Page 11 of Cinder
The tree that grew over her resting place rustled as more and more birds landed in its branches. Cin had planted that tree on the first anniversary of his mother’s death: planted it from a stick he’d found at the base of the castle walls during a trip Father had taken him on to the city, back when his father still took any of his children on his trips. He swore it had grown into a sapling overnight, and yet no one had believed him.
“How absurd,” Louise had said. “Hasn’t there always been an oak there?”
“That’s an ash, Mother,” Floy had pointed out.
“Szule’s dumb,” Manfred had added, and Emma had cried in the corner as her doll’s head broke off from her terrible attempts at a braid.
Maybe they had been right. For years, Cin had believed so—believed that he was delusional. Irrational as his mother, his grief and anger lying to him. But after the fantastical ways his birds had acted today, he wasn’t so sure.
He stared up at the tree’s branches, the dozens and dozens of birds now clustered within them, and with his throat tight and his stomach twisted, he begged: “Please...”
A breeze whistled through the tree, so slight and soft that it sounded like a song, and suddenly, all Cin's birds rose at once. They descended upon him, their wings outstretched and claws wide, a menacing cloud of tiny bodies. Cin opened his arms to them.Please, he thought, the word so much a part of him that it seemed to fill his chest, make his soul too large for his current form, too bright with want.
The flock twirled and tumbled around him, their claws curling back to caress Cin with the tops of their feet, a swirling mass so tight it seemed impossible that they weren't careening into each other. They took over Cin's vision, the sound of their flapping wings nearly drowning out his laughter.
As he rose up from the dirt, layers of fabric flowed around him. With one last perfect spiral, his flock seemed to collapse: a hundred eyes and a thousand feathers coming together into one sparkling form. And just like that, Cinder Szule Reinholz was ready for the ball.
The capital city was alive with joviality. It wasn’t just the palace that was hosting the ball, Cin realized as he made his way into the city: it was every open plaza, every tavern and pub, every public garden and empty warehouse. Throughout the capital, the royals had carted food and dispersed musicians, along with what seemed like hundreds of lanterns with colorful exteriors, all lighting up the areas of revelry as though the chilly fall night was the middle of spring. But Cin had only one destination in mind.
Still folded beneath the drapes of his simple brown cloak, he directed his magical steed through the crowded lanes. A normal horse would have crushed someone by now, but the delicate gray beast Cin rode upon seemed to dart and dance through the people like a flock of birds, never quite touching anyone, not even in the most overwhelmed of roads. Still, the congestion made it flick its head in annoyance. Cin slipped his shimmering gloves out from under his cloak to pat its withers.
Almost there, he wanted to tell it. Almost.
Near the castle, the party attendees grew fancier, commoners giving way to rich merchants and craftspeople, and finally the lesser nobility, all dressed in glittering gowns and fitted suits and flowing capes that gleamed as they danced in the rainbow of lantern-light. Members of the crown’s watch moved between them, armed and alert, but even they seemed to be enjoying the night, chatting and laughing amongst themselves. Cin caught glimpses of the castle’s high walls between the buildings, butthe towers themselves always seemed hidden by one more row of fancy houses and wealthy shops. He followed the young and eligible as they climbed the path to the great arched double-door in the castles walls. Half of its metal blockade had been swung open.
More of the crown’s watch meandered in and out, surveying the regular guards in their plain green uniforms as they spoke with each expectant guest. One watch member with the ornate gilding of elevated status occasionally stepped in to speak with the guards or guests, resulting in the guest’s dismissal, sometimes alongside the removal of a hidden weapon. Cin felt the little knife he’d hidden in the back of his chest binding like a second spine.
He fidgeted as he waited in the line, telling himself that if the Crown had connected him in any way to their Plumed Menace, they would have come for him at his home. They had no better reason to suspect him now—except, perhaps, that he was currently covered in feathers. But the look had been fairly common among the nobles in recent decades, and few seemed to care enough about the Plumed Menace’s calling card to remove such extravagances from their closets.
