Page 7 of Ashes and Glass (Cursed Kingdoms)

Cinders

The shepherd's hut welcomed me with sheltering silence as I burst through its weathered door, heart still racing from my flight from the palace. Moonlight streamed through gaps in the roof, illuminating dust motes that swirled in the wake of my entrance. I collapsed onto the rough-hewn bench, my ember-hued gown pooling around me like liquid fire.

"He has water magic," I whispered into the emptiness, the words hanging in the air like a revelation. "The Prince of Rivendale has water magic."

The memory of our dance replayed in my mind—the cool mist rising around our feet, the subtle resonance between his element and mine, creating something neither of us could have produced alone. Magic called to magic, like recognizing like, even as our elements stood opposed.

A familiar warmth preceded Flame's appearance. The phoenix materialized from a spark that leapt from the discarded spellbook, his fiery form casting the hut's interior in flickering amber light.

"You've returned from the ball," he observed, settling on a beam above me. "Though not with both slippers, I see."

I glanced down at my mismatched feet—one still graced by my mother's crystal creation, the other now bare. "It fell as I fled. There wasn't time—Lady Belladonna arrived, and I couldn't risk being discovered."

"The Prince has it, then?"

I nodded, uncertain whether to consider this development fortunate or disastrous. "He followed me when I ran."

Flame's eyes glinted with something akin to satisfaction. "Interesting."

Before I could question him further, a gentle breeze swept through the hut, carrying with it the scent of forest loam and spring flowers despite the autumn season. The air shimmered in the center of the small room, coalescing into Niobe's ethereal form.

"The forest whispers of tonight's events," the fairy said, her emerald eyes studying me intently. "You've encountered the water prince."

"Yes," I confirmed, still processing the swirl of emotions the meeting had evoked. "We danced, and our magic... responded to each other. It was unlike anything I've experienced before. Almost as if—"

"As if you'd found a piece of yourself you never knew was missing," Niobe finished, moving to sit beside me. Though her form appeared substantial, she disturbed not a mote of dust on the bench. "Tell me everything."

I recounted the night's events—the grand ballroom, Prince Marius's immediate attention, and most significantly, the strange harmony of our magic during our dance. As I spoke, I removed the remaining glass slipper, holding it in my hands. Even now, hours after leaving the palace, it remained warm to the touch.

"Niobe," I asked when my tale was complete, "what does it mean? This connection between Prince Marius's water magic and my fire?"

The fairy and phoenix exchanged a meaningful glance. It was Flame who spoke first.

"There is a prophecy," he began, his voice taking on the cadence of ancient recitation, "as old as the elemental powers themselves. When fire and water unite in harmony rather than opposition, balance will be restored to lands long fractured by discord."

"Your mother knew of this prophecy," Niobe continued, her gaze softening with memory. "As did Queen Marina of Rivendale—Prince Marius's mother."

Surprise coursed through me. "They knew each other?"

"More than knew. They were allies, perhaps even friends, though they met in person only rarely. Both believed that the ancient divisions between elemental practitioners caused more harm than good. They corresponded in secret, sharing their hopes that their children might one day forge a stronger bond between their kingdoms."

"Is that why they died?" My voice was tremulous.

Niobe's expression grew somber. "There have always been those who believe elemental powers should remain separate. Fire and water, earth and air—kept in their distinct domains rather than blended."

"Powers that oppose the prophecy," Flame added. "Dark forces that fear the change such union would bring."

I turned the glass slipper in my hands, noting how it caught the moonlight filtering through the broken roof. "And these slippers? There's more to them than you initially told me, isn't there?"

Niobe nodded. "They contain fragments of your mother's most powerful protection spells, preserved in crystallized form. Queen Aurelia created them in the final year of her life, sensing perhaps that her time grew short. They were meant to shield you not just from physical harm, but from those who would prevent you from fulfilling your destiny."

"Which is why one remains with you while the other has found its way to Prince Marius," Flame observed. "The magic seeks completion, just as the prophecy does."

I contemplated this, remembering the strange warmth that had passed between us when our hands first touched. "Prince Marius doesn't seem aware of the prophecy. He was surprised by our magical connection."

"His training has likely been different from yours," Niobe said. "Perhaps more restricted. Water magic has become increasingly rare in Rivendale since Queen Marina's death."

As we conversed, I noticed the remaining slipper in my hands had begun to emit a subtle glow, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. "The slipper—it's responding to something."

"To you," Niobe clarified. "To your growing awareness and acceptance of your power. The more you embrace your true heritage, the stronger its response will be."

I was about to inquire further when the hut's door creaked open. I sprang to my feet, instinctively drawing fire to my fingertips while Flame vanished in a puff of smoke and Niobe melted into the shadows.

Narcissa stood framed in the doorway, her expression a mixture of wonder and apprehension. "I followed you," she admitted.

I extinguished the flames dancing at my fingertips, but not before seeing her wide-eyed reaction. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough." She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. In the dim light, with her elaborate hairstyle now loosened and her fine dress smudged from the forest path, she looked younger, more vulnerable. "You were speaking to someone—something. About magic and prophecies."

