The Stillness of the Sky (12 page)

When I met her eyes, I knew the demand was a test. Perhaps she wanted to know if I’d inherited my mother’s gift as a way of proving myself. Someone who went to such lengths to keep others out must’ve had a great distrust of people. It seemed a lonely way to live.

As such, the song I chose needed to reflect something happier, lighter. I needed her to remember the better parts of humanity that she might consider helping a stranger. My grandfather had a song like that, and I dug into my memory to find the words.

My fingers found the strings as my mind drifted into the song. I told of a love lost to foolish pride, of a broken promise that grew into a cascade of trouble. One man’s journey to recover the person he loved above all others took him over mountains, through deserts, and across the wide plains of the world, at last giving him the courage to reclaim the woman he’d carelessly discarded. Finally reunited, they swore an oath to never again hide the truth from each other and lived out their days in simple happiness. It was a statement on mistakes and regret, and finding the courage to grant second chances to those who needed it most.

As the last chords faded, I blinked to clear the haze of music from my eyes. It always took me a few moments to reclaim myself after a performance, a side effect I hoped would lessen with practice. At least it no longer exhausted me as much as it had the first time I played. Having to sleep for twelve hours or more after a few songs would’ve been incredibly inconvenient.

“Clever girl,” Crilla said with a croaking chuckle. “Perhaps not what I’d want to hear, but needed to. She was much the same way as you, though not quite so blunt in her persuasion.”

“You knew her then?” I said, immediately hopeful despite my wariness. “You knew Lorel—”

“Hush, child,” she interrupted. “You mustn’t speak her name. Even the trees tell secrets.”

I frowned. “Secrets? What secrets? She was my mother, and no one overly special as far as I know… Well, aside from the Bard thing I discovered recently.” I paused, an embarrassed blush creeping into my cheeks. “Which, now that I’ve said it, makes me think I didn’t really know her at all.”

Crilla resumed her rocking. “You know the most important part, that she loved you. Still does.”

“So, she is alive then? I wasn’t even sure of that much.” The thought of seeing my mother again thrilled me more than I’d expected. In all the years she’d been gone, I hadn’t let myself think about how much I missed her.

“She lives, certain as the sun rises and sets every day.” Crilla stopped rocking and heaved herself out of her chair with a tired groan, shuffling over to shelves full of boxes and bottles. “May I ask what it is you need her for?”

I blinked, unsure of how to answer. “Well… She’s my mother. That, and I’ve got a few questions I’d really like answers to.”

She pushed aside a few glass vials, digging in a back corner of a shelf. “What sort of questions?”

“Mostly about me. What I can do, how it works, what to expect, where I came from, that sort of thing.”

As the words “where I came from” left my mouth, Crilla stopped. Her hand retracted back into her saggy sleeves, and she stared at me with intense scrutiny. “And why would you need to know that?”

Magical talking tree aside, I had other reasons for wanting to know those things. “Doesn’t everyone want to know about themselves? I spent sixteen years of my life thinking I was nothing more than the daughter of a farmer too drunk to plant crops. Two weeks ago, I found out I was something beyond anything I’d ever imagined. So, yes, I have questions. Wouldn’t you?”

Her gaze never left my face as she returned to her seat. She rocked slowly, the creak of her chair as rhythmic as breathing.

“I suppose I would.”

“Can you help me then?” I stopped and reconsidered my phrasing. “Will you help me?”

Another five creaks passed before she answered, the last punctuating the silence with an extra loud grunt.

“I will.”

She leaned toward me, hand outstretched. Her bony fingers set something cool and smooth against my palm, the chill of her skin brushing against mine causing me to shiver. “But only because my promise demands it.”

As she pulled away, I stared at the object she gave me. An oval of gold surrounded a flawless green gem, stealing my breath with its perfect beauty.

“Your promise?” I asked, unable to look away from the item.

“In return for a favor, your mother made me promise to guard this for her. I was to give it to you if you ever came asking for her. It will guide you to her, but be mindful. You may not like what you discover when you get your answers.”

I looked up, confused. “Do you know about me?”

