Page 8 of Ashes and Glass (Cursed Kingdoms)

Prince Marius

Dawn broke over Rivendale with uncertain light, the rising sun veiled behind banks of mist that clung to the land like reluctant dreams. I stood at my chamber window, turning the crystal slipper in my hands, watching how it caught and refracted the meager sunlight into prisms that danced across the stone walls. Throughout a restless night, the slipper had remained unnaturally warm to the touch, pulsing occasionally as if responding to some distant call.

"It must be enchanted," observed Leonel Crowfield, Captain of the Rivendale Guard, from where he stood by the door, his weathered face grave as he watched me examine the delicate object. "No ordinary glass would behave thus."

"Not glass," I corrected. "Crystal. Perhaps even diamond, though unlike any I've seen." I traced the perfect arch with my fingertip, marveling at its craftsmanship. "And yes, undoubtedly enchanted—though not, I believe, with malicious intent."

I had summoned the captain before sunrise, bypassing Sir Gareth for the first time in matters of significance. The decision had not come easily, but the glimpse of calculation I'd witnessed in my godfather's eyes last night had solidified a suspicion that had been growing for weeks.

"Captain, what I'm about to share must remain between us." I placed the slipper carefully on a velvet cushion and turned to face my most trusted soldier. "I have reason to believe Sir Gareth may not be acting in Rivendale's best interests—or mine."

To his credit, Captain Crowfield didn't immediately dismiss the notion, though his brow furrowed deeply. "Those are grave concerns, Your Highness. May I ask what evidence has led you to this conclusion?"

I recounted the events of recent weeks—Sir Gareth's unusual insistence on the ball, his carefully curated list of suitable brides that conspicuously excluded any from Elaria, and most damning, his private conference with Prince Casimir followed by his attempt to take possession of the crystal slipper.

"There's more," I continued, lowering my voice though we were alone. "My water magic—the ability I inherited from my mother. Sir Gareth has always encouraged me to develop it in secret, claiming it was for my protection. Yet last night, when my power resonated with the mysterious woman's fire magic, his reaction was not surprise but fear—perhaps even anger."

"Fire magic?" Leonel raised an eyebrow, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword. "From Elaria, then. Like their former queen."

"Queen Aurelia," I nodded. "My mother spoke of her in my childhood, before..." I trailed off, the familiar pang of loss momentarily stealing my words.

"Before they were killed on that diplomatic mission to Elaria," Leonel finished solemnly. "I remember. I was but a junior officer then, but I recall the kingdom's grief."

A thought struck me with sudden force. "A mission Sir Gareth advised against, according to the historical accounts."

Something shifted in the captain's expression. "Yes. He was most vehement, as I recall. Claimed the timing was inauspicious."

We regarded each other in silence, the implications hanging heavy in the air between us. Finally, Captain Crowfield spoke, his voice pitched low and steady.

"What would you have me do, Your Highness?"

"Assemble a small contingent of your most trusted men—those whose loyalty is to Rivendale first, rather than to particular individuals within the court. We ride within the hour to find the owner of this slipper." I lifted the crystal shoe from its cushion, its warmth seeping into my palm. "And Captain? Tell no one of our destination, not even the men you select. There may well be spies throughout the palace."

Within the hour, a party of six—myself, Captain Leonel, and four handpicked royal guards—departed through the western gate, ostensibly for a hunting expedition. Sir Gareth watched our departure from the battlements, his countenance unreadable from a distance. I raised a hand in casual farewell, maintaining the pretense that this was merely a routine excursion.

"He'll follow," Leonel predicted as we urged our horses into the forest. "Or send someone who will."

"Yes. I'm counting on it in fact," I replied, patting the saddlebag where the crystal slipper lay wrapped in soft cloth. "But we'll have several hours' advantage."

The morning mist burned away as we rode, revealing a day of uncommon clarity. Autumn had painted the landscape in rich hues of amber, crimson, and gold—fitting colors, I thought, for a quest to find a woman whose presence had burned like living flame amid the staid formality of the court.

We had not travelled for more than an hour when I felt it—a subtle pull from the slipper, like the invisible current beneath a river's surface. I reined my horse to a halt, withdrawing the crystal shoe from its wrappings. It gleamed in the sunlight, but more than that, it seemed to lean in my hands, tilting toward the southeast.

"Your Highness?" Captain Crowfield questioned, bringing his mount alongside mine.

"It's showing us the way," I explained, watching as the slipper oriented itself like a compass needle. "Southeast—toward Elaria's border."

Leonel's expression tightened. "Toward Lady Belladonna's domain."

"Yes." I rewrapped the slipper and tucked it away, committing our new heading to memory. "The very place Sir Gareth has been attempting to steer me away from in recent days."

We altered our course, following the delicate shoe's guidance. The terrain grew wilder as we approached the border between our kingdoms, the well-maintained paths of Rivendale giving way to less travelled trails. By midday, we reached a bubbling stream that marked the boundary.

