Glass

"First order of business," Emiliano raised his voice, and he was the only one who could do so without making me feel overpowered. He stood to my side and handed me a small, parchment map. "This is where we shall start. Mendessa City. If we are unsuccessful, it would be best to venture into Castillon, the nearest town to the north of the city - rumour has it that many women there claim to be our missing maiden."

"People already know of this?"

The soldiers looked sheepish. All except Rafael, who couldn't help but flash a condescending smirk.

"Everyone knows what happened last night. Every highborn in a million-mile radius was there. It was only a matter of time before people started claiming they had danced with the future King of Mendessa."

I sighed. This would make things much more difficult.

"But you know what she looks like. Can't be hard to weed out the ugly spinsters, right?" He chuckled, as did the rest. But I just felt embarrassed. I didn't know how exactly to tell them that what I saw wasn't so much as a detailed face, but an indescribable blur.

I took the map from Emiliano.

"Thank you. I trust your judgement."

I squinted at the map in the dim light, following my index down the streets and around intertwining alleyways. The city was set out almost like a mosaic of its own - titled squares and crooked lines among similarly-sized blocks of buildings. It was just missing the bright colours and the jagged edges. Cut across the city's oval shape, a river - a mere remnant of the ocean - curved to a trading hub huddled with fishmongers, coopers, and inns for travelling merchants. Wedged between them, displayed as a miniature block on the map, was just the place I was looking for. I pointed to it.

"We start here. Lagos Glassblowers. I want you all to search the area, ask people if they have seen a woman purchasing something from there recently."

The soldiers seemed a little confused.

"The woman we are looking for had shoes made of glass. Such a thing could only be made by a prominent glassblower such as the Lagos family." I recalled the name as if from a dream, the realisation that it was them who created the palm tree window I once had coming to me all at once.

I was fitted into a suit of leather armour which hung heavy on my shoulders. It was thick, shielding me from harm but confining me in a sweaty heat which only grew worse when I stepped outside. I learned that only the Sun's rays could penetrate such armour, and with his mighty strength he was more than willing to do so. Whether it was out of punishment or a means to challenge me, I was not sure.

Sir Zolin was entrusted with the glass slipper, which was boxed up and wrapped in layers upon layers of silk.

My hand acted as a shield against the sun as I squinted at the sudden light. Not since the ball had I been beyond the giant doors of the palace, and before the ball, I couldn't remember a time where I had passed them at all. And yet, that night, when I ran through them to follow that woman, I never even stopped to realise it. Not once did I notice how far I had gone. But when I was there again, this time in sunlight, my eyes adjusted to the details once lit only by the moon. The clean sandstone tiles; the glistening red pillars. The stairs which led down to the path ahead were blocked by a ginormous gate guarded by six men, all of which were working vigorously to open them for myself and my entourage. I walked slowly on the steps, desperate to see if anything would catch the sun's light - a piece of glass, or even just a lost piece of jewellery or fabric. But the woman had left me nothing but the slipper which was in Emiliano's safekeeping, locked in a satchel and surrounded by more protective padding than Emiliano himself.

I took a deep breath as I ascended to the final step. Anticipation was welling up inside me, as though this final step was to be the most significant one I had ever taken, and once my foot touched the pure earth beneath me, a strange feeling surged through my veins. Dread; excitement; relief? I wasn't so sure. But what I did know was that I was no longer elevated above the earth, hidden away for safekeeping. I was a person after all. And as I turned to see the men behind me who had lived through so many experiences, I noticed that, to them, walking down the steps meant nothing at all.

The mud was lumpy but completely arid beneath my feet, making every step a slight discomfort. I took the opportunity to welcome it rather than reject it. Emiliano and Rafael positioned themselves so that they were surrounding me, looking cautiously at the trees on the near horizon. Zolin, on the other hand, was not looking ahead or around. Instead, he looked at the ground, as if avoiding eye contact with the world. I supposed he was so used to seeing it all. For the long-serving or higher-ranked guards and nobles, being out in the sun was something of a novelty. Zolin only had a matter of time before he missed the opportunity to truly appreciate the daylight.

