If you missed chapter 1, please go back to this post: Chapter 1 of The Glass Slipper’s Secret.
Chapter 2: A Prince’s Duty
The morning sunlight streamed through the palace windows. It caught in the crystal formations along the walls. Adrian’s heart clenched at the familiar sight.
The light scattered into rainbow patterns across the breakfast table. It reminded him of that last afternoon in his father’s workshop. Ten years hadn’t dulled the memory.
He could still see how the same light had danced through every crystal. His magic had tangled unexpectedly with Ella’s that day. His steady silver light had merged with her gold glow.
She’d turned to him with wide green eyes. A flush painted her cheeks. She whispered, “Did you feel that?”
Before he could answer, she’d grabbed his hand. She pressed it to the ancient text they’d been studying. Under their combined touch, the words had suddenly shifted into perfect clarity.
The ancient runes glowed with their merged magic. They sang with meaning in a way he’d never experienced before. He hadn’t been able to recreate it since.
The glowing text told stories of a time when the kingdom’s power flowed freely.
“Adrian,” she’d said, her voice full of excitement. “I think this is how the old magics were meant to work.” Her magic pulsed brighter as she spoke.
He’d wanted to understand what had happened between them. But then her father had called her away. Final preparations for their journey.
She’d squeezed his hand once and promised, “When we return, we’ll figure it out together.”
They never got the chance.
Now, watching the weakening pulses of protective magic through the crystal anchors, Adrian could see their fading light. The silver glow was barely visible. Nothing like the brilliance he remembered from childhood.
The artificers who had created these crystallized anchors were long gone. Their secrets lost with them. Despite the merchant guilds’ efforts to preserve their crafting techniques.
Even the most talented artificer-born children now struggled. They could only infuse new crystals with a fraction of their ancestors’ power. Adrian could see this in their dim, flickering light when they worked.
“The Lady Henrietta has excellent breeding,” came a sudden proclamation from behind him. Enthusiastic clicking of heels followed. Then a startled yelp.
Adrian looked up just in time to see Steward Ainsley lose his balance. In his overzealous attempt at military precision, he also lost his meticulously maintained toupee.
The hairpiece listed dramatically to one side. The steward caught himself on the edge of the table. His magic flickered with embarrassment. The muted gray sheen typical of noble-born servants wavered wildly.
Adrian pressed his lips together hard. He tried desperately to maintain his princely composure. He fixed his eyes firmly on the book before him.
A few strands of the steward’s artificial hair had caught in the morning breeze. They waved like a banner of surrender. The man attempted to discretely adjust it without drawing attention.
Even after a decade of watching the old magics fade, some things remained constant. Like Steward Ainsley’s unfailing ability to turn any formal announcement into accidental comedy.
On any normal day, Adrian found the steward to be a mix of frustrating and amusing. But Ainsley didn’t normally join them in the small dining area off the kitchen. The room was reserved for servants and private royal breakfasts.
The room itself held many memories of two children huddled over ancient texts while their fathers worked. Of small hands pointing out symbols he still struggled to comprehend. Of strawberry blonde hair catching the sunlight.
Ella’s gift for the ancient languages had transcended the usual boundaries. Her sight had been extraordinary. Though her father had been a trusted royal researcher, they hadn’t come from noble blood.
Yet she’d read the old texts as naturally as breathing. Adrian could still see how the words had glowed under her touch. While Adrian, despite his royal heritage, still struggled to grasp their meaning.
His father cleared his throat. Adrian pulled himself out of his memories. He picked at the end of his breakfast sandwich and tried to pay attention.
“While what Steward Jones says is true, Lady Henrietta’s family knows ancient protection spells,” Mother said. She adjusted the heavy crown on her head. It seemed to forever slip to one side of her grey-streaked chestnut hair.
Through his sight, Adrian could see how the crown’s enchantments dragged at her. Its ancient magics demanded more and more energy to maintain. Threads of exhaustion wove through her usually steady blue light.
Mother, Queen Beatrice, hadn’t been born royal. Adrian knew she found the crown terrible to wear. The crown’s presence at breakfast meant they would not have privacy today.
Still, Adrian forced his attention back to the page he’d been reading. “A Magical History of Lumiare” lay open before him. The morning sun’s warm light streamed through the windows. It illuminated a passage about ancient artifacts.
The words blurred and shifted beneath his gaze. They refused to settle into meaning. Not the way they once had when Ella had read them aloud. Her voice had brought clarity to the ancient languages that seemed to resist his understanding.
