Glass

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."

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 Celesté; 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 Celesté 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.