Authors: Brittany Fichter
Tags: #beauty, #love story, #princess, #fairy tale, #clean romance, #happy ending, #trilogy, #beauty and the beast, #retelling, #glass hill
Inside, the violet orb glowed
softly, steadily above the young man. Bronkendol was stretched out
upon his bed, his hands peacefully at his sides, the forced sleep
making breaths slow and even. She sat on the edge of his bed and
gently pushed a copper curl from his face. Then just as she had
done countless times all those centuries ago, she sat upon the
floor, crossed her arms over the edge his bed, and nestled her head
upon them.
“
Sweet dreams, my son,” she
whispered. “I will be here, just as I have always been.”
Heavy steps interrupted the bitter
serenity of the moment, and Isa startled. The cool air made her
realize that tears had been running down her face, but the vision
wouldn’t allow her to leave just yet.
“
Isabelle? You must leave that
room immediately!” Brokk called.
But still, she could only see the
son through the eyes of the mother. The Glass Queen uttered a few
words in a tongue Isa didn’t recognize, and she, too, began to
drift away. It occurred to Isa that the mother had fallen asleep at
the bedside of her son, rather than in this dark, cloaked
room.
“
Isabelle!” Brokk shouted this
time, losing the patience he had always kept before. “You cannot be
in there! You don’t know what you are seeing!”
Just before the vision faded
completely, Isa heard the Glass Queen’s voice once more.
“
You must stop him, young one.
Even if it means you must finish what I could not bring myself to
do. I love him too much to let him commit such evil.”
The Glass Queen had kept just
enough strength to summon Isa. And now, with a final breath, she
was gone.
As the vision left Isa, and she
began to use her own eyes again, the large door flew open. Brokk,
along with two of the glass giants Isa had seen in her vision,
burst through the door. Before she could run, one easily managed to
pin her arms behind her back.
“
What did she show you?” Brokk
shouted. When Isa didn’t answer, he grabbed her by the shoulders
and yanked her forward, making her cry out when the guard didn’t
let go. “What did you see?”
Though it hurt, Isa somehow
managed to keep silent. One of the first lessons Ever had taught
her after their wedding was that knowledge is power. So when she
still didn’t answer, Brokk grew even more agitated. “Take her to my
work chamber,” he barked at the guards. “Apparently, I have run out
of time.”
Panic filled Isa as the guards
carried her down the glass steps, and suddenly, the feeling of
falling through the glass tower didn’t bother her at all. “My
husband will find me!” she shouted at him, struggling with all her
might. It was no use, however, for the glass guards were as solid
as the castle itself.
In desperation, Isa begged the
Fortress, pleaded with it to give her just enough power to flee.
But helpless she remained for the rest of the way down the tower,
and then back down to the workshop where she had eaten.
Instead of dropping her at the
table or in one of the chairs near the door, they moved to the back
of the room, an area Isa had not seen before. The two guards sat
her down in a heavy, metal chair that faced a large furnace as wide
as she was tall. Heat blasted her as one guard turned to feed the
flames, while the other shackled her wrists and ankles to the
chair.
Isa wept as she struggled in vain
against the chains, praying that Ever would find her. He had
promised he would protect her.
He had promised.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
I Promise
“
I know
what you want to do!” Isa warned the enchanter as the glass guards
retreated to the door. “And I swear to you, I will not be a part of
it!”
“
My dear,” Bronkendol said in a
patient voice, as he studied a set of thin poles that leaned
against the furnace. “You cannot even control the power that is
within you. I advise caution when making oaths so easily.” He
glanced back at her. “Your struggle with the Fortress’s legendary
fire is not the secret you think it is.”
“
He will find me,” she said,
ignoring his jab. But the tremor of her voice was far less
convincing than she had hoped, even to her. “Besides.” She licked
her lips, which had grown dry from the furnace’s heat. “If my fire
is dying, I cannot see how you plan to use me.”
