Glass

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.

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.