Of Glass and Glamour Read online

  Copyright © 2019 by Chanda Hahn

  Neverwood Press

  Editor: Virginia Cantrell Hot Tree Editing

  Beta Readers: Barbara Hoover, Felicia Thorn, Corrine Doxey & Amy Ezell

  Cover Design Covers by Combs

  Map Illustration by Hanna Sandvig: www.bookcoverbakey.com

  www.chandahahn.com

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  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Thank you for downloading this ebook

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Coming Soon

  Also by Chanda Hahn

  About the Author

  To every girl who never received an invitation to the ball.

  It’s time to make our own.

  Chapter One

  Sitting in a circle in our drafty tower, my fingers struggled to loop the yarn over the crochet hook, while my mother’s enchanted mirror scried the various kingdoms. Needlework was a horrid affair, and my adopted sisters and I dreaded the menial task. After my first few rows, my gaze strayed up to the mirror and the image shifting across the smooth surface. I began to daydream about living in the kingdoms beyond—anywhere except here, our forgotten town.

  Mother taught us that all good sorceresses needed to know the basics of crochet and knitting because it created muscle memory. Learning a pattern and following it through repetition was not that much different than weaving a basic sleeping spell.

  I glanced down at my work and frowned. What started off as a scarf, now resembled a gnarled cat toy. I had become distracted by my daydreaming and missed a few of the loops. At this rate, I’d never so much as make anyone, even our cat, Hack (who was notorious for coughing up fur balls) take a catnap. My younger sister, Maeve, was doing so much better, and I was envious of her more advanced crochet doll that she had finished—a hex doll from the looks of it. One that resembled a particular beautiful girl in our village. I blanked on the girl’s name. It was something silly and of no importance, but to Maeve, she was her worst enemy.

  My eyes strayed to the empty chair to the right of Mother’s and couldn’t help but imagine my older sister, Rosalie, sitting there. Of all of us, she looked the most like our adoptive mother. She was the first to go into the seven kingdoms at Mother’s bidding. It was quite the scandal. On the day of the crown prince of Baist’s wedding to a young girl in his kingdom, Mother appeared and swapped out the brides and forced the prince to marry Rosalie, sight unseen. This caused quite a rift between the newly married couple. No one trusted a daughter of Eville, and despite her attempts to help them hunt down a murderous beast, Rosalie was accused of the murders and taken to Florin.

  A smile came to my lips as I reminisce on the grand adventure—sneaking into the kingdom, donning the glamour of many of the palace staff, and being the one who had broken my sister out of prison. I may have almost blown her to bits in the process, but we didn’t need to tell anyone that my spells still needed work. Together we bested an evil sorcerer, Allemar, and now my sister was living incognito in the town of Celia, hiding until everything blew over and her prince could annul their marriage, leaving him free to remarry. Just thinking of my poor sister’s circumstances made me almost snap my hook.

  “Meri, dear, bring me your blanket. I’d like to take a look at your pattern work,” Mother said from her red, high-back, upholstered chair. Her voice snapped me out of my adventurous daydream. Her chair was in the exact center of the room, directly across from the mirror. I could almost imagine our dreary tower as a noble court and my mother sitting on her throne. I watched as Meri winced when her name was called. She quickly smoothed her brown plaid skirt and brought over her circle blanket. Being very careful not to drop or lose the ball of yarn, she handed it to Mother and buried her hands into her skirt to hide her nervousness.

  Like me, she wasn’t the best at weaving sleeping spells. Meri had soft red hair, and even now a stray curl was spilling forth; she quickly tried to tame it by pushing it behind her ear. What I wouldn’t give to have her shade of deep red? Being a daughter of Eville, it was easier to cause fear on sight if my hair was a darker shade, but instead, my golden tresses made me resemble a fair maiden or damsel in distress.

  “Meri, what happened?” Mother chastised. “You need to tie off when you change colors; otherwise you leave a weakened chain, and we can’t have that, now can we? What good would our spells be if there’s a weak spot?” She pulled on the string, and the whole thing came unraveled. Her tongue clicked in displeasure. “Redo it.” It was a firm order.

  Meri’s head dropped to her chest. “Yes, Mother.”

  “It’s a good thing you excel at water spells,” Mother chastised, throwing out an underlying barb. “There may be some hope for you yet.” She turned her eyes to scan over the quiet girls in the room.

  My fingers trembled, and I tried to shove my mess of knots between the cushions of the settee before she noticed my failure. No one wanted to disappoint her. Especially me. I was the family letdown.

  Years ago, when I was only a few weeks old, I was abandoned on Mother Eville’s stoop under the light of the hunters’ moon—the brightest full moon during the month of Nochtember—with only a simple silver ring with a topaz stone. She took me in and raised me as her own.