"We enter Elaria now," Leonel noted, his hand again straying to his sword hilt. "Without formal permission."

"A risk we must take," I replied, urging my horse forward through the shallow crossing.

The land beyond the stream rose steadily toward rolling hills dotted with small farming settlements. In the distance, visible through gaps in the forest canopy, rose the spires of a grand manor house—the Everwood estate, seat of Lady Belladonna's power since her marriage to the late King Edmund.

We paused at the edge of a village to water our horses, maintaining a discreet distance as Captain Crowfield approached a local tavern for information. He returned with a grim set to his jaw.

"There are whispers of strange happenings at the Everwood estate," he reported. "The villagers speak of lights in the forest at odd hours, and of the eldest daughter of the house—Cinders, they call her—sneaking away to practice forbidden arts."

"Cinders," I repeated, the name settling in my mind with a sense of rightness. It suited the flame-haired beauty who had danced in my arms at the ball, and I was certain the woman I sought was she.

"There's more," Leonel continued. "Lady Belladonna has apparently been entertaining Prince Casimir with unusual frequency. The local folk mistrust him greatly."

"As they should." I checked the crystal slipper once more, confirming our direction. "We're close now. The pull grows stronger."

We had mounted our horses and were preparing to depart when the thunder of approaching hooves reached us. Down the village's main lane came Sir Gareth, accompanied by a dozen royal guards—far more than our small party.

"Your Highness!" he called, drawing his mount to a halt before us. His face was flushed from hard riding, his silver-streaked hair wind-tousled. "Thank the stars I've found you. There's grave danger ahead."

"Is there?" I kept my tone neutral, though my pulse quickened. "What danger might that be, Sir Gareth?"

His gaze flicked to my saddlebag where the crystal artifact lay hidden. "This pursuit of an unknown woman based solely on a dropped slipper—it's reckless. I fear you've been enchanted."

"Enchanted?" I allowed a hint of amusement to color my voice. "By a shoe?"

"By the woman who wore it," he insisted, dismounting to approach me. "A fire witch, I suspect. From Elaria's old royal line."

The casual way he spoke the accusation, as if fire magic were inherently evil rather than simply another form of elemental power, confirmed my growing suspicions. "And if she were? Would that make her unworthy of consideration?"

Sir Gareth's expression hardened. "It would make her dangerous, Your Highness. Especially to you, with your... particular abilities."

"My water magic," I stated plainly, watching his reaction. "Which you've helped me develop all these years. Am I not correct?"

"You are. I needed to encourage you to master your power. To protect you," he insisted. "To ensure you could defend yourself against those who would exploit such power."

"And who would that be, Sir Gareth?"

A tense silence fell. The guards—both mine and those Sir Gareth had brought—shifted uncomfortably, uncertain where their loyalties should fall in this unexpected confrontation.

"Your mother was misguided in her collusion with Elaria’s queen," Sir Gareth finally said, his voice low and tight. "Their fascination with uniting the elemental powers nearly brought ruin to both kingdoms. I had hoped you would not follow the same path."

"Tell me, Sir Gareth," I said, dismounting to face him directly, "what really happened on that diplomatic mission to Elaria? The one where my parents died?"

For the briefest moment, guilt flickered across his features—so quickly I might have missed it had I not been watching closely. Then his expression smoothed into practiced solemnity.

"Bandits, as you've always been told. A tragic ambush."

"Bandits who managed to overcome two dozen royal guards and kill both a king and a queen possessed of powerful water magic?" I pressed. "That seems rather unlikely, doesn't it?"

Captain Crowfield dismounted, positioning himself at my side. The tension in the air thickened like gathering storm clouds.

"Your Highness, we should continue our journey," Leonel suggested, his eyes never leaving Sir Gareth. "Daylight wanes."

"No," Sir Gareth snapped, his composure cracking. "I cannot allow this. The prophecy must not be fulfilled. The cost would be too great."

"Prophecy?" I seized on the word. "What prophecy, Sir Gareth?"

The question hung in the air between us, unanswered. In the prolonged silence, I became aware of movement in the trees beyond the village—cloaked figures emerging from the forest's shadow. Prince Casimir stepped into view, flanked by soldiers wearing the black and crimson of his desert kingdom.

"I believe," Casimir drawled, his voice carrying across the village green, "that Sir Gareth refers to the ancient prediction that fire and water united will restore balance to lands fractured by magical discord." His thin lips curved in a smile entirely devoid of warmth. "A charming fairytale, but one with... inconvenient political implications."

Understanding dawned with sickening clarity. "You're working together," I said, looking between Casimir and my godfather. "You have been all along."

Sir Gareth straightened, regret and resolve warring in his expression. "For the good of Rivendale, Your Highness. Some powers were never meant to combine."

"Like fire and water?" I challenged. "Or perhaps like truth and lies? Tell me, Sir Gareth—did bandits really kill my parents? Or was it you?"