The passage might explain why the kingdom’s protective enchantments were failing. He could see it himself in the way the palace wards flickered and dimmed. Their once-steady silver light was now sporadic and weak. Thin lines of fracturing magic spread through the crystalline network like cracks in glass.
If he could prove to his parents that he could solve the problem, would they be so quick to push marriage schemes?
“Son.” His father’s voice carried that particular tone. Adrian would have to look up.
As he took in his father’s furrowed brow, Adrian noticed the worry. His dark hair stood on end from where he’d run his hands through it. The king’s usually strong magic seemed dimmer today. Weighted down by concern. Shadows of stress clouded the normally bright purple of his light.
Adrian knew he would not get any reading done. But he stubbornly held the book open and waited. His fingers absently traced the embossed symbols. They had once sparked with magic when Ella touched them.
“You cannot marry a book,” his father said.
“More’s the pity,” Adrian muttered. But he marked his place and met the king’s gaze.
The morning light caught a crystal embedded in the wall behind his father. Its magical energy pulsed with an erratic rhythm. The unstable pattern made Adrian’s skin prickle with unease.
“Father, while we discuss suitable matches, perhaps we should address something else.” Adrian kept his voice level. “Why are the city markets full of hungry children while noble ladies order new ball gowns?”
He could see the truth in the magic around the city. The protective wards around the lower town were failing faster than those in the noble quarter.
He didn’t add what he’d observed in his secret visits. How the farmers and healers, once deeply connected to the land’s magic, now struggled. They could barely coax the simplest growth charms from the soil. Their light flickered weakly, starved of the magical connection they’d once shared.
The king ran his hand through his hair. His magic flickered with distress. Jagged edges of worry cut through the purple light.
“The treasury—”
“Is stretched thin trying to compensate for the failing magical barriers,” the queen interrupted. She pressed her fingers to her temples.
Through his sight, Adrian could see how the crown’s magic pulled at her even harder when she was stressed. Dark tendrils of magical drain wrapped around her light like chains.
His mother’s common birth had once caused scandal. But Adrian had begun to wonder about something. Maybe the kingdom’s strongest magic had always come from the blending of classes.
The nobles’ innate affinities combining with the practical earth-magic of farmers and healers. The artificers’ technical precision melding with the merchants’ intuitive understanding of magical commerce.
“The mages report another protection spell collapsed just yesterday,” the queen continued. Her voice carried the weight of responsibility. “Without magic to maintain the crops and defend our borders…”
She trailed off.
“Which is exactly why I’m researching these artifacts,” Adrian said. He tapped his book. The ancient leather tingled against his fingers. It held secrets he could almost grasp.
Secrets that had come so easily to a green-eyed girl. She’d once sat in this very room. Explaining how the words weren’t meant to be read but felt.
“Father, you and Mother insisted I have the finest education in the realm.” Adrian met his father’s eyes. “Not just for tradition’s sake, but to help our people. Isn’t that what I’m doing?”
The queen sighed. “Of course, darling. We’re proud of your dedication.” Her light softened with maternal love. “But you can’t solve this alone. The ball next week—”
“Will feature every eligible lady within three kingdoms,” Adrian finished. He tried not to remember another young lady. One who’d once helped him understand the kingdom’s magic. Before she was lost to the sea with her father.
“Yes, I know. And I understand why.” He could see the political necessity in his parents’ strained light. “We need alliances, knowledge, and fresh ideas to save our people.”
And perhaps, though he didn’t say it aloud, someone with the rare gift. The gift for reading the ancient texts that seemed to be dying out. Along with the kingdom’s magic.
“Which is why you need to pay attention to these highly suitable matches,” Steward Jones said. He straightened his sheaf of papers. His grey magic rippled with disapproval.
Adrian wanted to roll his eyes. But he stared down at the embossed cover of his book instead. He watched the way the magical symbols seemed to dance. Just out of reach of his understanding.
“Steward Jones, if you please, find my maid,” Mother said. She took off the crown and held it out to the stuffy Steward. “I am having one of my headaches and need my simpler circlet today.”
Adrian could see how her light immediately brightened. Once freed from the crown’s demanding magic, the dark tendrils of drain dissolved. Her natural blue glow pulsed stronger.
The man cleared his throat, as if in disapproval. Then he glanced at the King and bowed to Queen Beatrice. “Of course, my Queen.”
