Glass

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.

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."