So many tick-tocks on the clock. Ellius had to find some useless task until tonight. The Court?
She cringed. "No. Absolutely not."
Mother will hold court all day until the ball tonight. Do I have a dress sorted?
"Yasmine!" she shrilled. "We're going shopping!"
Yasmine appeared at the door of Ellius' chambers, bowing low. "Of course, Your Highness. What shall we be shopping for?"
"Dresses. Something that will make me look like a jewel among stones."
Yasmine nodded, a smile playing on her lips. "I shall make arrangements immediately."
As Ellius stepped out of her chambers and into the bustling corridors of the palace, she couldn't shake the image of the boy with the glass skin from her mind.
Resurrected from the dead? Nothing like this had ever happened before. Never.
Yet, he lived and breathed. Flesh-in-blood. Not shimmering crystal skin like her or all of the Empire.
Ellius had brushed the waves from his smooth cheeks. His face, even in sleep, was the most earth-shatteringly handsome she had ever seen. Yes, Adonis held high, chiselled cheekbones and a strong jaw, but this was different. He was almost ethereal... A perfect harmony of masculinity and femininity.
The thought sent shivers down her spine. But she pushed it aside, focusing instead on the upcoming ball. She needed to be the most dazzling presence there, to distract herself from the eerie events of the day.
"Your Highness, are you drooling?"
"NO!" Her head whipped to Yasmine. But a blush was rising from her heart.
"Are you sure?" She cocked an eyebrow. "You're not falling in love?"
"Are you in love with me?" had come a thread of a voice.
The boy had spoken.
Ellius' head had slowly turned.
He had sat up on the pallet, his fingers bracing the stone wall.
Cores of onyx burned into hers.
Hair the colour of golden wheat with roots of black. Ellius had realized when the sunlight hit his hair at a perfect angle, it was streaked with the faintest thread of red hues.
Glass skin, honey skin, cloudless skin dewy and glowy.
"You're awake."
"I heard your last words. I was floating between two worlds since resurrected from the dead by forces beyond my control in that graveyard." His voice was mildly musical. Ellius could have almost swayed to the lilting of it.
Violet, an apprentice healer, had squealed, dropping the jar. Clay smashed on the cold stone and a thick, dark emerald paste spilled out.
"Shh!" Joelle had pressed her ear against the door. "The servants might hear us from the ballroom!"
"Who are you?" Ellius had croaked.
He turned those beautiful black eyes to her. "I... don't recall anything?"
"Do you know your name?"
"Should I?"
"You remember you came from a graveyard?"
"That's what I can recall?" His brows furrowed. "I was buried underneath an old man, his chest was covering my throat. You led me back to the world of the living..." His voice trailed off as his touch absently touched his throat, coming away with wet blood.
"Quick! Compress it." Violet had grabbed the prepared bandages and clamped them around his throat. The slit was oozing fresh blood.
"Why am I bleeding?" he'd asked.
"Don't speak," Joelle had said. "I'll have to examine your throat..." Gently, she'd pried back the edges of the bundled bandages away from his throat to see. The cloth had already soaked up the flow of blood and she could see what was happening.
Ellius had seen her fingers lowering. Joelle's had blood gone cold. "Violet," she'd said. "You won't need those swabs..."
"What?" Violet had whipped her head around. "These rags are getting sodden." Beads of bright blood had risen over the fabric and into her fingers.
"You won't need a basin either. Just.." She had hesitated.
"Why am I bleeding?" he'd asked again.
"That answer, I cannot answer. Violet, hold the rags until the worst of the blood dies down."
"Am I dying?" His eyes were clear. His chest rose up and down.
"No... I—I n-need to seal your veins. Violet, Find me a fresh, hot poker."
Hands had exchanged and Violet dashed out. "Your Highness, can you prepare a needle and silken thread?"
He's not bleeding to death? Her head had filled with curious questions as she'd threaded the thick steel needle.
"His pulse is weak, Your Highness. Very weak. With the blood coming out of his throat, he is dying, Your Highness, and living at the same time. We can staunch the blood, but his soul is leeching out through his throat."
Charming. Like when the heads roll on Adonis' block. "Is there a way to sustain his life?"
"Not known in our history."
What about in reverse? Ellius had chewed her thumb. If a soul was leaked into his corpse, could a fresh glass soul enter his body?
"What about finding a glass soul and using it?" she'd asked.
Joelle had paled. "You— you mean...? Your Highness, you would be putting your head on the Executioner's block!"
"But not if I'm committing the crime."
"Many paupers try to hide their starving children from the soldiers. They can hide them for up to three months, at the longest. Some healers are smuggled to their houses and take the children away."
