in its composition. The shading was done with tiny diagonal lines and added to the details of my clothes and the stone texture of my grandfather''s statue. It was hard to believe the artist was only a child.


    "It''s incredible, Zolin." I smiled, taking it all in.


    "I just thought it might cheer you up after today," Zolin became sheepish, "you seemed down on the way back. But I didn''t want to say anything because¡­ well, I thought I''d say something wrong, you know?"


    I knew exactly what that was like.


    "I just don''t want you to be dissuaded. Everyone still sees you as Prince Charming out there. Especially my cousin; he looks up to you a lot."


    I had to ask.


    "Why?"


    Zolin seemed taken aback by the question.


    "Because¡­ you are the prince of Mendessa! Prince Charming, the future King Andres the third! You are destined for greatness. That makes you a role model in itself."


    I didn''t even think I was destined for greatness. Not at all. But the pressure to fulfil such a destiny was always there. Every time someone said my name, it was a reminder of that. But that picture depicting my grandfather accepting me and knighting me as worthy of his blood¡­ I felt something lighten within me. This was how the world still saw me. Children looked up to me, of all people, simply for existing.


    I felt a shudder of fear, though. And I had to let it out.


    "I''m scared I''ll let them down."


    "Who?"


    "Everyone."


    I looked away and sat on the step. Zolin sat beside me.


    "No one has ever even told me that I wasn''t good enough. But I always felt it. I have always felt judged, most of all by my father. I suppose¡­ I suppose it just feels nice that there are people who accept me. But again¡­ I worry that there will be a time that they discover I''m¡­ not who they think."


    Something about Zolin''s presence felt so comfortable. All of a sudden, I could pour my heart out and he would never share whatever ridiculous things came out of my mouth. Rafael would have just laughed at me. Emiliano, as much as I looked up to him, would dismiss me. But Zolin just listened.


    "Have you ever told anyone that?" He said eventually.


    "Emiliano knows, but he believes in me so much despite it all. Too much, I think. And I opened up to the woman at the ball¡­ I hope that wasn''t the reason she left. I worry that I frightened her with over-sharing. And if that''s the case then, well, maybe she will never like me, because I showed her everything that I truly am."


    "Can I be honest about something?" Zolin said, looking up to the birds floating in circles above us, "I feel like a fraud too."


    I remembered the pushing around and the jeering at Zolin''s voice that day. The cruel nickname ''Squeak'' and the back-handed compliments about being strong "for his height" and "for a girl". It would have been impossible for me to feel any other way in his position.


    "I''m not supposed to be a soldier. If I hadn''t proven myself like that, they''d never have let me. But even now, I don''t think I''ll ever be one of them, even if I fake it. This isn''t really what I expected it to be, y''know?" He tried to shrug off everything he had just said, but I had already heard it.


    I looked at the picture, once again getting that small hint of joy when I noticed everything it represented. Each time, the after-effect of the fear numbed. But I thought of what the woman had told me at the ball, looking for some hint of displeasure to justify my self-hatred. But I found a nugget in there, golden and shining; something which may have proved that perhaps I was wrong about her leaving out of aversion.


    "Break the glass," I repeated to myself quietly.


    "What was that?" Zolin asked.


    "Break the glass," I repeated, "that''s what the woman at the ball told me. Defy expectations of yourself; do what to can to feel free. And now I suppose I''m passing that on to you."


    I almost laughed at myself for acting like I had the answers. But Zolin didn''t seem to care. He let the words stew in his mind.


    "Break the glass," he mumbled to himself, "I like that."


    "You''ve already proved yourself to those other soldiers. You can fight. I suppose not believing in ourselves is what''s holding us back."


    "You might be right, your highness."


    "Just call me Andres."


    A splattering sound shocked me for a second.


    "Ugh!"


    Zolin stood up suddenly, his hair white with bird muck. It was so disgusting that I had to laugh.


    "Don''t laugh!" He spoke with a grimace, but I couldn''t help it. After many attempts to rub it away with his sleeve, he rolled his eyes.


    "Goodnight, Andres."


    I stifled my laughter as we left the Avery.


    "Goodnight, Zolin."

 Chapter Nine: The Tree of Stars (Part II)

    The decision was made early in the morning to traverse the rainforest west of Mendessa City. Anise the Faerie Godmother lived in a giant tree not far from the rainforest opening, given the unusual nickname "the Tree of Stars".


    We travelled on horseback, a rarity for me as my father would always worry about me falling off and suffering a great injury like a friend of his did many years ago (in far less safeguarded circumstances). The horse I was appointed was larger than most, with icy blonde hair and pure white fur.


    "This is Alba," Rafael had said, "she''s served me well for four years, she has. You take care of her, alright?"


    Rafael travelled at my side with a brown horse of his own, but I could feel him side-eyeing me with envy whenever his horse made the slightest grunting noise. At my other side, Zolin rode below, on a much smaller horse cruelly assigned to him on purpose. In front, Emiliano was our Pathfinder, guiding us down the winding roads out of the scorching-hot city into the unknown wilderness. And then behind, the dozen other soldiers riding in neat rows, looking out for any source of danger.


    I ducked under the first few branches, which had been browned by the sun. I had read about the rainforest many times, but still considered myself unprepared for danger. There were poisonous creatures at every turn, and gigantic predators lurking in the trees. I kept trying to remind myself that this was an adventure, and I was still travelling somewhere I had never been before.


    The birds'' tweets above us sounded more as though they were arguing than singing. I turned to Zolin, whose hair was messy and somehow still wet from washing away last night''s muck, and I tried not to laugh when I noticed him watching the birds above, ducking out of the way from the ones directly above his head.


    Alba''s hooves splattered against the damp mud as we brushed through another wall of bright green leaves. Bushes of star anise brushed at our feet, which surprised me for a moment. If my studies taught me correctly, those plants would never grow in a rainforest¡­ were it not for the influence of magic.


    "I will not be far now." Emiliano assured, pointing to a great shadow on the horizon. We closed in, vigilant of the sounds of creatures surrounding us, and the shadow became a tree trunk.


    Details emerged with every step, like we were witnessing an artist add the last details of a great piece. The star anise bushes thickened and led up towards the trunk, where they somehow wrapped around it in an unnatural shape. The trunk was thick and sturdy, towering so high that the canopy was out of sight. As I looked closer, each crevice was covered with fresh star anise of all sizes, stuck on with tree sap. It looked like the tree was made entirely of brown stars, and suddenly the name it had been given made sense.


    "The Tree of Stars."


    Rafael dismounted for a moment and searched the area.


    "We''re clear." He raised his hand, and together, I, Emiliano, and Zolin dismounted our horses. The other soldiers circled around the tree, most searching for the threat of wildlife, while others tied our horses to a nearby tree to wait for our return.


    Apprehensively, I turned around the Tree of Stars, until we reached a hollowed opening. Inside was only pitch darkness. As I leaned towards it, a voice, croaky but undeniably female, echoed from within.


    "Only one may enter."


    I looked upon the dark tunnel, and my entire body tensed. I gave Sir Rafael a glance, and he stepped forward to go in my place.


    "No, Rafael. I will go."


    As he opened his mouth to protest, Emiliano came to my aid.


    "Fairies cannot interfere in political matters. That includes harming the prince. Let him go."


    With every nervous step, I could feel my legs shaking. The path ahead was pitch black despite the bright and burning sun above. I had never interfered with magic of any sort, let alone a faerie, who are said to be the bringers of magic itself. They are not native to Mendessa, or so I have heard, so to see one would be a once in a lifetime opportunity.


    I decided not to distract myself with the honour of seeing such a creature - I had questions that needed to be answered.


    As I entered, the world behind me melted away, until no light remained, and I was trapped and disoriented in a cavern of darkness. Only a single light lit the way - a spark that flew through the air, changing from blue to purple and back to blue again as it drew closer to its conjurer. I followed it, not knowing where else to go.


    The voice echoed again through the seemingly endless tunnel, much louder than before.


    "I wasn''t expecting such an important guest. You''ll have to excuse me for the mess, your highness."


    A crackled laugh sent chills down my spine.


    I thought of what Emiliano said; that she couldn''t hurt me. And I remembered the words spoken about her back when I thought she was merely a legend - that she was kind and helpful; a godmother to many.


    As my eyes adjusted, a warm glow lit against the twisted wooden walls of the tree, winding around a corner where one of many torches flickered. The spark began to fizzle out. The faerie godmother''s chuckles no longer echoed.


    The path opened to a large cove, flickering with firelight that danced up to the ceiling''s hanging vines, some loose while others were plaited and decorated with dried-up marigolds. Shelves were carved into the walls, displaying bottles of every colour, shape, and size imaginable, all desperately fighting for what little space they had. A strong scent of incense and sweet cinnamon brought me back to childhood memories I couldn''t quite place, and beckoned me inside.


    I looked around. There wasn''t a soul except for myself. For a moment, I stood still, equally apprehensive and nervous, staring at the patterned rug beneath my feet. The rug''s pinks and reds and purples seemed to have faded from use - if the reclusive faerie would have been anywhere, it would have been there.


    "Andres, your highness, come in, come in!"


    The voice was coming from behind a strung-up clothesline, weighed down by piles upon piles of mismatched materials. I walked to it gingerly, and softly began to peel the fabrics aside.


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    Before I could pull away the next layer, all of them suddenly stretched apart like a pair of curtains. I gasped from the suddenness. On the other side, an empty desk was left in dim light, littered with scrolls and other random trinkets. The stool that would sit beneath it was missing, and instead was moved to the side of a giant cauldron filled with a smoky-smelling brown liquid beneath hanging sprigs of sundried herbs and spices.


    "Just over here."


    The source of the voice was somewhere beneath the desk, but there wasn''t a soul to be seen. As I searched, a glow from a desk drawer keyhole flickered in my eye. Double-taking, I put my eye through the keyhole to find a face staring back at me.


    I leaped back as the drawer opened itself and out came an elderly woman the same height as a ripe strawberry, surrounded by a golden glow.


    The faerie exited and flew up to the edge of the desk where she sat, laughing at my obvious fear.


    "Prince Andres! What a handsome young fellow you have grown to be!"


    "You... know me?"


    "Who doesn''t? You are the prince of Mendessa!"


    I was confused. The way she spoke to me sounded as though she had seen me in person before - something that only very few could claim. When I asked again, I was dismissed before I could even finish my sentence.


    "-And I know everyone, dear, it''s not something that makes you special around these parts."


    She glanced over to the cauldron, exposing the wiry bones and wrinkles in her neck.


    "I don''t know you,"  I said, getting myself up from the dusty carpet, "only stories."


    I was ignored.


    "Smell that?" She inhaled sharply. "It''s ready!"


    She flew over to the stool beside the cauldron. Then, with a beady-eyed look, said, "Turn away. It''s rude to look at a woman changing."


    Immediately, I turned and stared at the corner, deciding not to ask any questions about what she meant. With a noise that sounded like a draft of wind through the tree, she finally allowed me to turn again. When I did, she was standing as a fully-grown human, her wings gone but the glowing aura remained. At this size, I could get a better look at her, noticing the shock of grey across the side of her plaited bun and the long, red fingernails covered in golden rings.


    Anise grabbed a used mug from the desk and scooped it into the cauldron, taking out a messy cupful of the mystery concoction and taking a sip which dribbled down her mouth.


    "I am here because I-"


    "Try some, dear, try some!"


    She practically shoved the cup into my hands. It was surprisingly lukewarm, the liquid within dull and lumpy.


    "No thank you."


    "You must! Or I''m not helping you with anything!"


    I saw my reflection in the liquid. A grimace couldn''t help but appear.


    Faeries cannot interfere with political matters. That includes harming the prince.


    I shut my eyes tight and took a gulp.


    Going down, it was surprisingly good. It was thick yet smooth, smoked yet it had a kick of spice that settled in my throat. I chewed something meaty yet tender, flavoured with vegetables and paprika.


    "Mole de olla." I decided aloud. It had been a dish that warmed me up in the winter months when I was young.


    "Did you help anyone get to the ball? Anyone who wasn''t supposed to be there?"


    "Everyone at that ball was meant to be there. Whether your elitist father thinks so or not."


    I tensed up to defend him, but she had a point. Father would only allow noble women at the ball - believing only the highest of society to be trusted around me. But what she had said suggested that perhaps that roster wasn''t all that it seemed.


    I curled an eyebrow.


    "So you are saying you helped a commoner?"


    I anticipated the answer. If the woman I was looking for was a commoner, that brought its own array of issues that both my parents would outright forbid.


    The faerie froze in thought for a moment, regretting her words. But in a way that could not be seen as anything but honest, she answered.


    "Depends on perspective."


    "What does that mean? Who did you help?"


    "Many women," she said, "I am a godmother to one hundred and forty seven people - I am a very busy woman, especially on that night."


    "Busy how?"


    "You ask many questions, dear," she flicked through the shelf of bottles, each one threatening to fall at her touch. Eventually, she grabbed a small yellow one at the back, "lemon juice?"


    I shook my head.


    "No thank you."


    "Suit yourself, dear." She threw her head back and gulped down the whole thing before grimacing. "Oh dear."


    "What?"


    She eyed the bottle more closely.


    "I might have taken a fire breathing potion instead."


    She coughed. And then coughed again, banging her chest. With a third cough, a flame escaped her lips. As she spoke, smoke erupted from her lips.


    "Where is that blasted antidote?"


    She shuffled around, rushing to and from the fabric curtains and ignoring everything I tried to say to get her attention. She flicked through the shelf of bottles again, then rummaged desperately through her desk drawers, raking out every random object she had squashed in them.


    "Oh dear, dear. My mouth is burning!"


    I searched around, hoping that it would get her to finally focus on our conversation again. As she whipped up the carpet, spraying dust all over the room, I looked up to avoid sneezing. That is when I found it - a purple bottle, entangled in vines on the ceiling, labelled "ANTIDOTE" in thick handwriting. I looked to Anise again, who was climbing up a nearly-sparse bookshelf muttering to herself, and I opened my mouth to speak.


    But then, I had an idea.


    I reached up and pulled the bottle down from the vines'' grasp. I held it in the air.


    "Anise!"


    She turned, hands and feet gripped on the bookshelf like a spider.


    "Oh, bless you, my de-"


    "-Tell me what I need to know. Or I will break it."


    I was chilled by my own words, turning pale with guilt, but desperation had already taken hold, and it may have been my only opportunity to get answers from her.


    She coughed again, a blast knocking her from the shelf and onto the floor with a mighty thud. She crawled towards me.


    "Anything, your highness."


    "Who did you help attend the ball? I need names."


    "I would give you names if I remembered them," she wheezed, lifting herself up, "truth be told, my memory is not quite what it used to be in my old age. And I am such a busy woman! I helped so many the night of the ball!"


    "Any that had glass slippers?"


    She hummed a disjointed melody as more steam escaped her nostrils.


    "This is about that mystery girl, isn''t it?"


    "Answer the question," I said, holding the bottle higher, "... please."


    "Yes. One girl..." She tapped her chin a spluttered again, "...she goes by the name Cinderella."


    "Cinderella?" I said, loosening my grip. "Surely that''s not a real name?"


    "That''s all I know. Now, please!"


    My gut told me not to believe her. As a faerie, she had every right to keep herself away from my personal ambitions. The Fae weren''t ones to follow any sort of authority, even in a moment of desperation, and so I hesitated. The bottle began to loosen, and for a moment, I believed I was going to let it fall.


    But then I saw her face welling with tears from the internal heat. An elderly woman, confused and losing her mind a little, whether she was exaggerating the extent of it or not. She reached out her arms desperately with a look on her face that none had given me before... genuine fear.


    No one had been afraid of me before; I never even thought I was capable of instilling it. I hated it. It made my heart fall to my stomach.


    I took a deep breath. My hand lowered.


    Once the bottle was in her hands, she gulped it down instantly.


    "Thank you," she gasped.


    "Thank you too," I said quietly, the pit in my stomach still sunk, "sorry, but I must go now."


    I paced away, back into the darkness, not even sure of where I was headed. I needed to escape the feeling; escape the look of heavy relief in the faerie''s face that I listened to her pleas. My mother and father and grandfather used to rule nations by creating such fear. I could never do that - never again. The very idea made my throat clench. And yet I knew that that would have to be my duty one day - to command people and control them by whatever means necessary. But I was not my father, nor was I anything resembling a monarch.


    Eventually, I came to the tunnel''s end, squinting at the light outside.

 Chapter Ten: Seeds of Doubt (Part I)

    ''Rapunzel touched the face of her beloved, and all of a sudden, it did not matter that he could not see her anymore, for her presence was all that he needed.


    "Rapunzel," the prince said, the heat of her breath caressing him against the bitter wind, "will you marry me?"


    Rapunzel held him close and wept, kissing his forehead through a smile.


    "Of course I will," she said, and a tear fell from her eye to her chin, and from her chin, it dropped on Prince Sanborn''s forehead. It trickled down, glowing with an unusual light, and split into two, just as the clouds above parted with them. Each droplet began to sparkle, as Sanborn felt the warmth of the sun coming through.


    Rapunzel''s tears were hot as they fell from her eyes to his, but the second they soaked into Sanborn''s eyelashes, a shock of cold cooled him. Suddenly, the constant pain in his eyes melted away. The splinters of the thorns disappeared, and the drying blood on his face erased itself.


    He opened his eyes.


    At first, it was a blur. The green blobs of the forest on the horizon, and the sky-blue colour of Rapunzel''s sleeve beneath his chin. But then, everything came into focus. Miraculously, he could see once more. Rapunzel kissed his cheek and left the embrace. Her expression turned to shock; and then to wonder; and then to a teary smile.


    He returned her gesture, resting his hand on her ear, feeling her soft, short hair between his fingers.


    "We''re free, San." Rapunzel said.


    "We are," said Sanborn, looking deeply into her eyes, seeing the entire world reflected in them. He thought for a moment, his heart beating in tune with his love''s. Finally, he asked her, "Where do you want to go first?''


    I turned the page and took a breath. I closed the book.


    I didn''t know what to say about it, if anything at all. Rapunzel''s only want in life was to escape a home that had become a prison, and now she had the entire world to explore with the man she loved.


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    To little avail, I searched and searched to see if a second book of her adventures existed. I flicked through every crevice - every shelf - even scouring through books that had titles that might sound like a continuation of the story. But after discovering that the promising ''Journeys Across the West Continent'' was nothing more than an out-of-date travelogue, I gave up.


