Page 1 of Of Glass and of Gold

1

Nora

Acurrent of red light speared the sky, illuminating the mass of clouds above as if they were a wound above the ivory castle.

Within a blink, it vanished as if it had never been. From where I stood on our front stoop, pouring the sudsy gray water into the thawing flower bed, I had a clear view of Highcrest Castle—though I never warranted a glance in that direction if I could help it. The most corrupt place in the entire world of Myelle, if you asked me.

A few villagers heading to the market stopped to marvel at the unusual display, dressed in thick woolen cloaks accentuated by cherry red noses.

But the spectacle in the sky was quickly left behind. These people, my people, didn’t have the luxury to sit and gawk or gossip for hours as the wealthy did. Work needed to be done, coin to be earned, and bellies to be fed.

Months ago, dear ol’ Prince Nicholas had The Coveted girl move into the castle, so a display of magic wasn’t overly shocking. Of course the man with access to untold riches would give himself the magical ability to grant his desires, as if he didn’t already have everything.

What a prick.

Maybe I would get lucky and hear about how whatever self-serving indulgence he’d requested from the magic girl backfired, causing the elimination of the last in the royal line during tomorrow’s market chatter. Perhaps it had been the prince’s blood that’d hurtled toward the heavens and stained the sky.

The thought had a smile grazing my lips for a brief moment. But that sort of luck wasn’t afforded to those who lived in South Harbor—the lowest laying town with access to the ports.

I peered down at my task, grip tight on the worn wooden handle. Swapping daggers for a mop really put a damper on my training high from a few days ago.

Blowing out a breath, dark fallen strands that framed my face fluttered in its path. I was sure I looked as unkempt as I felt with my messy ponytail and sweat-dampened shirt.

A sweeping breeze blew past, the last chill of winter still clinging to it. I closed my eyes and welcomed the relief against my heated skin. I’d been doing these damned floors for hours now, the muscles in my neck and lower back tense.

Despite being the only one to work outside the home to pay off the debt, my dearest stepmother, Eucinda, also saw fit to delegate house cleaning duties to me.

In the fifteen years I’d lived with the woman, I couldn’t recall a time she’d ever lifted a finger to manage the house. Having half a dozen staff meant she never had to, but those days were long gone, thus ushering in my reign of indentured servitude to the cruel hag.

Awkwardly balancing the mop and empty bucket over the threshold, I let the bucket clatter and bang against the wooden floors after it tripped over the lip of the doorframe, giving it a tiny kick of frustration for good measure. I closed the front door, enclosing myself in the darkened foyer.

You’d never think this dark, unlit, cobweb-dusted entrance was the same one we’d moved into. Bright, potent flowers used to have a place on every surface. Candelabras and torch sconces used to make this place look as posh as a castle. Freshly waxed floors and a shiny staircase welcomed every guest into our home, treating them like royalty.

A smile twitched on my lips as memories played in my head of my father coming home and running into his arms.

“Daddy!” I shouted when I saw my handsome-faced father walk through the door. He had the sharpest jawline out of anyone, especially his business associates who usually had pudgy cheeks to match their bellies. My father remained slim, hair so dark it bordered on black.

His smile spread to his eyes, wrinkling the skin around the almond shapes. “Ellanor!” he exclaimed, matching my level of excitement. We collided, embracing each other in an all-consuming hug. He rose with me still secured tightly in his grasp and we twirled in the immaculate foyer.

My giggles and his laughter echoed off the tall walls, our joy resounding back to us.

I swore I could still hear it now, but the scene in front of me dulled as I came back from the memory. Sconces that hadn’t been lit in months wore a layer of dust, and the tables had been cleared of any furnishings—sold to offset the cost of living without my father’s ship merchant income.

“Nora!”

A shudder racked my body at the shrill woman’s voice. Heaving a sigh, I left the mop behind to go fulfill whatever request she no doubt had prepared.

The living room off the front entrance held half the furniture it used to, most of it covered now by sheets to shelter them from dust.

Ready for resale at a moment’s notice.

Passing through to the formal dining room, it was much the same. Half of the chair set had been sold, leaving only enough for the four of us—not that we ever enjoyed family meals in here anymore.

I veered down the hall connected to the kitchen and her sitting room and regrettably stepped to the left. Eucinda came into view, her posture straight in her favorite chair while she embroidered. Her swept back hair was gathered in a low bun, not a strand out of place. Maybe she was such a bitch because her hair was always painfully tight. White strands streaked the former blonde and her face had developed deeper creases in recent years. Especially that one between her eyebrows that became more prominent when she spoke to me.

She was surrounded by her creations on the walls. Embroidered pieces adorned almost every room, even though the stitching was sloppy at best. My father had been so proud, though, acting as if every new piece she presented belonged on display in a public gallery.

Back then, it’d been easier to support her. I could see even as a child that her talent lacked, but with my father’s sweeping enthusiasm and lessons about how to treat others from my angelic mother, I’d joined in singing her praises.

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