Faeiria Glassboria's Arc

Chapter 7 of 11

Faeiria did not follow the carriage to the palace. She could have. She could have hidden herself in the corners of the ballroom, watching from the spaces between pillars and chandeliers, ensuring the girl made no mistakes. But that was not what she had been sent to do. She came anyway. Not to watch. To witness. She stood outside the palace garden where luminescent flowers bloomed under moonlight, their petals glowing faintly in the dark. Through the archway she could see into the ballroom where nobles gathered in gowns of silk and velvet, circling the polished floor in pairs. And there—among them—was Cinderella. The girl moved through the crowd like someone who had just learned she existed. The prince was beside her, his hand at her waist, and they were waltzing. Faeiria felt something in her chest tighten. The girl was speaking. Faeiria could not hear the words from this distance, but she could see Cinderella's mouth moving, see the prince leaning closer to listen. The girl was telling him. Everything. The stepmother. The locked doors. The impossible work. The magic that would vanish at midnight. Faeiria had not told her to do this. She had only been sent to give the girl one night of visibility—not to make her brave enough to use it. The prince stopped dancing. For a moment Faeiria thought he would pull away, that the truth would be too much, that Cinderella had made a mistake. But he did not let go of her hand. Instead he led her through the crowd, past the watching nobles, toward the garden where Faeiria stood hidden in the shadows. They walked together down a shimmering pathway lined with glowing trees, and the prince spoke quietly, his voice too low for Faeiria to catch. But Cinderella's face changed. The fear lifted. She nodded. He was not running. He was staying. Faeiria felt the weight of her own limits press harder against her ribs. She had given the girl tonight. But Cinderella had done this part herself. Faeiria turned away before they could see her. She had wanted to know if the girl would use the night to hide or to be seen, and now she had her answer. Cinderella had chosen to be seen. Completely. Even knowing the magic would end. Even knowing the prince might not believe her. That was not something Faeiria had given her. That was something the girl had carried all along. Faeiria stepped back into the space between moments and let the garden fade from view. The chapter of her task that required watching was over. What happened next would belong to Cinderella alone.