The accusation struck like a physical blow. Sir Gareth flinched, his hand moving to his sword hilt. "I loved your father like a brother," he protested. "Maximus was my dearest friend."

"Yet you betrayed him." The words emerged with certainty. "When he and my mother sought to unite with Elaria's fire mages—to fulfill this prophecy you fear—you ensured they never returned from that diplomatic mission."

"I arranged an ambush," he admitted, his voice hollow. "But only to delay them, to give me time to make Maximus see reason. The violence... that was never the plan." His eyes pleaded for understanding. "But Queen Marina resisted. Her water magic—it was so powerful, yet so unpredictable. The fire mages accompanying Queen Aurelia responded in kind. The elements clashed, and in the chaos..."

"My parents died," I finished, cold rage building within me like ice forming on a winter lake.

"As did Queen Aurelia," he continued. "A tragedy, but perhaps a necessary one. The prophecy speaks of destruction before rebirth. I couldn't risk it—not when the cost might be both our kingdoms."

The betrayal cut deeper than any blade. This man who had raised me, guided me, whom I had trusted implicitly—he had orchestrated the events that robbed me of my parents, all because he feared a prophecy he didn't fully understand.

"Arrest him," I commanded Captain Crowfield, my voice steady despite the storm raging within me.

Before the order could be carried out, chaos erupted. Prince Casimir's soldiers surged forward while Sir Gareth's guards, clearly prepared for this moment, drew their weapons against my small contingent. Trapped between these two forces, we were hopelessly outnumbered.

"I take no pleasure in this, Marius," Sir Gareth said, drawing his sword. "But I cannot allow you to find the fire witch. The slipper must be destroyed, and the prophecy with it."

Water responded to my rage, drawing moisture from the air around us to form a protective barrier. Captain Crowfield and my loyal guards formed a tight circle around me, swords at the ready.

"Impressive," Prince Casimir observed, approaching with casual confidence. "But ultimately futile. Even your elemental power cannot overcome these odds."

He was right. Though my magic had grown considerably under Sir Gareth's tutelage, I lacked the experience to wield it effectively in battle. Desperate, I reached for the crystal slipper, drawing it from my saddlebag. The moment my fingers touched it, a surge of energy coursed through me—foreign yet familiar, like a memory I'd never lived.

"My mother's magic," I whispered, understanding dawning. "Queen Marina's power, preserved somehow... just as Queen Aurelia's must be preserved in its twin."

The slipper pulsed with brilliant light, and with it came clarity. I extended my free hand toward the village well, calling to the water that lay dormant beneath the earth. It answered with explosive force, erupting in a geyser that scattered our attackers.

"Go!" Leonel shouted, seizing the reins of my horse and thrusting them into my hand. "To the Evergreen Forest! We'll hold them here!"

"I won't leave you to die," I protested.

"You won't," he assured me, his weathered face grim with determination. "But you must find the Princess of Elaria. The prophecy must be fulfilled, whatever Sir Gareth believes."

Conflict tore at me—duty to my men against the larger obligation to truth and destiny. In that moment of indecision, Sir Gareth lunged toward me, his sword slashing across my upper arm. Pain lanced through me, hot and sudden.

"Forgive me, Your Highness," he whispered, genuine anguish in his eyes. "I did love you as a son."

Something broke inside me then, and the last vestiges of childish trust shattered like a broken mirror. With a gesture born of instinct rather than training, I summoned a wave that knocked Sir Gareth backward. Blood ran freely down my arm as I mounted my horse.

"Find me in the Evergreen," I called to Captain Crowfield. "If you can."

I spurred my mount forward, breaking through the line of confused soldiers. Behind me, the sounds of battle faded as I rode headlong toward the massive forest that marked the heart of the kingdom. The crystal slipper guided me, leading me toward its twin—and toward the woman who had awakened the Fates—as well as my heart—the moment her fingers touched mine.

My wound throbbed in time with my horse's galloping stride, leaving a trail of crimson droplets on the forest path. Lightheadedness crept at the edges of my consciousness, yet I pressed onward, driven by a certainty beyond rational explanation. The prophecy Sir Gareth feared—the union of fire and water—called to me with the inevitability of rivers reaching the sea.

As I approached the outer boundaries of the Evergreen, whispers seemed to reach me on the wind—tales of a servant girl with fire in her heart, who defied Lady Belladonna's cruelty with quiet dignity. Of secret gatherings in the forest depths, where flames danced to the command of a young woman whose true name had been buried beneath ash and servitude.

Cinders. The mysterious lady from the ball. The rightful heir to Elaria's throne.

The one I had been searching for all along.

Darkness encroached on my vision as I guided my exhausted horse between the first massive trees of the Evergreen. The slipper pulsed with ever-increasing urgency, drawing me deeper into the ancient wood. My last conscious thought, as I slipped from the saddle into a bed of moss and ferns, was a silent plea to whatever powers might be listening.

Let her find me. Let the prophecy be fulfilled.

Then the forest canopy above me blurred, the dappled light fading to darkness as consciousness fled.