When Cin reached the door, though, the guards seemed to see him little more than any strangers ever did, as though the pigeon feathers in his outfit doubled as a disguise of another sort. The guard confirmed his age and marital status, glancing at his waist and inside his cloak, before requesting he dismount. He began to relax as his steed was led off to the royal barns, and the way cleared for him to ascend the castle’s steps. He took them slowly, reveling in the glory of the night and the colors that bounced across the castle’s deep gray stone, its towers piercing the sky high above him.
“I’m here, Mother,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure that it was God smiling upon him, but this moment was still something magical; something miraculous.
Cin stepped through the entrance of the castle, and he could almost feel his whole world change. The paths of the ball-goers led him through the majestic entry-chamber, its high ceiling lit by a dozen lanterns, and past the throne room, down a spacious hall toward a sea of music and laughter. A servant took Cin’s simple outer cloak, and he stepped inside.
The massive room spread out like a layered gem before him, lit by a hundred central lanterns in a mix of vibrant colors and sparkling whites, arranged to leave the edges of the room still cloaked in mystery, as though the party space might never end. Dancers twirled on the lower central floor as musicians played from a platform against the far wall, their jovial waltz seeming to hum through Cin’s very bones. Along one side of the room, giant flawless windows mirrored the ball back at them, and along the other, internal balconies swept out as though they were in a theater, their shadowy occupants watching from seats or tucked behind curtains for private rendezvous. Amongst the party-goers, Cin spotted a number of castle staff serving as hosts, as well as a few of the crown’s watch stationed in the shadows near the room’s edges.
As Cin made his way inside, the whole world seemed to turn and look at him.
It was like being seen for the first time, a hundred gazes rolling down him, from the feathered crown braided into his white-blond hair to the sweeping length of his feathered half-cape, to the exquisite embroidery of his white and gold suit and the tall gray boots his pants tucked into. Beneath the glamorous frills, he could still feel the flaws of the clothing he’d been wearing back at the garden before his pigeons had swept around him in a spiraling tornado to leave a sparkling masterpiece intheir wake, but even the tear in his shoe and the tight pressure of his chest binding seemed like they couldn’t hurt him now. He was alive, and he was here, jealousy and delight on the faces of everyone who looked upon him.
This time, he was being measured, and he was the one they all wanted to be or to beat.
Lucky for them, Cin wasn’t here to challenge anyone’s claim on the prince.
As he thought it, he remembered to scan the room for Floy and his siblings, but they hadn’t arrived yet—unlike him, they’d have to drive their carriage around to the few streets that had been cleared of pedestrians in order to make their way up to the castle. That meant he had a quarter-hour, perhaps even a half, to enjoy himself here before absconding to one of the less prestigious parties outside the castle proper.
As much as Cin wished otherwise, he had known the moment his birds descended on him that he couldn’t share this glory with his family. There would be too many questions, too many demands. And Floy had already been acting suspicious with his pigeon feathers that morning...
Tonight was for him, and him alone.
Cin made a lap around the massive room just to take in the scene, letting himself wonder at the motions of the dancing guests while counting the observing watch members in the back of his head. They seemed no more interested in him than the guards out front, however, and after his second sweep through the room, he let himself breathe out the little fear he’d been harboring of them. They were here to protect the royal family and their castle, and Cin meant harm to neither. He was safe.
Safe to enjoy himself.
His initial sweep finished, Cin sampled every morsel of food presented on the long, elaborately decorated royal tables before returning for his favorites. He slipped tiny meatballs betweenhis lips and savored the sweet burst of strawberry cakes as he sipped on a warm glass of spiced wine. He basked in the music and exchanged a few short words with other singles at the ball, mostly over the beauty of the place and the quality of the food, staying to the sidelines and avoiding any conversation where it seemed the gossip might turn to talk of the Plumed Menace.
The more he watched, the more he realized that not all the eligible individuals were there solely for the prince either. Some seemed just as distracted by their wonder as he was. Others hounded each other for conversations of business or danced as though they were committed to coming home with a partner whether the prince wanted them or not. It was beautiful and unreal and so gloriously perfect.
