Cinders of Glass Chapter One
If Liora dropped dead, no one in Avia’s crowded market square would bat an eye at her. The first week she’d been put in charge of her family’s stall, she’d spent it yelling at the top of her lungs. She might as well have been invisible for all the good it had done her. No one had spared her a second glance. Months later, nothing had changed.
Instead, Liora contented herself with occasionally calling out into the crowd, when the noise level dropped. She never got a customer for it. Even at her loudest, her voice was too weak. Still, she saw it work for the other stalls. Maybe one day she might get lucky.
“Enchanted matches!” Liora called out, waving one arm with a twine-tied bundle of matches. When no one looked her way, she leaned back under the shade of her tiny stall and rested her hands on the rough, wooden countertop. She always lost count of how many splinters she picked out from her hands when her day was done. Although… it wasn’t as many as she ignored, deciding the effort wasn’t worth it.
Instead, she picked up the light blue bundle of fabric sitting on top of her crate before taking her seat again. She spread the dress over her legs and picked up her needle once again.
Avia’s main market square was always crowded, and even though Liora didn’t see much business, the stalls around her did. Sometimes, if she was lucky, a street performer would draw up a crowd in front of the old fountain. If she sat on top of her counter and the crowd wasn’t too tall, she could even see the show. Most days she couldn’t, so she didn’t bother.
Her tiny stall was squished on both sides by much larger, far more popular stalls. The stall on her right sold silk fabric imported from Esmea. While they mostly sold regular fabric, it was exquisite and far more expensive than the average citizen could afford, making it a popular spot among the wealthier merchants and the court. It did, on occasion, get a bolt of fabric enchanted to shimmer or change color, which always sold as soon as it came in.
The Esmean fabrics made the light blue dress Liora was mending look like a bundle of rags in comparison. On the other hand, the light blue dress looked like an elegant ballgown compared to Liora’s thin, shabby outfit. She handled the blue dress like it was made of glass.
The stall on Liora’s left belonged to a baker and her husband, a wizard. From what Liora could tell, he wasn’t all that powerful. He seemed to have just enough magical ability to help his wife create their trick pastries. Liora always read their signs to see what they offered. Since she’d started running her family’s stall, she’d seen everything from a one-question truth cookie to a cake that changed the eater’s hair color for a week. Even if Liora were to have any use for their food, she certainly didn’t have the money to spend.
While not many people came to Liora’s stall, she was able to overhear a good amount of news and gossip from people who didn’t notice or care that she could hear them when they frequented her more popular neighbors. The market had been especially busy the last few weeks of spring. The square had been a sea of bright colors, filled with people from all over Idres and beyond.
It wasn’t until a group of three noblewomen took their time at the Esmean stall that Liora discovered the cause of the surge in activity.
“I suppose there’s nothing to be done about it, not that I knew anyone who really had their eyes on Prince Aiolos anyway,” the tallest noblewoman said. She had vivid, golden blonde hair, and wore a purple silk dress covered with silver patterning.
Liora sat up a little straighter. Her fingers stilled as she glanced over the group. They were familiar; all of them looked to be around her age.
The shortest noblewoman wrinkled her nose as she examined a bolt of gold silk. “He’s too old for me.”
The third stayed quiet.
“Well, of course he is! It’s about the principal of the matter.” The tallest noblewoman rolled her eyes. Her voice was beautiful and striking, melodious in every sense of the word. She didn’t have to sing one note for anyone to know she could sing better than a songbird. It was the kind of voice one never forgot, no matter how many years had passed.
Lady Gisele. An earl’s daughter who had never let anyone forget it. And if that was Lady Gisele, the shortest had to be Lady Alis, and the third was Lady Raylene. They didn’t look all that different than Liora remembered. Even as children, Lady Gisele had mastered her unique way of turning her nose up and staring down upon those she considered to be lesser.
“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Lady Raylene said in her softer, weaker tone.
Liora set her needle and the light blue dress to the side so she could push herself off her crate and move closer, in order to hear the noblewomen better over the dull roar of the crowded market.
“I’m not saying one of us should have married Prince Aiolos, but someone should have. None of the older girls tried hard enough, and now we’re losing yet another prince to a foreign country.” Lady Gisele ignored the way the Esmean merchant’s eye twitched at her statement.
