Tears of Adamas: A New Old-Fashion Fairy Tale Short Story by Su Williams Page A

dawn. Her eyes sparked with fire as sunrays upon dew drops. Her heart as pure as a Christmas snow. “What is your name, child?” Having sired only a son, and the Queen and his only daughter lost in childbirth, the good king’s heart softened to her loveliness.
                  “My master called me but one name—Girl!”
                  “Come,” beckoned the King with entreating hands. “Come stand before me.”
                  The maiden glided on silent feet to stand before the King. With bowed head she said, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
                  He turned her this way and that, perused her face, caressed the hardness of her work-calloused hands. “Now, there’ll be none of that. You will call me Father.”
                  Again, she curtsied and bowed her head. “Yes, Your…Father.” But behind her, Poneros fumed.
                  “What!? What is this? You would adopt a waif—a runaway waif, as your own? Father, are you mad, that I might call this—peasant, my sister?”
                  But the charms of the girl had snagged the old man’s heart and he waved away the prince’s protestations. “Sister? Hardly,” he said. “The child must have a name.” The King scratched the beard on his chin and searched the girl’s face for a name. “Tell me, Poneros, what was the first thing you saw when you beheld this girl?”
                  Diamonds, thought Poneros. He snorted. “I don’t recall, Father.”
                  “And the source of this treasure remains a secret,” the King ruminated out loud. “I see the facets and fire of diamonds in your eyes,” he spoke as though only he and the girl were present. “You will be called Adamas.”
                  The brilliance in her eyes already blazed, but at the King’s words, her entire countenance lit with resplendence, refracting the joy within her. “Yes, Your…Father,” she stammered again, and curtsied on wobbling knees.
                  But if the King and the girl’s hearts swelled with joy, then the Prince’s heart hardened to graphite doublefold.
    *          *         *
                  With the same measure the King poured his doting affections upon Adamas, Poneros rained down the same measure of wrath. In her new father’s presence, she was all smiles and giddiness. Yet she cowered under the son’s glare. Each night in her luxurious bed chamber, she withdrew a crystal phial from the folds of her skirts, pressed it to her eye and deposited her tears for safe keeping. Each time the phial filled, she stood upon the highest balcony of the highest parapet, and flung the tiny jewels into the wind. She watched as the sparkling stones scattered far and wide, and plummeted into the chasm on the north ramparts of the castle.
                  One brisk, blustery evening as autumn spilled into winter, and Adamas gathered her grief in the crystalline phial. Stepping out onto the balcony of her bedchamber, she spilled the collection of tears into her palm. But Poneros kept watch from the shadows. He beheld her empty the phial into her hand, watched as she stirred up the tiny sparkles of light. But darkness only stirred inside his heart. He’d heard of women, and even some men, among the commoners that collected their tears in a bottle during their time of mourning over the loss of a child or lover. Once the bottle was full, their mourning came to an end. And the King’s son realized that, through some form of witchcraft or wizardry, the girl’s tears transformed into diamonds. Greed seized his heart. He pledged to himself, one way or another, he’d have the girl as his own.
    *          *          *
                  Poneros feigned a softened heart, and wooed and courted Adamas. The prince transformed into the most charming and chivalrous suitor