“
You need not worry about such
trifles.” He finally chose the pole in the center. When he lifted
it, she could see that it was hollow, a long tube made of steel. It
looked unlike any weapon Isa had ever seen. There were no points or
sharp edges on any part of it. “When I speak to the hearts of the
people, there will be no more war. When they have sickness, I will
come. Where there is hurt, I will heal.”
He began to turn the pole over and
over again in his right hand, while rubbing it against the palm of
his left as it turned. As he did so, a thin layer of what looked
like wet glass began to appear, thickening as he continued to turn
the pole around his hand.
“
You cannot touch everyone,” she
warned. “You have only seen a very few in Rafael’s court. The
monarchs may follow him, but the armies will never listen. They
will fight you. Hundreds will die.”
“
Thousands,” he said, continuing
to spin the pole, the lump of molten glass nearly as thick as his
thumb. “But in the end, mankind will survive.” He glanced up at her
for a brief moment, his eyes burning with intensity. “And from the
way men plunder and kill now, nothing is guaranteed our children.
At least I can save some.” The glob of thick, gooey glass was now
nearly the diameter of Isa’s fist. He removed his hand, but
continued to hold it inches away from the still spinning pole. Then
he leaned forward, his eyes suddenly kinder, bright as though he
were sharing a delightful secret.
“
You have the chance to give life
to this world, Isabelle! Just imagine it!” His voice dropped to a
whisper. “No one else’s child must pointlessly die.”
The words of his mother came back
to Isa from the vision, and they were on her tongue before she
could consider their wisdom.
“
We’re not gods,
Bronkendol.”
His ancient name felt strange as
it left her tongue, and Isa suddenly wished she could take it back.
If she had wanted to delay him, those were surely not the words to
do it with. Where was Ever?
Bronkendol had frozen in place,
and Isa couldn’t tell whether his expression was one of fury or
fear. She hurried to distract him, searching for something else to
say. Sweat poured down her back and neck as the flames of the
furnace continued to grow. Even the liquid glass was giving off
heat.
“
Just as well,” she stammered. “I
could not give it to you even if I wanted to.” A stupid thing to
say, but it was all she could think of.
In one last attempt at conjuring
her strength, Isa’s fingers dug into the sharp edges of the chair’s
arms until they burned. The air had grown disgustingly thick as the
heat continued to build, and Isa pressed even harder into the
chair. But her fingers wrought nothing
“
The Maker has not abandoned you,
child.”
Bronkendol’s words took her by
surprise, and for a moment, Isa stopped struggling. He nodded at
her shackled wrists. “I see your fear. You think the Maker and your
Fortress have deserted you, withdrawing the power you should have
commanded by now.”
Tears stung her eyes as she stared
at him, fighting back his words. The Fortress abandoned no one,
Garin had assured her. The problem was with her. She had not
fulfilled her duties. Somehow, she had overlooked something she was
supposed to do. She shook her head so hard her vision swam, clumps
of her hair sticking to her sweaty face.
“
No, I do not believe
that!”
“
But you do,” he said. “I can see
it in your eyes. You wonder why you cannot control the fire, why
Ever is not here now.” He paused. “Why you are not yet with
child.”
Against her will, the tears began
to flow freely, and with them, the pain she had been holding back.
Anger, fear, longing, and confusion swept through her, and with
them the memories of all she had dreamed for, and how all those
dreams had died.
She was not a mother. Her husband
had not come to save her. And worst of all, the Fortress, the home
she had grown to love more than life, had somehow relinquished the
life-giving fire that should have burned hot in her soul. And now
she was weak, captive, and very, very alone. Not even the
Fortress’s little breeze had accompanied her into this sweltering
room.
“
I promise.” He gently lifted her
chin and stared into her face, a tear running down his own cheek.
“Your purpose is not gone. He was only preparing you. Your purpose
is here. Your gift will be to the entire world, not only to your
husband or even to Destin. The power of your heart will be for
everyone.”