We walked slow, but my heart was racing as though I had run a hundred miles. As we passed more and more of the trees, the final wall surrounding the palace only seemed to grow larger. It was a wall I often could not see - one I sometimes forgot about - but it was made of thick, impenetrable stone bleached almost white by the sun. Above it, high above the ground, more guards awaited, looking out to whatever lay on the horizon. A giant door was held up with masses of chains like a prisoner, so tight that not even a storm could make them move. My father had constructed all of this - made our home the safest in the world. But with all the weapons I could see, it didn't exactly feel that way.

"Mateo! Julio! Prepare to open the gates!" Rafael roared. Immediately, two guards on the highest point above the door, shot up and saluted, before shouting at the men around them to aid their task. The chains grinded and clattered as a dozen men struggled to turn the wheel that loosened them. Shouts and orders mingled together as I waited nervously.

The first break of light beyond the door passed through - the blue of the sky ahead. And then it leaned away from us and expanded. The door lowered more and more, but excruciatingly slowly. So slowly that by the time it had even reached a quarter of the way down, most of my nerves had fizzled away, and I was just growing impatient. A hint of excitement struck me when I saw something other than the sky - a chimney made of red brick, and then some rooftops, and eventually, the houses they belonged to.

The streets ahead were cleared for us, but families gathered to the pathways, all staring at us with bubbling joy. All faces I had never once seen before. Their features were more diverse than any I had seen in the palace - a spectrum of eye and hair and skin colours I barely even thought possible. It seemed they were just as excited to meet me as I them.

But just as the top of the door hit the cobbles ahead, spraying a cloud of dust, I saw it; the memoriam of King Andres I - my grandfather. My namesake. He looked tall and strong and valiant, holding a sword to the ground in a stance of victory against the beasts that used to ravage our land. A great stone beard carved into his great stone face, with piercing eyes that looked directly at me. He faced the palace for a reason - to watch over his ancestors, particularly my mother.

I looked down at my lightweight armour - nothing compared to the giant metallic boulders Andres I would have worn on his shoulders. I could not grow a beard to save my life, and according to many of the passing guards, I was still a child. Nobody moved around me until they were certain the drawbridge was safely in place, and when I looked around, I noticed just how tall everyone was compared to me. Only Zolin was shorter, and still seemed lost in his own thoughts. I thought that maybe if I hid, Sir Rafael would be mistaken for me - a much better candidate for the kin of Santos and Josefina. But it was far too late, and the crowd was already beginning to cheer.

I stepped out onto the bridge, reminding myself over and over not to trip and fall in front of all those people. Even hiding the uncontrollable shakes that took over me was a challenge, as every creak beneath my feet made me fear that the entire structure would collapse, and I would be washed away in the moat below. The noise grew louder against the clanking of armour and the horse's hooves, each new weight making me feel less stable. I tried to fix my face and not look scared. I worried my teeth might show too much, or that my straight back might look as though I was compensating for my pitifully average height. The crowd's eyes may have been joyful, but to me they were judging. Every step and every breath was humiliating to say the least.

I decided to focus on where I was - finally outside the palace. Ahead, the city expanded farther than the eye could see, but as expansive as it was, it appeared like a model village at the same time. The houses barely reached half of most of the palace's towers, and were crammed together in stilted rows of white brick. Wooden stalls lined the pathways, offering an enticing display of fresh fruit and vibrant pottery. Signs hung above every other door, advertising too many businesses to count. There was dry, cracked paint and very little greenery as far as the eye could see, but other than that, it looked just like how I imagined the small towns in my books.

"What do you think? Bit of a nasty surprise, I'd wager." Rafael leaned in to me.

"It's perfect." I said, and finally, my smile was genuine.