Page 7 of Legacy of Glass
Olivia looked quickly down at her polishing, not wanting her aunt to read her expression. It was true that Uncle Walt had become much more successful than Olivia’s family back in Henton had dreamed. But she hadn’t seen any sign of his apparent influence. His own wife and children rarely listened to him.
Her aunt swept on, oblivious to Olivia’s wry amusement. “If that merchant had known what was good for him—and his business—he wouldn’t have flouted the Legacy in such a way.”
Olivia polished a little harder, barely keeping a rein on her tongue. Her aunt was talking as if the Legacy had ruined his business as a punishment, but the Legacy wasn’t a sentient force. It didn’t punish anyone—even if it sometimes felt like it to those who experienced its less pleasant effects. Besides, ruining merchant businesses sounded more like the Glandore Legacy than the Sovar one. Perhaps it was the man’s absorption in his grief that had wreaked such havoc. Either way, she felt sorry for his daughter and hoped she was living a happier life in her small house.
“And that,” her aunt concluded, with a swift glance at Olivia, “is why it’s never wise to flout the Legacy.”
“That doesn’t mean we have to blindly follow its whims,” Olivia ventured, unable to stay entirely silent. “My cousin in Glandore says they work hard to avoid falling prey to their Legacy—at least to its negative aspects. Their royal family always has lots of children so as not to risk being left with a single prince like in their original history.”
Her aunt gave another sniff. “TheGlandoriansare welcome to do as they please. In Sovar the royal family are careful to only have one son because they understand the importance of the Legacy. And we would all do well to follow their wise example. The Legacy’s forces must be harnessed and directed if we don’t want to suffer ill effects. Our predecessor should have merely taken the time to select a kind widow, and then the whole matter would have ended there. It’s not as if the Legacy forces anyone to live out the whole history. He really should have looked to King Robert for guidance.”
Olivia rolled her eyes and once more focused her efforts on the wood beneath her polishing rag. Her aunt spoke as if living on Manor Row gave the occupant unfettered access to the king. But as far as she knew, neither her uncle nor aunt had ever even spoken to the man. Unless it was in the formal receiving line of the annual royal ball—the one that was open to every Sovaran in the kingdom.
“It sounds more like appeasement than harnessing the Legacy to me,” she muttered, but she kept her voice too low for her aunt to hear.
She already knew it would be fruitless to get into an argument on the topic. The city-dwellers seemed much more attached to following the Legacy’s path than the villagers of Henton had ever been, perhaps because the Legacy’s power was so much more concentrated within the city. And Aunt Helen was even less likely to be convinced to buck the Legacy than most, considering it would be against her own interests to do so. She knew her niece hadn’t come to the capital to be a family servant, and respecting the Legacy was the excuse that kept her guilt at bay for placing Olivia in such a position.
Olivia soon reached the end of the table and turned to work her way up the other side. The Legacy had forced her into her current position, but it also made her workload lighter than should have been possible.
“What an excellent job you’re doing, Olivia,” her aunt exclaimed happily as she finished with the flowers and surveyed the table. She smiled warmly at her niece. “You always do such an excellent job.”
Olivia smiled back weakly. Her aunt wasn’t an evil woman at heart, and she seemed to have genuine affection for her niece. It was an impression confirmed with Avery’s gift. Her aunt didn’t hate her, and she didn’t wish her ill. Aunt Helen was just extremely good at convincing herself that whatever was convenient was also justified. And in this case, she had the authority of the royal family to back her up. The power of the Legacy had to be respected.
“You know,” her aunt said, turning her full attention on Olivia, “I’ve been thinking about the ball.”
She didn’t have to clarify which ball. In the capital of Sovar, in the middle of summer, there was only one ball that mattered. The royal family’s annual Midsummer Ball.
Like all Sovarans, Olivia had grown up hearing tales of the spectacular event—stories full of women who shone brighter than their jewels, dancing the night away. The doors of the ball were open to every person in the kingdom with only one caveat—every woman who crossed the threshold must come in glass slippers.
But while crafting flexible and practical items from glass—some with quite fantastical properties—was the specialty of Sovar, glass slippers remained difficult to craft. It was a much debated aspect of the Legacy, that it granted those inside Sovar’s borders the ability to manipulate glass into impossible creations, but it ensured that slippers would always be a highly desired item.