    I knew why I resorted to that, of course. Rapunzel herself. I related to her.


    But perhaps Cinderella felt the same way. A woman with a strange name, forbidden from the outside world, only to escape on her own terms. Perhaps the book was a clue - a hint that she had left me to find her. But perhaps that was too convenient, after all I still wasn''t sure why she ran or if she wanted to be found. It was clear that I was grasping at straws trying to find her, and I worried that everyone else felt the same.


    "They say in the western continent that it is based on a true story." Emiliano''s voice made me jolt. "But it is highly far-fetched."


    "How?" I asked.


    "Hair so long cannot possibly exist. One could spend a hundred years growing it and never reach tower length!"


    "Right," I said, a little relieved that he wasn''t so wary of the aspects I loved most, "but never mind that - did you find anyone?"


    He lifted his spectacles from the end of his nose, the light glinting against it as he sighed. He hung his head, and my heart ached.


    "I am afraid not, your highness. Not just in the capital, but in all of Mendessa; Cinderella does not exist."


    I took a moment to take it all in. From behind his glasses, Emiliano''s eyes were a picture of pity.


    "Worry not, Andres. This is not the end. Far from it, in fact."


    "But what else can we go off without a name or face?"


    "It is clear to me that Cinderella is a pseudonym. Perhaps even a nickname. We could always ask the Faerie Godmother-"


    "-No," I said desperately, the memory of my cruel treatment of her haunting me once more, "she hardly gave me answers last time. I doubt she would now."


    Emiliano stroked his beard in thought.


    "What of the book?"


    I stroked the cover''s soft golden carvings.


    "I figured that it might have been a clue, but now I believe I was reading too much into things."


    "I meant the book itself. What did you think of it?"


    "Oh," I smiled sheepishly, staring at the image of the maiden in her tower, "it may be a new favourite."


    Emiliano smiled.


    "Well, that does not surprise me. You''ve been reading all day!"


    I turned to the window to see the sky turning violet. Emiliano''s hand was placed gently on my back.


    "Get some sleep, Andres. We shall continue our investigation when you wake."


    I didn''t feel like I could sleep. My mind was racing around every plot detail that could mean something. In vain, I laid in bed and pondered for hours, drearily watching the sunlight rise through my curtains. Nothing stood out to me other than the relatability I supposed me and Cinderella both felt over it.


    But the ending kept crawling back to me. That ending had inspired me with so much hope that I had never felt before, that those feelings were dashed further by the lack of a ''Cinderella'' in all of Mendessa. She was out there - I just knew it - waiting to be found by a prince to take her from her tower.


    As much as I fought against it, my eyelids grew heavier, and I fell asleep to dream of my own happy ending.

 Chapter Ten: Seeds of Doubt (Part II)

    A dark shadow lurked ahead, filling my stomach with dread. Every time it moved, even slightly, I shuddered, yet I could not move.


    "Andres," I heard Cinderella''s voice from beside me. She sounded frightened, "if anything happens, I love you."


    Those words alone made me momentarily light. But quickly, the dread sank back in, as I realised the weight of what she had said; the possibility that we may not be alive to say such things ever again.


    The shadow moved, silhouetted against the night, warping into a long, snake-like appearance, larger than a tower. It bared its teeth and widened its giant wings as though it was about to strike, but instead it just hissed, drinking in the fear of its prey.


    "The feathered serpent."


    My voice was barely a whisper. I looked down at my hand, to find a sword fixed to it, so hard that blood was squeezing out of my palm. Cinderella, seeped in mist and shadow, had a shining sword of her own, and whacked it wildly in the serpent''s direction. The serpent was unphased. Instead, it stared at me, eyes glowing.


    I closed my eyes and waited for my father. The sword was too heavy, and only worsened with every passing moment. It sunk me into the ground, until my feet were submerged in thick black mud.


    Panicked, I opened my eyes again, knowing that my father would not come to save me. Cinderella kept trying, but somehow, she could never get a hit. The serpent kept its gaze, deep into my soul. I held my breath. Perhaps if I did not move, then Cinderella could make it out alive. I tried to yell at her to run, but drawing any attention might have destroyed her.


    The mud had come to my waist. There wasn''t much time. The smell of blood filled my nose and made it hard to breathe as I tried desperately to let go of the sword. The serpent remained on me. It only cared about my downfall.


    I looked at the blur of Cinderella once more, wondering if she was saving me, or if I was saving her. The serpent''s breath was hot enough to make me sweat, and I tried and tried to lift myself from the earth to no avail.


    "Revenge¡­." The feathered serpent growled, sending a chill through my veins. He sounded exactly like my father, "...that is all I need."


    ***


    I was shocked awake. I could breathe, but my heartbeat slowed with the taste of mole de olla still on my tongue somehow. The nightmare had felt so real. For a dazed moment, I stared at the ceiling and wondered if I really had died, and that this was really the dream. Or perhaps I had been reincarnated back in time.


    Still clutching my chest, I sat myself up and realised I was still wearing yesterday''s clothes. I got dressed, and saw that the creases of my shirt and trousers had dug their way into my skin during the night.


    Judging by the silence outside, I figured that it was still early morning; which was daytime enough for me to leave my room in peace. I had at least an hour to kill before I was called for breakfast, so I returned to the library, where ''Rapunzel'' was still sitting waiting for me.


    I was tempted to give it another read. After the first chapter, I had been so enthralled that I had forgotten to stop and truly analyse anything that could point me in the right direction. But Emiliano came in, fully dressed with a mug of tea in his hands, and bid me good morning.


    "Good morning, Emiliano."


    "I trust you slept well?"


    I nodded, but something caused me to shudder. Even as terrifying as my dream had been, dreaming about Cinderella in such a heroic, tragically romantic way felt somehow wrong; as though I had taken her character and imprinted it into a fantasy; the kind that would only exist in the realms of Rapunzel''''s story. The truth was, love didn''t always make me feel giddy and light. In moments like that, where I thought too hard, I lost sleep and my appetite as though I was ill.


    "I dreamt about seeing her again. But I still couldn''t see her face," I admitted, "and the more I think about it, the worse I feel."


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    I thought it was best to omit the gory details. It made my throat numb just thinking about it.


    Emiliano put away the book he was returning to its rightful place on the shelf and sat down. He gestured for me to sit beside him, and I did nervously.


    "Do you think I am going mad?"


    "Mad? Of course not, Andres. But you are in love, which can feel... relatively the same."


    He sat on the other end of the desk, his eyes softer than they had ever been. "I remember when I met my Celest¨¦; my morning star. I always saw her in the library of the academy, buried in books, yet despite all my youthful confidence, I was always too shy to speak with her. I used to dream of her; pray to the Sun that she would return my feelings. I felt as though I, too, was going mad. But it is not madness if it gives you joy - if it makes your heart somersault and your stomach fill with butterflies. That feeling is love, Andres, and lest it turns into an unhealthy obsession, you have a right to feel it."


    It took me a moment to notice his warm hand atop mine as a saddened smile appeared beneath his silver moustache. I had never wanted to ask it before, but I felt at that moment that I must,


    "Do you still feel it? Even when you are apart from her?"


    He sighed deeply and took his hand from mine to adjust his glasses once more.


    "Even with her gone, I feel the same way I did before she met me. I yearn for her. But this time is a little different to all those years ago, in that I have spent much of my life with her. She may be gone, but at least I got to love her."


    I looked away, my chest heavy. I did not know why I had never known any of this about him, or if anyone had ever bothered to ask.


    I recalled all the times I had seen Celest¨¦ in the palace library but never spoke a word to her - times I began to bitterly regret.


    "It is a shame I never met her properly."


    "Her name was her nature - the brightest star in the sky. You would have liked her, I am sure of it."


    I forced a smile. It appeared as though Emiliano was doing the same.


    "Well," he said, blinking tears away, "I have much to do. Although I have scoured all the kingdom''s records for the name Cinderella, I will be looking today for names that sound similar. I shall begin with the godchildren of the Faerie Godmother and source outwards from there if necessary. Hope is not at all lost, Andres. We just need time."


    He made himself busy immediately, opening a cabinet so stuffed full of records that I feared that they would fall and topple on his head. I stood up.


    "I''ll help."


    "Oh no, Andres. I am afraid your father has instructed me to keep you rested today."


    I bet he did.


    I looked back at ''Rapunzel'' at the titular character in the tower, kept away from society. Hidden from all mankind. Unknown by all. No true name, no family or friends, no records of her birth¡­


    I paused.


    "What if we don''t find any records?"


    Emiliano flicked through a book twice his own weight.


    "Then I suppose we look at other avenues. Begin searching the cities again. Bring the Faerie Godmother in for formal questioning. Offer a prize for anyone who can find her. There will always be something, Andres. But have faith when I say that these records will hold something of promise. Now if you will excuse me."


    His focus sunk into the pages and he disappeared behind the cabinet.


    "Your highness," a knock on the door alerted me. It was a maid, around the same age and height as my father, yet I had not seen her before, "her royal highness Queen Josefina requests you join her for breakfast."


    I nodded to her and she was dismissed.


    I trudged back to my bedroom for my shoes, as it would be unsightly for a prince to not be fully dressed, especially in front of honoured guests. As I walked, I tried to fix my hair, and prepare myself for the possible conversations ahead. In my mind, I spoke about my travels through the jungle and meeting the legendary Faerie Godmother, impressing King Cedric with my confidence. It was delusional to think I could pull off such a charming persona, but it comforted my nerves.


    I opened the door mundanely, not thinking or looking ahead of me. So when I saw Queen Rosaline sat on my bed, I froze.


    "Queen Rosaline."


    Her face was in a slight grimace, as though she was in minor pain. I looked down. On her foot, the glass slipper.


    "Be careful!" I exclaimed. My heart stopped with panic.


    "All is fine," Rosaline removed the shoe, and with a trick of the light, it appeared to morph slightly. I blinked hard. "This slipper is magic. Undoubtedly made by the Fae."


    "I spoke to the Faerie Godmother," I told her anxiously, preparing to omit the grim details, "she made it. So you were right."


    "I know." Her teeth were pearly white, even in the unlit room.


    "Why were you-"


    "-Do not worry, your highness. I was merely testing my theory. But I discovered something else. Do you mind?" She still held the slipper in her delicate hand, mere inches from the floor.


    I came closer.


    "What did you discover?"


    She placed the shoe gently on the floor. Slowly, she slid her foot in. It fit perfectly.


    "I''m¡­ confused," I admitted, "am I missing s-"


    Suddenly, the shoe looked like a viscous liquid, morphing and shaping itself around Rosaline''s foot. It crushed her ankles and nagged at her heel. Her toes were squished together in its inescapable confines. She grimaced again and gripped the shoe on both sides, pulling it off.


    It solidified again, back into solid glass. I held my breath in a mixture of confusion and amazement.


    "The shoes aren''t just made from magic. They''re magic themselves!" Rosaline explained.


    Curious, I tried it myself. My feet were much bigger than the shoes would allow, but at the presence of my foot, it gaped open for me to enter. I gingerly placed my foot inside. The glass refused to tighten, but instead, it kept on growing, making my foot look tiny by comparison. I lifted my foot away from what had become a glass platform, and the moment I did, it once again morphed into its original shape.


    "Incredible." I whispered to myself. I shook my head of wonder, my head whirring.


    In anticipation, I asked just to be certain. "So if it isn''t on the owner''s foot, it will never fit?"


    "That''s how it seems." Rosaline said.


    It will only fit Cinderella.


    My heart almost leapt out of my chest.


    "Now, we should be getting to breakfast." Rosaline said, standing.


    "I will meet you down there," I said, "there is something I have to do."


    I paced quickly, almost blindly back towards the library. Through the hallways, past the corridors, up the spiralling stairs. The tower whizzed past me in a blur and I could hear myself breathe, and each breath felt fresh and light. I even giggled like a child. Running felt surreal and new all of a sudden, as though I was doing it for the first time; as though I was running from the will of my father. A first little rebellion. A small ember, but in my heart it was a flame.


    My father was not going to make me rest.

 Chapter Eleven: The Search (Part I)

    Some things were better left between me and Emiliano. For one, my obsession with the ocean, of which my parents didn''t even know half of its extent. They told me once that it was dangerous yet not as exciting as I would expect, and we left it at that.


    Another thing we kept was my love for story books, in the times where I had been expected to focus on the educational offerings outside of my interest. Emiliano had been the one to sneak in such books for my reading pleasure, but he also made certain that I studied all the things expected of me. He feared that my father would notice a gap of knowledge more than he feared the future king would be left with it. That was something we also shared; a mutual unease when it came to King Santos, and the complicated mixture of deep admiration that came along with it. Not once had Emiliano ever raised his voice in the presence of either of my parents, and so I knew for a fact that my next insanely reckless plan would never enter their ears (at least until it was too late).


    "Emiliano!"


    The library door burst open. From around the corner, Emiliano''s head popped out, and he raised an eyebrow. I strode towards him eagerly, still elated at Rosaline''s discovery.


    "The glass slipper! That''s the answer!"


    "Have we not already looked into that avenue?"


    I took the heavy folder from his weakening arms and dropped it onto the carpet.


    "Well, yes, but not in the right way. It''s not just a shoe made of glass, but a magical item. An item which itself has magic!"


    I spiralled around the room, seeing everything as if the familiar room was completely anew. Emiliano looked at me worriedly as though I had gone slightly mad.


    "Calm yourself, Andres, and tell me exactly what it is you mean."


    Wording it in a convincing way was difficult. But after some struggle, I just blurted it out.


    "The shoe can only fit the person it belongs to!" I looked around, hoping I hadn''t spoken too loud. I felt my cheeks turn slightly pink and I took a breath. "Do you understand what this means? What I must do to find her?"


    Emiliano became very concerned.


    "But how can you see if the shoe fits if we don''t know who or where Cinderella is?"


    For once, not even Emiliano was able to figure out such an unconventional plot. I wasn''t sure if that meant that I had outsmarted him in some way, or if what I wanted to do was just so absurdly stupid.


    "We''re going to use the shoe to find her."


    And with those words, Emiliano''s eyes widened with what I could only gather was immense disbelief.


    "Surely¡­ you are not suggesting¡­ that we try the slipper-"


    "-on every woman in the kingdom?" I said, still so sure of myself despite the backlash I was anticipating. Emiliano was a logical man, of course we would have tried to talk me out of this idea. But instead, he just listened to the word I said next, "Yes."


    And so that was another secret kept between me and Emiliano. For all of three hours, our lips were sealed in solidarity until I could reveal my plans to the rest of my entourage. But that gave us time to think ahead.


    Emiliano had trust in Sir Rafael Jimenez as did I, but his loyalty to my mother was unmatched. I resolved to break up our plan gently to him, and give him a reason to not inform my parents immediately of what was going to commence. Usually, they would get intel on our intentions for the day before we left, but our plans were within the confines of my safety. Visiting every home in Mendessa City and beyond crossed that barrier. We could have been interacting with just about anyone, including anti-monarchists and dangerous criminals. If my parents were to find out, the entire operation would be dismissed in minutes. And Rafael, as captain of my expeditions, would never disobey that order.


    Zolin and the outer entourage were merely guards and soldiers who chiefly answered to me, if not for their captain. But Rafael¡­ he would take much more convincing. He became the target of my thoughts.


    At breakfast, I barely uttered a word. My father was all too busy charming King Cedric with tales I had heard many times before, while I kept a close eye on Rosaline to keep quiet about her discovery. But Rosaline, despite her Fae connections, was all too human, and said,


    "I discovered something today, didn''t I, Andres?"


    As soon as she saw my face, she knew she had slipped up somehow. She stuttered a little, but just in time, I managed to interrupt.


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    "Yes. I showed her the avery tower! She didn''t know we had one."


    She seemed confused, but she played along.


    "Yes¡­Cedric, you simply must see it!"


    Cedric opened his mouth to speak lovingly to his wife, but my father''s voice was the only one that echoed in the dining hall. Even though his voice was low; even though it was a simple sentence; it was louder than any of his gloating.


    "I killed the last feathered serpent¡­ My son shows people birds."


    My mother laughed, which made it hurt more. I sunk a little, and all the confidence buzzing in my head deflated. Cedric even chuckled, too.


    What I had said had been a lie, but it was not an outlandish one. My mind clouded with other possibilities:


    "I saved hostages in Elijandri¡­ my son reads story books."


    "I travelled the Dragon''s Sea¡­ my son cannot find a wife."


    "I killed the last feathered serpent¡­ my son has never amounted to anything."


    "And who''s fault is that?" I hissed.


    Without the context of what was going on in my mind, it came across to them as a strange reaction.


    "It was merely a joke, Andres. Calm your temper." My mother gave me the sternest of looks. By then, I could already feel a ball of wool filling up in my throat. I had nothing more to say. Not without making a complete embarrassment of myself. "Now, apologise to your father."


    I waited for my throat to clear, but it wouldn''t. Too much time had soon passed for me to keep on waiting.


    "I''m sorry. For being a disappointment."


    I breathed out, like I was letting go of the weight on my shoulders. But when I breathed in, I felt that weight come back all over again. Despite it, I lifted myself up on my feet, afraid to look anyone in the eye, and began to leave.


    "Andres!" My mother gasped.


    "Let him go," father said, then called to me, "I raised you to be safe. I did not raise you to be so sensitive!"


    I shut the door. I didn''t know what to do with myself, but the guards in the hall would be watching me do it. So instead, I went to the courtyard to clear my head of the embarrassment.


    I ignored the statue of my father. Instead, I looked at the way the fountain water rippled, and reminisced about the last time I had sat there - under the moonlight, hand in hand with Cinderella.


    I looked up at my bedroom window, remembering how I had told her about why it was barred up like a prison cell. I never stood a chance at matching my father''s greatness, not even then. I was contained to do nothing but learn the rules of the world without ever applying them to experience. Little did I know that that window had only been the beginning of my troubles.


    I dared to look up at the valiant statue of my father. He had been much younger then, but now his hair was greying and his skin was creasing with wrinkles. How could I, a prisoner, ever surpass him or my mother? There would have to be a day where they were no longer around to protect me, and I would have to hold all their responsibilities and reputations on my shoulders. That wasn''t freedom. Cinderella was freedom.


    "Your h-" Zolin stopped himself, "-Andres."


    He was passing through, wearing a shirt several sizes too large. In it, he looked like a child, and he rolled up his sleeves so that I could see his hands.


    "The entourage are expecting you soon. We need orders."


    He looked at my face, but I turned away.