"How long can I keep him here?"
"There is a spare vacancy in the kitchens. He could take the place. I can take care of it."
Until Father discovers him and beheads him for his damned collection.
Smoke had wafted through the tower. Violet, panting like a dog, had her hands gripping a red-hot poker. "Fresh from the flames!" before Joelle could question her.
"Your Highness, as I drag this over his veins, remove the cloths."
Ellius had pressed her fingers around the bundle at the man's neck. Joelle had rolled up a thick gauze and stuck it between his gaping teeth. "Not a word."
His question had been cut off as she pressed the molten metal along his throat. Ellius had gagged, her stomach heaving at the smell of burning glass. She felt nauseated The gag had kept the boy's scream of pain quiet before his eyes rolled up and he'd fainted dead away.
"Salt, Violet. Herb poultice." Joelle's eyes had been fixed on her unconscious patience. Violet had opened the packets of herbs on the tables and briskly ground up a mixture with a motor and pestle. Joelle had flipped the poker around and completed the other half of the boy's throat.
Ellius had held the bloodstained bandages and handed over the needle. Joelle had used a scalpel to trim the ragged burned flesh and stitched the fresh edges shut. Violet had pressed the poultice to his throat, bounding it with oiled bandages.
"I've sealed the wound. Violet. Keep the bandages tight and make sure he doesn't pick open those stitches to marvel at his bleeding throat." She'd washed his blood from her nails, fingers, wrist, and arms."You've stayed longer than the Time required, Your Highness."
Ellius had pointed to the breakfast tray. "He'll need to eat. Give him my breakfast. Let me wash my hands or Father will have my hands if he sees all this blood."
Violet had poured fresh salted water into a bronze basin and Ellius had scrubbed off the set in the grooves and beds of her nails. Joelle had shooed her out of the room. "He'll be at peace. Rest now. I will see you tonight."
But as Ellius flitted from dress boutique to jewellery store, her mind kept drifting back to the boy. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his resurrection than met the eye. And she was determined to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.
*************
Ellius and Yasmine ventured into the jeweller's shop and opened the door.
They passed a bronze girl, adorned with locks resembling a river of molten gold, who greeted them at the entrance. Yasmine, with a swift step, maneuvered behind Ellius to make way for the slave, adorned with an Executioner's pin. Her eyes met the girl's with daggers.
The air was thick with the scent of gold and envy as other customers ogled their every move, scraping as they bowed low, their eyes on the purses at their bustles.
Jock entered through a crimson curtain with a bejewelled casket in his hands. His smile broadened when he saw Yasmine. It was knocked off his face with a swift whack over the head from his father, Finny. "Stop daydreaming, boy!" Finny barked, wielding a pair of cotton gloves like a battle-axe. "Get to work!"
"Any more of that jaw hanging and I'll sew your lips up!"
With flushed cheeks and lowered gaze, Jock obediently set about his task.
"I want that casket ready for the White Rabbit by the hour! No smudges, so polish well!"
Ellius' fingers trailed over the glass display cases of gold, gemstones, silver, and jewel-encrusted objects nestled in blue velvet cushions. She knew poor Jock would spend hours polishing away her fingerprints later, but why should she care? She was an heir to the crown among commoners.
Her perfume of blossoms clouded around her as she examined the gloves. "I take it that you have finished my brooch?"
"For tonight's ball? Indeed. Let me fetch it." Finny waddled out to the backroom. Even old and crotchety, with a face as sharp as a diamond cutter, he moved like a spring at the sight of her money.
He retrieved the gleaming gold adornment, set with a miniature painted portrait, surrounded by a halo of diamonds and rubies. The portrait was of a young girl. Mother. Sea-blue eyes. Strawberry-blonde curls, white porcelain skin, and a splatter of freckles across her cheeks and nose.
"May I?" Finny asked.
Ellius nodded, allowing Finny to fasten the brooch onto her breast lapel with practiced ease, the jewels catching the light, illuminating the delicate features of the portrait.
She wore a light jacket embroidered with whorls of black lace and a voluminous skirt with floating rules of chiffon.
"I restored it to perfection, as per your royal decree," he wheezed.
"It's perfect, Finny," she said, smiling, "but what is a brooch when you can look even better?"
Finny could practically smell the money. "Indeed."
Ellius had her eyes set on something grander—a tiara fit for a goddess. Several women had been glued to it. it, salivating at its sight.
"That tiara."
Finny shooed the moths away from the flame and unlocked the case with a bunch of keys kept inside his gray waistcoat. Carefully, he lifted out the tiara from the cushion and held it up to her eyes for exception. Jade stones set into the low border of gold with tiny pearls, the spires tipped with jades.