Only a couple of families in Henton had ever had the spare funds for such a frivolous purchase. Especially when the slippers were of no use unless extra coin was spent to travel to the capital for the Midsummer Ball. Glass slippers longed to dance and had little other practical purpose.
The slippers were passed down from mother to daughter, with most of the fortunate daughters getting only one Midsummer journey to the capital, usually around their eighteenth birthdays. But one of Olivia’s friends had gone as young as fourteen—when it became apparent that her feet would soon outgrow her grandmother’s dainty slippers. She had come back full of tales of the palace, her gown, the food, and especially the dancing.
She had even claimed to have had a dance with Crown Prince Julius, though Olivia had always privately doubted the truth of that particular tale. The prince couldn’t possibly have had time to dance with every girl who attended the ball, and it was unlikely that a fourteen-year-old from the country would have made it onto his list.
She didn’t speak her doubts aloud, though, because the whole tale was so enchanting. Olivia was just as prone as the other village girls to dream of the day when she might be lucky enough to attend such a magnificent event.
If she was honest, those dreams were part of what had lured her to the capital. But as much as she wanted to attend the ball, she cared about her cousins more. Nell and Hattie were sweet-natured, hard-working girls—even if they enjoyed the luxury of working in the city for their father’s business rather than being confined to the house and its chores. Olivia enjoyed their company, and they had welcomed her from the first day of her arrival. And it was for their sake that she hadn’t been able to bring herself to mention the ball to her aunt.
Before arriving in Henton, she had imagined asking to borrow her aunt’s slippers, just for one ball. Olivia certainly didn’t have the money to purchase her own, and it would be a foolish use of her funds even if she did. She had high hopes of eventually saving enough to leave her current situation and properly establish herself in the capital. But her aunt, on the other hand, had always lived in the capital and had wealth at her disposal. So she not only had a pair but had been to the Midsummer Ball many times. It wouldn’t be a great sacrifice on her part.
Aunt Helen probably would have agreed, too, if not for her daughters. She was as softhearted and romantic about the Midsummer Ball as most Sovaran women, and she would probably have welcomed the chance to indulge her niece, especially after maneuvering her into the role of a servant.
But it was only natural that her aunt would consider her own daughters first, and that year was to be Nell and Hattie’s first attendance at the ball. Obviously their mother wanted to attend with them.
If Olivia had arrived a year earlier—or even a year later—she would have been accommodated. But there was no point asking her aunt to present her niece along with her own two daughters at their first ball. Even if Aunt Helen initially felt pressured into agreeing, she would eventually convince herself of some reason or other why it couldn’t be thought of that year.
Olivia’s cousins weren’t exactly magnificent beauties. At sixteen and seventeen, Nell and Hattie had yet to fully grow into their features, and Olivia knew her aunt had been a little dismayed by her niece’s face when she first arrived on their doorstep. In Henton, Olivia had been considered a beauty, but everyone agreed that while her figure came from her father’s side, her looks came from her mother.
Not that Nell and Hattie were like Queen Ella’s caricatured stepsisters by any means. Their sweetness granted them a prettiness of their own. But Olivia had to admit that if all three of them were dressed up in formal style, she was likely to attract a great deal more attention than her younger cousins. When combined with the expense of purchasing an extra pair of slippers instead of borrowing a family pair, it put the ball completely out of her reach for that year.
Originally, her aunt had planned to wait before taking Nell and Hattie to their first ball. But both girls had pleaded so fervently to be allowed to attend that year that their mother had eventually relented. Even Olivia, who spent most of her time sequestered in the manor, had heard talk of an upcoming betrothal for the prince, and she could understand her cousins’ desire to attend the ball while there was still an unattached prince who might ask them to dance. It was part of the dreamlike appeal of the whole event.
Eventually they had worn their mother down, and having decided that her daughters were to make an appearance at the Midsummer Ball, Aunt Helen had thrown herself fully into the preparations. And while nothing had been said outright about the reasons for Olivia’s exclusion from those plans, several comments had been dropped about Olivia’s attendance at the ball thefollowingyear. Olivia hadn’t needed the hint, but she had received it loud and clear.
But despite everything, Olivia couldn’t help a swell of hope at her aunt’s mention of the ball just after her warm compliments for Olivia’s work. Perhaps Olivia had been wrong in all her assumptions.