    "Are you¡­ crying?"


    I tried my best to blink away the hot water in my eyes.


    "No."


    "You know I don''t mind if you do. No one else is here."


    "I''m fine." I insisted rather unconvincingly. "I''ll be there soon."


    From deep in his oversized pockets, Zolin got out a rag. There were spots of blood on it.


    "Don''t mind the blood. Training injuries."


    They looked harsh. I sucked my teeth.


    "Are you okay?"


    "Yeah," he smiled, "it''s not my blood."


    I chuckled, took the clean corner and dabbed over my eyes with it. As if it was made of magic, I felt better.


    "I''ll see you there, then, your hi-" he stopped himself again, "-Andres."


    "Actually, Zolin," I said to him, "I''ll join you now. I know it''s early, but I have a plan. A big one."


    He looked excited by the news. I stood and chose to ignore the barred window and my father''s statue. Right then, I had to focus on what I was going to say to Rafael, and to the rest of the entourage.


    For this reason, we walked in comfortable silence. As curious as Zolin seemed, he didn''t press for answers. He seemed engaged in his own thoughts, perhaps imagining what endeavour we would find ourselves on that day.


    We descended down the steps, taking in our last breaths of fresh air before our lungs would be taken by the musk of the soldiers'' quarters. Zolin opened the door, and the noise from within immediately came bursting out; men sharpening weapons, loud discussion, men putting on armour and pushing each other playfully.


    At first, the men didn''t even notice my presence, as they had with my mother. Me and Zolin just stood awkwardly at the door, waiting for people to notice us. But soon, Emiliano emerged from behind us, holding a box, and something about him seemed to signal a command for attention.


    "Your highness! Didn''t even see you there." A soldier said as he stopped sharpening his sword, "what brings you so early?"


    The room came to a silence. I realised it was time for me to speak.


    "We have a big operation ahead of us." I said, though some had to lean closer to hear my voice. Emiliano opened the box which contained the glass slipper. I projected. "This glass slipper has magical properties. This morning, we found that it will only fit the person it belonged to. It will only fit Cinderella."


    The soldiers were all still in the dark about where I was going. Even Rafael, out of armour for the first time I''d seen, couldn''t quite catch on.


    "We are going to try this slipper on every woman in the kingdom. Until Cinderella is found."


    The room burst into mumbles. Some laughed, thinking it was a joke. Men looked at me confused, including Zolin, wondering if I was being genuine in such an insane suggestion.


    "It could take us weeks, maybe months!" One man said.


    "Surely, you''re not serious!" Said another. They seemed to be protesting against it, even though their duty was to answer to me without question. I opened my mouth and tried to answer their concerns, but a wave of noise cast over my voice, and instantly, I had lost all control of them.


    The mosaic ahead mocked me. This would have never happened to my father. They would have hung onto his every word and followed him into death if he had asked.


    "SILENCE!" Rafael bellowed. To him, they listened.


    I tried my best not to stutter over my words.


    "I know that it will be a long process. But it must be done. Without the Faerie Godmother''s help or the name of the woman in any records, this could be our only chance."


    "You have searched homes before, have you not?" Emiliano reminded them of the arrests some of them had had to make in the past. "This is not outside of your expertise, gentlemen. All his highness asks is that you leave no stone unturned, and that you use no violence nor threat lest it becomes necessary for your survival."


    "But it won''t come to that." I assured, but the men who had experienced searching did not seem convinced.


    "Right," Rafael wiped his brow, "what does King Santos make of this, then?"


    Emiliano let me be the one to speak.


    "My father has already approved of it. He sent me on my way the moment he signed it off."


    I could tell that Rafael wanted to call my father mad, but he was resistant to speak in such a disrespectful manner.


    "I have already confirmed with His Majesty. We have no time to lose." Emiliano said, backing up my lie with another.


    "Very well," Rafael was reluctant, but he stood as tall as ever, "get ready, you lot! We leave for the city in ten minutes!"

 Chapter Eleven: The Search (Part II)

    My armour was boiling under the Mendessa sun, but what made my face red moreso was the amount of people calling my name and staring as I passed by. When we entered each home, a crowd would gather at the window, anticipating the reveal of the future Queen of Mendessa, allowing for no privacy if Cinderella ever desired it. The news travelled faster than a lightning strike, attracting more and more people from their work and towards the latest home visit, pushing and shoving each other so that they could have the best view.


    This was not like an average search. We could not send hundreds of men out to search multiple homes all at once. It was to be a slow process; one by one, door by door, until every woman in the kingdom had tried on the glass slipper. And through it all - even if it took us months - the fast-travelled news had to somehow not reach the king and queen.


    My entourage guarded the doors and windows of the houses, bribing away anyone who appeared to be watching for my father''s sake. Emiliano wasn''t foolish enough to believe my father would let even the most trusted soldiers in Mendessa alone with me. He had spies of his own; soldiers for his soldiers; guards for his guards.


    "It fits! It fits!" A woman no older than myself cried out. Her father, a baker, dropped his dough to the ground and cried, holding her hand and dousing it with flour. But the slipper took effect, and tightened at her toes.


    "Wait! Get it off, get it off!"


    Zolin fell back as he took the shoe away, and the baker sighed with disappointment - both at the result, and at the fact that his hard-made dough was now soiled.


    A large house by the docks required several entourage members to search every room, with little avail. The only woman in the house, an elderly woman named Dolores, insisted on trying the slipper despite it being obvious that her crackled voice did not match that of Cinderella. We humoured her, but yet again, the slipper would not fit.


    By afternoon, I had found myself speaking to possibly more people than I had the night of the ball. But unlike that night, I strangely felt more at ease. I found it ironic, how an occasion in which I was celebrated and sought after felt so uncomfortable, and yet this rather embarrassing situation of not finding my potential future bride was more relaxed. Maybe it had been the same questions that had eased me into knowing how to answer. Or maybe just the presence of normal people was more welcoming. Here, I wasn''t so much of a prize to be won, but a spectacle. This was to be my killing of the feathered serpent, but far less violent in nature. After trying another woman''s foot, she told me,


    "When you find her, this''ll go down in the history books!"


    I wasn''t sure if the people I met always liked me, or if it was just an act in fear of angering my father with disrespect. As we reached a district of peasants, however, their disdain grew more obvious. They glared judgingly at the upper classes, following me to my next household, not saying a word.


    When I turned a corner, a man in a hood spat at me. Rafael leaped into action and apprehended him immediately, twisting his arm and letting his hold fall. He was coated in dirt, and grimaced at the pain.


    "You pigs!" He croaked, "Invading all our homes, and for what!?"


    "Rafael," I said, taking in the man''s silver, thinning hair, and his wrinkled, hollowed eyes, "release him."


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    Rafael almost looked disappointed. He released the old man, but with a slight shove into the wall. The old man looked up at me with the very same hatred, as though I had not spared him. My lip quivered a little.


    "I am sorry."


    He spat again, and Rafael almost went for him. The old man''s eyes were aflame.


    "My daughter is gone! Most of our daughters are gone! And your queen had done nothing for us!"


    I walked away, but with a cold shiver through my body. I didn''t know what he was talking about, or if it was anything I should even be aware of. Not even Emiliano, nor Rafael could offer an explanation.


    "Crazy old bat." Rafael muttered under his breath, "Blaming us cause he couldn''t look after his kid."


    I disagreed with what he had said, but I avoided any debate with him.


    "I want you to look into it," I told him, "if what he says is true, then I want to know is Cinderella is among those women."


    Despite my worry, we continued.


    We entered the home of a large family, all sharing a single room. The fireplace was unused, with pots and pans left with spoon-scrapes through their final scraps. The mould and mildew smell was dreadful, as was the smell of the filth-ridden bucket in the corner, forced next to the beds of the children. I thought of my father''s palace and all its grandeur, and yet families like this were left to struggle so terribly.


    When I placed the shoe on the single mother, I could not bring myself to look her in the eye. I felt a terrible twisting in my stomach which told me that all my past complaints had been selfish.


    "It doesn''t fit," I said, "I''m sorry."


    "I knew it wouldn''t." She sighed, and passed the slipper onto her eldest daughter, who was far too young to have been the woman I had danced with.


    "Can I be a princess?" She asked. I didn''t know how to respond, and so I stayed silent as the shoe gaped over her foot, turning into an abyss until I removed it. Her eyes brimmed with tears until her mother came to comfort her. I turned to the window, seeing the faces of a dozen people looking in, judging the woman and her home. But I, who had made the poor girl cry, was looked on with the same adoration. It altered my mood entirely, until most homes afterwards were met with few words on my part.


    "Aren''t you supposed to be the one they called Prince Charming?" A seamstress retorted at my quietness. I turned redder than I was before, but couldn''t think of anything to say in return. It was already clear by the tightened skin on her heel that she was not Cinderella.


    "Not very talkative, are you?" A man scoffed at me when Zolin reluctantly and awkwardly placed the slipper on his wife''s foot. His attention turned to accusations of his wife, who yelled back at him in return, and I shrank, afraid that their violent words would soon turn onto me.


    The shoe was tried hundreds of times, from women of all ages, classes, and households. By the time sunset was due, my energy had completely worn out, as had Emiliano''s voice from explaining the reason for our visit to every single person in the city. Even then, we were not even halfway done with the city''s population, nevermind that of beyond Mendessa City. We still had hundreds of thousands, possibly even millions of people to deal with, and still within the first day, the soldiers were already beginning to show their impatience.


    "Right, this''ll be the last one," Rafael said, taking over the role of authority, "then this old man can rest his voice before he keels!"


    Emiliano did not seem impressed at the ageist insinuation.


    Despite our aching feet and heavy, exhausted bodies, we forced ourselves up a small hill towards the final house of the day. Above, the sky was turning from blue to gold and from gold to a violet-red, and yet still, the most eye-catching thing I could see was the gigantic manor before me.


    The house was old fashioned but well-kept, made of white-painted brick and topped with a forest brown roof. The windows were lined with diamond shapes, exuding a natural glow from within. The further up the manor went, the darker such windows became, until the one peeking out from the attic above looked more like a pitch black hole. At each side, two large structures made of glass shone against the sun''s final light. In one, a greenhouse, overgrown with ripe vegetation. In the other, a private avery, even cleaner and more colourful than my own. Hugging the entire structure together was a wall of shrubbery which smelled sweet and earthy.


    Despite all its homeliness, it also felt eerily scarce, as though something was missing. It was clearly being looked after, but the feeling of being lived-in like all the other homes had been was gone. It was, in a sense, too perfect.


    We passed the front gate, keeping to the sandstone so that we would not disturb the pond of geese or the impressively large pumpkin patch. I shuddered at the sight of mice scrambling away from the avery and towards the delicious pumpkins, and the lizards climbing up the cool walls and running through the freshly-cut grass.


    We reached the door - an old, rustic door painted red.


    At its side was a carved wooden plaque.


    ''Del Flores Manor''.

 Chapter Twelve: The Manor

    As if she was expecting us, a woman answered the door before Rafael even had a chance to knock on it. I recognised her - it was the Countess Gloria Del Flores, the one with the twin daughters.


    "Your highness!" She gasped and curtsied just as poised and as elegant as she was on the night of the ball. Her dress was effortlessly expensive and modern, wrapped in a deep green lace atop green satin fabric, while her brown hair was wrapped into a neat bun decorated with a green carnation. Her thin, long neck was exposed, as were her wiry collarbones as she stood up straight. "What brings you?"


    I was sure she already knew.


    "We are here to find the woman who fits this slipper." I said, opening the box to reveal it. It had been in and out of the box all day, and by that point, the velvety material it was encased in had lost its shape. Gloria moved aside, welcoming us to her home.


    The hallway was large enough for the Countess to throw a ball there herself. The floors were so clean that I could see my reflection in it, and the mahogany staircase shone against the glass raindrops of the chandelier above. To the left was an arch into an impressive dining room, lit with scented candles. To the right, a living area with pillows that looked like clouds. I feared that if I was to sit on them, I would fall asleep, and so when Gloria led us to them, I remained stood.


    We waited as my soldiers searched the building.


    "Might I offer you a drink, Your Highness?" Del Flores asked with a smile which exposed her pearl-like teeth. As nice as the offer sounded, I was forced to shake my head.


    "We have been offered too many drinks for us to count by now, my Lady." Rafael said, although he failed to mention that he did not allow me to have even a drop for fear of poisoning.


    I looked up at the mantelpiece, where above stood a marvellous portrait of the Del Flores twins from some years ago. It was intriguing to see the youthful features where their beauty would eventually derive - their rosy, rounded cheeks before they became high and angled like their mother''s; their vibrant matching dresses swapped for the more mature hues and modern designs. In the portrait, they appear rather sweet, maybe even innocent despite how they acted at the ball. As I scanned the room, I saw more portraits of the twins as they grew, some with their mother, others with a man who looked nothing like them. He was tall with dark skin and a strong brow, but his smile was soft and kind. In the few that included him, he was holding a different animal, all of which I had never seen before.


    "My late husband, your highness," Gloria explained, noticing my interest, "he was a conservationist of rare and exotic animals. He cared deeply for them."


    Her eyes were downcast, but she smiled at the memories she spoke of.


    "We met at a conservation shelter for jian birds in the North Continent. I had donated to them many times before, but never knew the man behind it all. Fabi¨¢n was a widow, as was I, and he wanted to open a shelter for an endangered species of squirrels right here in Mendessa. So I let him stay with me and my daughters, while he pursued his dream. We fell in love¡­ married that very same year and moved into this manor. He treated my girls like they were his own."


    Hearing their father''s name, the twins entered the room, accompanied by the entourage who had cleared their search. Laelia put a hand to her chest when she saw me.


    "Your highness! You came back for my hand?"


    "Don''t be ridiculous, Laelia." Dahlia rolled her eyes.


    The two were just as well-dressed and well-groomed as their mother, despite the late hour. Their mother flashed them a glance, and in unison, they curtsied.


    "Girls, Prince Andres is here to find the girl who ran at the ball," she said, "whoever fits this¡­ glass slipper¡­ is the one who owned it."


    "It''s mine." Laelia said instantly.


    "Don''t lie to him, Laelia, he can cut your head off for that."


    I shook my head nervously to assure her that I would not. It was obvious that these three women were not the ones that I was looking for. I had met them previous to Cinderella''s entrance.


    "Are there no more women in this household? Maids? Cooks?" I asked, but my soldiers were already shaking their heads.


    "I am afraid not, your highness. Since Fabi¨¢n, there has only been the three of us."


    I nodded with understanding.


    "Very well."


    "Oh, do let me try on the shoe, your highness!" Laelia begged, "Just to be sure! I swear I have a pair of shoes just like it!"


    Her lying ability was dreadful. Gloria looked affectionately at her as though she was looking at a mildly mischievous child.


    "Oh, your highness. Do you mind just humouring her?"


    It was already the end of the day, and I had nothing to lose.


    Laelia sat on the sofa and sank into its plushiness. She lifted out her leg and giggled nervously as she took off a brand new flower-embellished pump. I kneeled, and slowly placed the slipper onto her foot. The further down her toes slid, the more apparent that they would never fit into the shoe, even without its magical effects. She tried and tried to shove the rest of her foot inside, but it was futile. Defeated, tears glazed her eyes and her cheeks became hot.


    "No, I swear it is mine! Please, just let me try again!"


    "I''m sorry." I told her, and she clearly did not like it.


    "Please! Please! It is mine!" She remained insistent, despite all the certainty that she was not Cinderella. I took away the shoe, leaving her heartbroken, but before she could cry, Gloria once again gave her that stern look that instantly thwarted her into submission.


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    "You''re an idiot, Laelia." Dahlia seemed to enjoy her sister''s upset. She came towards me. "If she''s tried it, I want to try it. Why not?"


    I knew for a fact that Dahlia wasn''t Cinderella, either, but I also knew by this point how tenacious the Del Flores women could be. Reluctantly, I gestured for Dahlia to take her sister''s seat.


    Dahlia floated down onto the seat and presented her foot to me, expecting me to be the one to take her shoe off. I did so, holding my breath, and I presented the shoe. Her foot was smaller than her sister''s, and fit into the shoe with plenty of wiggle room. But her feet were wide, and her skin pressed against the stained glass. The shoe fought back.


    "What''s happening?" She exclaimed. With a fearful wonder, her mother and sister looked on as the shoe encased itself around her foot, squeezing and shrinking by the second. "Get it off! Get it off now!"


    I did as she asked. She shot up and pointed.


    "Get that ugly death trap away from me!"


    Zolin came forward to protect me. Gloria rushed in to hold her daughter back.


    "Dahlia! This is not how a lady behaves!"


    I closed the box on the slipper and held it close to my chest. Dahlia''s eyes pierced mine, and in them I saw fear; the very same that the Faerie Godmother had given me.


    "We done here?" Rafael said, and all I could do was nod in silence.


    I was surrounded and escorted out, but before I left, I remembered the fright that had come from the old man earlier in the day.


    "I have one more question." I said, unable to look at any of the Del Flores'' frightened faces. I felt a shudder through the room - one that I did not intend to impose. "There have been women going missing in the city. Do any of you know anything about that?"


    "Andres, that''s just a load of old-" Rafael began.


    "I''ve heard of it," Laelia spoke up.


    Gloria came forward.


    "I don''t allow my girls to venture without me due to it. Mendessa City is not safe. There are plenty of criminals out there looking to kidnap poor women for¡­" despite the adult age of her daughters, she proceeded with cautious language, "...well, who knows what?"


    She glided towards the mantelpiece, taking in Laelia and Dahlia''s girlish features on the portrait.


    "I heard women had been going missing for several weeks. Poor women, in the lower districts. I make a conscious effort to avoid prying into that sort of business. Many who did have gone missing themselves." She looked saddened at the thought of her daughters meeting the same fate. "But I am afraid that that is all I know."


    "Thank you, Countess." I said.


    "Is the Queen looking into it?" She inquired with a speck of hope in her voice. I thought for a moment, and considered how this danger could prompt my parents to shut down my search. Eventually, I answered her.


    "I am."


    From there, I followed behind Rafael. We went past the doorway, back through the garden of half-browned grass and down the hill, towards the crowded lengths of cobblestone which had turned eerily dim.


    "We''re too far to turn back," Rafael decided, "I say we stay out for the night and make our way to Castillon in the morning."


    I looked up at the sky. It was always so strange how quickly the sun descended when its time came, and within the minutes we were inside Del Flores manor, the sky had blackened and was shimmering with stars.


