The carriage door had hardly closed when Ava's mother gave a huff from her seat. Settling into the plush yet stiff seat across from her mother, Ava faced her, taking in the harsh set of her eyes and the turn of her mouth.

"You were quite late." Ava nodded. "Did Averie give you permission to be so?"

"No, Mother."

"Then why were you?" Ava fought the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. It wasn't like her mother didn't know— it was the same reason as every time she was late. Some task, some book, some distraction, but helping her father care for his plants was one of her joys. She did not mind it and he loved her knack for it. There was not a plant she didn't know, nor one she did not resonate with.

"Caring for Papa's projects took longer than expected. I came as soon as I could."

Her mother gave another huff, this time crossing her arms to match. It was not a real anger; that would demand silence.

"Well he ought to know by now how important this is for you. Just because he insists on treating you like Michel, does not mean you can ignore your duties."

And there it was.

"I did not ignore any of my duties, either given to me by Papa or by you. I was waylaid by a street urchin and regardless, as I said, a single gown is all that is needed. I do not see the importance of appearing to go to the seamstress more often when we all know I am not fit to be seen at court."

"That is more your doing than mine."

"No, it is my father's doing, although I rather believe you share equal blame."

Her mother gasped, but it took everything Ava had not to roll her eyes at her. It is nothing she did not know and nothing Ava or others had not said before.

She and Rowley had more in common than she often admitted. Ava was the product of her mother's first marriage— an ill-fated love match that indirectly resulted in the death of her father, a traveling merchant from far off Espany. They shared the same mouth, eyes, hair, and skin, painting Ava as an outsider, even if she'd lived her whole life in Eldendore.

Averie, her mother's second husband and the court alchemist, treated her as his own and for all intents and purposes, she and her older brother were his children. He'd done so since he met them at six and eight, respectively. He taught them how to read in their new language, how to defend themselves. He taught them skills outside the ones his own son, Michel, would need to know. How to navigate. How to bargain. Her true father was her father still, but Averie was their father as well, because he taught them all he could to protect them.

Ava knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if her actual father had a chance to choose who would raise her, he would be glad it was Averie.

In the eyes of her mother and elsewhere, this was not enough.

Averie was the second-born son of a wealthy lord. Ava's mother was the first-born daughter of the Cromwells. If it weren't for her two legitimate but shunned children, Ava's mother would live a charmed life.

Instead, her mother could only go to second-class seamstresses and third-class tea parlors. Her son, Michel, got into a second-rate school instead of a first one. She could not run in the same circles as her mother. She was not invited to the birth of the newest princess several years before.

For Ava's mother, social capitol was everything and she had only a little of it. In other ways, she had far more than most. Her husband, though well-born, went into a trade that was extremely well respected and he was the best at it in the city. It was he that treated the royal family if they ever fell ill, and oversaw the mirror, to make sure it remained intact and kept its integrity. However, it was not his reputation that brought Ava and her mother to arguing in a carriage.

It was her grandmother Cromwell's influence that granted Ava a glass wish when Jon never received one.

"Mother, the wish will not change anything. It may present me at court. It may allow me to catch the eye of a nobleman or the chance to wish for my life to go a certain way, but it will not change the course of my life. My plans will not change."

"They should. It will be a disgrace."

"I do not see how working as an apprentice alchemist, something I am very good at, is a disgrace. It is Averie's trade and he is happy to have me."

"No one will see you on your own." Her mother's voice was getting continuously sharper and more high-pitched.

"Well, luckily Papa is perfectly capable of taking clients and having his Espanier daughter as his shop assistant."

"It will not be this way forever."

"No, but that is fine. I will adapt."

"But what of when he is old and gray, or if he passes?"

"That is my worry to have, not yours." A beat of silence hung in the air, and Ava did pinch the bridge of her nose this time. That came out much sharper than she meant. "Mother, I know the chance of a wish is something I should not squander and I don't intend to, but you don't need to worry. If anything, it is you who have showed me that I should not rely on marriage to make my way in the world."

