Page 51 of Of Glass and of Gold

“This should be our regular meet up spot,” he said, “to exchange anything new we learn. I can’t make it out every night, but I can try for every other.”

“Make it out from where?” I wanted to see if he’d slipup, reveal something about himself. That pestering desire to know more about him became harder to tame.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” I could hear the smile upturning his lips.

I shuddered a laugh. “You could try, but I think we both know who’d win that fight.”

This time, his laugh was deep. Perhaps it was the calming rhythmic music of the ocean, or the heat from his body tucked against mine. Whatever it was gave me an idea. I couldn’t decide whether the thought was born of logic, or something deeper, but I said, “I’d rather meet somewhere else, in case this place becomes too compromised. Can I show you?”

He glanced down at me, face completely hindered by darkness. “Lead the way.”

25

Nicholas

Was it wise to follow a clearly capable mystery fighter in the dark to an unknown destination? One who’d already attempted to kill me? Probably not, but damn if it didn’t set my soul on fire to let her take the lead.

Many would look at the role of a prince as the most free a person could get, but while things of monetary value might never be sacrificed, other aspects certainly were. Simply existing anywhere beyond castle grounds, for example, was nearly impossible. Swarms of people would gather for the chance to spot a royal. Expressing uncalculated truths was also not on the table. A person of high rank had to be constantly analyzing situations and exchanges. My whereabouts always had to be accounted for, a string of guards constantly posted within a certain radius.

The only reason I’d pulled off sneaking out over the past several weeks was due to bribing a couple of overnight guards. They’d obey when I ordered them to leave because I was the prince, but the bribe was so they wouldn’t report it to their commanding officers. I didn’t want it on record.

The rest had been up to me, carefully playing with post locales and shift timing, then sneaking around undetected. Once I breached those castle walls, it was as if I became unbridled. No longer controlled by duty or under careful watch. Risky? Sure, but the rewards of moments like this made it worth it.

We skulked through the mostly sleeping village, weaving between aged, well-loved homes, and purposefully avoided street lamps. She moved like a fish in water, fluid and with ease. At no point had I noticed her question the direction she led us, only moving with certainty. How many times had she taken this path to wherever we were headed? I hadn’t asked if she’d lived here her whole life, and judging by what I knew about her, I didn’t have to.

Eventually we broke away from the rows of buildings and scaled a hillside. The butte nested between Sunvale and South Harbor. A grove of trees provided us cover from behind, and Ella sat along the lip, letting her feet dangle over. After scanning the trees and monitoring the streets, I felt confident we were the only ones here. I walked to her side and sat down, imitating her position.

I let my lungs catch the breath I was embarrassed they’d lost before asking, “And why did you choose here?”

“I haven’t been here in years,” she spoke with an edge of nostalgia, and even without knowing its significance, I felt honored.

From our height, I could count nearly all the rooftops in South Harbor before the main roads split.

“I think I haven’t come here because things wouldn’t look the same,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Every day I’m down in those streets.” She pointed. “All I see are raggedy clothes and hungry faces. On unfortunate days, I notice that massive affront to justice.” She turned her head, facing the castle.

I swallowed, knowing what she thought about the white structure in the distance. And who lived in it.

“He has so much. And they,” she pointed toward the village again, “have so little. And no one does a damn thing to help. We’re left to suffer, to starve, to go missing, to work till our bodies break.” The laughter that rolled out of her was tainted with cutting bitterness. “This isn’t the town I remember.” She brought her legs up into her chest and hugged them tight.

I wanted to reach out. To pull her close and promise I was going to fix it.

“My father used to bring me here when I was a girl. We’d pack a picnic blanket and play tag between the trees. In the summer, when the grass is lush and green, you can lay on it while you stare up at the clouds, and it feels just as soft. Like you’re suspended in the sky, wrapped in its pillowy embrace.”

“That sounds beautiful.” She painted such a reverent scene, and the longing for that kind of unburdened freedom tugged at me in a way I often fought to suppress.

She raised her hand and pointed to the south. “He’d ask me what I saw when I stared out at the ocean.”

From windows at the castle, I had stunning views of the ocean spanning wide in both directions. I supposed because I’d seen it all the time, I’d become blind to it. I considered for a moment what I saw when I gazed upon it, but was far more interested in another answer. “What did you see?”

She sighed, leaning back on her palms. “I told him I saw water. And boats.” She laughed, and the infectious harmony had me joining.

“Very astute,” I jabbed, all the while having a smile bloom on my face.

“Hey, I was like eight, okay?” Her amusement didn’t waver. “He said, “do you know what I see when I look out there? I see adventure. I see freedom. I see a world full of fear and anger, happiness and love, hardships and blessings. I see the sun rise and set over every wave that travels a long way just to break on the shore. Then, I see the tide pull it all back and send it on its way again”.”

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