    "Agreed. Although I fear what the king and queen would make of our absence." Emiliano spoke.


    "We''ll send ''em a message." Rafael reached into his pocket and took out a folded sheet. He grumbled as he rummaged some more, only to find nothing else but a tiny pot of ink and no quill. "Squeak! Your bird."


    Zolin stuck his fingers into his mouth and whistled loudly. The sound was high-pitched enough to make my shoulders rise, but then it transformed from pure noise to a unique melody. He repeated the tune over and over several times, letting it echo like the howl of a wolf. In the distance, I could not see anything, but Zolin persisted until we could hear the flapping of wings.


    The jacamar - the very same which had delivered the drawing Zolin showed me - landed on his arm, jerking its head around in a deceit of dumb confusion.


    Rafael struggled, writing with his stubby finger coated in ink, until he had gotten something that resembled a readable message. He wafted the page to dry the ink, and then handed it to Zolin. Carefully, Zolin took the string at the bottom of the jacamar''s foot, and twisted it tight around the rolled-up parchment. He then gave the bird a light pat on its little green head, and whistled quiet and fast. Like a bullet, the jacamar shot off into the night.


    "That''s settled. There''s an inn a couple of miles from here, just outside the bridge to Castillon. We can walk it in an hour."


    This alternative was met with reluctant nods, but we all knew that it was better than going back to the palace, which was a much further distance. It the entourage could have it their way, they would simply camp on Gloria Del Flores'' property and wake with the sun. But what Rafael said went, and we trudged tiredly in his steed towards the grassy path bound for Castillon.


    In the cold and dark, there was not much of a view to look at. While being out so late and so far from home had some potential novelty to it, I could not take in any new sights unless they were three inches from my face. Rafael seemed to know exactly which direction he was facing, even without torchlight. Without me even having to ask, he explained.


    "I know a girl from Castillon. Works at the stables. She sold me my Alma."


    "Yeah, I bet you know a few girls from Castillon, Rafael!" A soldier yelled out, prompting a wave of laughter from the others.


    "None like her, lads. You can keep to your working girls, but you''re not going near Valeria."


    The men clamoured like schoolboys at the sound of her name, wondering aloud what she might be like, or moreso, what she looked like. They exchanged banter with their captain for a while, and every time, he shot back with mentions of other Castillon girls the soldiers had found themselves entangled with.


    "By the Sun, I think the only lad here who hasn''t got any from there is Squeak!"


    Another burst of laughter. But this time, instead of sinking away, Zolin sucked his teeth and shook his head.


    "Who knows? I haven''t been there yet!"


    Rafael roared with laughter.


    "Imagine! Squeak with a girl on his side!"


    He roughed Zolin up a little too hard, as usual.


    "That''s something I''d love to see!"


    "You know, it is best not to encourage such relationships," Emiliano raised an eyebrow to the rowdiness, "you soldiers are meant to be wed to the throne."


    It was an unfortunate fact; one which humbled the soldiers to silence.


    "We know," Rafael''s voice grew lower with disappointment, "if things were different, I would have loved to make Valeria my wife."


    "Imagine the piss-up!" A soldier called out. Rafael smiled bittersweetly.


    "Why are you sworn to the crown?" I asked.


    "What higher honour is there?" Zolin said.


    "The price of the honour is that we have to go by your father''s rules, Andres," Rafael said, "and you know what he''s like. He doesn''t want any of us to spill secrets to people who might take advantage."


    "That''s not fair." I said, squinting at the mere ridiculousness of it.


    "That''s life, lad." Rafael sighed.


    Of all people, not even Rafael was willing to disobey the king. Not even for love. To have so much power over such a person - and such a concept of love itself - was something that no one man should ever hold. I would have hated to have so much power, even as King of Mendessa.


    "Well, when I''m king, I''ll let you marry Valeria. And I''ll let any soldier marry, for that matter."


    Suddenly, Rafael stopped in his tracks.


    "Did you hear that?"


    I became a statue. Nothing. Silence, apart from my own heartbeat.


    I breathed in, preparing to hold my breath, but in the air I could smell something dreadful. Something metallic, like the smell that lingered in my nose after a nosebleed. But in it there was a damp, pungent heat.


    I shuddered. A hiss rattled through my ears. I turned my head, wondering who had shushed us. But there it was again. And it wasn''t a voice.


    Something brushed against the ground. A flame struck on a torch, giving me a headache from the sudden light.


    "Take that damn flame out!" Someone said.


    "No," Rafael''s voice was cautious, "whatever is here, it has already seen us."


    A shadow shocked past us, dimming the torchlight. It moved again, the hissing louder than ever. We spread ourselves, keeping our eyes on every direction. But there was nothing. All there was was dark, tall grass, and a dozen heartbeats within it pounding.


    I heard the slow, high pitch of a sword being released from its holster. Only one, and it was by my side. A bead of sweat rolled down by brow. Slowly, as though any movement would prompt the sword to strike me, I turned my head in its direction.


    Zolin''s needle-like sword was blinding me against the fire. My eyes blinked and adjusted, and I saw that he was stood low with his feet apart, looking upwards towards the stars. I dared to follow his gaze.


    A deafening yell scraped the sky.


    A dozen heads followed, releasing their weapons, allowing the torch to fall to the ground. On the dry grass, it caught fire, engulfing our surroundings in a blaze. Above, where the sky should have only been the home of stars, the flames illuminated a giant being which seethed and flapped wildly.


    I followed its trace.


    My heart was gripped as I barely whispered out its name.


    "The feathered serpent."

 Chapter Thirteen: All in Flames (Part I)

    The world blurred as my arms were taken and dragged backwards. Three men surrounded me, pointing their blades to the sky at the shadowy creature. Ahead, Rafael and Zolin swung wildly, forming a circle below the beast where the others could fire their crossbows until it lowered into their manmade trap.


    With scarlet blood seeping from the arrow in its side, the feathered serpent flapped its wings, engulfing people within them and pushing them around into disorientation. It hissed and screeched viciously, whipping its gigantic tail over the legs of my men and shoving them fat away into the fiery ground. I heard yells and cries as metal plates scorched the bodies of their owners, and capes and hair caught aflame in all the chaos. The serpent screamed again and gnashed its teeth - two rows of sharp, red blades - and cut through the arm of a swordsman as easily as biting down on an apple. He screamed out and fell to his knees, but the beast would not give him the mercy of death as its attention was torn away from him, and towards the tallest man of the group.


    Rafael stood readily. But his eyes were bulging out of his head, and his breaths could be seen lifting and falling from his chest from paces away.


    "Argh!"


    He swung with all his might, but the blade barely cut through the feathery scales.


    "Argh!"


    He tried again. Nothing. The beast would only shed blood from the gash - no bone, and no flesh. Others came to his aid, all ferociously swinging and slicing with the sharpest, strongest blades in Mendessa. And yet not a single one could penetrate. Even the bows, which had stuck themselves into the serpent''s body all over, merely plugged the wounds they had made.


    Those who were scorched and wounded stood to their feet despite their agony. They growled through it, matching the sounds of their enemy, struggling to keep up with their futile assaults against a beast that simply could not die.


    It took the hand of another and crushed it with its jaw, and in the same movement, it flung its great tail and flung Zolin several metres away. The small soldier got up, struggling to breathe, holding the small sword which had no chance among the others of killing the serpent. He spat blood; and a single tooth.


    "Zolin, no!" I yelled out, but the anger in his eyes did not even glance in my direction. He stumbled, but against his pain, he broke it into a sprint. He growled like a lion, gripping the sword so tight that I could see the veins in his hand turn white.


    He leaped into the night, sword pointed ahead. The serpent headed for him, teeth bared. I could only watch as his foot headed for the serpent''s mouth.


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    The creature''s fangs were slamming shut, but Zolin put all his weight on its jaw, keeping it open for just a split second, using it as a platform to catapult himself into the sky.


    He flew high above its feathered mane, and manoeuvred his sword to point down into its skull. I wanted to shut my eyes, but they remained open.


    With an ear-splitting screech, the sword pierced the back of the creature''s head.


    Zolin was flung off once again, landing inches from the fire. The beast was somehow not vanquished, and only grew angrier. With the hilt of Zolin''s sword sticking from its head, it thrashed around, knocking away the soldiers; taking the longsword from Rafael''s hands.


    "Protect the prince!" Rafael yelled out to the three surrounding me, but they were rendered just as speechless as I was. Their eyes glazed over the fire, and their bodies shook when the serpent turned our way.


    It sniffed, and when it did, it felt like it was taking in all of the breathable air around us. And with a single look in my direction, it charged for me.


    I was frozen still like I had been in the dream. The only thing keeping me from sinking into the mud was the fact that it was arid and crackling at my feet. I remained that way, even when the men around me attacked it, only to be brutally shoved aside by the gigantic wings. I tripped backwards, feeling sick to my stomach, and despite how many men had come to my aid, fighting the beast in unison, its gaze fixated on me and me alone.


    With a mighty roar, the ground and sky vibrated.


    "You¡­"


    It spoke, somehow without moving its mouth. Its beady eyes burned my soul.


    "I smell your blood. I know who you are."


    The others continued to fight, to no avail.


    "Your father killed my father."


    I crawled back, but it only pursued.


    "And your kind¡­ your filth¡­ killed my kind."


    Its claws ripped at the throats and faces of anyone who kept on trying. Emiliano fell to the ground, his hand over a bloody eye. Rafael picked up his sword and stabbed its palm, but once again, it stayed stuck there, only amounting to drops of rotten blood. Zolin clambered at the scales, riding up the tail, reaching out for his sword once more. With a slam, he crashed to the hard, singed ground, whacking his head. I looked on as he did not get up. I waited for him to move, but he did not. I hoped and prayed in my mind, but Zolin was still.


    "And then you stole what was left of us," it grumbled deeply, and a gust of smoke boiled from its nostrils, "You¡­. You give me back my brother. I know it was your kind who stole him away from me. You give him back!"


    Its roar shook the air once again. Anyone who was left standing toppled to the ground, their skin stained with gashes and bruises.


    "I-I¡­ I don''t¡­" My breath was too shallow to let me speak. My lip quivered.


    "Arghhh!"


    With the sword of another soldier, Zolin stretched up and pierced deep into the feathered serpent''s throat. With all his might, he leaned across, opening the wound until the leaking of blood became a waterfall.


    The hot, rotten-smelling liquid dragged me in its current, dunking me up to my chin and forcing me to slide metres back with my arm reached out, holding onto nothing.


    Zolin''s crooked voice echoed in the night. I came to a stop, lying on my back and staring above at the stars, unable to move. I coughed and sputtered away the sourness at the back of my throat, listening out for the inevitable silence of death.


    At first, I barely noticed it, but Zolin stood above me, holding out his bloody hand.


    "Andres?"


    My body turned cold but I forced myself upright, drenched in the warm, viscous fluid. I felt something squishy touch my hand, and when I dared to look at it, I held back vomit at the sight of a severed throat.


    "Come on. We have to get out of here."


    "Get him up."


    Rafael and Zolin took my arms, with Rafael holding me higher and faster than his comrade. My legs shook and threatened to fall once my feet touched the group. Somehow, I managed to stay upright with their support.


    "W-Where''s¡­ Where''s Emiliano?"

 Chapter Thirteen: All in Flames (Part II)

    My eyes scanned desperately at the flaming wasteland. The pounds of serpent flesh and pool of its blood left little else to be seen in its sheer enormousness. With the blood, the flames began to dim away, leaving embers to flicker at the sky, and as the scene darkened, the bodies before us became harder and harder to determine.


    I heard a cry. Limping pathetically out of the soldier''s arms, I waded towards it, and climbed over the serpent''s severed neck. On the other side, Emiliano''s foot was trapped beneath the butchered patagium of the serpent''s wing. Wearily, I lifted it away, and bent to see Emiliano''s face. He looked at me, terrified for what may have been the first time I had seen. He clutched at one eye, blood pooling between his fingers and trickling down his wrists.


    "Help¡­ me¡­" his voice shook. But all I could think to do at that moment was hug him tight.


    "Ra¨²l!"


    "Tom¨¢s!"


    "Felipe!"


    Other soldiers yelled and tore away the heaps of flesh to find their fallen men. Emiliano was as cold and as pale as ice, but his shuddering let me know he was still alive.


    Rafael and Zolin rushed to us.


    "Felipe is gone," Zolin said, "as is Tom¨¢s, Javier, and Ignacio."


    "Four men gone." Rafael spoke at first as though he was asking a question, but by the end, it was accepted as a brutal fact.


    The remaining few stood in a bitter silence. Rafael''s breath only sharpened, and his eyebrows furrowed.


    "The feathered serpents were supposed to be dead." He spat. "They''re supposed to be dead!"


    "What do we do?" I said, unable to hide my terror.


    Zolin turned away and pulled his sword out from the feathered serpent''s head. With it, he plucked a great feather and tucked it into his pocket.


    "He looked at you, Andres. What did he say to you?"


    I met the eyes of the mourning men around me, wondering if any of them had heard.


    "I heard they''re telepathic. Is that true?" Zolin pressed, letting the blood drip from his sword. He seemed somewhat fascinated in its movement, and in its ungodly scent, and he stared at it, waiting with the others for my response.


    "He wanted revenge¡­" I only just managed to say, "...He said my father killed his."


    My mind grew blank of everything else - the investigation, the glass slipper; even Cinderella herself - and all the jeopardy this would throw that all into.


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    "H-he said¡­ He said we stole his brother. I-I don''t know what he means by that."


    "So Santos didn''t kill the last feathered serpent." The soldier, Ra¨²l, spoke bitterly. I could tell that he, and the others, were stirring with betrayal - the first seeds of anger were planted, and the only thing keeping them from voicing their rage was their respect for the four bodies at their feet. But Ra¨²l dared to speak up. "Santos lied to us! He is a traitor to the queen and to our kingdom!"


    "Shut up, Ra¨²l!" Rafael barked. He tore me away from Emiliano and forced me to stand. "What on earth did you just say? A brother? Another one of those beasts?"


    I stifled a nod. He gripped my shoulder and dug in his nails. Seeing the fear on my face, he loosened his grip, and pushed me away.


    "We need to tell Josefina about this."


    "No!" I exclaimed. He shot me a glare. "We can''t. It''ll destroy everything."


    "Now is not the time to be so selfish!" Emiliano said harshly.


    For once, I despised that Emiliano was right. My stomach turned as I faced the deceased soldiers once again. They had girls they wanted to love but could not marry, and yet they were forced to aid me in getting a bride of my own. They followed such selfish orders, no matter their bitter feelings, until death. They were taken for granted, and all nameless to me until then. But that was the way my father had ruled - with men following his every order, ignorant of their personal needs and wants. Even my mother was prone to not knowing the names of those who were so loyal to her.


    I turned away. I could not pretend that my father was always an honourable man, even in striking down a feathered serpent completely on his own. To even utter the very sentiment risked an uproar from the already confused and angered soldiers. I had no answers for myself; no words that I could use to fight back and make everything alright in one fell swoop. The truth was that I had stood there like a coward, before the very beast my father had valiantly overthrown. I did not even try to help those who protected me. What else could that have been except for selfishness?


    "This is bigger than you! Bigger than all of us!" Rafael could not hide his anger. He swept back his thick brown hair which was drenched with sweat. "There''s still a feathered serpent out there. All of Mendessa could be destroyed, if not by the serpent, then by the uproar. When this gets out¡­"


    The consequences were left unsaid, but I heard them clearly. Rafael, not wanting to be without words, approached Zolin and his bloody sword.


    "What''s your name again, Squeak?"


    Zolin''s eyes grew hopeful.


    "Zolin. Zolin Gabriel."


    Rafael nodded.


    "Zolin. You''re the one who killed this beast. And for that¡­" he dipped his finger into the bloody blades of grass and stroked it across Zolin''s face, "...you''re a warrior, greater than us and our ancestors. Your name will be in legend from now on."


    Zolin blinked away water from his eyes, unsure whether to grin at the bloody mass beside him, at the presence of the bodies which had been victims to it. He nodded with the great red stain over the bridge of his nose, looking like the ancient warriors of old, back before Mendessa was anything more than a wasteland of rainforests and deserts.


    With this, his name, not his nickname, would be burned into history. I looked on, witnessing as he stood tall for the first time I had seen, earning the praise that he so deserved as the remaining few chanted his name into the sky. He was finally Zolin, not ''Squeak'', while I remained Prince Charming. And as silence dawned again upon us as we clipped away the blood-coated feathers and scales for safekeeping, it occurred to me that Zolin was more worthy of his historical status than I ever would be. He would be named among my mother and father, and my grandfather before them, where I would not.


    I reflected on my cowardice and selfishness as I was dragged away from the gruesome scene by half the remaining entourage, while the other half, Rafael and Zolin included, headed tirelessly in the direction of the palace. I could have been the hero, had I been given the same chances my father had gotten by the time he had reached my age. I thought of how disappointed my family would be to find that I did not continue the tradition of taking down dangerous creatures, and my stomach turned. In one side, a twang of envy squeezed me, but in the other side of me, the awful guilt of being so afraid and self-conscious in the wake of what could have been my final moments stung harder. And when they mixed in my gut, I hurled myself forward, and vomited violently on the charred ground.


    Emiliano, with his eye wrapped tightly in circles of cloth, faced me when nobody else could, and he put an arm around my shoulder, gesturing for me to continue. I turned back one last time at the others, and as the last ember flickered away, I only caught a glimpse of Zolin looking reluctantly back at me. And as he turned away to join the others, shrinking into the darkness, I also saw my hopes leave me behind. The investigation, Cinderella, my safety, and my freedom. It would all be gone from that moment, and it all disappeared just as they did.

 Chapter Fourteen: Santos Fury (Part I)

    I hardly slept at night, thinking about the terrible things I had seen. The dream I had had the night before came back to me over and over, but more vividly now that I knew how much worse the real terror was. I was shocked awake by visions of the last serpent coming to exact revenge for its brother and father once and for all, and that time succeeding. And then, while awake, I feared that the remaining serpent would find Zolin, or Rafael, or my father, or my mother, or Cinderella, or anyone else I had ever known or cared for.


    Somehow, I found myself waking up once more, but that time, without the cause of a heart-stopping horror of a nightmare. Emiliano appeared before me, shaking me softly.


    "You must awaken, Andres. A carriage will be arriving shortly."