“A bit,” she said. “Enough to know I want nothing more to do with you. I’ve spared your life only as repayment for my oath. The rest of your story is not mine to tell.” She stood and shuffled towards the door. “Now, it’s time for you to leave. Stay any longer and you’ll suffer for breaking your bond.”

I collected my things and stood. “Wait,” I said, stopped a few feet before the exit. “What do you mean, I’ll suffer for breaking my bond?”

Crilla scowled at me. “You carry the mark of a Bard’s bond on you, child. Do you know so little?”

Looking down at myself, I scanned my skin for any visible marks. “What—”

She ushered me out the door. “When a Bard makes a promise, their magic prevents them from breaking it. I see this magic on you. Take care that you aren’t caught for too long, or your misery will far outweigh the pain of anything I might do to you. Best hurry. The sun’s just rising now.”

Shocked, I stared up into the sky, the hint of pink fading from the eastern sky. “How is such a thing… But it was only just…”

“Time is different here, child,” she said with an impatient growl. “And I’ve no more of it for your questions.”

With that, the door slammed behind me.

A sudden panic overtook me, and my feet moved of their own accord. I sprinted through the woods, marking my progress by boulders as I dodged branches and undergrowth. When I reached the creek again, I fell to my knees, panting from my efforts. An ache bloomed inside my bones, but not from the strain of running. Something else twisted a knife inside my marrow.

Hands shaking, I pulled the blue-black feather from my pack, my thoughts only of Ro and the need to be away.

Chapter 10

I arrived at the town gates out of breath from running from where Ro left me a mile outside of town. The moment I stepped inside, the pain that was steadily growing inside me disappeared completely. I bent forward, hands on my knees as I struggled for air.

“You’re the Bard?” A pair of boots stopped in front of me.

Lifting my face to the guard, I nodded. “Sorry… I’m late,” I said between gasps. “I came… As fast… As I could.”

He turned and motioned me forward. “Best hurry then. The mayor insisted I bring you the moment you arrived.”

Without giving me a chance to rest, the city guard walked down the street. Muttering a curse about magic tricks under my breath, I scurried after him, not wanting to get lost in a town I wasn’t familiar with.

When the mayor’s house came into view, however, I pulled up short. A beautiful gray-green carriage was parked out front, the royal crest of Litania sending a spike of anxiety from my head into my feet. The guard was having none of my hesitation, however, and took hold of my arm, pulling me around to the back of the building. After being shoved inside the servants’ entrance, I was immediately passed off to a group of three women and herded up to the third floor. Before I could so much as protest, they had me clean, clothed in a new dress of minty green, and my hair braided beyond recognition.

For once, I wished someone would’ve thought to ask me about my clothing preferences. I felt like an oversized doll after the business of the past few weeks. I missed my breeches and tunic, but at least I still had the boots Mrs. Minkov gave me.

The guard that met me at the gates appeared at the bedroom door to collect me, and wordlessly saw me down the stone staircase leading to the main hall. Lute gripped tightly in one hand, I tried to calm myself, thinking through the songs I might sing and how long I was expected to perform. If I was lucky, they’d simply stick me in a corner to strum out inconsequential melodies while they dined and talked amongst themselves, but in my short time as a Bard, I’d yet to experience such a reprieve. The magic within me always commanded a rapt audience, which was precisely what I was trying to avoid. If a nobleman demanded my presence, I’d be obliged to obey, and that would definitely delay my search for my mother. I didn’t know how much time I had to do whatever needed to be done, but I the sooner I did whatever it was, the better off I’d be.

At the top of the grand marble staircase leading to the front entrance, my escort stopped, offering his arm to see me to the bottom. Switching my lute to my left hand, I set my arm on his, feeling terribly awkward about being treated as a highborn. More so since he hadn’t been so polite when dragging me through the streets and into the house.

The guard saw me directly to the conservatory. Despite the stone walls, it was relatively light and airy, its wooden furnishings a pale pine with fabrics the color of spring in the various pillows and cushions and draperies. My admiration of the room came to an abrupt halt the moment I met with a pair of familiar green eyes.

“Ah, here she is at last!” Mayor Trundell said as he rose from his stuffed leather chair. He took my arm from the guard and presented me at the head of the room, his chest puffed with pride. “Your Highness, My Lord DeBauch, Lady Jacinda, may I present Mistress Jacqueline, a Bard traveling through these parts of recent. She comes with the highest of recommendations from the nearby towns, and I went to great lengths to have her here for your visit.”