“
How?” she whispered. She wouldn’t
be able to delay him much longer, and suddenly, Isa realized, she
didn’t have the will to do so either.
“
With my help,” he said. “Now, I’m
so sorry, but this will hurt quite a bit.” Without waiting for Isa
to reply, he lifted the pole and placed the molten glass against
her chest, just above her heart.
Isa’s vision exploded as
excruciating pain wracked her body. Blistering white heat made her
blood pulse as tendrils of white lightning lit every muscle within
her. Her fingers, wrists, elbows, ankles, and knees felt as though
they had been smashed to pieces with mallets. Please, she begged
silently as she wept, give me strength one more time. Let me know I
am not alone! You said you would never leave me!
But there was no answer. The agony
only dragged on. Anger flooded her enough that she was able to
force her eyes open, and to her shock, the thin ball of glass that
was pressed against her chest did not burn her skin. Instead, it
was alight with streaks of violet that stretched out in every
direction. As she watched it, willing herself not to pass out from
the pain, the glass turned the color of blood. Then, to her
amazement and horror, all of her anger was gone. Every last bit of
it.
Instead, the glass began to change
to gold, the color of the sun.
“
No!” Isa cried as she realized
joy was beginning to slip as well. Despite the terror of the last
few days, it was still there, hiding beneath her sorrow and
frustration. Sensations of pleasure took her as she felt the joy
rise like cream to the top. The way Ever’s lips had lingered upon
her own at their wedding, the love in her mother’s embrace, the way
her brother watched over her, even from a distance. The hunger in
her husband’s eyes when he had seen her in Gigi’s ridiculous ball
gowns. The feeling of belonging when the Fortress had welcomed her
home. The hope she had felt when Master Claude had told her she
should soon expect a baby of her own.
An even greater despair took her
as she watched the golden joy slide from her heart into the liquid
glass. As soon as the gold had been devoured, more colors followed.
Moss green for jealousy, Jadzia’s attempted conquests coming to
mind. Guilt the tint of mulberry, frustration the shade of rust,
and even the cobalt of sorrow were painstakingly torn from her
chest and devoured by the pulsing, molten glass. Finally, only one
emotion remained.
“
You can’t... you can’t have that
one,” she gasped. “Please... just let me keep it.”
“
I’m sorry,” he said
sympathetically, “but it won’t be complete without them all.
Besides, this is the one that gives you more strength than all of
the others combined.”
“
No.” She shook her head
pathetically. “I will not let you take it!”
“
Just let it go,” he crooned.
“Without it, no one will ever be able to hurt you
again.”
Isa considered that. It was true.
Without it, she would never again have the cobalt blue of sorrow,
the mulberry purple of guilt, or the blood red of anger born of
pain. But then, she knew, she would never be able to give Ever the
life she had vowed to share at their wedding; she would never again
bask in the peace of the Fortress’s glistening marble walls.
Without it, she would never again be whole.
“
He hasn’t come for you,” the
enchanter said softly.
Something inside of Isa broke. At
first it felt like the smallest of cracks, the kind that allowed
trickles of water to drip through the walls, but nothing more. But
the crack did not remain small, and before she knew it, had widened
into a chasm within her. As the glass continued to turn in his
hands, the other colors that mingled within the burning glass
disappeared, washed out by the flood the color of a dusty
rose.
It was done.
Isa watched stupidly as a sad
smile came over the enchanter’s face. Carefully he lifted the glob
of still burning glass from her chest, and Isa exhaled deeply as
the pressure released her. She felt him cup her jaw in his hand the
way her father used to do, and he softly kissed her hair. Without
lifting his face, he said, “I am so sorry. But it will be better
this way. I promise.”
Then he righted himself and walked
over to the only work table that was completely clear of all
clutter, and began to roll the glowing ball of soft glass against
its metal surface. As he continued to roll it back and forth with
his left hand, he grabbed another long metal tool, flat this time,
about the width of three fingers, and pressed it against the glob
of glass.