Prince Aiolos was getting married?
Liora wrapped one hand around the post of her stall and leaned in.
“Technically, we aren’t losing him. They’ll be living in Idres,” Lady Raylene said.
“And shouldn’t another marriage alliance be good for Idres?” Lady Alis frowned.
“We are losing the hand of a prince, same thing.” Lady Gisele sniffed. “And I suppose it depends on how the alliance goes. I still would have preferred he picked an Idresian, like King Besart did.”
“King Besart is the one approving all these matches.” Lady Raylene ran her hand over a shimmering bolt of blue silk.
Lady Gisele shot Lady Raylene a glare. Liora winced, but Lady Raylene was unfazed.
“Be that as it may, I hope King Besart will see the value in supporting Idresian matches for the rest of his siblings.” Lady Gisele lifted her chin.
“And by that you mean Prince Cynrik.” Lady Alis giggled as she ducked around one of the tables and grabbed Lady Gisele’s arm. Lady Gisele instantly preened at the attention.
“Of course. And who else but myself is an exemplary model of Idres’ best qualities? You know Prince Cynrik danced with me twice last night.” Lady Gisele held up a swatch of purple to her cheek. “What do you think?”
“It’s a good shade!” Lady Alis said.
Liora wasn’t entirely sure what Idres’ best qualities were, or how Lady Gisele exemplified them, but she couldn’t be surprised. It was no secret Lady Gisele wanted to marry into the royal family, and she didn’t try to hide the fact Prince Cynrik was her favorite.
Lady Raylene sighed, a distant look in her soft eyes. “I’d give anything to get his attention like that.”
Liora shifted so she could see past the fabric hanging down the side of the stall. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard Prince Cynrik’s name accompanied by a wistful sigh. Apparently, he was the court’s favorite. Liora wasn’t entirely sure why, but she never spared it more than a second’s thought. The effort was too much, and her head was too heavy for it.
But, with little else to do, at least listening to the gossip helped pass the time.
“It only makes sense. Soon three of his older brothers will be married, and his younger brother also married before him. It’s about time he started paying attention.” Lady Gisele smirked as she stepped around one of the stall’s tables and over to another one with silver silk.
“You mean pay attention to you,” Lady Alis laughed.
“I’m not sure.” Lady Raylene looked up from the pink silk in her hands. “This is Prince Cynrik we’re talking about. Do you really think he’s going to settle down any time soon?” At Lady Gisele’s sharp glare, she stammered, “I—I mean, well, he’s flirted with every woman of the court for years now, and he’s never settled on a favorite. Besides, he’s still a few years younger than his older siblings when they got married. King Consort Sterling married a little young for their family.”
“Ooh! You know, I bet that when Prince Cynrik does see his future wife for the first time, he’ll be speechless. It’ll be love at first sight!” Lady Alis jumped slightly, and her dark brown curls bounced with her. “Wouldn’t that be so romantic?”
“Hardly,” Lady Gisele drawled, placing a hand on her chest. “It’s quite obvious how Prince Cynrik will fall in love. One day someone will get him to see that what he’s been missing is right in front of him.”
While Liora had never met the prince personally, she certainly couldn’t imagine Lady Gisele would be the one to make the notorious flirt settle down. Although the picture of Lady Gisele badgering Prince Cynrik down the aisle was amusing.
It seemed Lady Raylene was skeptical as well, since she said, “That’ll take years.”
Liora couldn’t prevent the tiny huff of laughter from escaping her mouth.
Three pairs of eyes turned in her direction. They all landed on Liora. Like every other time the rare occurrence happened, it wasn’t good.
Liora scrambled away from her post, but it was too late. Lady Gisele locked eyes with her and grinned. She tilted her head. A perfectly calculated look sharpened her features. Liora had always hated that look of hers.
Lady Gisele said, “You know, I think we take it all for granted sometimes.”
Liora ducked out of sight, kneeling by her crate and pretending to be digging through the bundles of matches inside.
“What?” Lady Alis said.
“Things happen. Unfortunate things, but of course, I do believe those things happen for a reason. Our fates are in the stars, after all, but we all play a part in our lives,” Lady Gisele said.