    As he strode away, certain that his half-hearted attempt to wake my light sleep had worked, I opened my eyes fully to the morning''s quiet. At my right, a guard named Dario was already awake and dressed, preparing his stained and charred satchel for the day ahead. He nodded at me without a word and returned to his work. I turned back to the ceiling, which was made of damp wooden bars, and then to the scratched stone wall at my side. The inkeeper of The Five Crows warned us that his place was not fit for a prince, but after the night I had had, it was perfect enough. The darkness was welcomed more than the glow of a torch, which only reminded me of the singed field. And the smell of damp and mildew was at least better than that of a monster''s corpse. But then, when the light was shining in, the imperfections grew more obvious.


    I forced myself up, still half-shaken and weary. From downstairs, voices lapped on top of one another, and when I looked down at the floorboards, I could see those people talking through the gaps. I inhaled the warmth of freshly-cooked eggs, but knew that I could not face the mingling soldiers and commoners below. All had been sworn to secrecy about what had happened, at least until the king was informed, and if I were there, I would have been driven mad unless I burst the words from my chest.


    A carriage was on its way to take me back to my father. I dreaded its arrival. For minutes that dragged like hours, I waited in silence, wallowing in guilt and anxiety about what was to come. Once more, I was powerless under my father, and everything would return to the way they had been. No more Cinderella. No more hopes of the ocean.


    I closed my eyes, and thought of her, trying to push away the fears that she might face the feathered serpent''s wrath. I thought of the dance of the feathered serpent instead, admiring the way that she danced all over again; the perfectly in-time tappings of her glass-covered feet as she moved side to side and in and out so swiftly and elegantly. I thought of her head on my shoulder as we sat beneath the stars, telling tales of our childhoods.


    "Andres. The carriages are here." Dario said. And with that, the shred of comfort was gone. Cinderella melted away, like the ocean''s tide from the shore.


    The entire journey was seeped in doubt. I kept my eyes on the window, watching the plains and buildings pass me by for what may have been the last time. I had not had time to take in all their details, and as they whizzed past, I could not focus on them for even a second if I wanted to. The small slice of freedom, as sweet as it had been, was gone. The longer the journey continued, I grew more and more familiar with the sights I had seen before, diminishing the small spark of excitement that I still held onto.


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    We reached the palace by the afternoon. While it towered proudly over the Mendessa City horizon, it was clouded with an eerie solitude. I knew that the belly of the palace would be engaged in chaos at the news of a feathered serpent on the loose, but on the outside, it was as though nothing had changed.


    When I stepped out of the carriage, my legs felt the ache that they were due from yesterday''s travels. As heavy as I felt, I climbed up the stairs to the grand doors, surrounded by my silent entourage.


    Within the palace, members of my mother''s counsel and a miscellany of guards and soldiers dashed from hallway to hallway, all carrying the same dreadful secret. Their nervous voices echoed in the ballroom, awaiting my own arrival, but yet when I arrived, not a single face turned towards me. I hung my head in shame. Perhaps they had heard of my spinelessness at the face of the beast my father once singlehandedly killed. Or perhaps they were simply too afraid for their own lives to recognise the weak nature of my company. Either way, I did not wish to know.


    Emiliano tightly held the glass slipper in its box, and lended it to a guard to place it back in my bedroom for safekeeping. Then, he was escorted away to the medical wing to have his slashed eye looked upon properly, and little by little, the other guards left me, too. All that remained was Dario, who led me towards my mother''s court. The throat-clenching sickness from the night stirred within me again the closer we got to the doors, and for a moment, I feared that I would vomit again. But we made it inside, with a curious flock of advisors lagging apprehensively behind.


    Mother sat alone. Her throne was aglow with the light of the stained glass behind her. Dario stepped aside for me to present myself to her, and when he did, she shot up out of her seat and gripped onto her deep violet gown. She paced quickly, and before I knew it, she wrapped her arms tightly around me, breathing as though she had been holding it in.


    "Oh, my Andres." Her hand felt soft on the back of my head, and although I did not wish to do so in front of her, I shed a tear. "Are you alright? You are not injured?"


    "I am fine." I said, though I wasn''t so certain of that myself.


    "My counsel has heard all we can. I have deployed soldiers to every corner of the kingdom. We will defeat the feathered serpent, and get revenge on the beast that took your men."


    The idea that they were my men - my responsibility - stung. They were brothers and sons and friends, too, beyond the realms of my authority over them. But I had to accept that to the monarch before me, none such things mattered.


    "They died. It was all my fault." I spoke without ever wanting to. My mother shook her head.


    "You were to remain safe. And your men did the job required of them - to protect you. They knew that their role came with dangers. They were aware of the potential consequences."


    Her words changed nothing in my mind.


    "Where is father?"


    She sighed deeply.


    "He is¡­ as you would imagine. I do hope you understand that in the wake of this catastrophe, your investigation cannot continue."


    To protest this while her advisors huddled at the door would solve nothing. But a question still hung.


    "Did father know?"


    "About another feathered serpent? No. Of course not." She recited as though she already had to explain that several times that day. "None others had been seen before it, or since."


    "But he was afraid of something." I thought aloud, half-regretting each word that foolishly left my lips. Instead of the chastising I expected, she chose to ignore my doubt.


    "So long as you are well, my son."


    She returned to her throne and sat with her head in her hand. The heavy crown she would adorn on her head during meetings swung on the end of her armrest, swallowed in shade. I looked up to the alebrije statues above, their faces no longer looking down with care and pride, but with sheer disappointment. I clenched my fists as my mother sat to do little but worry, just as father always did.


    "Step aside!"


    The advisors at the door cowered at the sound of my father''s bellowing voice. He marched through the path they made, accompanied by King Cedric and Queen Rosaline, who did not pass by a single person who did not bow admirably at them. King Santos'' eyes were circled with darkness, and his hair had grown more silver by the day.


    "Leave us!"


    The advisors evaporated, and the doors slammed shut.

 Chapter Fourteen: Santoss Fury (Part II)

    Santos put a foot forward to approach me, but he hesitated. He studied my features, looking for anything different that may rationalise his regret for letting me beyond the palace walls. He kept his distance, avoiding the familial embrace my mother had granted me, but the look in his eyes told me he wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees with relief.


    "You have told him?" He asked my mother, noticing the dimming light in my eyes.


    "The investigation will be no more." Mother nodded. My father nodded too, heavy with thought, and he could no longer look me in the eye.


    "We should have known something like this would happen, Josefina. Our son is of reckless blood - mine and yours. We were foolish to think he could venture beyond our walls without attracting danger. The Sun knows that we could not."


    I felt myself sinking, trying to escape myself. Surely, it was not my fault that the feathered serpent appeared? Or perhaps, it was waiting for me. It could smell my blood, after all, and in doing so, it told me that he wanted revenge. But I still questioned how my father could have known that, or if he knew at all. Maybe this was all just a coincidence; but still an opportunity for my father to shut me away from the freedom I was seeking.


    "Do not worry, Andres," my mother said, "you will not be without what you seek."


    King Cedric stepped forward and took my hand firmly. He gave me a proud smile.


    "Prince Andres, it would be our honour for you to marry Princess Alice."


    My hand freed itself from his grasp. I looked to my mother, and then my father, utterly betrayed. They thought that they could give me a woman as a prize to keep me happy in my captivity, like the animals in Gloria Del Flores'' avery. I did not seek a bride, or at least just any bride. My happiness lied beyond Mendessa, beyond the sea. To take it all away from not just myself, but another unwilling participant, was nothing more than barbaric.


    "Andres. You must think of the kingdom now." My mother said, "Who knows how long it will take before you can begin your investigation again? Anything can happen between then and now. You must marry for the sake of Mendessa''s future. And who better than the Princess of the United Realms?"


    Rosaline joined her husband, but she looked up on me with sadness, unconvinced by her own words.


    "You can make each other happy."


    She opened her mouth as though she was going to speak more, but her words got lost in the air.


    "Please, your highness. We understand that she was not your first choice, but through this marriage, you and Mendessa will gain so much more prosperity!" Cedric assured, trying and failing to take my hand again, "We can be stronger allies than ever before."


    "And we will need strong allies to kill this feathered serpent, my son." My father''s stare was stern. "You will be ruler soon enough. Now more than ever, you need to learn to put Mendessa before yourself. If you don''t learn that now, I fear you never will."


    I almost accepted it. I almost gave into the offer. I took a breath and bit my tongue, ready to face the fate that I had no longer had control over. But Rosaline''s eyes seemed as though they were pleading; begging for me to remember the things she believed in. This was not it. Rosaline was a believer of true love, and so was I. Even Cedric couldn''t deny that marrying for love rather than power had tied him and his wife together; their kingdoms had been enemies, and yet he broke her curse with true love''s kiss.


    If I had to fight for anything, it had to be then. If I waited, my opportunity would be ground into dust, left to float away little by little the longer time went on.


    "Your majesties. Mother. Could you leave me with my father, please?"


    Cedric and Rosaline nodded, not needing to be told twice. They rushed out with mixed emotions, followed by my mother, who delayed her walk somewhat as she readied herself to leave. She began to turn back to me, but stopped herself, and pushed herself out of the room.


    Within me, my blood began to boil. I dared to look my father in the eye and see how his pupils shrank when he stepped into the light. He was angered, too; angered that I was no longer controllable now that I had seen even a slither of the world outside of his cage.


    "You marry Princess Alice or you never gain your freedom. You cannot have both." He bit back his need to yell.


    "What do you want from me, really?" I hissed, "You want me to continue your legacy and be some kind of luminary, but you don''t let me go out and have that opportunity. You want me to be brave yet you keep me afraid of the world! You want me to marry who I want and then all of a sudden, you bring this to me? What is this all for? Why am I never enough?"


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    Father wasn''t listening, "I wanted you to marry who you wanted, but everything has changed now! There is a feathered serpent out there! I cannot risk the sole heir to our kingdom being killed by such a beast!"


    "Did you know?" I snapped.


    "What?"


    "Did you know?" I repeated slowly through gritted teeth.


    For a brief moment, I bore witness to something no one had ever seen before; his lip quivered. His eyes were downcast, thinking carefully over his next words. My stomach sunk, knowing the answer before he could say it.


    "The serpent¡­ before I killed it¡­ it spoke to me. It told me it would get its revenge some day for the genocide of its species. After years of searching, we found no more of its kind. We assumed it had been bluffing. I took on the role of a hero because I believed I was. And then you¡­ you came along and I felt true fear for the first time."


    "You were afraid that you would lose your honour."


    "I was afraid that I would lose you!" The echo of his voice bellowed. I took a breath.


    "Which is more important to you?"


    He didn''t have an answer. The truth was, his son was his legacy. That was why he was so ashamed that I was not just like him. Everything he was reflected in me, but what he saw in me was the worst of himself - the fear, the anxiety, the self-consciousness that knawed at him whenever he was reminded of the feathered serpent''s promise, threatening to destroy his intricately-crafted reputation.


    I had become more than just my father, despite him. As much as I wanted to yell and scold him with every last breath within me, I controlled myself.


    "You let me take down the last feathered serpent. That will restore your honour. And then, you will let me marry Cinderella and travel as I please." Even the thought of carrying out such a promise frightened me, but it was the only solution I could think of which benefited him, "Do we have a deal?"


    My skin flushed pale as he shook his head, circling me until he approached his throne. He did not sit, but instead just stood there, making his status known. He had all the power, and my father was not the kind to just let it all go.


    "You do not care for your duty as the future king. Do you?" His words were slathered with spite. "No. All I have ever seen you care about is that girl. A girl who does not even want to see you again!"


    I opened my mouth to protest, but father''s words were an unstoppable force.


    "Why else do you think she ran? Even from the prince of Mendessa; the grandson of the great King Andres II; the one they are meant to call Prince Charming?! She does not love you! She does not care for you! Why else would she run?! If she was charmed by your relentless advances, she would have shown herself by now!" He stared into my soul, watching as it contorted with vexation and heartache. "But she does not want to be found. Does she? No. And you know that she does not. She is just an excuse for you to leave this place!"


    "SHE IS NOT AN EXCUSE! I LOVE HER!"


    Father stood still, as did I. He pierced his eyes into my weakness, cutting me from the inside out with his judgement. I questioned if he believed me. Surely, the way I had cried out could never be faked? Finally, he spat the last of his venom.


    "Well, she doesn''t love you."


    I stepped away, dragged back by my own despondency. What he had said appeared to have no effect on him - he believed every single word. That is what he thought of me; a persistent, self-important liar, unworthy of love. Even with my brave bargain, he saw me as weak, and would rather have his image crumble than set it into my untrustworthy hands any longer. I was not Prince Charming, no matter what the stories said. I was his failure.


    My legs carried me away out of the room, and I slammed the doors behind me. Around me, bodies blurred as my pace quickened, burning with rage. My fists clenched and I stormed ahead blindly, as far away from my father''s shouting as I could. Tears singed my eyes, only growing the more I tried to blink them away. I grew frustrated at my own weakness, wiping my eyes over and over again to no avail.


    I swung my bedroom door open, and felt my lungs collapse. My nails dug into my palms as my father''s words replayed over and over again, making me question if he was right. If so, such a truth was unbearable. I had to be rid of it. I had to sabotage all my chances of foolishly pursuing someone who may not return my feelings. I had to sabotage my chances of freedom, before I tried too hard and didn''t achieve them despite it all.


    I grabbed the slipper which had been left beside my bed. No longer caring for its protection, I pulled it from its box and raised it into the air. With a fiery surge running through my body, I flung the glass slipper.


    Time stopped as I watched it mid-air, too far for me to take it back. Instant regret washed over me, turning me pale, and all I could do was witness the slipper as it hit the wall, smashing into a million pieces.


    I looked at the mess left before me. The mess that I had made. I had destroyed all my chances. I had given up on myself, just as my father gave up on me.


    With shaking legs, I could still hear the piercing crash of the glass exploding. I moved closer towards the wreckage, my head pounding with the noise and the pressure in my mind.


    I kneeled, not caring if I was to accidentally slash my skin with a stray shard. My hands trembled, taking pieces of every size, trying to place them back together in order. I tried at this for so long in my desperation, that I never even noticed the sting of blood forming on my fingertips. I eyed every piece, taking in the details so that I could connect them back to one another. The challenge appeared impossible. The shoe''s design was comprised of so many images and ideas, all relating to that one place I had given myself no more chances of seeing. Pearls entangled with seaweed, stained glass coral rising to the faint blue waves which caught the light stunningly. I traced my finger over it all, feeling a strange sort of familiarity.


    I pieced it together like a mosaic, but often got parts wrong. Instead of upwards, the seaweed moved sideways and diagonally across the image as I strained to lay it all flat on the floor. A curved shard dotted with an elegant whirlpool took its place at the centre, unsure of where exactly it connected. I tried and tried, reorganising and replacing parts which made little sense. The more I changed, the more it looked less like its original self. The slipper had no longer become a slipper as it laid spread before me - it had become an impossible puzzle.


    As I turned a shard of seaweed to connect to another, I tilted my head and stood to my feet. Somehow, in its rearranged state, it tugged on my brain, and yet I could not figure out what the image reminded me of.


    I traced the snaking seaweed, turned in every direction, and noted the diagonal bridges of coral sprouting once from my feet, and then down at an empty space in the bottom right corner. The bubbles made of air pockets in the glass'' fusion were jagged but held together. Somehow each differently-sized piece clicked together on the floor, completely out of place from where they once were, and yet it still created something which I recognised as I held in my breath.


    The realisation suddenly hit me.


    I had made a map of Mendessa City.


    With its magical influence, I knew that this was no coincidence. Once more, I scanned the seaweed pathways, passing the bubble-buildings, reaching up to the lone whirlpool which was now located at the top centre of the map, swirling as though animated to life. The curved structure of it was no coincidence, either - it represented a hill, a hill that I knew.


    The whirlpool - the location of what I was seeking - was at Del Flores Manor.

 Chapter Fifteen: Towards the Whirlpool

    I checked around every corner to make sure that I would not bump into any kings or queens in the palace. When I was sure the coast was clear, I snuck to the door of the medical wing, and peered through a gap in the door.


    The ceiling was high and the room airy, facing away from the cruelty of the Sun. In rows, beds with clean, white sheets were separated by dividers made of woven wood. The scene was quiet and safe - occupied only by healers, wounded soldiers, and a lone Emiliano.


    Through the crack I had made, I slid in, making quiet footsteps to remain unnoticed. I approached Emiliano''s bed, bubbling with exhiliarion, but when he turned to meet my gaze, the excitement halted. He adorned an eyepatch which would remain for the rest of his life, and as anyone would be, he appeared despondent. It felt in bad taste to blurt out that I would continue alone despite the great losses that had resulted from my investigation, and so I avoided the subject entirely.


    "Emiliano. Are you alright?"


    "It is not infected." He quipped, "And you, Andres?


    I swallowed.


    "I am fine."


    "I am glad of it." He nodded, the sadness obvious in his remaining eye despite his soft smile. For a moment, we basked in the calm of the silence around us. Eventually, he spoke again. "I presume you have spoken to your mother and father?"


    "Yes." I said, fighting through the knot that caught in my throat.


    "Pray tell."


    "They are cancelling the investigation. They want me to marry Princess Alice. Which would mean¡­ this was all for nothing."


    "The United Realms are a strong ally to have. I suppose it is the better outcome, given our unfortunate circumstances."


    His speech was laced with doubt.


    "I don''t want it to be over." I told him, "I have found something; something big; and I-"


    "-Please, do not tell me, Andres. If you have plans to rebel, I do not wish to know."


    I squinted at him, understanding the grief and defeat in his tone. A part of myself, however, convinced me that maybe I could change his mind. I tried to speak, but Emiliano caught my words.


    "If you tell me your plans, I will have no choice but to tell your father for your own safety and for mine. Do what you must. Just do not burden me with the knowledge of it. I desire no part. I desire no guilt."


    No matter how close he was to me, I knew where his loyalty lied, and it would never yield. Sadly, I nodded.


    "Very well."


    "Please do not think of me as traitorous. In truth, Andres, you are the closest thing I have to a son. But I swore an oath, and I do not wish to break it. Whatever you must do now, be safe."


    He took my hand and squeezed it in his. I felt a single tear leave my eye, as though this was some kind of final goodbye. Emiliano had always been the one I had gone to first with anything I ever needed, but now he was no longer that person. No longer was he my tutor, nor my guardian - but a friend; a friend who I had to accept had bigger responsibilities besides me. From then on, I had to go alone. I had to be independent if I wanted to be a man.


