Glass

Chapter Fourteen: Santos' Fury (Part I)

I hardly slept at night, thinking about the terrible things I had seen. The dream I had had the night before came back to me over and over, but more vividly now that I knew how much worse the real terror was. I was shocked awake by visions of the last serpent coming to exact revenge for its brother and father once and for all, and that time succeeding. And then, while awake, I feared that the remaining serpent would find Zolin, or Rafael, or my father, or my mother, or Cinderella, or anyone else I had ever known or cared for.

Somehow, I found myself waking up once more, but that time, without the cause of a heart-stopping horror of a nightmare. Emiliano appeared before me, shaking me softly.

"You must awaken, Andres. A carriage will be arriving shortly."

As he strode away, certain that his half-hearted attempt to wake my light sleep had worked, I opened my eyes fully to the morning's quiet. At my right, a guard named Dario was already awake and dressed, preparing his stained and charred satchel for the day ahead. He nodded at me without a word and returned to his work. I turned back to the ceiling, which was made of damp wooden bars, and then to the scratched stone wall at my side. The inkeeper of The Five Crows warned us that his place was not fit for a prince, but after the night I had had, it was perfect enough. The darkness was welcomed more than the glow of a torch, which only reminded me of the singed field. And the smell of damp and mildew was at least better than that of a monster's corpse. But then, when the light was shining in, the imperfections grew more obvious.

I forced myself up, still half-shaken and weary. From downstairs, voices lapped on top of one another, and when I looked down at the floorboards, I could see those people talking through the gaps. I inhaled the warmth of freshly-cooked eggs, but knew that I could not face the mingling soldiers and commoners below. All had been sworn to secrecy about what had happened, at least until the king was informed, and if I were there, I would have been driven mad unless I burst the words from my chest. 

A carriage was on its way to take me back to my father. I dreaded its arrival. For minutes that dragged like hours, I waited in silence, wallowing in guilt and anxiety about what was to come. Once more, I was powerless under my father, and everything would return to the way they had been. No more Cinderella. No more hopes of the ocean.

I closed my eyes, and thought of her, trying to push away the fears that she might face the feathered serpent's wrath. I thought of the dance of the feathered serpent instead, admiring the way that she danced all over again; the perfectly in-time tappings of her glass-covered feet as she moved side to side and in and out so swiftly and elegantly. I thought of her head on my shoulder as we sat beneath the stars, telling tales of our childhoods. 

"Andres. The carriages are here." Dario said. And with that, the shred of comfort was gone. Cinderella melted away, like the ocean's tide from the shore. 

The entire journey was seeped in doubt. I kept my eyes on the window, watching the plains and buildings pass me by for what may have been the last time. I had not had time to take in all their details, and as they whizzed past, I could not focus on them for even a second if I wanted to. The small slice of freedom, as sweet as it had been, was gone. The longer the journey continued, I grew more and more familiar with the sights I had seen before, diminishing the small spark of excitement that I still held onto. 

We reached the palace by the afternoon. While it towered proudly over the Mendessa City horizon, it was clouded with an eerie solitude. I knew that the belly of the palace would be engaged in chaos at the news of a feathered serpent on the loose, but on the outside, it was as though nothing had changed. 

When I stepped out of the carriage, my legs felt the ache that they were due from yesterday's travels. As heavy as I felt, I climbed up the stairs to the grand doors, surrounded by my silent entourage. 

Within the palace, members of my mother's counsel and a miscellany of guards and soldiers dashed from hallway to hallway, all carrying the same dreadful secret. Their nervous voices echoed in the ballroom, awaiting my own arrival, but yet when I arrived, not a single face turned towards me. I hung my head in shame. Perhaps they had heard of my spinelessness at the face of the beast my father once singlehandedly killed. Or perhaps they were simply too afraid for their own lives to recognise the weak nature of my company. Either way, I did not wish to know.

Emiliano tightly held the glass slipper in its box, and lended it to a guard to place it back in my bedroom for safekeeping. Then, he was escorted away to the medical wing to have his slashed eye looked upon properly, and little by little, the other guards left me, too. All that remained was Dario, who led me towards my mother's court. The throat-clenching sickness from the night stirred within me again the closer we got to the doors, and for a moment, I feared that I would vomit again. But we made it inside, with a curious flock of advisors lagging apprehensively behind.

Mother sat alone. Her throne was aglow with the light of the stained glass behind her. Dario stepped aside for me to present myself to her, and when he did, she shot up out of her seat and gripped onto her deep violet gown. She paced quickly, and before I knew it, she wrapped her arms tightly around me, breathing as though she had been holding it in. 

"Oh, my Andres." Her hand felt soft on the back of my head, and although I did not wish to do so in front of her, I shed a tear. "Are you alright? You are not injured?"

"I am fine." I said, though I wasn't so certain of that myself. 

"My counsel has heard all we can. I have deployed soldiers to every corner of the kingdom. We will defeat the feathered serpent, and get revenge on the beast that took your men."

The idea that they were my men - my responsibility - stung. They were brothers and sons and friends, too, beyond the realms of my authority over them. But I had to accept that to the monarch before me, none such things mattered. 

"They died. It was all my fault." I spoke without ever wanting to. My mother shook her head.

"You were to remain safe. And your men did the job required of them - to protect you. They knew that their role came with dangers. They were aware of the potential consequences."

Her words changed nothing in my mind. 

"Where is father?"

She sighed deeply.

"He is… as you would imagine. I do hope you understand that in the wake of this catastrophe, your investigation cannot continue."

To protest this while her advisors huddled at the door would solve nothing. But a question still hung.

"Did father know?"

"About another feathered serpent? No. Of course not." She recited as though she already had to explain that several times that day. "None others had been seen before it, or since."

"But he was afraid of something." I thought aloud, half-regretting each word that foolishly left my lips. Instead of the chastising I expected, she chose to ignore my doubt. 

"So long as you are well, my son."

She returned to her throne and sat with her head in her hand. The heavy crown she would adorn on her head during meetings swung on the end of her armrest, swallowed in shade. I looked up to the alebrije statues above, their faces no longer looking down with care and pride, but with sheer disappointment. I clenched my fists as my mother sat to do little but worry, just as father always did. 

"Step aside!" 

The advisors at the door cowered at the sound of my father's bellowing voice. He marched through the path they made, accompanied by King Cedric and Queen Rosaline, who did not pass by a single person who did not bow admirably at them. King Santos' eyes were circled with darkness, and his hair had grown more silver by the day. 

"Leave us!"

The advisors evaporated, and the doors slammed shut.