Shatter Like Glass-Cinderella Retold

Winter's Death: The Nutcracker and the Mouse King Retold

-This is a sample from the fourth book in the Rivals Saga, Winter's Death-

Pushing her goggles onto her forehead, Sealiya Drosselmeir set her screwdriver on her crowded worktable. She turned the clock in front of her so its face was in view. She took a deep breath, then positioned the hands just before the nearest hour. Crossing her fingers, she waited for the telltale ticking.

Nothing. The clock was completely silent.

The clockmaker groaned.

"Why won't you work?" she wondered aloud. She tapped the clock's face. The hands shook. The minute hand swung down to it pointed to the sixth hour. Sealiya rubbed her temple. She had just tightened it the day before. It could not have come loose while she was tinkering with the internal mechanisms. Leaning back in her chair, she sighed and brushed hair out of her face. Mrs. Arian would not be pleased.

The elderly woman had dropped off her clock over a week ago. It was an antique, she had explained, as though the rusted gears and chipped wood would not have given away that fact. According to Mrs. Arian, the clock had been a gift from her mother many years ago. She now hoped to give it to her own daughter. Yulemir was fast approaching, and antiques were common presents in Azure. Its people appreciated history and heritage.

Sealiya would certainly classify that clock as history.

Though she had been skeptical the clock could even be repaired, she had accepted the job. She had replaced just about everything besides the clock itself. The hands she had simply tightened and polished. All of the gears were replaced, the striking train among them. Yet there was no ticking, and no bell to announce the next hour.

It seemed Mrs. Arian would need to find a different gift for her daughter.

Sealiya jumped at the knock on her door. She turned around in her chair. The door was entirely made of wood, meaning she could not see her visitor from afar. She crept across the floor, crouching for good measure, and approached the peephole she had drilled into it. Before she could reach the door, she heard a pounding on it. Was someone nailing something to her door? She rose to her full height and dashed towards the door, throwing it open hastily.

No one was there. She frowned and glanced around. People were walking on the street, but not one was near enough to have been the one knocking. She stepped out onto the street. Everyone in sight was familiar. They would not have run off, even if they were close enough. It was dark though; she could have missed something. Or someone.

Giving up, she turned back towards her door. Sure enough, a small white envelope had been nailed to it. She grimaced. Did people have any respect these days? Usually the only thing nailed to doors were notices, like the eviction she had feared. She had told the landlord she would be out that week, but Mrs. Arian's clock was delaying her. She intended for it to be her last job before she left the Azurian village. Where she planned on going, well, that was still up for deliberation. She was having trouble deciding.

The nail fell out when she tugged on the letter. Whoever put it there must have stopped when they heard her coming. She cursed herself. She should have just continued on quietly. Either way she might have missed them, but being silent would have given her the advantage.

Sealiya shut her door behind her and brought the letter over to her worktable. She turned it over. Perhaps the mysterious messenger and the sender would be the same person. That might explain why they fled before she could pay them. She doubted it would be that easy, but . . .

She glanced down at the envelope and tensed. Azure had stamped TRANSCONTINENT on its back, mostly concealing Sealiya's name. Her address was not listed. Besides her name, the sender had only included one other thing. The royal insignia of Crymson had been stamped in the left corner.

The clockmaker tossed the letter onto her desk and pushed Mrs. Arian's clock out of the way. She grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment and scribbled a brief apology to Mrs. Arian. She folded it and set it on the clock. Removing her goggles, she hurried to the other side of the room. Silently, she thanked the Lord she had thought to pack her bags early. She had been supposed to leave the day before, she reminded herself. She cursed Mrs. Arian and her high expectations. The old lady could not have guessed Sealiya's hurry. She felt a little sorry for her customer, and those who were counting on her to be there. She had neglected to inform anyone besides the landlord of her impending move. The fewer people knew, the less likely it was for the information to spread.

After stuffing her goggles into her carpet bag, she grabbed her case. She lifted it carefully, making sure not to jostle it. Bring it along was not efficient, particularly if she had to run, but it was all she had of her papa. She had made the mistake of leaving her mother's broach in Akina. Her father's clock could not be damaged or neglected. Four years she had carried it along with her. She was not about to ditch it now.

Then again, this was the first time they had found her.

Bag and case in hand, she shoved her tools into her toolbox. She took a quick minute to tidy up her desk before running for the door. It creaked as she threw it open. Closing it behind her, she scanned the street. No one seemed to be paying her any attention. Good. If someone came looking for her again, no one would have any idea where she went. She could disappear just like she always did.

Sealiya turned the corner quickly, nearly running into the side of her workshop. She gave it one last glance before jogging down the empty street. It was almost night. No one else had any business at the harbor that late. As it was, it was unlikely she would be able to get a ship off the continent. Her only chance was a group of pirates that had arrived a few days earlier. Normally the thought of associating with people like them would deter her. Now that King Percian had sent someone after her, though, she was willing to take the chance.