I considered denying it all, but weariness overtook me. There had been too many secrets, too many lies. "Yes."

To my surprise, Narcissa didn't recoil in fear or disgust. Instead, she moved closer, her gaze drawn to the glowing slipper in my hands. "So it's true," she whispered. "The rumors about Queen Aurelia—your mother. She really did have magic."

"As do I," I confirmed, watching her carefully.

"And Prince Marius as well." It wasn't a question. "I saw what happened when you danced. Everyone did, though most believed it a trick of the light or some planned entertainment."

I tensed. "Did your mother see?"

"No. She arrived just after. But Ursula spoke with her, mentioning a strange display during the prince's dance with an unknown lady." Narcissa's lips curved in a small, knowing smile. "Ursula didn't recognize you beneath the spell, but I did."

"Why haven't you told Lady Belladonna?" I asked the question that had been puzzling me since she first helped me attend the ball.

Narcissa's expression hardened. "Because I'm tired of being her chess piece." She paced the small confines of the hut, agitation evident in every movement. "For years I've watched her manipulate everyone around her—my sister, the court, you. Me. I'm nothing but a tool for her ambitions, a pretty doll to be married off to whichever alliance serves her best. She cares nothing for me—she cares nothing for anyone but herself."

The bitterness in her voice resonated with my own experiences, creating an unexpected bridge between us. "Is that why you helped me attend the ball? To defy her?"

"Partly," she admitted. "But also because..." She hesitated, struggling with words that clearly didn't come easily. "Because it was the right thing to do. The way she's treated you—it's wrong. I've always known it was wrong, even when I participated in it."

This confession, more than anything else that had happened tonight, left me momentarily speechless. Before I could formulate a response, Narcissa continued.

"There's more you should know. Mother has been meeting secretly with Prince Casimir. They're planning something—I don't know exactly what though."

"How do you know this?"

"I listen at doors," she said with a hint of pride. "People forget I'm there, or assume I'm too concerned with frivolities to understand politics just because I was born a female. Their mistake."

A noise outside the hut silenced us both. My hand flew to the spellbook while Narcissa pressed herself against the wall beside the door. When it swung open, Ursula stood on the threshold, her eyes taking in the scene.

"Narcissa?" she asked breathlessly. "What are you—" Her gaze shifted to me, then to the glowing slipper in my hands. "Oh!"

"Ursula, please," Narcissa began, stepping toward her sister. "You can't tell Mother."

"You're conspiring with her ?" Ursula's voice rose with disbelief. "With Cinders? After everything Mother has said about magic being dangerous?”

I watched the sisters, noting the fear in Ursula's posture, but also the absence of the disgust Lady Belladonna typically displayed when discussing things she didn’t understand. "Your mother is wrong about magic," I said quietly. "As she's wrong about many things."

Ursula's gaze darted between us, indecision written across her features. "I should tell her. This is forbidden."

"Is it forbidden to speak truth?" Narcissa challenged. "Is it wrong to question why our mother allies herself with a prince known for cruelty and dark dealings?"

"You know nothing about Prince Casimir," Ursula protested, though her conviction seemed fragile. "Mother says he'll bring prosperity to Elaria."

"Mother says whatever serves her purposes," Narcissa retorted. "Just as she uses us however it benefits her plans."

A tense silence followed this accusation. I studied Ursula's face, seeing not the spoiled stepsister of my childhood, but a young, conflicted woman caught in an impossible position. Her eyes, so like her mother's in color yet lacking Lady Belladonna's calculating coldness, revealed her internal struggle.

"I won't tell Mother," she finally whispered, sounding defeated. "But I won't help either. I can't."

"That's all we ask," I assured her.

Ursula nodded once, then slipped away into the night, leaving Narcissa and me alone once more.

"She's afraid," Narcissa explained, watching the door close behind her sister. "Not of you or your elemental power, but of Mother's disappointment. Ursula has spent her life trying to earn approval that never comes."

I understood then what I hadn't fully comprehended before—that Lady Belladonna's cruelty extended beyond her treatment of me. Her daughters, too, suffered beneath the weight of her ambition and manipulation, albeit in different ways.

"Thank you," I said to Narcissa, the words feeling inadequate for the risk she'd taken. "For everything."

She shrugged, uncomfortable with gratitude. "Don't thank me yet. We're all still in danger—especially you, now that you've connected with Prince Marius."

As if responding to his name, the glass slipper in my hands pulsed with renewed brightness. I looked down at it, marveling at how its glow had intensified during our conversation.

"Something's changing," I murmured, feeling the magic within the slipper resonate with my own. "Growing stronger."

Narcissa watched the phenomenon with undisguised fascination. "What will you do now?"

I thought of Prince Marius, of our brief connection and the harmony our elements had created together. I thought of the prophecy Niobe and Flame had described, and of the forces that might oppose it. Most of all, I thought of my parents—King Edmund and Queen Aurelia—whose hopes for peace between our kingdoms might yet be realized through their daughter.

"I'm going to embrace my destiny," I declared, watching as the slipper's glow spread to illuminate my fingers with gentle heat. "Whatever it may be."