"Beautiful," Yasmine breathed. Ellius' fingers traced over the round-cut gems in the base.
"It should be. It was created by Jock after his first apprenticeship." Finny turned the tiara around. " I said that this masterpiece would be too expensive for any commoner to buy. But he begged to display it. He betted that a lord would buy it for his future wife."
Ellius couldn't resist a jab at poor Jock, who was polishing away in the shadows like a forgotten peasant. "What will you give your future-wife, Jock?" Knowing full well she was crushing his hopes and dreams like a bug under her heel.
Jock's face melted and his ears went red. He was looking just past her face, to something through the display windows. "May-b-b-be a girl w-who is v-very pretty," he stammered.
"Someone like her?" Her finger pointed at Yasmine. Yasmine blushed, looking away.
Jock found himself tongue-tied.
"Keep searching, Jock, because a pauper like you will never be able to afford Yasmine jewels like this. The Royal Blood demands purity above all. Not to pollute itself with dogs." Ellius' words took a sharp turn, cruelly reminding Jock of his place and dismissing any hope of affluence.
With a decisive gesture, Ellius claimed the tiara. "I'll take the crown, and I'm gifting it to my maid. Please put it in a package. I'm leaving." A sly grin danced on her lips and she sealed the transaction with a hefty check. "Give this to the Royal treasurer and he will pay."
Finny slipped the tiara and cushion into a large leather bag, tied off the strings, and passed it to Yasmine. He tucked the cheque away.
"Are those Whittaker's gloves? Yasmine will deliver them to him."
Yasmine, lips clamped, slipped the gloves into her pocket with a sympathetic smile for Jock before following Ellius out the door, leaving the poor lad to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart.
Love transcended the confines of class and privilege, leaving an indelible mark on the soul.
*********
Evening had fallen. The palace spires reached for the heavens, catching the last ethereal rays that danced like liquid gold upon the petals of flowers that adorned the grounds, revealing their stunning beauty in its light.
Yasmine delicately placed the final gem in Ellius' hair, her fingers working with a grace born of years of branded slavery. Ellius' locks, woven into intricate braids, held a crown of gold upon her brow. Yasmine stepped back, cocking her head to examine her work.
"Go," she said. "Her Majesty is waiting."
Ellius left the bed, leaving behind a scattering of flower buds she had rejected in favour of the dazzling jewels that now adorned her attire. The gems, a kaleidoscope of citrine, topaz, tourmaline, and opal, shimmered amidst the cascading waves of her hair, of gold, doe-brown, and fire. Each stone was a testament to the wealth and power of her kingdom. Sparkling bronze jewels of a low crown had been carefully inserted into the wreaths. Her gown, as dark as the midnight sky, bore the delicate embroidery of coursing trails of budding white roses. As she made her way through the labyrinthine halls of the palace, her cloak billowed behind her like a silken cloud.
Passing beneath arches carved with ancient runes and symbols of forgotten magic, each one ornately carved with whorls of leaves and centered with a lotus blossom, Ellius passed through soaring arches of wood. Two guards stood at the end of the hallway.
"Her Majesty wishes to see you." They seized the doors and drew back to reveal the expanse of the Throne of the Estela.
Trees crafted of silver grew on either of the great pair of thrones, their slender branches twisting into a high arch above her head. Pale gray stone soared up to the heavens and in its heart, upon layered circlets of black obsidian sat the Queen of the Estela. Her eyes gazed down upon Ellius. Upon Melia's head, she wore a crown of twisting, burning red fire. Towering licks of gold, orange, and red surrounded his head. Dancing flames that never died, made of the fire that burned in their hearts.
"Ellius, my daughter," Melia descended from her throne, enfolding Ellius in an embrace, a shower of sparks engulfed them.
"You are as radiant as the dawn," Melia whispered, her voice a soft caress against Ellius' ear.
"You look terrifyingly ferocious." Ellius kissed her mother's painted cheek. Melia had red hearts painted under her eyes.
"I have something for you. Something I should have given to you long before." She beckoned and out of nowhere a guard stepped forward. Ellius had seldom been summoned before her father on the throne. When came to spend his rage on her, he did it out of sight where he caught trapped her. Where there was no escape. Where no one could hear her alone in her chambers. She realized in the Throne Room, guards could materialize anywhere, hidden safely in the dark shadows. The man placed a large wooden chest upon a pedestal. The chest was covered in intricate latticework of iron. Locked with two heavy heart-shaped locks.
Please let it not be jewels, for I am weighed down tonight and can hardly dance!
Melia produced a key, a tiny trinket on a delicate chain that gleamed in the dim light of the chamber. "Are you wearing the bracelet I gave you, Ellius, dear?"