Great lengths? I flashed him a confused look, but held my tongue. He’d not mistreated me, so there was no reason for me to contradict him. Still, it sat ill with me that he’d lie to impress a few nobles.

The company stood, Lady Jacinda pushing her way to the forefront to greet me first. Her eyes sparkled with extreme curiosity, but she simply stood there, waiting.

Abruptly, I realized she was waiting for me. Praying to the spirits I didn’t fall over in the pounds of fabric draped around me, I dipped a hasty curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, My Lady.”

Her smile was instantly more welcoming. “I’m quite keen to see you play,” she said, her dark curls bouncing a little as she acknowledged me with a nod. “I’ve not had the fortune to see a Bard perform before. I’ll be sure to make diligent notes later.”

“Notes, My Lady?”

Lord DeBauch stepped forward. “My wife enjoys a more academic approach to the arts,” he said. His smile was warmer than the lady’s had been, but still distant. He held out his palm, and I set my hand in his, curtsying once more. “Lord Gregor DeBauch of Dobney, and I assure you, the pleasure is ours, Lady Bard.”

“I… Thank you, My Lord. I hope I live up to the mayor’s high praise.”

The pair stepped away, leaving me face to face with whom I could only assume was one of Aaron’s brothers. His eyes were the same startling green, and his hair a slightly lighter shade of Aaron’s burnished gold. Unlike Aaron, however, his smile was neither smug nor pretentious, but welcoming. His shoulders were broader, his arms more powerful, and he towered a good foot above me as well, where Aaron was little taller than I was.

As Lord DeBauch had done, he took my hand, but he bowed as I bent to curtsy, a surprising show of respect to someone with no standing at all. My face heated, embarrassed by the display, and even more by my own reaction to it.

“Thank you for agreeing to entertain us,” he said, his voice holding the same charming qualities as his smile. “I’m Prince Willem Maldavian, youngest son of King Ivor.” He paused, his head tilted at the slightest angle as his brows drew down. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” He cleared his throat and straightened. “The mayor’s told us a great deal about you.”

So he was the brother Aaron missed so much. I immediately understood what Aaron said about setting others at ease, though Prince Willem had rather the opposite effect on me. Strange fluttering sensations tickled my stomach when he looked at me, and I thought I might burst into giggles at any moment, which would be horribly inappropriate of me. What would the man think of me then? I’d be nothing more than a silly little child.

Lord DeBauch’s chuckle startled me. “I believe you’ve rendered her speechless, Will. Give the girl some space or we’ll not get a sound out of her.”

My face burned hotter than before, and I willed my tongue to form words. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness. I beg your pardon if my nerves get the better of me. This is all…” I clutched my lute in front of me, staring a hole into the floor. “It’s all very new to me.”

Lady Jacinda stole up beside me, hooking my arm as she dragged me over to the plush settee. “How fascinating. You’ve only just come into your abilities then?”

I nodded. “Yes, My Lady. Until a few weeks ago, I’d no idea I had any abilities at all. And now…” I cast a sideways glance at Prince Willem. “Well, if you’ll forgive my manners, it’s only for lack of experience.”

“A new Bard starting on her path to learning her talent, now this is an experiment I’m truly happy for.” Lady Jacinda looked to her husband, grinning with glee. “At last I’ll get to see something interesting on this trip of yours, Gregor.”

Lord DeBauch laughed and took a seat across from his wife. “She’s a girl, not an experiment, dearest.”

“Anything can be an experiment,” she said, sniffing a little. “And after dragging me all over the kingdom on this frivolous diplomatic tour, you could at least indulge me this once. I only mean that it will be intriguing to see how her skill now compares to her skill in a few years, once she’s better learned it. Doesn’t that interest you in the slightest?”

Prince Willem smiled. “Let’s have her play for us first before we decide how to persuade her to make an appearance for us in ten years.”

“Do you think she would?”

Listening to them talk about me as though I wasn’t there was a stark reminder of my station. After all, despite being a Bard, I was still a commoner.