Glass Slippers [1st Draft]

27. The Departure

It was a little before four in the morning. Would anyone else be up? It would not surprise her if Sophia was, since the princess had said that she had a lot to do before she had to leave. Clara bit her lip for a moment, weighing her choices. She was sure Sophia wouldn't mind, but on the other hand, why would she be going there anyway? Just to talk? Did people do that?

Clara tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, straightened her clothing, and then walked over to the door. Maybe people didn't do that sort of thing, but she just didn't feel like being alone, especially when she knew she would be left without the advice of anyone her own age once Sophia left.

She opened the door cautiously, willing the hinges not to squeak and alert her siblings in the rooms nearby to her departure from her room. The shadows of the suits of armor and other decorations danced on the walls of the hallway as Clara crept from her room. The only sound that could be heard was that of the fire crackling in the sconces on the walls, and Clara picked up her pace.

The palace at night was a strange place and she felt almost nervous as shadows danced along the walls in strange movements. For some reason, the darkness inside the palace at night was different from any other she had ever encountered. It felt foreboding as if it was not meant to be witnessed by the eyes of its occupants. Clara shivered at the thought and picked up her pace.

Turning the corner into the hallway that held Sophia's room, she walked over to the door and, after a moment's hesitation, knocked. She didn't even have to wait more than five seconds before the door opened and revealed a very bright-eyed and awake Sophia. The princess smiled at Clara and ushered her in.

"My, my, my, what do we have here? Have you suddenly become a morning person or is it something else?" Sophia asked, her lips quirked into a smirk as she watched Clara's face turn slowly to a faint shade of red.

". . . Something else."

"I knew it!" Sophia sat down on the edge of her purple four-poster-bed patting a spot in front of her to motion Clara to sit down. "Let me guess, you can't stop thinking about a certain dashing prince and so, therefore, you can't sleep."

"Not quite," Clara said, "I can't stop dreaming about him."

"Dreaming about him?" Sophia flashed Clara a mischievous grin, waggling her eyebrows.

"Not like that!" Clara protested. "I meant I can't stop dreaming about the events of the feast. I keep on seeing him instead of the servant. It's awful. I can barely close my eyes without seeing it." Sophia's grin dropped as she listened, her face instead taking on a thoughtful expression.

"You know, there's a good chance if you just talked to him the dreams might go away," Sophia suggested.

"Why do you say that?" Clara asked, feeling somewhat suspicious. Sophia's advice for all of Clara's worries as of late had been to talk to Frederick. Clara hadn't the slightest of ideas why talking to the prince would help anything.

"I don't know, but it makes sense doesn't it? Maybe the best way to remind your subconscious that he is alive and fine, not poisoned and dead, is to spend time with him."

Clara gave a noncommittal "hmm" not really wanting to agree with it without thinking it through. It did sort of make sense, but Clara couldn't help but grimace slightly at the idea of talking to him. It wasn't that she was scared to talk to him, it was more that she had no idea what to talk to him about.

They'd only ever talked extensively on three occasions and it was easy to talk then, but that was at the ball. She could always remark on the size of the room or the number of couples during the ball, but there weren't topics so readily available outside of the ballroom. It wasn't like she could just comment on a particularly impressive wall sconce, not now that she knew he lived in the palace.