Glass

I was awoken before I even realised I’d fallen asleep.

"Good morning, your highness."

A maid whipped the curtain open, blinding me with migraine-inducing light.

As tired as I was, the hunger came and could not be ignored. In a half-asleep daze, I searched around with a squint for the breakfast always handed to me at my bedside.

"The king and queen insist you eat breakfast with them this morning, your highness."

I ducked back under the covers and laid to sleep or simply die - whichever came first.

"I'm afraid I cannot let you sleep in." The maid tore the heavy covers off me as though it was no weight at all, exposing me to the brightness once again.

After getting ready in a series of daily rituals I was too tired to remember doing, I was already being rushed down the stairs and through the hallways towards the dining hall. Beside me, two guards, equal in height, were stationed to guide me as though I would get lost in my own home. No matter how much I stuttered and mumbled questions, neither one answered.

The dining hall was grand, floored with shining mosaic tiles against walls painted with warm-coloured patterns. Portraits of my ancestors watched over me, framed in polished amber acacia and bathed in a golden light. Usually, the great, long table at the centre of the room was used for all the guards and the few maids we housed, but it was barren, with a crimson cloth draped over the ever-expanding miles of mahogany. At the end of it, far at the other end of the room, my mother sat in a grand seat, eyeing the plates of food being presented before her. Angled at her side, father sat already perfectly groomed for the day, just as mother was, despite how long they'd been awake overlooking the ball. They barely acknowledged me at first, but without even a glance, mother eventually spoke.

"Sit, my son."

Nerves and hunger fighting in my stomach, I took my seat opposite my father. The guards dispersed to the sides of the room, watching with envy as we began to pick at an assortment of local natural delicacies - ripe mangoes, vibrant papayas, juicy watermelon, and sweet pineapple. All of them glimmered under the daylight, stirring my hunger even more. It was definitely a welcome breakfast after a long night as opposed to tamales or spiced omelettes, which I could eat so much of it would draw me back to sleep.

I picked at my favourites, already sliced into neat pieces for my convenience, and for a moment, I almost forgot the conversation that was to follow.

"I trust you found a suitable bride last night?"

I should have expected mother to be so upfront, but mid-mango cube, I almost choked.

"Chew your food, Andres! You could choke to death!" Father reminded me as if it wasn't already too late. I cleared my throat.

"I... um... I believe I did."

Mother smiled.

"Ah. The mystery girl, I assume?"

I looked at them both.

"It's all that everyone has been talking about," mother said, cutting her watermelon into even tinier pieces and eating them off the end of her fork, "a nameless woman, entering with no introduction, dancing with the prince and briefly disappearing with him, only to promptly leave afterwards with no explanation."

I hung my head. I hoped she wouldn't blame me, even if it had been all my fault. Before she could begin to ask dreaded questions, I told her,

"I'm not sure what went wrong. One moment, I was getting to know her, and the next..."

I took another bite of pineapple out of self-pity. The remains turned sour on my tongue.

"I have to find her again."

Father stopped inspecting his fruit for a moment and laughed at me. Mother turned to him sharply and his face fell.

"You are not serious?"

"I am serious." I breathed. The fork on which his cube of mango hung clattered on the plate below. I braced myself.

"If she ran, then the girl does not want to be a princess of Mendessa. No use in chasing after her! I forbid it."

"Now, Santos, I'm sure the girl had her reasons," mother's glare pierced my eyes whenever I dared to make contact, "right, Andres?"

I wasn't sure what to say. I hoped my mother wasn't trying to accuse me of anything. Hopelessly, I shrugged.

"I need to talk to her again. Just once. Just for peace of mind."

"And do you think that if you called her to the palace she would return?"

Mother was right, as usual. After all, the woman hadn't even been allowed to attend the ball; a detail I decided was best leaving out. I cleared my throat.

"I would have to go out and search for her myself."

Father stood to his feet.

"Father, it's the only-"

"-There were hundreds of women that night! What were the chances that you just happened to fall for one who ran away without trace?"