  The whole town knew of the cursed woman, and word spread of my mysterious but sudden arrival. They watched from a distance, and when I grew up into a healthy and laughing child, many of their misgivings vanished. I wasn’t the first or last of her brood to come mysteriously in the night. Over the years, more baby girls made their way into our family. Instead of leaving a box of kittens at the cat lady’s house, they left children, or she would leave and come back with a child. Mother Eville took them in and taught them the old ways, the ways of magic.

  If it rained on the town, you can bet it was because of something brewing in the cauldron over the fire. Snow in summer—the daughters. Fog, thunder, or lighting—the daughters. Once I even made it rain frogs—on accident of course, but it made the townspeople leery of us. They didn’t trust us and avoided us at all cost. That wariness and hatred spread throughout the kingdoms like a plague.

  “Eden!” she called my name in a firm tone, and I blinked at her with wide, innocent eyes. She had seen me. I was going to be in deep trouble. Probab
ly be required to wash the dishes by hand for the next week instead of spelling them clean, which was probably better. I broke more than I washed.

  She leaned forward in her chair, her focus not on me but on the mirror as an image moved across the glass. Mother had spelled the enchanted mirror to focus on the fates of the kingdom.

  “Yes, Mother,” I answered her, but her finger came up and quickly silenced me.

  “Wait!” She froze as a beautiful serene estate appeared. The kingdom’s flag, a gold sunburst on a field of blue, floated across the bottom of the mirror. I knew that palace, knew who lived there and was surprised. It was the royal family of Candor, and it seemed they were making a special announcement.

  The king and queen of Candor stood upon the steps waving at the crowd, a fake smile plastered across their lips. Not one for social gatherings, appearances, or matters of the state, the prince was rarely seen—which made my mother’s attempts at spying on him rather useless. What good was a prince who remains out of the spotlight.

  “What is it?” Aura asked, looking at the mirror with a renewed interest.

  Mother smiled slyly, leaning back in her chair, her fingers steepled together. “It’s happening. Just like I knew it would. They couldn’t avoid the prophecy forever. Their son is now at the right age.”

  The room went silent with nervous tension. I looked back at the mirror at the kingdom, and my stomach churned with apprehension.

  Mother moved to the mirror, her hand waving as she tried to focus her spell, creating audio so we could listen in on the special announcement. But like any spell, magic was a fickle thing, and when scrying using reflections, the image and sound were easily distorted. The mirror flickered, and the sound faded. In a show of impatience, my mother smacked the side of the mirror three times until it came back into focus.

  “That’s better, next time you better listen to me,” she warned the mirror as if it were a living, breathing thing and proceeded to sit back in her chair.

  The mirror behaved, and we caught glimpses of a serious King Ferdinand as he cleared his throat. “All eligible daughters of Candor, who are fair of face and form, will hereby receive an invitation by royal dove to attend Prince Evander's designation ball. Those who meet palace approval will be asked to stay on, to be courted by Prince Evander so he may choose his future bride.”

  Mother Eville jumped up, knocking the high-back over. Aura, next to me, was startled and jerked. I leaned back and tried to sink deeper into my cushion, but stabbed myself on my needle.

  “Ouch!” I cried, drawing Mother Eville’s eyes to rest on me. I wanted to crawl under the settee and disappear.

  “It’s time,” she said solemnly. She turned, and every girl in the room sat still, looking at her intently.

  “To do what?” Rhea asked.

  “Why, what we do best—revenge.”

  At the announcement, my sisters stopped fidgeting and looked to Mother eagerly.

  My stomach dropped, and my mouth went dry. I could see the viperous smiles of five sisters. When I looked back at the smiling monarchs in the mirror, a nervous and fake smile crossed my own lips. Yes, when my mother was done with them, they wouldn’t know what hit them.

  Chapter Two

  “Are you going to curse the royal line if you get chosen, Eden?” Maeve asked as she bounced on my bed, skewing the dresses that I had laid out to press. At seventeen, she was the youngest of my adoptive siblings and was probably the most vicious and immature of us—which was never a good mix. If we didn’t pay enough attention to Maeve, we’d wake up to find dead lizards in our bed, or worse, live ones. She did leave me with an interesting thought, however. I didn’t know exactly what I was going to do.

  “I don’t know,” I answered and yanked on the dark black dress that she was kneeling on. She lifted her knee, and the black silk slid out. I glanced over it to make sure there weren’t any tears. “I won’t be chosen, Aura will. She’s the most likely choice.”

  “Well, suppose you did get chosen to go, what would you do then?” she asked, batting her thick eyelashes at me.

  I paused my pressing, magically suspending the hot iron in midair, and thought about it. “I suppose the smart thing to do would be to get close to the family, find what they hold dearest and take that from them.”