Adrian’s irritation at the way the man treated his mother sent prickles down his back. His own magic flared with protective anger.
He stood to stretch. He watched the way the morning light caught in the crystal formations above the windows. Their protective magic was dimmer than it had been even yesterday. The network of light grew thinner with each passing hour.
“Master Bayard expects me for my fencing lesson soon,” Adrian said. “He’s been teaching me that a prince’s strength means nothing if not used in service to others.”
His father nodded approvingly. His own magic warmed with pride. Purple light steadied and brightened.
“Bayard’s wisdom goes far beyond the sword. His friendship has been a boon to me and your mother for many years.” The king’s voice carried genuine warmth. “But you can’t forget your royal responsibilities.”
“Yes, we would like to solve the protection magic within our family and within this castle,” his father continued. “But we need help.”
“And the best way to gain an alliance is with a marriage,” finished his mother. Her light softened with sympathy. Gentle waves of understanding reached toward him.
Adrian sighed. He watched a crystal in the wall flicker and dim. Another small sign of the kingdom’s failing protections. The magical light stuttered like a dying candle.
“I understand the need for alliances,” Adrian said carefully. “But why must it be my wedding that solves everything?” He gestured toward the window, toward the kingdom beyond. “William is with the military, learning about the failing ward stones on our borders. Richard is in the northern archives with the priesthood, studying the Lord of Light’s ancient protections.”
His parents’ light flickered with worry at the mention of his brothers.
“And Thaddeus left for the Ice Kingdom months ago on a diplomatic mission,” Adrian continued. His voice grew strained. “None of them have returned yet. We don’t even know if they’re safe.”
The queen’s magical light dimmed with maternal fear. “We’ve had no word from any of them in weeks.”
“So why,” Adrian pressed, “when three of your sons are already risking their lives to save this kingdom, must the fourth one be rushed into marriage? Why can’t I continue my research while we wait for news?”
His father’s purple light wavered with uncertainty. “Because, son, you are the eldest. The heir. The kingdom needs to see stability, continuity.”
“I understand, but a ball to find me a bride?” He shook his head. “It feels old-fashioned, out of touch with what’s going on in the city. I have heard that some families in the lower city are selling their belongings to buy bread.”
He didn’t mention how he knew this. From his secret visits to the city library. Where he could see the magical wards growing weaker by the day. Where he could watch the people’s light dimming with hunger and despair.
“These are trying times,” the queen said softly. Her eyes worried. “The magic’s decline affects us all.” Her light pulsed with shared pain for her people.
“Which is why you need a partner, Adrian. Not just a suitable match, but someone who understands both responsibility and compassion. Someone who can help you lead when you take the throne.”
Someone, Adrian thought but didn’t say, like a young girl. One who once understood both ancient magic and human kindness. Whose light had blazed with compassion and wisdom far beyond her years.
The city library had just received a fascinating collection of maps. Adrian had a theory. If only he could make sense of the ancient text.
“And Adrian?” His mother’s voice stopped him at the door. “Do try to remember you’re nearly twenty-three. The kingdom needs strong leadership now more than ever.”
He bowed slightly. He watched the way her light reached out to him with maternal concern. Threads of love and worry intertwined in the blue glow.
“Yes, Mother.” Then he added under his breath as he left, “Though I’d rather find someone who cares about both ancient knowledge and hungry children. Not ball gowns and advantageous alliances.”
Someone like Ella, his heart whispered. Though he pushed the thought away.
The leather-bound volume about artifacts weighed heavily in his satchel. He strode through the palace halls. His sight revealed the weakening wards with every step. Cracks spread through the protective network like spider webs of failing light.
Perhaps he’d visit that quiet library in the city again today. At least there, amongst the dusty shelves, no one cared if he was a prince or not.
No one cared there about anything except books. And the secrets they might hold to save his struggling kingdom.
He didn’t need to marry anyone to solve the problems. In fact, given how slow wedding plans were and the alarming rate of the failing protections, his research would likely bear fruit before any wedding took place.
If only he could make sense of the ancient languages. They had once come so naturally to a girl with strawberry blonde hair. Eyes that saw straight through his princely facade to the scholar’s heart beneath.
The Glass Slipper’s Secret is a fantasy romance retelling of Cinderella where the kingdom’s ancient magic is fading, Ella can see the magic in every living thing — including what people try to hide — and Ella and Adrian’s paths cross again long before any ball.