"Santos-"

"-Do you not see, Josefina? This is clearly a rouse to get himself outside the palace! I can see right through it and I will have none of it!"

His fist slammed the table, rattling the cutlery. I held my breath, avoiding his stare as he descended back into his seat.

Mother placed a hand over his, her voice not raised, but calming. It was directed at me.

"Perhaps we can have our men settle this. Do you have a description, Andres? I admit that your father and I never got a close look."

How to even begin to describe her?

"She danced like... Her voice was just... I liked..."

Her kindness, her intellect, her wisdom, her humour, her empathy, her charm; anything! Just say anything!

"She was just... so..."

I lost eye contact completely, all words failing. Failing to convince them. As much as I wanted to persist, my throat was already giving up.

"Well, what was her name?"

I stammered, the embarrassing realisation swirling in my gut.

"I...I don't know."

Mother sighed deeply, closing her eyes.

"You never asked?"

I shook my head in shame.

Father scoffed.

"He knows nothing of the girl, Josefina. He doesn't mean to go after her, he only means to go out and get himself in danger."

Mother seemed defeated. For a moment, she returned to her food, picking at bits of watermelon with her knife and fork, filling the air with an uncomfortable silence. Father eventually followed suit. I had failed them in every aspect of the word, and the more I let time pass, the more I would be outnumbered.

"For starters, I know she is from Mendessa," I looked around at every unconvinced face in the room, even that of the guards, "she told me so herself."

I was already aware of how ridiculous that sounded out loud, but in my head I was certain that I wasn't being naive. To fill the silence, I added, "I wouldn't even have to travel beyond the kingdom, father."

"With no name and no face?" Mother considered out loud, stopping herself before she said any more. It was futile, we all knew it. Even within the confines of Mendessa, there were hundreds of noble households. That was merely with the notion that the woman was, in fact, noble and was telling the truth.

I was losing without a doubt. I was losing her in the process. I couldn't be beaten so easily.

But what chances did I have? What could I say that could change their minds? It was as futile as the search itself; a pointless argument that would only serve to further my embarrassment.

I stood up, hunger dissipated.

"Father?"

Sweat dripped from my palms as I dared to meet his unimpressed gaze. Ever so quietly, I asked the question I'd long awaited an answer to.

"What are you so afraid of?"

His eyes widened. His voice halted itself.

"If you had been in my position, you would have travelled to the ends of the world to find mother again. But now..." I again braced what was to come, "...we are in an era of peace... aren't we?"

Silence.

Father's sigh was closer to a growl.

"When I was your age I was a Duke. You are the sole heir to the throne. Your position is more open to danger than mine ever was. And it's true that there are no monsters in Mendessa anymore, there still is and there always will be men who want power. Our power. Your power. I cannot expose you to that. I cannot risk you or our kingdom."

I understood as much as I questioned. Many of these points he had made before, but he always left out specifics; who to be afraid of, who wanted to take the throne, or why they would be willing to commit treason against a beloved monarchy. It was all too vague and murky for me to fully grasp his reasoning.

"But without a bride, we risk no future for our kingdom."

Mother's voice was stern as she sat completely still. "Santos, we of all people should allow risk for the sake of progress. If my father had never-"

"-Things are different, my love-"

"-If my father had never taken risks, we would still be at the mercy of beasts!"

Her voice echoed off the ceiling, its hollow sound dawning a bitter chill within the room. She composed herself, dotted her lips with a napkin, and balanced a smile.

"It is time, my love. There would always be a day where we would have to let the boy see his own kingdom. Danger or none. Andres," as she addressed me, I sat back down slowly, like I was unsure that the chair beneath me was still there, "I will employ our finest guards to aid you in your quest. Find that mystery woman. Do whatever you must."

I thought of the glass slipper, glinting at my bedside - the one clue I had.

Who would wear glass shoes? Who could without them shattering beneath the weight of a human body? They had to have been made by a master glassblower to be so detailed in its design yet so practical that they could be danced in.

I knew exactly where to start.