  “Cursing the royal family with boils would be the fastest solution.” Maeve flipped over on her back, her dark hair fanning out across my quilt. She held up her hand and started to examine her black-painted nails.

  “But what good would that do if they could get a fairy to heal them? It has to be something more miserable—more permanent,” I chastised and looked out across my dresses. They were getting pretty old and a bit threadbare. There was nothing that stood out in the crowd, nothing that was considered palace worthy.

  “Has the invitation come yet?” Maeve asked. “It’s been three days since the announcement.”

  “No,” I answered, unsure if I was sad or relieved at the prospect. I wasn’t altogether sure that we’d even receive one, even though we were on the border of Candor. The town of Nihill, whose name means nothing, wasn’t exactly claimed by any of the kingdoms. The invitations were to be delivered by the royal doves to all families with daughters living under their roof. But in all of the years of living here, we had never received a royal invitation to anything—not a single event, parade, or christening. Not even when the king’s oldest son, Prince Vincent, died, God rest his soul, did we get an invitation to the funeral. It was if we resided under an impenetrable mountain and no one could get to us. We lived on the outskirts of the town in one of the tallest freestanding buildings, an old guard tower. We were forgotten and ignored—unless someone needed something from us, and then we were mysteriously visible again.

  Maeve got up and moved over to my window, pulling aside the curtain to look out. It was dreary and had been raining for hours. She exhaled on the glass and traced the rivulets with her finger. “Don’t worry, we will. Maybe the royal doves don’t like to fly in the rain?” She unlatched the window, pushing the pane outward, waved her hand, and the rain stopped. The clouds parted, and the sun shone down, warming the glass. “There, now we will get the invitation.” She turned and grinned with pride. But I could see the doubt in her eyes.

  “You needn’t waste your power for that.” I frowned in disapproval.

  “Oh, come on, Eden, this is the most exciting thing that has happened in—well, forever. I don’t have the patience to wait for a royal dodo to fly through a storm to get here.”

  “We are waiting just like everyone else,” I said.

  “But most everyone else has already gotten theirs. The mirror told me so. In fact, I heard that even Fanny Mignonette received one.” Maeve’s lips pouted, and I hid my smile. Fanny, that was who the hex doll was supposed to resemble. Maeve and Fanny had been enemies since they were toddlers.

  It seemed that Maeve had been using the mirror to eavesdrop on the neighboring families. When I was her age, I, too, would spend hours listening to the chatter through the mirror. Until we started to hear the rumors, the negative things people whispered about us behind our backs. Then listening to an enchanted mirror’s gossip lost its appeal. Apparently, that wasn’t so for Maeve.

  “Then we continue to wait.”

  Her brows turned down, and I could tell my words had upset her. “No, we don’t. We’re not like them. We shouldn’t have to wait for anything.” She turned her back and stared out the window in anger. Her dark hair billowed as the wind caught it, making it flow from her shoulders.

  “Maeve, whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t,” I warned.

  Her eyes flashed with power, and she looked at me, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “How do you know what I’m thinking?” She raised her hands above her head, and I watched as she seamlessly shifted into a black raven and landed on the window ledge. She danced back and forth, shifting her head side to side before letting out a loud caw and flying out into the night. Her wing knocked i
nto my glass windchime as she left, sending a tinkling sound that followed her out.

  Maeve was more comfortable flying the world in her bird form than being a human girl. I couldn’t blame her. If I were as good as her at shapeshifting, I’d probably choose a bird and fly far away to the kingdoms beyond.

  Sighing, I looked out across my small room and waved my hand across the glamour. The extravagant four-poster bed disappeared to be replaced by a small single bed. The black lace pillow shams were replaced by a single worn-out and flattened pillow. The soft damask, patterned carpet dissolved to reveal the cold gray stone floor. Two other beds shared the top floor of the tower with mine. Rosalie’s empty mattress haunted me, her quilt and pillow tucked away in a chest. Aura’s bed was covered with everything pink and girly. Our room now looked less comfortable and more like a cell. Glamour was one of the first spells I learned, and I had a natural affinity for it—unlike my sisters. They thought it was torturous practice holding a glamour for hours or even days at a time, but for me I could easily fall asleep and still keep control of a glamoured objects and items—unless I lost control of my emotions. Then my glamour became as scattered as my thoughts. Also, after a few days of holding the spell, I would get an uncomfortable pressure behind my eyes. To use glamour to become someone else for long periods, I needed a personal item, or something they had recently touched.

  Everything in my room was a glamour, except for my beautiful colored-glass windchime. Every year around my birthday, my adoptive mother would come in and attach a new colored-glass ornament. I adored how the sun would shine through them and turn my room into a rainbow of color, and on windy or stormy days, it played a gentle song.