She always wore it at balls. She held up her wrist. The bracelet was feather-light, made out of white diamond. Little charms of ruby chess pieces were threaded on the chain links, each outlined in fine gold.
Melia inserted her key but did not turn it. "Here's another secret, my love. Put all your chess pieces together."
Ellius took off the bracket, and indeed, the chess charms fitted together. Each had tiny grooves to insert slots. She pressed the four charms together and the pieces clicked into a short little key. She put it into the second heart lock.
"Turn together."
Click! Both locks opened and Ellius lifted them off the iron rung, unlocking the chest. Melia lifted the lid.
Within lay jewels of unparalleled beauty, each gem a testament to the craftsmanship of ages past. But it was not the opulence of the jewels that stole Ellius' breath, but rather the knowledge of their origin.
"These were Alice's jewels," Melia explained, her voice catching on a tide of memories. "Forged in the fires of her ambition, yet never worn in her lifetime. But for you, my daughter, they are a gift of destiny, I ask you to wear them."
"Tonight?" Ellius asked, appalled.
Melia smiled. "No. When you are Queen." Ellius' glass heart skipped a beat.
The Bloodline of Hearts commanded that the Firstborn male be named heir. Melia was of noble blood and the first Queen chosen by Estela. She had made Fayre, her father, her King of Hearts. As Queen, Melia would name her regent. Her husband would have no voice against her choice.
Ellius had always known that her father would never have his weak donkey of a daughter on the throne. But her mother wanted her to rule...
Something much more than a discarded daughter.
As Ellius beheld the jewels, she felt the weight of her legacy settle upon her shoulders, a mantle of responsibility that she had long yearned to embrace. For in these gems lay not just the spoils of a forgotten queen, but the dreams of generations yet unborn. She felt the air escape from her lungs at the beauty that gazed up. Upon hundreds of thousands of tiny white crystals were gems. Not rubies... white diamonds. White diamonds gazed up at her: A necklace dripping with diamonds in the shape of crescent moons and ovals. Bracelets of brushed silver intertwined with leaves of silver. Earrings of silver with hearts of diamonds
Melia lifted out the necklace and held it up. White gems of the moon, made of pure starlight. She softly draped the gems over her daughter's neck. The stones were cold against her kin as Ellius touched the diamond-shaped stones.
"This is what Alice would have wanted. Her crown jewels are worn on the neck of a righteous Queen. Someone that a kingdom deserves. Fayre will choose a heartless man to be his king, and I fear that his cruel nature will destroy kingdoms. I want you, Ellius, my daughter. You are patient, wise, and kind. A pure Queen."
Her mother's heart was speaking this. She was not mad. One in a million. It wasn't a dream.
And as she gazed down onto the treasures that lay before her, Ellius knew that her destiny was written in the stars, a path illuminated by the light of her mother's love and the legacy of her ancestors. For she was not just a princess, but a queen in the making, destined to rule with a heart as pure as the diamonds that adorned her crown.
**********************
"Quickly!" The ball will not wait for anyone!" The head chief cried.
All the cooks were in their last mad dash to put the final touches on platters on the roasts. Fruit glaze. Peppery chicken gravy. Sprinkling herbs over crisp potatoes. Steamed asparagus. Removing blistered, succulent roasted vegetables from the ovens. Chocolatiers and pastry chefs garnished their show-stopping desserts, for the King of Hearts had commanded this feast to be the greatest in the Empire. Sea-salt flakes, candied fruits and lemon strips, glazed nappage berries, hoops and waves of dark chocolate, chopped nuts, flakes of beaten gold, and drifts of icing sugar.
The final dessert was the Queen's Jam Tarts. It was her own secret recipe. The pastry chefs had spent up to twelve hours of weighing vats of soft flour, salt, icing sugar, and unsalted butter. Mixing egg yolks and vanilla seeds to form a smooth, homogeneous dough. Resting to relax the gluten to create the delicate pastry crusts. Rolling it quickly out to line hundreds and hundreds of fluted tart cases, which they would fill with rosella, cloudberry, buckthorn, plum and chocolate, and apple. Lemon curd. Passionfruit curd. And strawberry and raspberry jam to bake and produce for the court.
Maids carried the platters of food out to the banquet table, dessert in crisp pressed black wool dresses under ruffled aprons with matching lace bonnets. The platters kept coming and going, until there was not a silver dish left in the kitchens.
"It is finished," panted the chef. "Have you removed those caramelized apple pies from the pie safe?"
Cooks sagged into chairs, exhausted. "Yes, sir," they croaked. "They are among the pies and tarts on the dessert table. There is no more you can do."