    "You are a good man, Emiliano." I said. His smile returned.


    "And you have grown stronger than I have ever known you to be. Goodbye, Andres. Until we meet again."


    His fingers slid away from mine, leaving me incomplete. Without warning, I dived forward and hugged him tight, feeling the warmth one would only ever feel from a dear friend. He hugged me back, tapping lightly and comfortingly on my shoulder until I finally forced myself away.


    "I''ll return. I promise."


    I left the wing, feeling even lonelier than I was when I had entered.


    From there, I caught my reflection in the mirrors of the hallways, and ruffled my hair out of its usual slicked-back state. I allowed it to be messy for the first time, covering my recognisability to the guards who let me walk by without question.


    I descended to the soldiers quarters, which were left empty and quiet as the soldiers went to bathe, leaving behind stray, filthy clothes and mudded boots. With a rush of adrenaline, I scanned the room, holding my breath to not take in its rancid stench. From the right, I grabbed a creased shirt and a hooded cloak that looked closest to my size, and on the far left, a belt and a pair of trousers which only reached my shins - the only pair which I knew I wouldn''t trip over. I recognized them as Zolin''s, and while guiltily rummaging through the rest of his offerings, I came across an odd discovery: a clean mass of bandages taken from the medical wing. I feared that he had gotten injured but hadn''t admitted it, but sadly, I had no time to ask. I grabbed everything I could and changed rapidly, looking around frantically to make sure I wouldn''t get caught. In place of the clothes I had stolen, I left my own behind, part of me certain that they would notice anyway.


    With the cloak pulled over my head, I exited and turned out of the corridor, through the next set of doors, and into the gardens. I crossed the hedge maze that I knew all too well, and ran along the palm trees and the flower bushes to sneak my way around the back of the stables.


    The stables, although made of stone, were backed with wooden planks which smelled of old horse manure. I was pressed against the wall, forced to slide sideways through the gap. I could hear the horses snorting and chomping, accompanied by the sound of a brush scraping through a mane.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    "There you go, Lozen. Good girl."


    I stopped. I knew that voice.


    I peered through a hole between the wooden planks. As I predicted, it was Zolin, grooming the mane of a chestnut brown horse. His hair was in its usual mess, and the clothes he wore were clean but baggy. He didn''t seem injured, although he was paler and more tired-looking since I saw him the night before. I wondered to myself why he was there, not bathing with the others, but spending time alone. I assumed he would bask in the glory of his heroic deed, and surround himself with the adoring men who once mocked him. But there, he was humble, acting as though nothing had occurred. As much as I wanted to speak with him, I shuffled away.


    Laying low, I ran quietly into the trees, not feeling alone until I was well into their depths, shaded away from the Sun''s watchful eye. My exposed shins scraped against harsh thorns, but it was not enough to deter me. At last, I reached the outer wall, and hid myself behind the nearest tree, watching the guards patrolling above.


    I looked on in defeat, waiting for someone to notice me. There was no chance that I could climb over without being seen, nor was there any way that I could break through the thick stone. My eyes travelled downwards. Below, a patch of sludge. A possible escape route.


    To dig a hole, however, would be impossible to accomplish. The walls were at least six inches deep into the ground, and the guards would definitely notice me digging in the hours it would take to do so. That was not even to mention the possibility of suffocating in the mud, or, if I was to somehow succeed, the attention brought on me as a mud-coated runaway.


    I checked around for a solution. I had to be careful. If my location was given away, there was nothing that could distract the guards from their position. Slowly and secretly, I travelled the length of the wall, following it down and noting every guard positioned along it.


    As I shifted past another overgrown bush, my foot felt something creak beneath it. I looked down. A wooden panel, shrouded with greenery. I listened out for any reaction to the creak, but I was too far down for it to be noticed. I stepped off it slowly and tore away the leaves, moss, and vines.


    A trapdoor.


    Exhilarated by my discovery, I grinned and took the rusted metal hook on the side. Carefully, to not make any more noise, I lifted it, placing the lid into a bed of flowers like putting a baby to sleep.


    Below, a thin, black hole threatened to swallow me, and the layers upon layers of cobwebs would not be enough to catch my fall. Still, it must have been made or at least commissioned by my father, in case an escape was ever necessary. I deemed that as necessary enough, and holding my breath, I lowered myself down, praying that my foot might touch the ground.


    When my hands had stretched too far for me to get any lower, I shut my eyes and let go.


    My feet landed perfectly, but the fall was so unexpectedly low that I almost fell to my knees. In the pitch-black, coughing away the cobwebs and dust, I wandered ahead, warning myself that at any moment the ground could give way and make me fall into an abyss. I withstood the fears, until I began to see a light ahead, like a pinprick in the darkness, which hardly grew when I got closer to it.


    I closed one eye. The light was was a hole in some kind of door, boarded up by planks and encased in a narrow, stone wall. I wriggled the planks, loosening the nails, and twisted them out, shoving them aside. Taking a breath, I opened the door, and I found myself able to breathe in the open air once more.


    As I backed away, I saw that the door I had exited was part of a false building, with all of its windows stained black in front of solid walls. Around me, similar grey stone buildings cluttered, characterised by barrels full of food, glass ornaments made by the Lagos family, or tiny holes in the walls where mice could gather. I knew this place. I had made it to the trading hub of the city somehow - but I at least had some idea of how to reach my destination.


    In my cloak, I winded past the working tradesmen, loading and unloading their wares and drinking cold liquor between tasks. The Sun beat down on us all, but for the sake of my disguise, I had to endure it. I kept my enormous hood up, but pushed it aside slightly when I saw the great boats on the port once again.


    I found myself mesmerised, stood still on the unstable planks I had once been afraid of, watching sailors hoist up their anhor and drift away into the glistening waters, off to sea. A pang of envy nagged at me, yet I was strangely at peace. I tried convincing myself to step onto one of the boats and sail away from Mendessa forever, somewhere where I may never be found. Beyond that blue aisle, I could have been nobody, starting a life anew. Though, through it all, I thought of Cinderella, left stranded alone on the Sun-beaten land. It was how Rapunzel''s story could have ended had she not been saved by her beloved, and that would be no ending at all. I could not see myself traversing those waves without thinking of the seafoam on her dress, or the coral on her shoes. She had to be there with me, exploring the world just as Rapunzel and her prince did after their story was done.


    "Move it!"


    I shuddered as my shoulder was shoved by a passer-by, immediately snapping me back into my reality. The noises came flooding in once again, as did the people and their movements. I dragged myself away from the view and crossed the bridge into the town, following the smell of fresh bread and cooked meat which clashed against the reek of Sun-baked sweat.


    I kept myself to alleyways at the outskirts to avoid my father''s watchmen, forcing myself to breathe in the heavy smoke and blink back the burn in my eyes through the slums of the city. The crowds thickened, speaking of concerns I have never heard left my parents'' lips: worries of food, shelter, and clean water to get them through the day. People exchanged mere pennies with reluctance as though they were trading their best possessions. I felt fear, as well as sadness. How could a monarch so concerned with their own legend abandon their duty for further grandeur? And how could they do so, knowing of the injustices directly beneath their palace? I sought to keep my head to the ground unless absolutely necessary, worrying what would happen if these rightfully angered souls were to learn of King Santos'' deception. If anything I had been told was true, news in Mendessa City travelled fast, and I did not have long before such a controversy would reach them.


    I did not dare look anyone in the eye, in case they somehow recognised me despite my years of anonymity under my father. I could not be seen if I wanted to make it to Cinderella.


    I thought of where she could be in the manor, hidden away like a shameful secret. I wondered if Lady Del Flores was even aware of Cinderella''s trespass into the ball by then, and what she had done if so. She had to have known - otherwise, why hide her? My mind grew plagued with horrific ideas of Del Flores'' possible reactions, concocting scenarios of her taking matters into her own hands to prevent Cinderella from casting a mighty shadow onto her and her daughters. I tried to shake my head of it, but the longer I travelled, I could feel a hand of my own imagination tightening around my neck.


    Without water nor food, I went on for hours at an unsustainable speed. The humidity caught at my lungs as I continued to swallow my own spit as a delusional means of satisfying my thirst. Yet through it I remained focused, not allowing myself to get distracted by my new surroundings. Cinderella was my goal, and I had convinced myself that if I did not rush to her, I might be too late.


    At last, the buildings grew shallow, and I found myself at the foot of the great hill I had found myself on before. One foot touched the grass¡­


    A shiver ran through me, remembering the heat of the flames and the lifelessness in the eyes of my men. I could see them all individually - Felipe, Tom¨¢s, Javier; Ignacio - laid on the bloody grass no further than a couple of miles away. Weary, I forced my leg to follow the other, and just kept on doing so despite the blisters rubbing my feet raw.


    I could hear myself breathe as I staggered my way up, seething through the internal and external pains, towards the final destination of my beloved. My knees cracked against the ground when my legs gave way, but determined still, I crawled with all my might. My nails buried themselves in mud as I clawed my way back to my heavy feet, falling time and time again. I grew frustrated with myself, feeling in my heart that Cinderella was not safe somehow, but I made it, barely feeling human anymore, but more like the very creatures my grandfather used to hunt down.


    I put all my weight onto the garden gates, fighting back tears. As much as I wanted to give myself time to process, something caught my eye.


    I thought I was hallucinating. On the grass, beside the avery¡­


    I crept up towards it, holding a finger in the air to check the wind. There was not a chance that such a thing could have travelled so far since last night, surely?


    In Zolin''s pocket, I retrieved a large feather that had been nagging at my side nearly all day. Slowly, I lowered myself to the grass, and took what I had found off the ground.


    A feather serpent''s feather - almost identical to Zolin''s.


    Whether it was my exhaustion, or the aggressive heat in my cloak, but my ears suddenly felt as though they were underwater, sending a chill through me. I felt woozy. And then, just as I began to hear muffled yells, my body shut down.

 Chapter Sixteen: A Confession (Part I)

    I awoke with a groan. My eyes were reluctant to open and all I could smell was a damp musk in the cool air. I turned, feeling the strange comfort of a thin bed, and the memories of yesterday came back as I stared blankly at the iron bars ahead of me.


    In my dreary state, I had convinced myself that I was in my bedroom, but when reality kicked in, I started upwards and suddenly felt the chill of my cell.


    I knew this place, although I had only visited twice against my father''s orders, and even back then, it had been emptied of all the monsters that used to lurk there, chained to the walls, biting and growling. It had become eerily silent. Even the barred window above, level with the cobbles of the guards'' training grounds, had no sounds of people passing by. I was left completely alone. But yet, I felt a chilling presence surrounding me; as though the spectres of the monsters were still there, watching my every move.


    "Hello?" I called out, knowing it was futile. I was back at the palace, and no matter what I did or said, I would be staying there for my rebellious escapade. I felt my fists clench as I thought of how foolish I was; I had let my guard down at the very last moment, allowing my father''s men to locate me. Of course they would be near the scene of the feathered serpent''s massacre, and of course they would be lurking at the places I had been leading up to it. In my determination, I had lost my sense, and it was time that I paid for it.


    I heard the door open, and I leapt out of bed. The cold footsteps echoed in the chamber, but I knew their pattern well.


    "Mother!"


    I didn''t even know what to say to her. She had imprisoned her own son, and despite the sadness in her eyes, she did not act on her emotions.


    "Your father doesn''t trust you. We thought it best to contain you here until the matter is settled."


    "What if you never find the serpent?"


    She did not listen.


    "You will be given the same meals as us, and provided with better conditions than this. This will not be a cell. Just a¡­ temporary accommodation. I am sorry that we must do this."


    I was sick and tired of my parents suggesting that the palace was anything but a cell. I gripped on the bars.


    "No! You have to let me out! Please!"


    She turned away and wiped an eye. The moment she took a step to walk away, I interrupted her movement.


    "Gloria Del Flores is hiding Cinderella!"


    A picture of confusion, she pierced her eyes into me.


    "How could you suggest such a thing?"


    "The glass slipper. We tried it on every woman in Mendessa City. And we were going to go beyond, as well. But the Del Flores family¡­they are hiding something. I just know it."


    "I have met Countess Del Flores many times. She is an esteemed philanthropist - a pillar to our community. And yes, she is hiding much, and has been for some time¡­" her eyes were downcast, "...she is hiding a deep pain. One that I would wish upon nobody."


    She explained herself, "Countess Del Flores has been through much grief. It is difficult for a woman to appear entirely normal after such a thing."


    I paused in thought, taken by my mother''s saddened tone.


    "Whatever happened to Count Del Flores?"


    My mother sighed.


    "It was tragic. He was to come to us at the palace for a feast to celebrate his efforts to restore tamanduas to the region. But he suddenly fell ill and had to decline our offer. The very same day, he was discovered in his own cellar¡­ dead at 43. A heart attack, they believe. He left behind a daughter."


    "A daughter?" I asked, leaning so close that my forehead touched the chilling iron bars. Laelia and Dahlia were not the Count''s daughters. All that left was Cinderella.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "But the daughter, too, died soon after. So stricken with grief she refused to eat or sleep."


    I heard the story, taken by guilt in not immediately believing it.


    "Gloria loved her and Fabi¨¢n so much. It is a great shame to see such tragedy happen to such a noble woman."


    I opened my mouth to fight her certainty, but anything I said would be met with accusations of callousness. For that, I stayed silent, trying to find the words to convince her that my suspicions were right. But a shoe that formed into a map was beyond believable speech, even after all the talk of Fae and magic she had endured from Queen Rosaline over the past few days.


    "Someone will be here soon to serve you lunch. I love you, my son. This will be over soon. I promise."


    As she left, I felt the gloominess of the cell creep back in, alongside the eyes of the monsters'' vengeful ghosts. I waited, angered at myself for not changing my mother''s mind, as impossible as such a task would be.


    I reached into my pocket to find the serpent''s feather had been taken from me, but I remembered it well. It could not have been a coincidence, placed at the foot of a manor filled with rare creatures.


    "You give me back my brother. I know it was your kind who stole him away from me. You give him back!"


    My blood suddenly ran cold.


    A door swung open, crashing against the wall, and two shadows came marching in. One of them, judging by the sounds of struggle, was resisting, but their attempts were nothing against the giant man restraining them.


    I watched as the shadows turned into people.


    "You can''t do this! Rafael, please!"


    It was Zolin. I had to shout.


    "Rafael! What are you-"


    The cell beside me opened and slammed as Zolin was shoved against the wall, unable to reach the door fast enough to flee. I heard the keys twist into the lock as Zolin stepped back in disbelief, tears streaming down his face.


    "Sir Zolin had nothing to do with my escape! Release him at once!" I begged.


    "That''s not why he''s here." Rafael said.


    I looked at them both for an explanation. Zolin was a hero - the one who slayed the feathered serpent. Rafael dubbed him a legendary warrior himself. It made no sense. I was convinced that Zolin had never done anything wrong, and I could never be convinced that anything he ever did was done with bad intentions.


    "You thought you could trick us all. Make us look like a bunch of idiots! You insult not just me, not just the soldiers, but the Queen!" He came up close to the bars, until his breath was visibly blowing on Zolin''s hair. "I''ve half a mind to take you down right here and now."


    "What are you saying?" I stormed forward to separate them, but my own cell bars got in the way.


    "Tell him!" Rafael roared. Zolin stuttered over his words. Rafael grew impatient.


    "This imposter¡­ is not Zolin Gabriel at all."


    I stared at Rafael as though he had gone mad. Alas, he continued.


    "No. He¡­or should I say she¡­is Ana Gabriel, sister of Zolin Gabriel!"


    I didn''t want to believe it, but once it was mentioned, I began to see all the things I hadn''t questioned before. Things like how Zolin''s voice and height made him so shunned against the others, how he never bathed with the soldiers; the clean bandages left with his clothes, possibly to bind his chest into a masculine form. And then, before me, Zolin himself, with the untidy self-cut hair and the feminine features I chose to ignore.


    I felt the air in the room quiver.


    "And what of it?!" I dared to ask. Soldiers and guards were always men, even under my mother''s matriarchal rule. The idea of a woman in those ranks has never been a concept raised in Queen Josefina''s court, despite other countries having a variety of people to strengthen their guard. Perhaps now was the chance for that to change, if it meant that a hero such as Zolin Gabriel could be entered without scrutiny.


    "She has acted against the law! She had infiltrated the palace under false pretences! For all we know, she could''ve come to murder you, or the King and Queen! Yet, she has somehow slipped through the cracks. She has found a way to prentrate King Santos'' impervious protections, all made for your sake. She is dangerous. She cannot be trusted. And she will be tried for treason!"


    "Have you forgotten all Zolin has done?!"


    "Zolin has done nothing!"


    Rafael''s voice echoed. He looked at me and Zolin with a hint of regret, and stayed to not tear himself away from the pain he had caused us both. Finally, he avoided our gaze and shook his head.


    "It can''t come out that a girl killed the feathered serpent. It has to be you."


    He and Zolin stared at my bewildered expression. I turned ghostly pale, feeling the sweat of my shirt as it stuck to my skin.


    "Congratulations, Prince Andres. You killed the feathered serpent."


    Words failed me. Zolin''s - or Ana''s - credit would be taken from her for the sake of her gender. And in her place, I was to become the hero that slayed the beast, just like my father once did. I knew at once that that had been his decision; to boost my reputation to consolidate his own.


    "I will deny it. I will deny it to anybody who speaks of it!" I yelled.


    "You''re the son of King Santos. Prince Charming. No one will believe you."


    "Set Ana free. Or I will fight my entire life getting this out! Nobody will ever believe that Ana was a traitor! Everyone will know about you being a traitor to me! And that my father is a traitor to all of his people!"


    "Is that what you want?"


    The consequences were clear. And they would be grim indeed.


    "An uprising. People clamouring to hang your father''s head above their fireplace? Your mother, too. Discourse all over the country. A revolution. All your family''s lies and secrets revealed. Your kingdom crumbling to nothing. Is that what you want?"


    I hesitated. Even with our differences, I did not want my father to die. I felt a spike in my throat as I racked my brain for an argument, the fear of no alternative taking my mind hostage.


    "And say if you father was to survive the ordeal. His life would be ruined. Damn, he may just kill himself. What is a king without his reputation?"


    Despite my anger, I didn''t even have to think of an answer.


    "He is free."


    Rafael clicked his tongue and shook his head.


    "You know nothing of the world, Andres."


    He turned his heel, and grabbed the dungeon door to close it behind him. He hesitated and sighed slowly, before calling directly to me.


