Glassmage Oblivion

Chapter One

Chapter One

Gabrielle sat before the open window of her northeast tower bedroom. The sky beyond yawned expansively with the blush of early morning. Many idle thoughts ran through her mind at that hour, but one looming cloud threatened to destroy all of them.

A tiny bell rang from the other side of her closed door. People in the great glass castle of Eastern Kell, she learned quickly, did not knock. Nearly every surface was magically composed of glass, created by generations of Glassmages. The castle was, in fact, an amalgam of styles and forms, changing every-so-slightly from year to year. As a result, the glass was dense and resilient. Knocking on it resulted in no more than a dull, nearly inaudible thud.

The bell rang again.

“I’m not hungry, Baesha!” Gabrielle called out for the third time that morning, but rose from her chair and padded quickly to the door to open it. She liked Baesha and did not want to be rude.

The castle steward stood over the threshold holding a tray filled with thickly sliced bread, jams, juice and a dish of granola with berries. Normally, Gabrielle would have been delighted as this was her favorite breakfast.

“Not hungry?” the older woman asked, her lips pinched back at the ends. Gabrielle forced a smile.

“On second thought, I’m starved! Thank you,” she said, taking the tray and carrying it to a tall, three-legged table. “Granola and blackberries are awesome!”

Baesha’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I mean great,” the young princess explained. “Awesome means great, better than great, actually. Excellent.”

Gabrielle never knew when a specific word or idiom from her old world wouldn’t translate to the slightly different tongue of Kell. Both languages, however, were oddly similar.

“You don’t intend to eat anything, do you?” Baesha asked.

Gabrielle’s shoulders fell. “No… I’m sorry, but how can I possibly eat at a time like this?”

“The Courting Ceremony is tradition, my Princess. Your sister, Princess Laurelle—”

Gabrielle dropped back into the chair facing the window. “I know, I know… Laurelle is all excited about the dance, but that’s only because she has someone special to dance with.”

Just three weeks ago, Deorwynn (Gabrielle’s great-aunt) explained that the people of Kell were all about tradition. This particular tradition, of a future queen’s suitor being officially announced prior to her sixteenth birthday, was preceded by the much-anticipated Courting Ceremony. Gabrielle recalled Deorwynn’s tale of when she and her sister were girls and the drama over a boy named Aydis.

In the end, there was no way around it. She and Laurel, Laurelle to everyone else in Kell, would be turning sixteen soon. As per tradition, they were required to name their suitors before the end of the ceremony that would be held in the throne room of the future Queens of Kell. Laurel was ecstatic, for she had met a boy named Marckus not long after they made Kell their new home.  She had spent much time with Adelle, Eadwynn’s mother, choosing an appropriate dress.

“If you are simply worried about a dance partner,” Baesha said, shaking her head in confusion, “The young men of Kell will be lined up in the main hall just hoping for a minute of your time.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Gabrielle sighed, resting her head against the window ledge. “It’s too much! It’s like a forced super-date. How many boys will be there anyway?”

“You mean young men? Practically everyone between the ages of twelve and eighteen,” the steward said. In a well-practiced, fluid motion, she pulled her noteboard out from under her arm and consulted it. “Forty-four, though it looks like Henron Lound will be turning nineteen in three days, so forty-three.”