Liora’s hands shook as she rested them on the edge of her box.
“Gisele—” Lady Raylene started but was quickly cut off.
“We shouldn’t be complacent is all I’m saying. Noble we might be today, who’s to say our fate is to remain so? We have a responsibility to Idres and to the royal family to prove we are deserving of our titles, and we must remember that the royal family will not hesitate to take action for the betterment of Idres. But don’t mind me. Why should we worry?” Lady Gisele’s laugh pitched up, and her heels clicked on the stone. “A tragic fall is always earned.”
Another set of heels followed. Liora held her breath. The Esmean merchant muttered under his breath, and the sound of fabric folding reassured Liora the women were gone. Her knees ached against the stone. Her plain brown skirt was too thin to provide any protection. She pushed herself to her feet and froze when she lifted her gaze right into the face of Lady Raylene.
Liora’s hands fumbled with her skirt, and she dipped into a curtsy. She murmured, “My Lady.”
“Oh, no, you don’t have to—” Lady Raylene shook her head, glancing over her shoulder, as if she didn’t want to be seen.
Liora couldn’t blame her.
“Um, you sell matches, right?” Lady Raylene pointed at the matches Liora had set out on her counter.
“Yes, I do,” Liora said, swallowing thickly. “Enchanted matches.”
It was bad enough she’d had to hear Lady Gisele’s words; the last thing she wanted was to hear it said to her face.
“Oh, I’ll take some, whatever the price is.” Lady Raylene dug into her coin purse.
She was… buying matches?
“I’ve—I’ve got a few different kinds—” Liora started.
Raylene dropped two gold coins onto the wooden counter and shook her head. “Whatever you recommend.”
Liora picked up a bundle and held it out. “Calming Matches. If you light one and smell the smoke, it’ll ease any anxiety, calm you down.”
“Right,” Lady Raylene said, grabbing the bundle and shoving them into her pocket. She turned on her heel and moved to disappear into the crowd. She paused and looked over her shoulder. “Liora, I—Take care of yourself.”
Even if Liora knew what to say to her, Lady Raylene had vanished before she had a chance to speak. Instead, Liora picked up the gold coins and tucked them away into her little lockbox. They clinked together, and Liora’s lips twitched into a little smile. It was the first sale of the week.
She replaced the Calming Matches on top of the counter with another bundle and leaned against the back of her stall. Her hands were shaking too much for her to pick up her sewing again.
The sun moved through the sky, shining down on the crowd ebbing and flowing in front of Liora. Whites and browns were the most common colors she saw in their clothes, but there was occasionally a brighter hue like blue or green that wove through the crowd. People laughed, and children squealed at the many bright, exquisite items that graced many of the stalls. The sweet smells of vanilla and sugar filled Liora’s senses, causing her stomach to roll in hunger.
A father lifted his son onto his shoulders. A water sorcerer performed a small show in front of the fountain, splashing the children in the first row. A few clouds rolled over the sky. A stray dog darted under the legs of the crowd with a sausage in its mouth. A baby cried while his mother hurried out of the market, hushing him as her husband and their daughter trailed behind them.
Liora stood there, back pressed into the wood, watching, waiting, and the world continued to spin with her in the background, completely forgettable and inconsequential. If she never came back to the market, never manned her family’s stall again, no one would notice. No one would care. Liora could vanish from the world, every trace of her scrubbed out of existence, and no one in that market would ever know the difference.
Lady Gisele would forget she ever saw Liora in the market; Liora was certain of that. Lady Alis would forget even sooner, and Liora wasn’t stupid enough to believe Lady Raylene wouldn’t forget either, despite her pity purchase. None of them would remember the girl selling matches.
The sun started to set, and the crowd thinned. Stalls began to close down, and people hurried home to their families. Liora swept the bundles of matches off her counter and packed them away, tucking her lockbox into her crate. Then she picked up the light blue dress, carefully folded it, and secured her needle before placing it on the top.
Liora was usually the first to leave the market every day. She had to hurry home and get started on her chores—make sure dinner was on the table for her family, clean the house, do the laundry. It wasn’t like any customers were at her stall to prevent her from leaving.