    "Please don''t take this personally. I''m just following orders at the end of the day. Alright?"


    I couldn''t believe I was letting him get away.


    "Alright." I breathed. Strangely, I actually believed the pain in his voice. A man like Rafael would never show such an emotion unless it was genuine.


    Me and the person I knew to be Zolin were left alone.


    "Is it true?" I said in disbelief, already knowing the answer.


    Ana could not hide from me.


    "Yes."

 Chapter Sixteen: A Confession (Part II)

    The moment we shared in the Avery all came back to me in a brand new light.


    "I understand now why you felt like a fraud. Because you really were one."


    "I-"


    "-Not that that''s a bad thing!" I tried to rectify my unsavoury choice of words, my face turning red, "I''m glad you did what you did. Who knows what would have become of us had you not been there to take down the feathered serpent? I, and every ungrateful soldier who agreed to put you here, owe you our lives."


    "But that doesn''t matter now." She said, taking off her shoes and throwing them to the side in defeat.


    I grew curious.


    "Why did you become a knight?"


    She sighed as though the question had annoyed her, but despite it, she wove her tale.


    "I''ve always been... different. I grew up on a tomato farm, and we were wealthy, but I was never like the other wealthy girls my age, all poised and proper. I wished that I could be like them. I even prayed to the Sun nightly in hopes that I would wake up just like them. Elegant and feminine and just so¡­ perfect in every way. But whenever I tried to replicate the way they danced or dressed or styled their hair, I felt no joy in it. Instead, I spent my days wrestling my brother and climbing up trees, attacking the birds who snagged our crops with a stick." She chuckled at the memory. "Knights would pass our farm every so often. I liked the way their armour sparkled in the sun, much shinier and greater than the jewelled necklaces and sparkly dresses I was expected to cherish. Zolin told me I could never be a knight. I knew that. But I could dream, nonetheless.


    We grew up, and I was expected to find a wealthy husband, which disgusted me. My parents thought it was a phase and tried encouraging me to attend balls in search of one. I found myself watching the beautiful women more than I cared for the men they danced with. They were just so lovely¡­ so unlike myself.


    During the day, Zolin tended to the farm with our father, and I would go out and transport the tomatoes to the nearest towns. It was in the city of Alagrandes where I met Ynez."


    A smile settled on her lips. That pause in her words, the shine in her eyes as she uttered Ynez''s name - it reminded me all too well of my own longing.


    "Ynez is the reason I believe in love at first sight; the kind that made you fall for Cinderella. She had eyes like the rarest emeralds, and when she sang to herself in the market, it was like hearing the melody of the Sun itself. She believed I could be a knight someday. And even though everyone else told me different, her voice was the one I listened to above them all. So I began to train. I melted down an old, metal rake and made a sword out of it. And then I slashed the scarecrows until they had to be put back together with rope. I chased away the birds and mice and toads as though they held the same power as a human being. Ynez taught me to ride my father''s horse. I raced it through the forests, learning to take down targets I''d posted to the trees, and I taught myself to run for miles with heavy sacks tied to my back and shoulders. The conditions were not ideal, but they were better than trying to enroll without preparation.


    And then, the time came. I and Ynez rode to Mendessa City together, ready to mark history."


    Though her tone had been triumphant, it suddenly grew dark, and the smile disappeared from her face.


    "I marched into the palace''s training quarters alone. I was surrounded by men like Rafael. All giants. All staring me down like I was some sort of strange creature."


    "But they let you show your skills?" I asked. She shook her head.


    "They laughed me out of the palace. I couldn''t understand it. They said us women were too weak, but I knew that I could fight them if they''d given me the chance. We have just as much fire in us, if not more. Have you ever met a woman on their-!?" she stopped her rising anger, "-nevermind. Anyway, I never even had the chance to show them my identification before they decided I would not be good enough."


    "And that''s when you decided to disguise yourself?"


    She almost laughed.


    "No. That''s when I decided to give up."


    "What did Ynez say to that?"


    Ana was silent, trapped in her own mind, recollecting the pain of being outcasted and ridiculed so publicly. I leaned to get a good look of her face, but she turned it away, wiping an eye as subtlely as she could muster. I could tell something else was bothering her - something worse than humiliation.


    "When I left the palace, she was gone." Ana said, staring at the ground the same way she would have stared at the view of Mendessa City, completely void of her beloved. "I thought that, perhaps, she had believed in me so much, that she left me to pursue my dream. Knights cannot marry or fall in love. So... she had let me go.


    After days of mourning my dream and my love, I heard about the disappearances. All women. All in Mendessa City. I forced myself not to think of the possibility that Ynez was one of them. But later, I found out that her horse was found in the city... alone. Lost."


    She swallowed thickly. I felt tension begin to coil around me as I thought of the similar realities of so many soldiers having to leave behind their loved ones to serve their queen. It was probable that they, too, had people go missing, whether they knew it or not. I shuffled forward, pleading for her to continue, so that her story may not end in darkness.


    "I thought that, if anyone would know anything about the disappearances, it would be the Queen''s men. So I took my brother''s identification papers, and did everything I could to look like him to not raise suspicion. I cut my hair. I even tattooed his birthmark onto my back, as well as all of his moles and freckles."


    She untucked her shirt behind her, and lifted it for me to see. True enough, a birthmark, shaped like a wobbly-drawn fish, was dented on the lower right of her back, still slightly sore. And on her arms and neck, the tiny brown dots across her skin became more noticeable, each one a lie she had to brand herself with. It was no wonder she felt so alone, even moreso than I had been when we first met. She had changed everything she was to be the person she wanted to be, and even that had crumbled beneath her feet.


    "I tried for them again. This time, they let me in. And I did everything I could to prove myself to them time and time again, until they couldn''t possibly take me out of the running. Finally, I was a knight. But I didn''t feel as happy or as accomplished as I thought I''d be. I had a new goal; to find Ynez with the other knight''s help. Turns out... they knew as little about the disappearances as I did. So I kept them close, hoping one day I would overhear something - anything - that would lead me closer to her." For a moment, she was quiet, her lip quivering, and then she finally spoke with a shake, "I haven''t gotten anywhere."


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Just like me, Ana was seeking a woman she loved, but her story was seeped in tragedy. The fear of the unknown rang in her voice as it trailed away, losing hope when she recognised the iron bars before her. We had been so similar in so many ways, and yet, I thought Ana more noble than I had ever been. The whole time she had known me, it was under the terms of finding Cinderella. And yet, that entire time, she was hoping that finding Cinderella would lead to finding the other missing women of Mendessa City.


    And so I had failed her.


    I ignored the painful sensations in my body and stood to my feet. Through the bars, I offered my hand to lift her up, and with some hesitation, she took it.


    "We can''t have failed yet. Not now." I said. She wasn''t looking me in the eye, and she seemed unconvinced. "You need to find Ynez. I need to find Cinderella. We are in this together."


    I tightened my hand into a firm handshake, but Ana''s arm wouldn''t lift.


    "We won''t get out of here, Andres. It''s over."


    "No it''s not. Not until we find them. Not until we reach our goal."


    "We are in a dungeon!" she exclaimed, "Everything is barred, there are guards and soldiers and advisors all over this place!"


    I observed the barred window of my cell, feeling a sense of recognition. That place was no different to my bedroom, with its great window lined with iron to frustrate my inevitable attempts to leave. I had pulled and pushed them incessantly to no avail, never making so much as a dent in their sturdiness. I was beyond doubt that the cell would be the same way. Each gap between the bars had a barrier of cobwebs like frosted glass, making it hard to see, making me disoriented.


    "If we give up here, Ana, we''ll just be doing what they want us to do; what they expect us to do. That is not an option anymore. Not when we''ve gotten so far from where we once were."


    Ana didn''t respond at first. She just watched the spiders weave their webs.


    "I''m tired of trying to change people''s minds when their minds are already set. All of that ''breaking the glass'' nonsense, it''s easier said than done. And I''ve done it over and over and all I''ve gotten was cut. You can go. You can try to escape. I''ll cover for you. But that''s where this adventure ends for me."


    "No. Ana, you have to come with me." I said, lowering myself to meet her eye. "I can''t do this without you. I have seen your skill. You are the greatest knight that Mendessa has ever seen. You might have been made to not believe that, but don''t you think Ynez deserves to see how incredible you truly are?"


    "For all I know, she''s dead." She said grimly.


    "For all you know, she could be out there wondering about your adventures, waiting for you to be the one who saves her. Would you rather stay here and let her think you have abandoned her?"


    "I would never abandon her!" She cried.


    "Then come with me. Help me find Cinderella, and I will help you find Ynez. Deal?"


    She paused in thought. I could tell that she was reluctant to agree.


    "We have no plan."


    "Who said we needed one?" I said, feeling exhilaration bubbling within me. There was excitement in the defiance; a will to rebel which fired through me like never before. I had once thought me and Ana would be the opposite in that regard. I watched as Ana stood up and finally met my gaze.


    "Alright. I''ll go with you. But how will we find them?"


    "Del Flores manor," I beamed despite my fears of the place, "I found the feather of a feathered serpent there. I know the Countess is up to something."


    "You found what?" Ana managed to exclaim through her shock. Her eyebrows narrowed. "Are you meaning to say that she has something to do with-"


    "-I¡­I think so. I don''t know. But that''s not all-"


    "-You realise if the last one is with her, then we have no chance of killing it?"


    "You''ve done it before, Ana. You can do it again. That''s if I''m even right at all."


    She folded her arms.


    "What was the other thing?"


    "Count Del Flores had a daughter. A daughter believed to be dead. Cinderella told me her father passed away and that she had been sheltered. I don''t think that''s a coincidence."


    My argument was weak at best, but my ideas had become a driving force too fast to fully figure out before they left my lips. Ana was not completely swayed, but she was willing to listen.


    I stepped on my bed and rose to my tiptoes. I clawed away the cobwebs, cringing as they tangled around my fingers, and craned my neck to whatever laid outside.


    The window was at ground level, letting in blades of grass which touched my chin and I stretched myself as close to the dust-coated bars as humanly possible. The field expanded beyond the horizon, and all I could see were the stables at my far left, so far that I could not smell its strong stench in the air.


    "We''re stuck here, Andres." Ana said, stepping away.


    Suddenly, she let out a yelp.


    "What was that?" I asked through my stopped heart. I turned towards her so fast that I hit my head on the wall.


    Her foot had caught on a sharp object which she took from the floor, but dropped suddenly at its sharpness. With a foot and hand oozing with blood, she took off her socks and tied them around the wounds, grimacing and seething. As she did so, I leapt down and eyes the sharp, metallic spike.


    I began to notice more strange artefacts on the floor of her cell; tufts of deep indigo fur and a black stain shaped like a paw, pointing in the direction of the bed. I ducked low, and moved back with a shudder.


    "Is that what I think it is?"


    Ana ducked under the bed, unphased by what I saw. With her sock-bandaged hand, she took out the dusty bones of a small arm with a mighty crack.


    "Is it human?"


    She shuffled deeper in, and pulled out more rotting bones, many of which were malformed and broken. To my relief, she shook her head.


    "Looks like an ahuizotl was kept here."


    I had heard of such creatures in my books, but it took some time for me to fully recall the details. They had been dog-like, but vicious in nature, with the hand of a monkey hanging off their tails to snatch people from the edges of rivers. Then, with their sharp fangs and blade-like spikes on their fur, they would feast on their prey raw. King Andres II''s men used decoys to lure the beast from the water, and then, they would trap it and keep it in the dungeons until it starved - which was the only way to kill such an impenetrable monster.


    Carefully, that time, Ana took the ahuizotl''s spike, her mind wandering with curiosity. She looked up to the bars of her cell, and used her bed as a step like I had done. Without explanation, she jammed it into a bar and began sawing. The metal against whatever the creature''s spike was made of scraped through my ears horribly, but Ana was seeing results nonetheless.


    In minutes, the lower part of the bar had been cut right through, soaked in the blood of Ana''s palms. She then began on the top of the bar, hoping to remove it entirely in order to slip her way out. Through it all, she seethed through the pain, letting her blood spill down the wall in a gruesome display of blind determination. The entire time I waited, speechless, watching as every bar was reduced to a useless chunk of iron, until she finally removed enough to let herself free. She lifted herself up with her hands, yelling out at having to put all her weight on her wounds, and shuffled through the gap excruciatingly slowly, looking left and right constantly for anyone who might have seen her.


    "Be careful." She warned as she slid the spike through to me. I followed her action, but she had made it seem to easy. I pushed all my weight into it, sliding it left and right until I could feel the edges slice my skin. My eyes watered, but I remained resilient. I thought of the ocean and of Cinderella, imagining that my tears were just water from the sea splashing against my face, salty but warm as they caressed down to my chin. When I shut my eyes tight, I could see Cinderella beside me, watching me stir our ship over the foam-blanketed waves, begging me to keep going. I cut through both sides of the iron bar, and then through another, and then another.


    "Come on, Andres!" Ana egged on quietly, returning me back to reality for a split second of pain. I closed my eyes once more, imagining the blood was more of that seawater, dribbling down by arm, but I could not convince myself that it was painless. I saw a storm clouding above as our ship crashed into a great wave, rocking me forward with force.


    "You did it. Let''s go!"


    I opened my eyes to Ana holding her scarlet hands out to pull me out. Despite our stark difference in height and weight, she pulled me from the cell with ease, ignoring the sound of the harshly-cut iron grazing my torso.


    Woozy but filled with relief, I stood with her. The grounds were silent, despite it being daylight. We wasted no time to allow anyone to notice us. Containing our need to gasp for air, we ran to the stables together, allowing its unsavoury smell to enter our lungs. Certain that it was clear of noise or movement other than that of the horses, we snuck inside.


    We crept around without a word spoken between us. I remained on-edge, and jumped every time I heard a snort or bray. Ana, with nothing to lose, trudged heavy-footed on the arid ground. Every so often, she would drag her bare feet against the dry strands of hay in a failed attempt to clean them of dirt, only to step into more after.


    On tip-toes, I felt my heart thudding against my ribcage. Something convinced me that we were not alone, although nothing had come to prove the theory. I feared that it would jump out at me, all of a sudden, and startle my heart into stopping. The thought of the consequences afterwards were somehow even more frightening to me. In my head, I started to rehearse excuses for myself, but all came up poor.


    Eventually, I decided to focus on the task at hand, and I judged the horses around me by their energy, immediately cancelling out the ones who were slowly blinking with exhaustion. Ana was not so picky, and clambered into a stable where a sand-coloured azteca seemed startled at her presence. I froze and shut my eyes as it whinnied noisily.


    "Shhh, it''s okay. It''s just me."


    Ana stroked the stallion''s ink-black mane until it stopped panicking. Then, she turned to me.


    "Pick one. Let''s get out of here."


    With no time left to choose, I nervously opened a stable gate containing a familiar face.


    "Alma? You''re going to steal Alma?"


    Alma seemed strangely calmed at my presence, hardly reacting as she sniffed my clothes, regaining her familiarity with me. Her perfect white nose was heavier than expected as it brushed against my shoulder noiselessly. I could tell by her eyes she desired to get out.


    "Rafael will kill you." Ana reminded me, but I was already strapping Alma into her saddle and cloning onto her back.


    "Well. He will have to catch us first." I said, hiding a smile. Ana sighed playfully at my stupidity, but there was little time left.


    On our stolen horses, we raced as far as we could go.

 Chapter Seventeen: Breaking In

    Keep going.


    My heart raced as I yearned for Alma to go faster than what had ever been possible. My legs crashed against her as I was lifted and thrown back down from the unstable saddle, gripping tight in fears of falling off at the slightest manoeuvre.


    Ana guided me through the pathless grass, around the perimeter of the outer walls where we had to keep our heads down. The guards above had no reason to believe Prince Andres and Ana Gabriel had possibly escaped captivity, not in a cell where the most dangerous beasts in Mendessa were once suppressed. Still, we kept our faces hidden, ducking so low on our steed that our faces were practically buried into their manes.


    The challenge came at the palace entrance, which was left open but swarming with advisors and guards.


    Go, Alma. Go so fast that we are nothing but a blur.


    I closed my eyes with alerted ears until I could feel the wood of the drawbridge thudding beneath Alma''s hooves, and then the tapping of the city''s uneven cobblestone.


    I dared to look ahead at Ana, who had been lucky to choose such a swift charger, which was muscular yet thin enough to surpass the tight alleyways with ease, using its mighty presence to force people to move at a second''s notice. Alma followed suit, utilising the path created ahead to try to catch up to the azteca''s tail. At several moments, I could not watch, fearful that Alma might just clash against a blind or deaf civilian, or fall into a market stall spilling dangerously close to the road. I listened to the havoc I and Ana were causing; people shouting out, screaming with terror; tiny obstacles left in the road crushed breath eight iron horseshoes.


    I jolted again, suddenly feeling as though I was about to be sick.


    Keep holding on.


    My hands tightened. I sunk my face into my shirt, avoiding eye contact with every judging look around me. We were attracting far more attention than desired, but with my father''s men circling like vultures up on the rooftops, we could not risk being recognised. It was broad daylight - we could not give those men a single second to see our faces, if our lives depended on it.


    "Almost there!" Ana called out, stopping herself before she yelled my name out for all to hear. I still did not dare to look - not until silence and loneliness surrounded us, and our horses came to a complete stop.


    We reached the hill below Del Flores manor, finding ourselves looking up again at its grandeur. I was determined to not let my nerves and exhaustion get the better of me that time, and so, I began to march upwards, ignoring the bruises and the ache that still persisted in my legs.


    "So, what, are we just going to knock on the front door?" Ana pressed as though I was insane.


    "No. We are going to break in."


    Her eyes widened. Usually, that would be because the idea of breaking in might have excited her, but in that case, she had become fully convinced that I was beyond saving.


    "I''m just joking," I laughed, "but we are going to knock on the door."


    She pulled me away. Her eyes had become the size of the Sun, but she could not utter a reaction. I explained myself. "We are going to say that we need to double-check the house. Then, we search for ourselves."


    "And if she doesn''t let us in?" Ana said, but quickly came up with a solution of her own, "Say that you want to marry one of the twins!"


    "No!" I protested.


    "She''ll let you in then!"


    "But she definitely wouldn''t want me to find anyone hidden after that!"


    I argued with Ana in circles as we walked up, coming to no solutions without a variety of potential problems.


    "What if we threaten to kill her?"


    "Ana, no."


    "What if we actually do kill her?"


    "We can''t just kill somebody for not letting us inside!"