"It is not so easy as finding a trade, Ava. Once it is known you are working with your father, you cannot become a wife."

"I think I would rather not be a wife of a man who will see me only as his wife." Ava quirked a smile. "Also, you're getting ahead of yourself. There is no suitor nor husband to be found, neither here nor anywhere for me. Maybe I will live my days as an alchemist and then settle down in my old age on the edge of the port with an apprentice of my own and a few lovely cats."

It sounded perfect to Ava. Sea air, plants, books, felines, and her own student or two to teach as Averie had taught her. Maybe Jon would even visit her.

"I will have no luck with you," Ava's mother sighed, and Ava shook her head. "But perhaps you are right. You and Averie work together well, and it will be good to have you close. Michel will be pleased at least."

This last part was said with a shared smile and Ava relaxed in her seat. Crisis averted. Maybe she'd even made headway.

She was still smiling slightly when the carriage rolled to a slow stop. She made to grab for the door but found it swung open before she could turn the handle herself. The curly blonde and gray head of her step-father appeared in the doorway and he beamed at both of them.

"Matilde! Ava! You are back from the seamstress at last. I was worried you'd buried each other in rolls of fabric."

"Averie! We would never do anything of the kind." Ava's mother smacked his arm on her way out, but Ava bent forward, whispering in his ear as she left the carriage.

"It was a close one. I almost died from needle pricks and deadly looks alone."

Averie snorted, but hid it as a cough. She was just past him when he caught her arm, stopping her.

"Actually, I need your help on an errand. Matilde, do you think your mother would mind if we used her carriage on an errand?"

"She would be very cross if you take it to the fish-monger," the unsaid again was not uttered, but Ava bit back a laugh of her own. "Where are you going?"

"Oh my dear, not a fish-monger." He ushered Ava into the carriage, shutting the door behind them. "We are going to the palace!"

"Dressed like that?" Her mother cried after them, but Averie waved for the coachman to continue on, and then waved goodbye to his wife who stood outside their row home, looking terribly cross.

"That was not nice of you. She will be worrying the whole time about what we are wearing."

"That was the goal. I'd rather she not worry about what we are doing instead." A frown marred his features, and he tapped his fingers against his trouser-clad legs. His golden spectacles glittered in the faint light coming through the carriage curtains, and his eyes looked more tired and older than they ever have. "I have been summoned and truthfully, I will need your company. It was not an option to leave you at the house."

"Really, why is that?" Surprise filled her. She was competent sure, but there were no customers, let alone any at the palace that would require her to be present. None there knew who she was.

Averie peered at her closely, as if gauging her and weighing what to say. Ava's earlier good mood burst. What was wrong?

"Papa, really, what is wrong? How can I help?"

She ran through the possibilities in her mind. Was someone ill? Had her brother returned? But that didn't tell her why they were going to the palace. Her father was not often called to the palace, despite being the court alchemist.

"That's the problem— I don't know how you can help, nor what will come with this. I'm more worried that I cannot help you." He took a deep breath and took her hand in both of his clammy ones. "A man has appeared in the mirror and he's asking for you."

"In the mirror? Wait-what? Why for me?"

"The palace messenger did not say, but I must warn you, I think it is your father."

Ava sat speechless, staring at Averie. Her mind whirled and her stomach twisted.

"But how is that possible? He is dead, he was—"

She shuddered; the memory of her father's death was among one of her worst childhood nightmares. It still haunted her. Her father was not alive. He couldn't be. He lacked a beating heart, and most importantly, a head.

"I'm not sure, but I intend to find out and to help you in anyway I can. And Ava?"

"Yes?"

"Be careful. It is the King himself receiving us."

-o-0-o-

And so the story properly starts! We have more characters and an inkling of adventure. Guesses on why Ava's father has appeared in the mirror? Thoughts on she and her mother's dynamic? Let me know what you think!

Next chapter is coming Friday!