But today, she couldn’t seem to move until well after the streets were empty and the moon was high in the sky. Taking care of her family was everything, but there was something about the square at night. The way the moon reflected off the water and coated the stone statue rising out of the fountain was breathtaking.
Liora always got her work done; she made sure of that. She never lingered even when there was a street festival, of which there had been a few since her family had settled in Avia. But that was mostly because she had nothing suitable to wear, and no desire to make a fool of herself. She didn’t know how to dance, and she especially didn’t know how to dance to the loud folk songs that played in the streets.
It wasn’t for a lack of trying.
When she’d been younger, she and her stepfamily had happened to be in town the same night as a festival while traveling through Castia. She’d tried to figure out the steps and the songs, but they were always too fast. Liora had mixed up the steps and the pair to her left didn’t see her. She’d been knocked over and nearly broke her ankle.
Her younger stepsister had actually examined Liora’s clothes for some kind of enchantment or magic to explain her unnoticeable air, but there was none. Liora had never really decided how she felt about that. If her invisibility was something she could take off, some kind of curse she could break, some magic to remove, would she?
But she couldn’t, so Liora tended to avoid celebrations. She had a hard enough time getting through the crowded market without getting bruised.
But what was the harm in a few minutes to herself?
Once everything was packed away and she’d pulled her thin shawl tighter to fight the cool breeze, she dug into the crate and slid one match out of its bundle. She stepped out from behind her stall. Her skirt fluttered around her legs as she hurried to the fountain in the center of the square. One of the Idresian kings of old stared down at her from his mount. She ignored his gaze, bending down to the rough lip of the fountain. She struck the match against its surface, and a tiny yellow flame lit on the wood.
Smoke poured out from the tip, billowing around Liora and twisting until it formed a beautiful life-sized painting of gray and silver in front of her. She stumbled back until she sat on the edge of the fountain.
Women in exquisite dresses made of the finest Esmean silk came to life. Men in regal, decorated doublets and uniforms bowed to them, offering their hands. There was no music, but the women curtsied and stepped in line to dance regardless. One of the women could have looked like Liora’s mother—if Liora remembered what she looked like. Her partner could have looked like Liora’s father. But as it was, they were only vague wisps of smoke. Half-formed faces and blurred lines.
Silver skirts twirled around as the women ducked under their partner’s arms in unison. At least her smoke dancers knew what to do.
In the silence of the early night, she could almost hear the faint strains of music, but it was all in her head. Liora hummed under her breath, a tune that didn’t really match their movements, but it was all she had. The men lifted their partners into the air effortlessly, the skirts fanning out and painting the air gray.
Of all the things Liora had forgotten over the years, she’d never forgotten her first and last dance lesson.
Her teacher’s voice lingered in her ears. “One.”
The cobblestone and empty market faded as Liora stared at the smoke figures. Liora’s heart stuttered, and flashes of gilded gold and blue ballrooms danced at the edge of her memory.
“Two.”
The sound of boots hitting polished floors grew louder in the distance.
“Three.”
The ornate doors flew open.
“Four.”
Silver armor flashed all around her. Hands were on the hilts of swords.
Liora had never gotten to step five.
And she’d never stepped foot in her childhood home again.
Sharp, searing pain ripped through Liora’s fingers, and she hissed, jerking her hand away and fumbling with what little was left of her match. It slipped through her burnt fingers and landed in the still, cold fountain water.
Liora spun on her heel, but the smoke was already starting to vanish. The women’s skirts blurred and lost their shape. The men’s fingers merged together. The few vague features that they had for faces disappeared. They slowly faded into the air like the smoke had never been there at all. She cradled her hand to her chest as her fingers turned red and blistered.
Like all beautiful things, it had been temporary. The match had been enchanted to show her what she wanted most. It was the closest she’d ever get to being able to dance the way her parents had.
Liora dipped her fingers into the fountain before shaking the water off and trudging back to her stall. She picked up her crate and hoisted the weight onto her hip, ready to walk back home.
Her fingers hurt the whole way home, and she should have felt guilty about using the match on herself, but she didn’t.
Even if it had only been a moment, it’d been worth it.
You can read Cinders of Glass on Amazon here. Thank you so much for reading, and I’ll see you next time!