    "Okay, how about we torture the information out of her?"


    "How will we even get in in the first place?"


    "We could break in."


    "I thought you were against that idea."


    We suddenly hushed as we found ourselves at the front garden. With no plan but no time to loiter and wait to be found, we approached the door, trying our best to appear put-together. I stuck out my chest, but felt it quiver as though it wanted to shrivel and die. I brushed back my sweat-greased hair with my fingers, nervous that Cinderella might notice the forced confidence in my voice or the unkemptness of my appearance. I raised my hand to knock on the door, but my arm froze with fear.


    "Wait, what is the plan-"


    Ana impatiently rapped her knuckles loudly against the door before I even had time to consider our scheme.


    All we could do was wait.


    Desperately, I racked through my mind to think of what exactly I had to say once the door was inevitably answered. I thought of Gloria Del Flores'' heels tapping down the staircase, one after the other, growing closer and closer with each one. Adrenaline burned in my stomach, but through it, I forced an uncomfortable smile, preparing myself for the absolute worst bluff possibly attempted in all of human history. I thought of myself next to my father and grandfather in legend, not hailed as a great hero or warrior, but as the man who made the biggest oaf of himself, so terribly that he merely turned into a puddle and died at the scene.


    I could practically hear the footsteps.


    Four. Three. Two. One.


    My breath halted.


    I continued staring at the scarlet door, mimicking its hardened stillness. There was no shadow beneath it - no presence on the other side. Yet, I did not feel safe at all.


    Ana groaned and peered into the living room window without an ounce of discreteness.


    "She''s not here. None of them are."


    I let out a breath.


    "Are you sure?"


    She stepped away and squinted up at the window above.


    "It''s boiling out. They would keep the windows open if they were in. But they''re closed. They probably wouldn''t want someone breaking in while they''re out."The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    And finding something they shouldn''t.


    "Breaking in?" I repeated. Ana flashed a rebellious smile, as though I had given her permission.


    "Breaking in."


    I followed her around the side of the building, where we would not be exposed to the view below. Around the sides and back of the Countess'' avery, I flinched at the shadows of birds flapping from place to place, fearing that somehow, one of the shadows could be Gloria taking notice of us. Ana gritted her teeth as she stepped bare-footed on the thistles of sweet-smelling yellow poppies, accompanied by pineapple sage which masked an unusual undertone in the air.


    We reached a window into an empty office. Before I even had time to consider, Ana had taken a shovel and smashed it into the glass. I winced immediately, ready to run, but no other noise followed. She swept aside the broken pieces with the padding of her sock-bandage, and climbed inside with ease. Gingerly, I rose my leg up to the frame, and used it and my hand to boost myself over, almost slipping and slicing my arm on a shard of glass in the process. I tried my hardest not to cry out, holding onto the wound in agony. My eyes were tightly shut as Ana used a shard to rip up my shirt''s bloody sleeve and use it as a temporary tourniquet. The two of us looked like the mummified kings of Alahra, had they lost their dignity and been wrapped in just about anything they could find.


    The office, although small and hidden away, was dripping with the same opulence as the rest of the manor. The walls were painted a deep garnet colour, but almost completely covered with different-sized portraits of endangered species, most of which were credited to the late Count Fabi¨¢n Del Flores. Despite his eerie presence in the room, it was clear that it had not been left untouched by his wife. On the desk, a quill rested in a half-used glass pot of ink, beside a candle with a freshly-burnt wick. Letters from lords and fellow conservationists addressed Gloria directly, asking about the birds in the avery and inquiring about her plans to build a sanctuary for an endangered breed of snake. The language in the letters were respectful; singing her praises; making it hard for me to not feel utter guilt at my accusations. Gloria Del Flores had clearly done much for these animals, and was doing well to continue her husband''s legacy.


    A wave of unease hit me - what if she was harbouring a feathered serpent? What would happen to all those creatures? Or alternatively, what if she was innocent after all?


    Both outcomes seemed bleak. But the damage had already been done.


    I pushed myself away from the desk, but a sudden sharpness attacked my injured arm once more and I lost my balance. With a split second to react, I went to hold onto the candle for support.


    It leaned forward with me, making a creaking sound.


    Ana stared.


    The candle, like a lever, was built into the desk, able to move back and forth. Weary of the contraption, I pulled it back, until it was standing still once more.


    "Do it again." Ana said apprehensively.


    I did as she said until I heard a click.


    With the lever forward, I pulled it towards me, and stepped back, feeling the desk''s unexpected lightness as it slid away from the wall, carrying a patch of the floor with it. I took more steps, slowly revealing more and more of what was hidden, watching as the floor slid away to reveal a staircase far below the manor.


    "A secret staircase?" Ana said. Suspicion hung in the air, humid and uneasy, making me question any possible reasons for it to exist. I tried to think on the positive side, thinking that perhaps it was to hide some rare creatures that people may want to find.


    The only creature in my mind, though, was the feathered serpent.


    Ana went ahead of me fearlessly. She took her first steps down, expecting a creak. Against expectations, they did not make a sound.


    I followed close behind, noticing the steps'' polish, as though they were built somewhat recently. The walls cramped at my sides, too, were glazed with something which smelled like a mixture of fresh plant dye and human musk.


    Ana looked at every little detail with suspicion, reluctant to progress further unless she knew we would not be caught in a deadly trap. She ensured that if either of us were to die, she would die for the prince, as if that was still her duty despite being stripped of her knighthood. I did not wish to think of such a thing; not for either of us.


    We came to an unpainted door, latched shut. Ana held her ear to it, until she was sure that nothing waited on the other side. She fiddled somewhat violently with the latch, and then the door opened silently on its own.


    The shudder of cold from within wafted at me. At first, it was cooling, but it quickly became unbearable. For the first time in months, I felt my bones chill as I entered the room, wedging the door open with a loose stone.


    The cellar was dim and undecorated, save for an ash-coated fireplace and a thin mattress on the floor, bundled with blankets. On the side of the mattress, a book had been left upside down, open on the first few pages. It was worn with some age but much usage, with fingerprints squished into the leather, reminding me of how I, too, would hold a book tightly when I was deeply invested. The cover, although it had been stripped of its golden foil, had markings where such foil had once shone. I picked it up, curious, and saw the title which had been rubbed away:


    ''Rapunzel''.


    I started immediately and turned the book until I was face to face with its pages, annotated with a mixture of new ink and old pencil, underlining the words its owner cherished.


    ''The witch took Rapunzel''s freedom, and she took away all the things that led her curiosity away from the tower she was kept. But she, nor could anyone, take away Rapunzel''s dreams. Rapunzel''s imagination grew by the day, just like the long, golden hair that sprouted from her head.''


    With a finger over this savoured page, I flicked to the front, to see a message scrawled in delicate handwriting.


    ''To my daughter,


    Happy 10th birthday.


    Love from papa.''


    My eyes widened. Count Del Flores'' daughter was there, somewhere, alive but locked away. And that book, the very same Cinderella had gushed about, only strengthened the theory I had kept sacred out of fear of speaking it to life.


    I flipped back to where she had left off, focusing on the dreamily uneven lines she had left under her favourite passages. My heart lightened a little, forgetting my situation. Was it possible that Cinderella was rereading the book to remember me by? Could it be that she felt the same way that I did?


    I placed the book carefully where it had been, leaving its warmth from the tip of my fingers. Ana was over the fireplace, eyeing a small collection of books which had been left to collect dust. They were other fantastical tales I''d heard of before, stacked in a neat little collection in alphabetical order. But everything else in the room, from the walls to the floor to the ceiling, was stone gray - the picture of a depressed existence. The hard, cold floor had been swept with a brush made of sticks which leaned in the corner of the room, covering a hole where some mice had somehow managed to chew their way through. It was not like any other cellar - which would often store wine or food for safekeeping against the Sun''s heat. And it was not even the main cellar of the Del Flores mansion - their food cellar had been checked by the likes of Ana when we visited last. This was a secret. A cell for an innocent woman. But why Gloria Del Flores would keep someone restrained there remained a mystery.


    "What kind of room is this?" Ana questioned, but I didn''t have a clear answer. Instead, I was distracted by the blackened fireplace, where an unusual glint had caught my eye.


    I approached it slowly, and pushed away the frozen chunks of coal until I could see a curve of stained glass. Gasping, I quickened my pace, pulling the fireplace apart until there was no longer any coal left upon it. Carefully buried in the rubble - hidden in a place where no one could find it - was fearful, but elating validation.


    "The other glass slipper."


    Ana scampered behind me, not believing what she had heard. But sure enough, in all the details I had studied over and over again, it was the very same shoe. I brushed away the ash which had collected over its bright colours, turning my hands black.


    "Cinders." I whispered to myself. All of a sudden, the unusual pseudonym ''Cinderella'' made sense, and all the things I had seen clicked together to confirm my thoughts.


    "So she is here! Andres, you were right!" Ana beamed, all her energy rejuvenated by the news. She paced from left to right, looking for clues; searching for any sign that Ynez might be there too. At once, she spotted something. "Look!"


    I put down the slipper and followed her finger''s direction. On the floor, leading to another door with five keyholes, were footprints made by cinder-coated shoes.


    I placed my finger over the keyholes. They were an assortment of different shapes and sizes - made so that no one could possibly enter whatever room Gloria Del Flores was keeping. Like a fool, I knocked, but no answer came from the other side. Ana stood beside me, shuffling her feet with discomfort once they came close to the tiny gap at the bottom of the door.


    "It must be like a wind tunnel in there."


    I lowered my hand and felt the harsh cold breezing through.


    "Would it connect to the other cellar?" I asked.


    "The other cellar didn''t have a door in it." Ana answered, folding her arms from the chill.


    Although I thought it pointless, I twisted the doorknob, but miraculously, the door opened with all five keys left unlocked on the other side.


    I felt the icy breeze immediately as the door flew open. Ahead, was nothing but a pitch black tunnel, with no end to it in sight. I took a deep breath and proceeded to enter, but not before Ana took her place in front of me once again.


    "Ynez?" She called out, walking far faster than I was and less cautious than she had been before, "Ynez? It''s Ana."


    I tried to shush her, but it was clear that we were alone. I felt the light behind me melt away, until we were walking down an endless abyss, winding against the walls which turned us slowly from left to right. I could feel myself shivering, but it was not just the cold that was making me do so. Moreso, it was the emptiness and the fear of where we would be led; the fear of what dark secret was being kept so fiercely from outsiders.


    I drifted my hands off the sides of the walls, listening to Ana''s footsteps to guide me. Many times, I accidentally stepped on her heels with an instant apology, but she never made any noise that showed she cared all that much. Her feet had become numbed from the cold and from the other pains which seized her all at once, especially when blasted with a mighty breeze which smelled more and more like the iron bars we had sawed through the further we travelled.


    Just as disorientation truly took hold of the both of us, Ana called out once more.


    "Ynez? Cinderella?"


    "I don''t think they''re here." I regretted to say. As the silence endured, I felt my stomach grow heavy with unease. Perhaps I was right - the women we were seeking were not hidden in the pitch-black cavern. But someone - or something - definitely was. I could feel it. I felt the very same dread that I had felt in my dream as it came crawling back. I tried to shake it off, telling myself that perhaps the hairs on my neck sticking up may have just been a result of the cold. But it felt so similar to how I had felt when I was face-to-face with the feathered serpent in my nightmare. A presence - not Ana''s or my own - was definitely there.


    "Ynez?" Ana called again. That time, it echoed.


    I felt the wind turn still and my footsteps beneath me lighten, followed by their echo. We had found some kind of room, but it was impossible to see exactly what it was.


    "Is anyone here?" Ana said, apprehension bubbling up inside her. I could tell that she was growing aware of the presence too.


    Something shuffled. I flinched. A gasp left my lips.


    Something scratched against the wall behind me. I felt goosebumps take over my body, knowing that Ana had not made that sound.


    "Who''s here?" Ana spoke as clearly as she possibly could, given her shuddering. The wall scraped again. "Show yourself!"


    Another scratch. A spark behind us lit up. A dim glow flickered and wobbled behind me. A flame. I turned around.


    Holding a candle below her gaunt face was none other than Gloria Del Flores herself.

 Chapter Eighteen: Behind the Hidden Door

    "What are you doing here?" Gloria hissed, holding the candle so close to my face that I could feel its burn. "How did you get into my house?"


    I stammered. No matter what I wanted to say, they all mixed into an incomprehensible mess that was best left unsaid. Ana, unafraid, approached her.


    "We know you are hiding something. What is this place? What is down here?"


    Gloria backed away defensively. She looked at me as if I would come to her aid against her short but aggressive accuser. When words failed me again, she spoke again.


    "What exactly are you accusing me of? I don''t understand. Your men have seen this place - they checked the entire manor! There is no one else here. Just me and my daughters. Please!"


    I shook my head. We all knew that she was lying, but nobody said a thing. I pivoted to the undesirable alternative - to answer her question, whether I was wrong or right.


    "Your stepdaughter is still alive."


    "Estella? No. She is long gone-"


    "-but Cinderella is here." I insisted. "Isn''t she?"


    Her eyes shifted, avoiding me. "You have her down here. Out of sight. Locked away like a monster!" My breath shook. "And you would know all about keeping monsters¡­ wouldn''t you?!"


    Horrified, her eyes widened and her teeth clenched. As her jaw began to shake, her eyebrows furrowed with rage, and her collarbones stuck out and rose from her chest. She altered into someone so terrifying, that even Ana began to keep her distance.


    Without warning, I was dragged into her grasp. Ana gripped my shoulder to pull me away, but Gloria''s bony fingers dug into my skin. She grabbed the sleeve wrapped around my arm''s wound and pulled it, releasing it as I was pushed away back into the darkness.


    I gripped onto the wound and watched, unblinking, as she smashed the candle on the floor, illuminating us with red light.


    The fire travelled on a path of powder indented into the floor, wrapping us all in a circle of burning flames, reaching up to the walls and ceiling to show the room''s true form. The room seemed to open up, creating the shape of a dome, scratched with strange, swirling symbols and pictures that I could not quite make out. Ana stayed close to me, eyes fixated on the countess, while I tried my best to take in exactly what that place was.


    My heart sank.


    As the last flicker shot up to the side of the wall, I caught it; the image of a feathered serpent, basked in the light of the Sun.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    I stared at Gloria, who had my bloody sleeve in her arms, smelling its raw, metallic scent against the smoke of the flames.


    "The feathered serpent." I could only manage to say, but it was enough to paint a wicked smile on Gloria''s face.


    "The very last." She said, unable to keep up the fa?ade of innocence.


    I was knocked out of place as an angered growl erupted like thunder beneath me. My feet struggled above a trap door, nearly burst open by the sheer force of the beast''s avaricious screech underneath it. Gloria seemed startled. Even she appeared to have never heard such a ferocity in its voice before. But instead of being held by that initial grip of fear, Gloria seemed delighted.


    "It all makes sense to me now." She thought aloud, her revelation spiralling into something I could not turn away from, being so frozen with fear. "All this time I had wasted, taking all those sacrifices into these caverns, letting my serpent feast on their flesh. He was never satiated. Not once did he offer to fulfil his promise. But now¡­ now this is the first I had heard him roar with hunger in his heart. He can smell you, yes; he wants you."


    She pointed at me with the end of her long nail.


    "He has waited for your flesh for some time. He always wanted the royal blood of those who killed his father. I never realised that until now," she thought aloud, "But once I have finally pleased him, however¡­" She turned to the painting at her side, of a feathered serpent granting a shining gem to a human, "...he will bring back my Fabi¨¢n."


    I turned pale, everything suddenly making sense.


    "You. You were behind the kidnappings!" Ana''s eyes reflected the blaze beneath her. The implications were unspoken, knotting and twisting our insides. Gloria did not change her expression. It confirmed it all.


    Ana yelled out. "Where is Ynez?!"


    Gloria seemed puzzled. She tapped her chin, trying to remember the names of those she brought down into the caverns to kill.


    "I took many women. Too many to remember. They were all too easy to take and all too simple to kill. I am afraid you will have to be more specific."


    "Ynez isn''t the kind of girl you forget!" Ana insisted.


    "Ynez¡­" Gloria said thoughtfully. I prayed that she would not recognise the name at all; that Ana''s love was still out there, unharmed and unaware. Against my wishes, Gloria answered. "Green eyes. Quite pretty. Yes. I remember her well¡­ she bit me as I dragged her down here."


    Ana''s lip quivered. "She gave my serpent a good fight. He does like to play with his food."


    Ana fell to her knees, gasping with a hand over her mouth. I could not move. I could not even blink.


    "How could you?" I whispered, my heart tearing apart with every whimper that left Ana''s mouth.


    "She was far from the only one, your highness." Gloria said, unbothered. A question pressed on me.


    "And Cinderella¡­ don''t tell me-"


    "-She is alive. For now."


    The serpent roared again ravenously. I could feel my feet become unstable again over its sheer power.


    "Cinderella is just as weak and gullible as all the others. She had my pet at her doorstep for months and months, and yet she never suspected a thing. Not once." Gloria appeared proud of herself, circling us and the flames with her head held high. "She believed I was keeping some rare animals down there for safekeeping, but how rare exactly, well¡­"


    "Where is she?" I exclaimed, my fists shaking.


    Gloria looked into my eyes, and then slowly, so that I would follow, her eyes lowered further and further down until they were at my feet.


    Instantly, I stepped off the panel, keeping myself only inches from the fire. I unlatched it and threw it open. Below, I faced a long, rusted ladder, descending into an endless abyss.


    "I have no need for her anymore. I supposed trading her life for her father''s would have been fair in the serpent''s eyes. It is a shame, really. Had I known that he was really after you mere minutes ago, she could have been spared."


    Blinded by her rage, Ana flew forward and stepped between the flames. With a swing, she tightened her fist around Gloria''s throat and threw her aside, into the circle with us. Not letting go, she shoved Gloria further and further back towards the trapdoor, and with all her hostile strength, she dangled Gloria over its edge, threatening to let her fall into the bottomless hole.


    "Show us where she is!" Ana demanded. Gloria panted for air, but the more she did, the tighter Ana squeezed. Gloria slapped Ana''s hand over and over again and struggled to nod in agreement. Satisfied, Ana put her down.


    Gloria, exasperated at the fact that she had been so easily thwarted, tore her gaze away from us both, and reluctantly lowered one foot into the darkness. She hooked her feet and arms around the ladder, and beckoned us weakly.


    Silently terrified, we followed her down.